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raayllum · 11 months ago

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She Must Pay the Price, or A Drop of Mercy :: A Rayla and Leola Meta

Quick:

You're a young elven girl, and you show mercy and compassion to a human that you definitely weren't supposed to. When it's found out, you're punished, with elves even calling for your execution (6x09, book 1 novelization). Your father does what he can, but there's only so much. You're put on trial. You're found guilty regardless of intent, and only by association. You die for this; you die for them. You're a star. A guiding light. There's even a Great Fall off a precipice (though only one of you hits the ground).

Your name is Leola, or Rayla.

You're the beginning and the end, respectively.

So let's talk about it.

Tests of Love

For years, I had wondered where Aaravos' assessment of "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear" (2x09) came from, cause you don't drop in a line like that if it's not going somewhere. It's quite a statement and worldview, after all. Now, with Leola's trial, it seems we know.

We can see, then, perhaps that Leola's gift giving was the first test of love — are you willing to break the Natural Law, the Natural Order of things? — to help another? To show another a source of power in order to share, to be compassionate, and in Rayla's case, to be merciful (though we'll get more to that in a minute).

We also know that the love Leola had was powerful and all encompassing:

She didn't care to follow the order set in the stars. Though she was born an immortal being from the Heavens, she loved this world... and all its flaws. Her heart was warm and open.

And she befriended mortals. Animals, elves... and humans.

ETHARI: Who I love, where I love, what I love, are all specific. But to Runaan and those like your parents... love is rooted in all families, all creatures. Souls like that feel called to protect everyone as fiercely as those they hold close. (Bloodmoon Huntress)

Okay, so Leola and Rayla both have big compassionate hearts and befriend creatures from all over the place. So what? So do Callum, Ezran, Soren, and most of our other main good guy characters. Even Claudia to a degree (though she could work on not using magical creatures for spell parts).

Well, specifically, it's because of how they intersect currently more with anyone else on the concept of

Mercy

KOSMO: Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled. (6x05)

Rayla sparing Marcos, as noted in multiple interviews by the creators and by myself in previous metas, is ultimately the inciting incident / lynchpin of the entire series. Without it, there would've been no soulfang proposal or Ez running away to find the egg or any of the number of other elements that had to come together to make achieving peace possible.

While we still have details to discover regarding Aaravos' Fall and development of dark magic, we know that a lack of mercy was ultimately what sent him on his path of vengeance. Leola was not shown mercy, and while it seems there were already "flaws" for an imperfect world, things were (probably) better than they currently are in Xadia in a variety of ways. Then, to kick off the entire Saga, we have Rayla sparing Marcos in a soundtrack literally titled "Mercy" and have Kosmo, seasons and seasons later, spell out directly what a big deal this was for well, the ocean of time.

None of this is to say Rayla can't act out of revenge — she did ("when I first came here, I was on a mission for revenge") and she has ("but I became so obsessed with revenge"), much like Aaravos ("he isn't doing anything out of love, he's doing it for revenge") — but that her general compassion and love for others has always been stronger than her grief or rage, and that even when she had every social and personal reason to, she was and is fundamentally unable to hurt someone innocent.

Even when she's shamed or punished for it by herself or by others. RAYLA: The human looked up at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you a job to do! (1x01)

EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

The Cosmic Council — and to a degree, the Silvergrove — say that the reasonings or motivations, the intentions, behind Leola and Rayla's actions do not and should not matter when it comes out to doling 'Justice'. So Leola faces her justice, being literally killed in the one manner that can kill a Startouch elf, and so does Rayla, being metaphorically Ghosted / 'murdered' by her community, regardless.

Neither are enough to ultimately quell their light or their love/power, however.

A Star

RAYLA: That beautiful shining star you just pointed out? We call it Leola's Last Wish. (5x02)

So both Leola and Rayla are stars in season 6, literally and metaphorically respectively. Leola's is more self-explanatory, whereas Rayla's is mostly about the role she has in Callum's life as a guiding light and star. I don't think it's a coincidence, though, that just as Rayla placed Callum on his path of being a primal mage, though, that Leola did the same for humanity. I also don't think it's a coincidence that Callum's love for Rayla restores Callum's own light and agency amid Leola giving humanity the same through light and fire.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. (TDP shorts, Ripples)

In this way, we see the manifestation of a repeating parallel of Rayla representing Leola, a gift giver of life, magic, light, unjustly punished/killed, and Callum representing humanity, looking to the kindest brightest star for guidance, magic, restoration, and salvation if he's just given the chance to grasp it. After all, presumably, Leola's last wish would have something to do with primal magic and humanity, and who represents that better than Callum, with two arcana under his belt and possibly more on the way? With that in mind, I want to return to another quote from earlier but with a different focus on

Ripples

Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled.

The wisest of the humans looked upon the water. His own reflection smiled back at him, and he dared to imagine what such power would feel like in his own hands, should he be allowed to hold it. Imagine, he thought, if I were more than what I am. With a trembling hand he touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread from his fingertips. [...] I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand. In this, the humans taught me another lesson. And so I touch the surface of the water. I watch the ripples spread.

Water in TDP is a strange beast, symbolically speaking. There are some more straight forward motifs (reflections, "don't try to control where the river [of life] goes, there's one thing you can know and control: yourself"). For Aaravos, it's connected to deep loss but also his own sense of patience in playing and winning his game, as illustrated above. For Rayla, it's linked to shame, self-reflection, bravery, and loss. Aaravos weeps and creates a sea upon losing Leola; Rayla says goodbye to her family by the lotus pond times three.

We don't know what water represents for Leola. Not distinctly, anyway. The best we can figure though, is that by following the through line of the Rayla and Leola parallels, that the ripples Leola wanted to send out or did send out �� not the distortions caused by her father and his grief — are ones that Rayla received, and then continued.

Rayla has always been a foil to Aaravos, and this hasn't changed. She is the one who set Callum on the path initially of being a mage, which put him in Aaravos' machinations as prey; she retrieved his Key; and she's the reason Callum's done dark magic, twice. At the same time, much like the moon, Rayla carries Leola's light as much as she shoulders Aaravos' dark. She literally represents light in Callum's life, helps lead him through the darkness, and him being a primal mage and it's possible growth to other humans is the best possible thing that could've ever happened to Xadia.

Sol Regem says that "no one can save" Xadia or fix what is deeply broken. The Cosmic Council said that Leola had broken the Cosmic order and had to pay the price. Rayla has repeatedly been willing to pay the price for both hers and other's actions in hopes of making things right, of sparing others' pain. Sometimes to her detriment, but—if Rayla as Callum's one Truth could fix the darkness within him, if she's the lynchpin for breaking the Cycle, for bringing back Runaan and fixing her family's souls, in opposing and presenting mercy amid the Council's lack of mercy, in the face of Xadia's violence—

Then Rayla's act of mercy in 1x01, and potentially beyond in S7 with Callum, will be what fixes Xadia.

Leola's gift of magic is what 'broke' Xadia, and her execution is what literally did so, leading to the division of the continent. She wrongly paid the price in the absence of mercy and love. Rayla is therefore her thematic successor — welcomed this time as Light and Truth — as the carrier of Mercy and Love, and she will 'fix' Xadia through her ripples and dynamics. She will mend them back together. There will, at last, be no price to pay.

Misc. Thoughts / Predictions

One thing I was always curious about going forward into future seasons was the prospect of a 'trial' or reunification of the Silvergrove. It felt like a no-brainer the Silvergrove would have to change in order to reflect Runaan's character arc, much the way we see Katolis and the Sunfire elves change to better accommodate the new, more compassionate world order. Pre-S4 a trial felt a little strange as an idea, though post-S4 the parallels it could provide to the Lucia tribunal made more sense about why include either (or both).

However, Leola's trial seemed to hammer home the almost necessity (as this is still a prediction, after all, that may not happen) of Rayla and/or Runaan saying their peace to the Silvergrove leaders. This would be a great opportunity to provide a contrast to the Cosmic Council, reaffirming that Xadia is ultimately better than them because the Moonshadow elves and everyone else can change, and the Cosmic Council seemingly cannot or will not. But I guess we'll have to wait for S7 or beyond (#GiveUsTheSaga) to find out if this'll come to fruition or not.

I also wanted to touch on what we see with Leola ("I'm so scared!") and the repeated emphasis on "recognizing fear as a moment of empathy and personhood" and the horror that can come if you don't have that moment of recognition. This is something I've touched on before most notably as a striking difference between S1 Rayla and S5 Claudia, but I thought it was worth mentioning as S6 added to it specifically with Viren towards Soren and Lissa. This is another point in the "Rayla is an inversion of the Council's lack of mercy" column, as Leola's — a child's fear, and Aaravos willing to pay the price and take her place — earns her no mercy. Rayla, meanwhile, sees someone innocent that she has 'every right' to execute is afraid of her, and that strays her hand; it steadies her sword, and she spares him. Because if someone is afraid of you, it's worth asking yourself why, and what you might want to do instead.

Last but not least I wanted to talk about Leola's parallels to Callum and Ezran as well, since they are very much there (though yet not perhaps to the same extent).

Ezran has Leola's friendliness to animals and soft heart. He too is a child whose death is called for as a means of Justice, and he is granted mercy through Rayla and the discovery of the egg, able to live and grow and help usher in peace. He is, I think, what Leola might've been allowed to be if she'd lived in different times. Callum, meanwhile, carries the gift giving motif through his cube, staff, and tokens he both gives to (moon-phoenix bracelet) and receives (the moon opal necklace) from Rayla, and previous 'human-Leola' magic dynamic. Callum being able to break free fully from Aaravos' and dark magic's control in S7 and turn his eye instead to primal magic will be what helps bring true justice to Leola and hope for humanity / Xadia in righting the Cosmic Council's fundamental wrongdoing. Hopefully, anyway.

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into some parallels and potential narrative goings-on between Leola and Rayla as characters. TDP loves its historical and ironic layers in TDP (Ez and the Orphan Queen, Viren's arc from S1 to S6) and I think this layered thematic dynamic between the two merciful young girls was a good, brilliant choice by the creative team. I'm excited to see where this thematic thread goes in the future and how it may continue to be woven into the story. As always, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one.

#tdp rayla #tdp leola #tdp meta #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince #she must pay the price #s6 spoilers #multi #arc 1 #arc 2 #s6 #analysis series #analysis #parallels #rayla #leola

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unconventialsailormoon · 2 months ago

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You’re Just My Media Trainer… Right?

Pairing - Micheal B. Jordan x Reader

Summary - you’re his media coach. he’s your client. so why does it feel like a date?

You weren’t supposed to get attached

You were supposed to fix his interviews. Tighten his messaging. Turn him from a headline into a legacy. That’s what they hired you for.

Not to sit in a hotel suite at 11:47 p.m, barefoot, eating cold takeout from the tray between you, while Michael quotes your own advice back at you in a mocking tone.

“You said no off-the-cuff answers,” he grins, eyes dancing, “but when that Variety guy asked what I looked for in a woman, I panicked and said ‘someone who can spell restaurant without spell check.’’

You groan and collapse back onto the plush hotel couch. “Do you want to be bullied on the internet?”

“I thought it was charming,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “Wasn’t it charming?”

You try to keep a straight face. “Michael. You sounded like a 7th grader describing his crush.”

“So… accurate?”

You toss a throw pillow at him. He catches it one-handed, of course. Like it’s a football and he’s showing off.

God, he’s annoying.

God, he’s hot.

The worst part is, he’s also weirdly… sincere. Not the Hollywood brand of “I’m down-to-earth” sincerity that publicists fake but the kind that slips out late at night, when the glam is wiped off and his voice goes soft.

Like now.

He’s quiet for a beat too long, chewing on a fortune cookie he didn’t open.

“I didn’t think I’d like you.”

You blink. “Thanks?”

“No, I mean.. media people usually come in like they’re fixing a mess. Like I’m a project. You didn’t treat me like one.”

“You’re not a project.”

He looks at you. Too long. Too still. The hotel room hums with the heater and a distant siren, and you forget to breathe.

“You’re real,” he says.

You’re not sure what to say to that. So you sip your water and pretend your heart isn’t doing weird things.

“I think that’s why you scare me a little,” he adds.

You raise an eyebrow. “I scare you? You’re Michael B. Jordan.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “And that’s the problem. Everybody wants Michael B. Jordan. Nobody wants me.”

The room tilts a little. The way he says it, not bitter, not dramatic, just true, makes your throat tight.

“You don’t have to be two different people,” you say.

He laughs once, hollow. “Then why does it feel like I’ll lose everything if I’m not?”

You don’t answer. You just lean your head on the back of the couch, and somehow, so does he, your shoulders touching now, his warmth sinking through the thin cotton of your sleeve.

You’re just his media trainer.

But here, in the glow of a half-dead floor lamp, with your heels on the carpet and your heart in your throat, it feels like something else.

He turns his head toward you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you… ever date someone you were hired to help?”

The question hangs between you like breath on glass.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

You want to say no. You should say no.

But instead, you whisper, “Are you asking hypothetically?”

His eyes drop to your mouth, just for a second. But it’s enough.

Then he leans back, smiling like he just exposed a secret.

“Just testing your boundaries,” he teases.

But he’s blushing.

So are you.

And the worst part is… you let him.

#micheal b jordan #micheal b jordan x reader #wholesome #black reader #Micheal b Jordan x black!reader #famous!au #accidental closeness #emotional vulnerability

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alexanderwales · 5 months ago

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The Hour of Truth

The spell made people tell the truth.

It was expensive, but not so expensive it didn't find its use. The intelligence services spent enormous amounts of money on it, it was part of every serious interview, and the legal system relied on it.

This isn't a story about one of those. It's a story about Michael and Sarah, in their dining room with a ReadySpell, engaged to be married but without a date set. It was a gift they were giving to themselves, something that would reassure them, a chance to explore each other. Michael was cheery about the whole thing, but Sarah was decidedly less so.

She unrolled the parchment onto the table they'd assembled from a kit three months prior. She read the instructions on the card, which were dead simple, then placed her fingers on two corners of the parchment, with Michael doing the same. The complex lines in the center glowed, a circle burst into flames for half a second, and then it went still and dull.

"That's it then?" Michael asked. He withdrew his fingers. "That's the whole thing? I somehow thought it would be ... more."

"We're supposed to test it," she said, withdrawing her own fingers and picking up the card. "Say something false. There are test phrases."

"Two plus two is ... hrm. Four." He frowned. "I could feel a resistance. What an odd feeling."

"My head ... no, can't do it," Sarah said, reading the first part from the card. "It says, 'my head exploded today'. I can't finish the sentence."

"Well then," Michael said. He spread his hands, palms up. "Here we are."

"One hour," Sarah said with a nod. She placed the instruction card down and flipped the small hourglass that had come with the kit.

"Do you love me?" Michael asked.

"I do," Sarah replied. She said it solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," Michael replied. "Well, it would have been extremely embarrassing if we hadn't answered those correctly." He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. "How many children do you want?"

"Two, or maybe three," said Sarah.

"I want two, but could go for a third," said Michael.

They had talked about it before. You didn't get engaged after four years of dating without having had those conversations at some point.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" asked Michael. "We know each other, but I suppose there's always at least a little doubt until you're under the spell. A difference between knowing and knowing."

"We only have an hour," said Sarah. "Rapid fire?"

"Sure," said Michael with a nod.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" asked Sarah.

"Yes," said Michael. "You?"

"Yes. Will you stay faithful to me?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes. Do you have unresolved feelings for anyone?"

"No. You?"

"No." Sarah paused. "How often do you need to have sex?"

"Need?" asked Michael. "I'm not sure I even agree with that question. But I can answer want, which is what I've told you before, maybe two or three times a week."

"How often does it end up being that we have sex?" asked Sarah.

"Less than that," said Michael. He frowned at her. "Can you do that, ask questions you know the answer to? I suppose so."

"It's two point one times a week," said Sarah.

"How can you be that precise?" asked Michael.

"I've been tracking it," said Sarah. She folded her hands in front of her. "You know I like data. And I'll need to track it when we're trying for children."

"Is that the only reason you've been tracking it?" asked Michael. He had leaned back in his chair slightly.

"I was worried that it might come up," said Sarah with a slight sigh. "I was worried that we might get in an argument and you would say that we weren't having sex enough, and I wanted pre-emptive ammunition."

The spell did not actually compel her to say all that, but he could have poked and prodded and gotten around vague answers, so it was best to just tell him. She wasn't proud of it.

"How many times a week would be the right number for you?" asked Michael.

"Once a week," Sarah replied, which was what she'd told him before. "In an ideal world, I suppose."

"And you're saying that it's two?" asked Michael.

"Two point one," said Sarah.

"Is this ... a problem?" asked Michael. "I mean, it should be a compromise between us."

"It is a compromise," said Sarah. "And it's one that I'm fine with." She was coming off as defensive, she knew, but it was the truth, the spell still had plenty of time left.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognize that.

"You don't resent me?" asked Michael.

"No," said Sarah. She let a beat pass, to give him a chance to ask another question, then reached down to her purse and pulled out her notebook.

"Is that a notebook?" asked Michael.

"I had a few things prepared," said Sarah.

"Ah," said Michael. "Well, I'm an open book." He smiled at her.

Sarah looked down at the notebook. "Where were you last Thursday?"

"I ... need to think about that," said Michael. "I was working late, preparing for the pitch. I sent you a message, didn't I?"

"You did," said Sarah. "What happened after the pitch?"

"I came home," said Michael.

"Did you do anything else between finishing work and coming home?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She looked down at her notebook again. "Last June you went on a work trip, what did you do together?"

Michael looked at her for a moment. "We went out to dinner," he said, and anticipating the follow-up questions, he continued, "Afterward, on the second night we were there, the guys wanted to go to a strip club, and they did, but instead of doing that, I went back to my hotel room and sat there alone, because I knew you wouldn't understand that it's just ... a thing men do. But I didn't go to the strip club, I didn't see naked women, I just sat there watching a movie."

"Are you annoyed with me?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Michael replied. "You don't trust me, and it's important, if we're getting married, for you to trust me."

"You cheated on me," Sarah said.

Michael pursed his lips. "Does it do us any good to have this conversation again with the spell active?"

"Probably, yes," Sarah said. "It would let me know you were honest."

Michael nodded. "It was one time. I had been drinking. There was something electric in the air, I don't know, this raw attraction that I had never felt, and I thought about you, and the thought seemed to just slide right off my brain. And then afterward, I felt so much guilt, like I had destroyed my entire life, and we'd only been dating for six months, so it felt like it was a sign, like I had revealed, too late, what you meant to me."

"When you went to bed with her, you thought that it was casual," Sarah said. "You thought that you would get away with it."

"Now hold on," Michael said, leaning forward slightly. "I was the one who told you. No one outed me, no one found anything out, it was my own conscience."

"A month late," said Sarah.

Michael nodded. "A month late. I wish that it had never happened. If it did have to happen, then I wish that I had told you right away. I was an asshole. But I've been faithful to you since then, I haven't done anything else, I ... I love you."

"Do you still think about her?" asked Sarah.

"Every now and then," said Michael. "Every month or two, she comes to mind. Mostly in a negative way."

"Mostly?" asked Sarah.

"Please," said Michael. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't think it's good that you keep dwelling on this, that you won't let this go." He looked down at the scroll, which had curled up slightly. "Is this why you wanted to do this?"

"Yes," said Sarah. "You said 'mostly', what does that mean? Mostly a negative way, which means that sometimes it's a positive way. Explain how."

Michael grit his teeth. "I am telling you, from the bottom of my heart, with a truth spell active, that it's not going to be good for either of us if we go down this path."

"I'm not marrying you unless you answer," Sarah said.

"That's the truth?" asked Michael. "I mean, you could have told me that before, you could have said that without the spell."

"You would have thought I was being manipulative," she replied.

"I think you're being manipulative now," Michael said. "You love me? You forgive me? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Sarah. "We're pulling out a rotten tooth, as I see it. I would have pulled it out on my own, if I could have, but I need you, and I need truth."

Michael took a breath. "I love you so much. You mean the world to me. I am so thankful to be marrying you, if that still happens." He took another breath. "The only thing I think, the only positive thought I have about her, is that she was more enthusiastic in bed. But I love you, Sarah, you are the only one I want to be with, it's not something that weighs on me, it's a consideration but it pales in comparison to everything else, you're smart, you're funny, you make me want to be a better man, these past four years I've become a better man."

"There have been times when you think to yourself that she was better in bed than I am?" asked Sarah. She had gone very still. She was swallowing the idea, in the same way that someone might swallow a caltrop.

"No," said Michael. "She wasn't 'better', she just ... wanted it in a way that you didn't. Don't. She was hungry for me in a way that you never are."

Sarah began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," said Michael. "But it doesn't mean anything to me, I told you that, it's an idle thought, it's got nothing to do with marriage, with partnership."

"I think I might be gay," said Sarah.

Michael stared at her. "What?" he asked. "What ... what does that mean?" He looked at the timer, which was still running down. "You said that once a week was what you'd prefer, did you mean with women?"

"No, I ..." she was sniffling, and went to her purse for a tissue, which she used to blot away her tears and wipe liquified snot from where it had gathered on her upper lip. "I enjoy having sex with you, I like the feeling of it. I do. That's true." She said it as though it was almost a revelation to hear it said under the truth spell, as though she wasn't certain that it would pass muster.

"Then what do you mean?" asked Michael. "Do you mean you might be ... bisexual?"

"I felt that heat for a woman," Sarah said. "For several women." She let out a breath. "I never did anything with them, I never even knew if it's what they would have wanted, but ... I don't know. It's confusing."

"But you still want to marry me," said Michael. "Even with that."

"I do," said Sarah. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Michael. He watched her face, as though he could read something there. He looked down at the timer. "Do you think this marriage is a good idea?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes enough that I didn't have to add qualifications, I guess." She gave a nervous laugh. "Do you?"

"Yes," said Michael.

But as soon as he said it, he wasn't sure that it was true. Did the spell work like that? Could you say something that was untrue after you said it? There was a rising panic inside him, a feeling of being trapped with her that he'd never felt before, not before the affair or after.

"Let's set this aside," she said. "Let's be done with it. Okay?"

Michael nodded. He had wanted to say 'okay', but it wasn't.

#microfiction

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fatcatlittlebox · 6 months ago

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Yay!! It’s more meta time! I had previously wrote short metas about the bond between Sauron and Galadriel and the creation of mithril as a corresponding metaphor. And interestingly enough, the showrunners JDP and McKay were proud to highlight it in their interviews. And the reason I want to bring this up is because if the writers are so keen to highlight it, it’s not just because they are proud of its cleverness. It’s because it reveals something about the characters’ psyche and portends what will play out in their future.

Let’s start with Galadriel and Sauron’s joining when she first made the proposal. I think the minute she uttered those words, ��Bind yourself to me”, it was as if she primed the cosmic milieu that would spark the alchemy of their connection. She was the missing piece, Valinor’s purest silver and gold. And the actions and accidents that happened during the events on the Sundering Sea were the other necessary ingredients of that merging. And I agree with Morfydd that most of it was by chance. But not all of it.

Choices were made. Galadriel extending her hand in compassion and trust to someone who had (in her mind) already proven less than worthy. Halbrand/Sauron forgoing self-preservation to save his great adversary. These were offerings made and placed in the crucible — true creation requires sacrifice. The storm is the force that coaxes these two hostile entities, these elements together. The lightning signifies the serendipity and rarity of their pairing. The whole scene is one of electric chaos.

But that element of chance is an absolutely critical ingredient. Galadriel is a being used to wielding strength and power and is suddenly rendered the opposite. Sauron is a creature of order and control and, at that moment, has none. These circumstances of nature or divine providence had stripped them bare and it was only in this state would these two immortals be drawn to each other. Note that many of the shots in this scene emphasize how these two Middle Earth juggernauts are so small compared to the wide sea. And the shots include birdseye views of them from seemingly 10000 feet above, suggesting that others’ eyes are watching. Are they watching their handiwork? Is it a test? Or are they watching with bated breath the union they didn’t predict.

As I have said before, their joining was a confluence of unexpected variables and choices: namely, Galadriel was not expected to choose Sauron and Sauron was not supposed to choose Galadriel. And those elements of chance, luck (bad or good), and anomaly are highlighted especially in season 2. Because after Sauron is rejected by Galadriel, he tries to recreate that alchemy, metaphorically and interpersonally with Celebrimbor. He falsely believes that it is something that he can control.

First, he comes to Eregion in his Halbrand form, low and humbled, and is immediately rebuffed. This is the first ingredient and it is rejected. The "alloy" here is off to a bad start. Then Sauron tries to force their meeting together: not at all like how he met Galadriel which happened because of a storm at sea. So Sauron conjures up a storm of his own. And I think he cast that spell as you can see here:

His eyes turn black and clouds immediately start churning and gathering overhead. This storm is artifice, an imitation. Celebrimbor and Sauron's partnership is already being formed with hollow filler. It is not genuine.

And if you look at the above gif, which is Galadriel's vision of Sauron in the same scenario, there is a subtle but noticeable difference. The horse is not in the foreground as it is when Sauron casts the spell in the audience's real time. There, the horse is in focus and at his shoulder. I think this is meant to signify Sauron invoking the memory of Galadriel. We know that Galadriel is represented by a horse frequently and is often conjured in Sauron's visions where Galadriel's presence is felt. In this scene, the horse is present again and is right there next to him. He's thinking of her.

Later, Sauron quickly abandons the "Halbrand" form and assumes the glamoured ruse of a noble elf. Many people disagree but I think when Sauron was Halbrand with Galadriel, this was the most honest, "purest" form of himself he had taken in ages and is the reason why Galadriel (the gold and silver here) was drawn to him. It was that "rightness" as I had mentioned in previous posts, that allow her soul to embrace him. To meld and intertwine. And we can debate whether or not Sauron was a corrupted element that hence produced a tainted bond. But for the purposes of this metaphor, I don't think he needed to be perfectly good. He only needed to be true to himself. And in that moment, that brief, impulsive, unforseen moment, he was. He was Mairon and it was captured and intertwined in an everlasting connection. And just as quickly, the window closed. In all the relationships he had before this and since, he has never been able to reproduce it.

The second season, I believe is meant to contrast that. As Annatar, there is nothing true or genuine he offers. It isn't real. This alloy is not going to take. It is destined to fracture. And you can see that. Because as he grows in power, his control over others, his control over his environment and even himself starts coming apart. The audience sees that manifest in his repeated failures at forging the 9 rings himself. Even when Celebrimbor is able to complete the rings alone, the results are flawed and the connection between Celebrimbor and Annatar immediately breaks and withers like the lies and illusions they were founded with.

Now where do we go from here? Now that Galadriel has been impaled by Morgoth's crown and Sauron's blood now mingles with hers, what will become of their connection, this "alloy" they had formed? We have to look at what will come of these 9 rings and what their effect will be on those that bear them. They are also poisoned with Sauron's blood and we already know what happens in the book. This will be his fated Achilles heel. Because he can't help but try to control what he can't. The bond between him and Galadriel was unique because he was not the hand that coaxed them together. He was not it's smith. In trying to grasp control over it, over her, over what he was not meant to instead of recognizing his greatest accomplishment was achieved by surrendering to the forces greater than himself, he will be destined to lose it all. A strong alloy requires balance.

#soooo yah #i wont stop meta-ing #i cant help it my bad #lol #haladriel #saurondriel #charlie vickers #morfydd clark #sauron x galadriel #halbrand x galadriel #haladriel meta #saurondriel meta #my edit

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a2006love · 2 months ago

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case file 01 . . AN EXPENDABLE

hello, i'm ala. not really, but i'd like to go by that. it's easier for people to spell. i— MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES FOR THAT! let's start over. WHAT IS AN EXPENDABLE? expendables are disposable humans used for the most dangerous tasks on space colonization missions. WHAT SORTS OF MISSIONS? ones like exploring unearthly planets, repairing deadly equipment, dealing with intergalactic creatures, testing sun rays, and so on. WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY DIE? when an expendable dies, they're thrown into a "cycler" where their body gets destroyed and recycled, their memories and concusiness are uploaded into a "brick", something similar to a hard-disk, but for humans. if that makes sense. anywho, it's then transferred into the next clone, meaning, we're rebooting them with the continuity of self but with a fresh body. it's banned on earth. which is why we're light years away. WHAT IS OUR PURPOSE? to complete the mission. to reduce risk. to populate the multiverse. to die, if required. expendables are the first in, first out! last considered. not as a luxury! HAHA. it's only because they die. expendables exist to handle what others cannot: extreme conditions, low survival probability, unknown variables. they are sent when outcomes don't matter—as long as data is collected. and their deaths are logged. humans will live forever!

case file 02 . . AND WHAT ELSE? OH! AN INTERVIEW!

INTRODUCE YOURSELF EXPENDABLE am i supposed to talk now? great! hi. i'm ala. i'm the first and only ethical expendable. i volunteered not because of anything they wrote in the recruitment papers. it's actually because i— WHY ARE YOU HERE? … okay … i signed up after my cat died. he was the only thing that made existing feel like a choice. after he was gone, i couldn't find a reason to stay in the version of the universe where he wasn't. so i came here. i also figured this wouldn't be as bad as everyone made it seem when i first signed up. you just die, you wake up. you repeat. right …? ANY DREAMS? i'd like to think that somewhere along the line, i'll find him again. maybe there's a world where he's still waiting for me. so until that happens, i'll run into the fire, get eaten, melted, erased, rebooted. and when they load me back up, i'll smile and say thank you ... just because? IS IT WORTH IT? … maybe, yeah. the thought of getting my cat back makes it bearable. and the sky looks different every time i wake up. it makes every death feel meaningful, and poetic if you think about it too. "i'll never die under the same sky twice" there's a metaphor in that somewhere. DO YOU THINK HUMAN LIFE IS MEANINGLESS? woah ... no, i don't think that way—not really, not ever. which hey, i know my belief contradicts my literal job, but i am printed again. so i guess it coun—

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ANY OTHER QUESTIONS?

can i finis—NO!

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎WONDERFUL! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS AS MUCH AS I DID! ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ UNTIL NEXT TIME

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inneedofsupervision · 1 year ago

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So, you got Detention

@berrys-hide-out Hey Berry, I hope reading this cheers you up a little, hope you like it <3. @cantsaythetword I didn't forget to tag you, here you go :)

Summary: Getting detention sucks. Getting detention for something you haven't done sucks even more. Getting detention and getting scolded through a Captain America PSA for something you haven't done and going home to have said man looking at you disappointedly is the bad-tasting cheery on top that Peter didn't need on this absolute disaster of a Monday. At least he gets the satisfaction of telling the rest of the team about Cap's PSAs. That's going to be fun.

Read on Ao3

"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you," sings Peter softly before his face turns into a grimace. "I'm never getting this song out of my head now. Thanks for that, Ned," mutters the teen without any bite, stepping out of the subway station. Despite Rick Astley uninvitedly declaring his love inside Peter's head, his lip twitched upwards for the first time today. He was glad to be finally heading to the Avengers Tower. Peter was ready to lock himself into the lab with Mr. Stark and ask the man what they would work on today. Him needing to bring distance between himself and the rest of the world doesn't come off as much of a surprise, taking into account that today had sucked until now. Immensely. At least in Mr. Stark's lab, nothing could get on his nerves, breaking the continuation of a bleak day.

It began with oversleeping.

The shrill sound of the alarm had cruelly torn Peter out of a dreamless slumber, and with a soft moan, the still sleep-drunk teen had aimlessly patted for the clock to end the obnoxious sound. As soon as silence had fallen over the bedroom, Peter's eyelids dropped, and although telling himself that it would just be five more minutes of lying down, he promptly fell asleep again. If Spiderman had stuck to his curfew and not exploited his aunt working overtime, there might be a chance getting to school late could have been avoided. When Peter woke the second time, tiredly checking his mobile phone, he sprung up in shock as he caught the time. Twenty minutes before the bell would ring. With no time for breakfast, he had washed up as quickly as he could, shoved the next best sweater and jeans he could find into his backpack, and sprinted out of the apartment. Peter usually avoided swinging to school, but drastic times called for drastic measures. He just hoped there wouldn't be any posts or articles of people wondering what Spiderman was doing, swinging this early in the morning cause that always prompted a rather unwelcome interview with Mr. Stark, or worse, Aunt May.

In his hurry to get to school on time, the boy had packed the wrong folder, thus having to scribble the history homework onto a paper two minutes before classes started. MJ had caught him sitting on the floor before the classroom, rushing to copy Ned's answers as if his life depended on it. She had pulled up an eyebrow before rolling her eyes. The girl didn't have to say anything for Peter's ears to grow red, embarrassed to look this unprepared in front of their decathlon team captain. Classes were relatively uneventful. Well, apart from the Spanish vocabulary test that Peter might have forgotten. Luckily, he could answer everything, although the boy was sure he spelled at least two words wrong. At lunch, Peter had felt the aftereffect of not eating breakfast as his stomach was rebelling, threatening to start eating itself from the sounds of it. The teen swore he could eat at least three portions until he had seen what they served today. To clarify, Peter isn't a picky eater. At all. Living years with Aunt Mays cocking trained him into trying everything deemed edible, and the hunger did the rest. But today, out of all days, the cafeteria ladies decided to let their presumable hate for the students show in the manifestation of the most disgusting-looking meatballs the boy had ever seen.

"Are those capers?"

Ned had glanced from his fork, where a with sauce dripping green ball of something pierced on, over to Peter, who, in return, squinted down onto his plate. He pushed the greens covered in watered-down sauce with his fork around before looking at his best friend with a frown.

"Could be. But to be honest, I don't really wanna find out."

The food had tasted just as it looked, and Peter was glad he was enhanced because he was sure if that weren't the case, he would have gotten food poisoning. How Ned got the funny-tasting excuses for a meal down was still a mystery to him. Having no money to buy something else to eat and knowing that his metabolism wouldn't let him go on without eating, Peter hadn't had much of a choice other than to force the stuff down his throat.

"If I don't show up to school tomorrow, you know what has happened to me," Ned had said with a slightly pained expression as he pushed his empty plate away to put a safety distance between himself and his lunch.

"Same," agreed Peter as he stood up. He had thrown a look at the leftovers, suppressing a shudder as he collected the food tray. They quickly left the cafeteria and the traumatic lunch experience the place brought with it behind. On their way to biology class, Peter had hope that this was the point where his day would finally turn, where it would start getting better. But of course, no day at school could end without Flash strutting up to them, holding onto the need to be insufferable. Flash had been making a beeline for Peter. The intent to bump his shoulder into Peter had been painfully obvious. Flash's nearing presence had sent Peter's spider-sense off, and it took the vigilante some willpower to let the impact happen.

"What, not apologizing for blocking the hall with your stupid face, Parker?"

Not wanting the situation to escalate, Peter tried to overlook the provocation. He wasn't looking forward to a confrontation, minding his business and continuing walking away when Ned whispered. "Don't mind him. Flash probably ate one too many of those meatballs and now feels like crap." Peter was aware that his friend only meant to lighten up the mood. He couldn't help heaving a sigh when their classmate turned around with an icy glare. "What did you say about me, Fatty?"

Apparently, Neds whispering had not been as quiet as intended. Flash had snarled, hand reaching out to grab Ned's collar but grasped at nothing as Peter anticipated the action and pulled his friend out of reach. He had shoved himself between the two and tried to calm Flash down when the teen grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him closer.

"Listen, Parker, one more word from your friend and I-" The rest of his threat had gotten cut off by the booming voice of Mrs. Warren echoing through the hallway, causing the students standing near her to jump at the sound.

"Parker, Thompson! Detention!"

"Fuck you, Parker."

With a glare, Flash had let go of him and stomped away under the watchful eye of Mrs. Warren. Ned had turned wide-eyed to his friend, carefully laying his hand on Peter's arm where Flash had grabbed him.

"Are you hurt? Peter, I'm so sorry, you shouldn't get detention because of me. I'll talk to Mrs. Warren."

Peter had pulled Ned back with a tired sigh. "Don't bother, Ned. You know Mrs. Warren won't change her mind. She's not exactly my biggest fan. I'll message Mr. Stark that I'm going to be late."

Ned was quick to protest. " But you did nothing wrong! Dude, that's just not fair!"

"It's alright, Ned. It's only detention. It won't be too bad."

By the time Peter finally got to step out of the building, he felt the urge to shake his head at his naivety. Detention had been downright awful. The second the supervising teacher had rolled in the antic tube television, Peter had an odd foreboding of what would come. The old device had flickered to life, and the speaker began playing with a static noise that made Peter wince inwardly. Peter swears he could see Mr. Stark before his inner getting an aneurysm at the sight and sound of their school equipment. Peter had ignored the burning pair of eyes trying to bore into the back of his head, courtesy of Flash, the latter trying to get his attention by calling him names but got told off by their teacher quickly. Peter had also noticed the lack of MJ, who chose today out of all days, not bothering to sketch someone's questioning of their life choices, and maybe detention would have been a tiny bit less terrible with her in the classroom. His eyes had flipped back to the TV, where a star-spangled, all too familiar-looking man sat down on a chair and began talking.

"So, your body is changing. Believe me. I know how that feels."

Peter had sunk deeper into his chair with a groan, the need to bid his lunch goodbye stronger than ever. Sixty painful minutes of unwanted advice from America's most popular and still living icon later, Peter is on his way to the Tower when his mobile phone vibrates inside his jeans pocket, Ned's name greeting him on the display.

"Hey, Peter. I'm still really sorry for earlier. But look what I found! This article is about Spiderman!"

Peter was glad his headphones were on as he clicked on the link Ned had sent him, as Never Gonna Give You Up blasts into his ears. It took him a few seconds as he stared down at his mobile phone, where the singer cheerfully danced behind his microphone, only for him to realize what happened. A surprised chuckle makes it out of his mouth as Peter holds his mobile phone up and whispers, "Dude, did you just rickroll me?". The grin was evident in his voice before he sent the audio message. It doesn't take Ned a minute to answer with a series of laugh emojis. Peter continuously chats with Ned on his way, his Spidey sense keeping him from bumping into anyone during the bustle on Manhattan's sidewalks.

Despite being late, there is the hint of a smile tugging Peter's lips upwards as he steps out of the elevator, amused about something Ned had written. Someone clears their throat, and Peter startles at the sound, quickly using his stickiness to catch his phone. The device dangles from the tip of his ring finger while Peter wonders why he has not felt their presence when a pair of familiar black dress shoes comes into view. Realization washes over Peter at their sight, the owner the only other person apart from his aunt, that his spidey sense doesn't go off to.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," greets Peter and puts on a polite smile as he takes in the frown displayed on his mentor's face. Maybe he should have written more than, "Hi, Mr. Stark. I'm going to be late. Happy doesn't have to drive me."

Peter's smile must have looked as forced as it felt by the look Mr. Stark gave him in return. The man stays quiet as Peter walks past him towards the guest room to put his backpack away. Walking into the living room, the teen gets greeted by the rest of the Avengers lingering around. Peter makes a beeline towards the couch where Clint is sitting, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his mentor just a little longer.

"Hey, Pete. How was school?"

"Please don't ask," mumbles Peter, taking a pillow to hug it while he sinks further into the cushions, trying to be one with the furniture. He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling while Clint chuckles next to him. "That bad, huh?" asks the man, and Peter hums. He closes his eyes, relishing that he finally gets to rest when the sound of footsteps grows closer before halting in front of the couch. Peter suppresses a sigh.

"Care to explain why you happen to be late?" Mr. Stark doesn't sound too bothered, which Peter takes as a good sign. He ponders if he liked Mr. Stark better when the man had been more indifferent but quickly pushes that thought into the back of his mind. Mr. Stark is just worried. But still, Peter didn't like the curiosity and concern in the older man's voice, the tone making him feel like a little kid getting scolded. The boy hugs the pillow closer, successfully muffling his voice by pressing it against his face. He really wasn't in the mood for this kind of conversation. Pushing his face deeper into the pillow, he grumbles, "I had detention."

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that, Spiderling."

Peter is pretty sure Mr. Stark did catch that. Something cold presses against his forehead, the only part of his face not hidden behind the pillow. Peter peeks from under it up to Natasha, who holds a can of Coca-Cola above him, a tiny smile on her lips. She nodded toward Stark with a reassuring smile, and Peter felt a bit better, knowing someone was there to step in if Mr. Stark became too overbearing. Taking the drink from her, the teen sat up properly and put the pillow down, facing his mentor.

"I hung out with Deadpool after school," he deadpanned, his last attempt to stir away from the topic. Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, sending a side eye at Clint, who dared to snicker at the kid's comment.

"Funny kid, but just to let you know, I have a pretty little monitor in the lab telling me that you haven't left the school building until twenty-five minutes ago. Oh, and I hope for my and your aunt's sanity that you haven't been around Deadpool without at least a ten-mile distance between you two. That man is a nutcase, Peter."

Ignoring the jab at the merc with a mouth and Peter's secret "Thursday is taco-day" partner, he raises an eyebrow. "Should I file a police report for stalking, Mr. Stark?"

"Kid, I don't need two spies and Snowflake around knowing you are deflecting. Now, out with it. Why were you late?"

Peter picked up on the silence around, aware that, by now, everyone in the room and the kitchen were probably listening in. A little embarrassed by the attention, the teen's eyes wander toward his lap, where he absentmindedly fiddles with his web shooters, a sense of shyness overcoming him.

"I had detention," he repeats, a little timid.

The silence only lasts a few seconds.

"Ouch, detention. I knew there had to be something about you, man. No one can be such a goody-two-shoes all the time," teases Sam with a smile, patting Peter's shoulder as he walks past to sit next to Bucky. Peter's lip twitched at the comment, relief flooding him when he looked around and saw no one looking disappointed. Catching Mr. Stark studying him, Peter fumbles with his web shooters again. Although the man didn't seem mad, the way he was looking at him made Peter nervous. Before the teen knew what was happening, he was already throwing a lengthy explanation the man's way, a sudden flood of words hastily chained together to form a somewhat coherent report of what had happened.

"Those meatballs were seriously bad, Mr. Stark. It reminded me of the time you made me try oysters. I'm not sure if I should ever forgive you for that, by the way. That had been kinda traumatic." Peter was painfully aware he was full-on rambling at this point, but Mr. Stark silently listening was unnerving him greatly, so he pushed on, eyes everywhere except Mr. Stark.

"Flash walked up to us and tried picking a fight. I just wanted to go and ignore him, seriously Mr. Stark, I didn't even look at him, but then Ned said something about Flash feeling crappy cause of those meatballs, and it was a joke, but Flash heard it, and he was going to grab Ned by the collar."

Peter goes on, and by the looks Bruce and Rhodey are throwing him, he should probably take a second to breathe before freaking out the adults in the room. But Peter couldn't waste time caring about who he was freaking out because he was going to freak if not managing to make Mr. Stark understand that he didn't get detention on purpose.

"I put myself between them when Flash grabbed me instead when Mrs. Warren came by. She saw us in the hallway and gave us detention."

"Hold on," says Sam, sitting up as he looks at Peter, wearing an incredulous expression. "You've got detention 'cause you avoided your friend getting roughed up by that Flash kid? Is that what I'm getting?"

Before Peter could answer him, Mr. Stark had already his Stark phone out. "I knew that Flash kid meant trouble. That's it. I'm going to get that gremlin expelled."

"Wait, you can't do that, Mr. Stark!"

The man raises an eyebrow, and Peter backpedals quickly. "Okay, you could, but please, you don't have to. He didn't hurt anyone, and it's only detention!"

"He was about to hit your friend, Peter," comments Clint, and Peter did not doubt if Mr. Stark wasn't about to call his school, then the archer would be the one to do it. Clint could get weirdly protective at the most random times.

"He does dumb stuff, yes, but if you expel him, it could get him in serious trouble. I know he has problems at home, and getting expelled isn't the solution." By the pointed look he's receiving from several of the Avengers, Peter had a hunch that his arguments weren't cutting it. He needs to pull out the big guns. The teen leaned forward and looked up to Mr. Stark with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster. "Please, Mr. Stark. Don't call the school."

If he hadn't been panicking about Mr. Stark trying to expel his classmate, Peter would have found it funny how quickly the hero calling himself Iron Man crumbled. Tony rolls his eyes with an excessive sigh passing his lips as he pockets his Stark Phone. "Next time that hooligan starts something, I will have him expelled faster than you can say, Mr. Stark, got it?"

Peter grins at his mentor. "Got it, Mr. Stark," he chirps back, leaning back into the couch and feeling content for the first time that day. He catches onto the amused glances the others send him and Mr. Starks way.

"So, how many pizzas should I order?" asks Rhodey, the man successfully breaking the silence. With the promise of Pizza and the knowledge that no one minded him getting detention, Peter takes out his phone to text Ned, the smile from before back on his lips. He looks up, feeling someone looking at him, and meets Bucky's eyes.

"Still can't believe they give you detention without clearing up the situation," says the man, crossing his arms over his chest, a sour expression on his face. Peter was about to tell Bucky that it was alright, honestly touched that the man got bothered on his behalf when Captain America chose that moment to walk in. A groan builds up in his throat as the man settles next to Bucky. Steve's brows are furrowed in concern as he glances around the room, lines on his forehead deepening before his eyes turn to the teen. It takes only a second for Peter to guess that Steve had only picked up the detention part of the conversation.

"You've got detention?"

Steve says it so seriously it makes Peter want to throw the pillow at something. Or someone. Too tired to retell the event, Peter merely shrugs his shoulders. "It wasn't that bad."

He had hoped they would leave it at that, but who was he kidding? He's talking about Steve Rogers, after all. Peter's good mood starts deflating when Steve puts on his disappointed Captain America face.

"You're a good kid, Peter. You shouldn't get in trouble."

The teen's expression turns sour at Steve's comment.

"Steve, leave him alone," begins Bucky, frowning at his friend and leaning forward to intervene when the teen sinks into his seat with a low groan. Tony shoots him a worried glance. "What's wrong, Pete?"

Peter ignores the question in favor of sending Steve a glare. Steve dared to look baffled by the look sent his way. If today hadn't been so bad, Peter wouldn't even consider rolling his eyes at Steve, but now he couldn't be bothered to be polite to Captain Popsicle. "I had to listen to your lectures for sixty minutes today, Steve. Sixty. Minutes. I think I had my fill, so please don't bother starting another lecture about what is right and wrong if you don't even know what happened!"

Mr. Stark looks highly amused, not bothering to stop Peter from throwing his sass at Steve, which the teen usually kept for being alone with him in the lab, not often showing it in front of the rest of the team. Bruce raises an eyebrow, head slightly tilted in question. "Peter, Steve had been here all day while you were in school. When should he have lectured you?"

"He wasn't, but I had to listen to his PSA during detention, and I don't feel like hearing more now," answers the teen with something that might, under some circumstances, resemble a pout. Not that Peter would be pouting in front of the Avengers.

"PSA?" asks Clint while Bucky carries a thoughtful look before glancing at the blond sitting next to him.

"You shot PSAs? They still do these?"

Taking in all the puzzled faces around them, Peter quickly realized something that filled his inside with nothing but delight. It was like someone turned a switch, the not-pout on the teen's face morphing into a grin bright enough to lighten the room while Steve's face darkened with every new question asked, their expression the complete opposite of each other.

"They don't know," whispered Peter under his breath, eyes locked on Steve. He lets out a surprised laugh, a grin wider than ever.

"Oh my god, Steve, they don't know!"

He sits upright, the tiredness completely wiped off him as he beams at the blond, eyes gleaming with mischief rivaling Loki.

"Peter," says Steve slowly, the warning heavy in the undertone of his voice. Said warning meets deaf ears, Peter not even thinking about stopping any time soon. He had felt like crap the whole day. Nothing went his way, and Peter knows that that's not on Steve. But having to listen to Captain America's lecture when he did nothing wrong only for the man himself to assume that he did something the second someone uses the word detention in context with Peter without giving him a chance to explain rubbed him the wrong way. The teen isn't a fan of revenge and retaliation and holding grudges, but today, Peter felt petty. If Steve thought he could spoil the rest of the day after school had been that bad already, then he could buckle up. Peter knows his behavior is childish and petty, traits no one would connect with Spiderman, but the teen isn't Spiderman right now. He is Peter Parker, a feeling wronged fifteen-year-old who holds the perfect blackmail material of the person who wronged him in his young, inhumanly sticky hands.

"So," begins Peter in the most serious voice he could muster, giving it his best Captain America impersonation. The way Steve's expression contorted into a grimace was worth it. "you got detention."

"I give you one chance to stop, Peter," warned Steve, eyes narrowed dangerously. Peter only grins wider at that, having way too much fun rilling the blond up while the others could only share confused glances.

"Something tells me this goes over my head," stage whispers Clint.

"Doesn't everything?" shoots Sam at him simultaneously as Tony throws a, "Nothing new, then."

"Harsh," says Clint, rubbing his chest in mock hurt, causing the others to chuckle. "But back to Spider-kid and Cap, does anyone know what those two are on about?"

Choruses of no clue and a beat from Rhodey are all he gets before all eyes are on the pair, who are now challenging in a silent stare-off. Peter leaned forward, openly enjoying teasing the older man. Steve is ready to jump at him by the looks of it, but Peter isn't intimidated in the slightest, knowing he could outrun the older man. "You screwed up. You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you gonna make things right?"

Peter's grin widens at the same time Steve narrows his eyes.

"Last warning, Pete."

The blond raises his eyebrows, caught off guard when the teen leans back into his seat. He watches with surprise how Peter fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a short glance at it before calmly placing it on the coffee table.

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Peter mercifully, stretching as he stands up and walks towards the kitchen. The blond's eyes follow the teen's movement, and Sam snickers how his friend's body deflates at the tension vacating his shoulders, amused by the power a teenager holds over Steve's head.

"Oh, by the way, Steve," Steve's heads shoot up at the tone in Peter's voice. He locks eyes with the teen, who wears the cheekiest grin any of the Avengers ever had seen him carry as he beams at the man.

"Maybe you were trying to be cool. But take it from a guy who's been frozen for 65 years... The only way to be cool is to follow the rules."

Peter's grin was about to reach his eyes. He couldn't help himself.

"Are you following the rules, Steve?"

In hindsight, Peter should have anticipated that the super soldier wouldn't let go of it without some retaliation. It had been too much fun to watch the man's patience thinning than to think what the outcome of that scenario would mean for Peter. He ducks at the same time his Spidey sense peaks, blocking the pillow flung at him just in time. The low buzz had begun to surr in his ear since he started teasing Steve and was growing into a shrill ringing when the man got up from his seat incredibly fast. Peter turns around while stepping out of reach, avoiding the hands reaching for him by vaulting over the couch, including Clint.

"Hey, no jumping over my furniture!" scolds Mr. Stark, but the crinkling of skin around his eyes betrays the stern act as he watches his mentee chased by Cap, wearing a grin on his face.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

The sincerity of the apology suffers under the smile lying in his voice.

Peter stands still, eyes not leaving Steve, who hovers on the other side of the couch, waiting for him to move. Despite focusing on the blond, Peter catches onto the excitement in the room, their little chase entertaining the others immensely, followed by the cheering they receive from the rest. The whole situation was so silly. Peter couldn't help but laugh when he feinted a step to the side, causing Steve to flinch as the man was ready to pounce but narrowing his eyes as he caught on Peter trying to fool him. He couldn't wait to tell Ned that he had teased Captain America, the thought alone bringing a grin about to split his face.

The excitement in the room only increases, so much that Peter doesn't notice the new presence of a person before nearly bumping into them. Thanks to his sixth sense, he barely keeps from barreling into Mrs. Potts. He comes to an abrupt halt despite wearing socks, only possible thanks to his stickiness. Pepper holds a hand over her heart, the surprise written all over her face when Steve takes the chance of Peter not paying attention. The last thing Peter catches is Pepper's green eyes widening, her mouth forming a silent o before something slams into him at full speed, turning the world upside down.

"Whoa, careful Steve. I don't want squished spiders on my clothes."

Clint scowls playfully at the blond, who ignores him in favor of wrestling with a laughing teen on the couch. The archer rolls his eyes at being ignored and points his thumb at the pair.

"Children. It's like herding cats." He snorts at the sight of Peter with his back pressed into the couch, one foot pressed against the super soldier's chest, and pushing the 240-pound weight off of him without much difficulty. "So, your body is changing," begins Peter, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face despite Steve looming above him, looking ready to throw him out of the next window. The blond reaches out to cover Peter's mouth to block more parts of his most embarrassing PSA coming out of the teen, the panic in his eyes causing Peter to break out into laughter. Steve narrows his eyes at the laughing teen, who half-heartedly shoves him off of him.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on here?"

Peter perks up at Mrs. Pott's question, glancing at Steve with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, I was just about to tell the rest about Mr. Roger's PSAs, Mrs. Potts," he chirps, ever so helpful. He was about to elaborate when Steve finally managed to clap his hand over Peter's mouth, successfully shutting him up.

"Noo, why did you turn him off?" complains Sam with faked disappointment. "It was just about to get interesting."

"Since when do you believe anything Peter tells you?" counters Steve, struggling to hold the teen down and keep him from spilling another word. Despite Peter's small size, the teen was powerful. Steve needed to trap him in a hold, somewhat resembling an uncomfortable back hug, to keep a hand over his mouth, but the teen with his freaky flexibility didn't even seem too bothered.

"Well, the kid can be very persuasive. And he did sound like he had something important to tell us. Isn't that right, Peter?"

Peter nods vigorously despite the hand still covering his mouth. They watch the teen worming an arm out of Steve's bear hug, tugging on the hand that kept him from talking. Sam grinned as he observed Steve's face fall at the ease Peter pulled his hand away. The older man tried reclaiming the position, but the teen had it in a tight hold, successfully keeping him from putting his hand back on his mouth. Peter grabs Steve's other wrist and pushes the man's arms away, wriggling out of the hold. A bright grin adorns the teen's face as he pushes Steve away, who is back on his heels in a second. Peter jumped off the couch as a hand seized his leg, causing him to fall over. Several surprised gasps could be heard, along with a rather colorful curse directed at Steve from Tony as Peter catches himself, keeping from faceplanting into Mr. Stark's pristine white living room floor. In contrast to the glares Steve receives at the rash action, Peter openly cackles as Steve tries pulling him back by his leg.

"There is a perfectly equipped gym two floors down, and they decide to do this here?"

"Don't be harsh on them, Tony. They seem to be having fun," appeases Pepper, surprisingly one of the few people along with Bucky and Natasha who weren't shocked by seeing Peter fall.

"Where does that look like having fun?" He asks, but one look at his mentee's face tells him his fiance was right. The kid is enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Peter plants his palms on the floor, his upper body hanging off the couch. He sticks onto the tiles, sticking one hand down at a time, and crawls away while Steve still holds onto one of his legs. He keeps moving forward, laughing at the strained huff Steve lets out as he avoids Peter's free foot from kicking him in the stomach. The super soldier bats the flailing limp away, shortly loosening his hold on the teen's leg, which the latter quickly uses as a chance to create some leeway.

He doesn't get very far.

"No!" shouts Peter as a hand wraps around his ankle and pulls him back half a meter. "Sam! Bucky! Help!" pleads the teen half-heartedly, reaching out for the two men sitting on the opposite couch.

"What do you say, Buck? Do we help the munchkin?"

"I know Steve long enough not to interfere when he gets like that. Punk is a mad dog when he throws a fit. Sorry, kid, you're on your own."

Peter is about to give the men a piece of his mind when he gets pulled another good amount of inches back before he gets back to stick on the floor. He crawls away again, but Steve has none of it and reaches for the teen's other ankle. Thanks to his spidey sense, Peter avoids the grip by turning on his side, but it causes him to roll further towards the couch than away from it. Steve quickly takes the opportunity to reach down and hook his hand under the teen's side, attempting to heave Peter off the ground. The teen twists in his hold, and Steve curls his fingers into Peter to keep a hold of him when an honest-to-good squeal escapes the teen.

An eerie silence hangs over the room, no one daring to speak as Steve stares at the frozen teen in his hold who avoids meeting his face as best as he can, but he catches onto the reddened tips of his ears. Steve's lip twitched knowingly. He knows that kind of reaction. He squeezes his hand abruptly, lips forming into a grin as the body on the floor jumps like a fish on land at the action.

"Oho," says Clint, sounding way too gleeful, the first to break the silence, having watched the silent realization come over Steve with amusement.

"What a way to reveal your secret, kid. At least I won't have to keep this to myself anymore," comments Tony with a grin.

Now was Steve's turn, carrying a mischievous grin.

"A secret? What kind of secret could that be, Peter? You like sharing information. How about you enlighten us about this, huh?"

Peter feels his heart jump at the tone in Steve's voice. He kind of regrets having made fun of the man. Peter begins crawling again, but this time with more vigor than before. He doesn't get very far as Steve instantly pulls him back but meets resistance as the teen sticks to the ground. The problem resolves itself quickly as Steve releases one of Peter's legs to reach forward and claw at the teen's ribs. With a shriek, Peter's left hand unsticks, arm shooting down to protect his side. Steve's hand darts to the teen's other side, repeating the procedure and efficiently getting the teen off the ground. From there on, it was easy to throw the already laughing boy back onto the couch.

Never one to back down quickly, Peter instantly tries climbing over the couch, but an arm sneaks around his middle and prevents him from escaping. He tries reaching for the backrest, but a hand worms its way into his underarm, and every attempt to reach his arm out to grasp something becomes futile. He quickly gets pushed down, back pressed into the couch cushion as Steve looms over him for a second time that day, but this time, Peter could crawl out of his skin at the grin on the older man's face.

"Dohon't do this," says Peter, voice void of any conviction as nervous giggles accompany his words. Not knowing what to do with his hands, the teen awkwardly holds them in front of him, half shielding his upper body and half waiting to catch any hands that were about to attack. Steve watches with growing amusement how the boy's eyes jump from his face to his hands and back as if he were unsure what was more important to keep track of. He had never seen such an amount of nervous energy radiating from the teen. It was adorable to see him this unnerved about something harmless as this.

"This? What do you mean, Peter? Is this about the secret Tony mentioned?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. I don't have any secrets. Apart from being Spiderman, I mean," Peter stumbles over his words, lips twitching upwards when Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "No secrets to share, no information to keep. I have nothing to hide, so you can let me go. Please?"

Steve turns towards Clint, who hasn't moved an inch, even with the literal wrestling match happening on the seats next to him. "What do you say, Clint? Does he tell the truth?"

Peter throws a pleading look towards the archer. Clint grins at the pair.

"You see that face," he asks, pointing at the teen. "As a spy and a father, I can tell you that's the face of a liar."

"That's not true!" protests Peter as Steve turns back to him. Catching onto the look the man bestows on him, Peter snatches the next best thing he can get his hands on, a decorative pillow, and uses it to shield himself, a giant grin about to split his face. Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Seems like I have to get the truth out of you."

"Noho!" shouts Peter with a laugh as Steve pulls at the pillow. Nervous giggles are pouring out of him as he tries to make himself as small as possible, and it is faint, but Steve's enhanced hearing could pick up on the wild pace of the kid's heart beating.

"Let go of the shield, Spiderman," commands Steve, eyes gleaming playfully at the boy.

"In your dreams," says Peter, only fastening his hold onto the pillow, the only thing keeping him safe from the fingers getting closer. Steve catches a movement out of the corner of his eyes, lips twitching ever so slightly. He focuses back on Peter, the boy watching him with his whole attention, unaware of the hands reaching for his feet. A shriek escapes the vigilante, eyes widening at the feel of blunt nails running over his socked soles, causing him to flinch and pull his legs up at the ticklish feeling. Steve uses the moment of surprise to tear the pillow out of Peter's hand, depriving him of the last thing to shield himself from his attack.

"Thanks, Clint."

"No problem, Cap."

Peter sends a glare Clint's way, but the archer only needs to reach for his feet for the teen to let the glare turn into a panicked grin, quickly tucking his legs close. "That's what I thought," says Clint with a smug grin. Steve uses the moment of inattention, poking the teen's stomach in quick succession. The reaction didn't disappoint.

"Hey! Stohop it!"

Peter tries glaring at the blond while his hand fails to catch the poking fingers, jumping when one poke lands dangerously close to his lower rip. The motion doesn't go unnoticed by the soldiers' trained eyes, a sly smirk forming on the man's face. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Yehehehes! Stahahap pokehihing me!" complains Peter, but it was hard to take the teen seriously with the constant giggling. Steve does stop at that.

"Alright, I'll stop. Would you prefer this instead?"

He skitters his fingers over the teen's stomach, grinning at the squeal escaping Peter before he tries curling on himself, hysterical giggles pouring out of him, unaware that the sound causes amused smiles to appear on every face in the room.

"Nahaha, gehehet your hahahands of mehehe," Peter manages to bring out between his laughter as he twists on his side, addressing the others.

"Sohohomebody hehelp!"

"Anyone here knows who that somebody is he's talking about?" asks Sam, feigning ignorance.

"I hahahete you, Bihihirdman 2!"

"Yeah, I can't take anything you say seriously giggle-bug."

Peter is about to counter, but a set of fingers dug into the part where his ribs and upper back meet, sending a ticklish shock throughout his body. He jumps at the touch, and Steve latches onto the reaction, taking both hands to claw at his ribcage and digging his fingers in on the search for that spot. Peter's giggles had long ago turned into bright laughter, now accompanied by an occasional shriek and a whole-body jump as Steve found what he'd been searching for.

"Oh, what's this?" he asks, voice full of glee.

"NOHOHOTHING, IT'S NOTHINIHIN!"

"Something tells me you're onto something, Cap," comments Rhodey with a grin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, amusement written all over his face.

Peter shakes his head at the words, chanting "Stopstopstopstohohooop," while trying to catch the hands that are way too skillful in sending ticklish sparks under his skin, leaving him in stitches. "Why? Is this the spot I have to go to to get you to tell me about your secret? Although I think I can already guess what it is."

Steve grins down at Peter who tries so hard to scowl at him but fails miserably. It leaves the man wondering where all the strength has gone, and while the idea of tickling being Spiderman's big-bad weakness sounds fun, Steve knows for the better that this couldn't be the reason for the teen's failure to escape.

"OH MY GOHOHOHOD, NOHOHO!" Peter kicks his legs, wriggling from side to side and throwing his head back when Steve finds a way to slip his hands into his underarms. He presses his arms down, quickly rendering Steve's fingers immobile, but the feeling of them simply touching his armpits tickled like mad.

"Peter, I kinda need my hands back, or we're stuck here until tomorrow," teases Steve, amused when the boy shakes his head with a giant grin.

"Buck, a little help here?"

The other man huffs a small laugh. "You're seriously stuck?"

Steve grins at him. "I can't move a single finger."

With a shake of his head, Bucky makes his way over to the couch. He assesses the situation before glancing at Peter, the latter trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Bucky clasps both hands on Peter's thighs just over the kneecap, squeezing and massaging his thumb into the muscle. Peter kicked like mad at the action, breaking into loud belly laughter, and Steve could pull his hands away as the teen was busy twisting and wriggling, trying anything to get Bucky's hands off his knees.

"How did you know that would work?" asks Sam, impressed, as Bucky walks back to sit on the couch as if nothing had happened. Bucky shrugs. "It works on Steve," he answers cooly, but with a smirk playing on his face. Steve glares at him but quickly focuses on Peter, who uses the moment to try crawling in the other direction of the couch. Clint only watches with amusement as he has a lap full of enhanced teen trying to crawl over him as if that was your normal Monday afternoon thing, only to get caught by the shoulder and get dragged back.

"We're not done yet, Queens."

"Steheheheve, pleaahahse. I cahanah't tahahake anymhohore!" whines Peter, but Steve catches onto the playful spark glinting in his eyes.

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Steve, mimicking Peter. "But there's one thing I'll have to tell you." The teen narrows his eyes at the blond, not trusting one word coming from Steve.

"What I tell you now is about one of the most valuable traits a student or soldier can have."

Peter's eyes widen comically. As soon as his brain registers the words, he gracelessly flails in his place. The teen tries to throw himself off the couch as he knows where this is going, but Steve, having anticipated the action, jumps forward and catches the teen around the waist. He keeps his arm wrapped around Peter's middle, hugging the teen against his chest and kneading his free hand into Peter's side without further ado.

"Nohohohot anohohother one! Steve pleahahahase! Dohohohon't do thihihhis! I-I'll goho insahahane!"

Steve keeps a stoic face despite the madly giggling and protesting fifteen-year-old half-sitting squirming in his lap, batting and pulling on the arm holding him in place. He continues his speech with his Captain America voice, causing several eyebrows to raise in amusement.

"Patience." he begins, while his hand slips under the teen's shirt, skittering his fingers over bare skin, "Sometimes, patience is the key to victory."

Peter doesn't know if it's the teasing or the fact that Steve keeps dragging his fingers over the bare skin of his sides, but he can't help kicking his legs into the air and throwing his head back into Steve's shoulder as his whole body shakes under the force of him laughing. Steve takes advantage of Peter's head being this close as he speaks the following words right into his ear, earning him the cutest giggle he had ever heard as the teen desperately tries to scrunch his shoulder up and shield his ear from the tickly air. "Sometimes, it leads to very little, and it seems like it's not worth it, and you wonder why you waited so long for something so disappointing."

At his last word, Steve changes his tactics and uses his free hand to poke every place he can find that Peter isn't poorly trying to protect. The boy can't do anything in his hold but giggle his head off, and Steve wonders once again why Peter doesn't escape since he certainly could until he realizes that, maybe, Peter doesn't want to escape. The thought sparks his interest, and he might as well test that theory while the opportunity's still there.

"STEHEHEHEHEHEVE! NO! Anywhere but there! Please please please, please not thihihis it's so bad. Seriously, dohon't do it! STEHEVE NOHOHO, WHY AREN'T YOHUHU LISTENIHIHIHN! AHAHAHAH NO STAHAHAHAP!"

Peter trashes in his hold as the super solider gets another chance to dig into that sweet spot between his back and rips, sending the kid into a laughing fit, face reddening as he squeezes his eyes shut, the corner wettening with tears of joy before his laughter turns silent.

"Steve, I'll think he got the message," interrupts Tony, having caught onto the change from silent laughter to coming out a tad bit breathless. Not wanting to overdo it, the blond stops the tickling but keeps his arm around the teen, afraid Peter will fall if he lets go of him. The boy hangs slack in his hold, trying to catch his breath.

"You good, Queens?" asks Steve, a little worried he might have overdone it as he carefully loosens his hold on Peter. The latter let himself slip to the side, landing with a groan on the couch. Feeling Steve's eyes on him, Peter turns his head but keeps lying on his side. He sends the man a tired grin.

"I think now I know the true meaning of patience. And ruthlessness."

With a smile, Steve reaches over and ruffles Peter's already messed-up hair.

"You need another lecture, and you know where to find me," he jokes, smirking at the dramatic groans it earns him.

"Yeah, no, I think I pass. You know what I would rather listen to?"

Steve raises an eyebrow in question.

Peter grins at him.

"Some Captain America PSAs."

#ticklish! peter parker #ticklish spiderman #lee peter parker #ler steve rogers #marvel tickle fic #peter parker #spiderman #captain america #steve rogers

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lovekylarforever · 3 months ago

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PC Interview (anyone can play if they wannaaa <3)

Choose any amount of your OCs/PCs then answer the following questions. Make sure to be creative and have fun ^^ btw the Q stands for questioner so don't forget to have a little fun messing with them too! ^^ tagged by: @hysterical-luxury <3 thanks for the tag!!!

INTERVIEW:

Q: Let's start off with a brief introduction. -shuffles papers- (oh god oh fuck. how did i end up here? i can't do interviews, that's why i have the job i do, i bomb every interview! what the hell am i doing here? i need to get out of here but i've been chained to the chair and they seem to have made a point out of locking the door while i was watching. fuck fuck fuck) "lucian." he squeaks out, eyes trained on the ground beneath him. he's sweating profusely and his entire body shakes, his face is pale. Q: How would you describe yourself? (this is such a bullshit question, jobs always do this. they always want to pick you apart like this. i don't know!!! i don't know what this question means!!! how am i supposed to describe myself? do normal people know how to describe themselves? oh god. am i not normal? am i a freak? i'm a freak. i'm fucked. what is this interview even for? is this for a retail job? is this some fucked up retail job i applied for when i was wasted last weekend???) "i'm... good at social interactions and i can look people in the e-eyes when speaking to them..." he's not looking at any of the interviewers in the eyes.

Q: What's your height?

(what does my height have to do with anything?? is this not retail? are they trying to sell me off somewhere??? i didn't miss any rent payments to bailey, what the fuck did i do this time?) "5'11." he is fully panicking now.

Q: Boy or girl?

(can they tell? oh god they can tell. great. just great. they're already looking for "subtle" ways to let me know they've clocked me. this is so retail. or are they trying to figure it out before selling me off to someone??? i'll make a joke, if it's retail maybe they'll laugh and let me go because i suck so bad at this.) "d-depends on who you ask, if you asked the church, they might not give you the same answer i'd give you... haha..." it's silent. lucian peers his eyes up to get a look at their reactions, and the interviewers were all staring blankly at him, nobody laughed. his sweat is dripping onto the table in front of him. "boy..." he mumbles, trying his best to make himself as small as possible by shrinking into his chair.

Q: What do you do to relax?

(well, usually i relax by not getting chained up to a chair during a creepy interview for some fucking retail job i don't remember applying to, with freaky interviewers who feel like they were made in some fucked up lab!!!) "baths. computer. kylar." he says this like he's chanting a spell to make these things happen instead of whatever is going on here.

Q. What's your Favorite Color?

(okay, now i'm just getting pissed. is this some kind of experiment??? is doctor harper behind this?? i don't know whether that's comforting or scarier.) "red." he scratches at his arm.

Q: Do you want a hug? x3

(?????????????????? it has to be harper, right??? is he trying to do some sort of fucking personality test to decide what kind of animal he'll turn me into, or whether or not i get 20 nipples or elf ears? please, if it's anything, just let it be elf ears. i can accept that, i don't want it, but i can at least accept it. at least give me something cool, please. if any unethical experiments happen without my consent, let it be cool!!!!) "...don't touch me. please." he spits that last word out, nervous and irritated.

Q: What's your favorite food?

(this is definitely harper. is this my last meal as myself????) "uh. haha... um. that's a hard one. t-there's just so many..." he's shaking again. the interviewers continue staring, waiting for him to answer. "m-maybe pineapple fried rice...?"

Q: Do you love anyone? If so who? -raises eyebrow-

he doesn't think before his immediate answer, "kylar." with his head turned downwards and staring at the ground, his lips curve into a small smile at the thought of his love.

Q: Do you have any kids?

(doctor harper should know this already. am i being tested for my truthfulness as well??) "no..." but hopefully one day, he thinks to himself.

Q: Have you ever killed anyone?

(??????? is this an interrogation?? am i a suspect for murder?? oh my god. they're going to think i did it because i'm such a fucking freak!! what the fuck am i supposed to say??) "o-of course not! i would never k-kill anyone..." (great! that was the most suspicious way i could have said it. i'm so bad at this. why did i lie to them by saying i'm good at interacting with people? clearly i'm not, they're going to think i'm the murderer because i lied to them! nobody is stupid enough to think i really believe i'm good at talking to people. they can see right through me, they know i'm a filthy liar.)

Q: Do you hate anyone?

(fuckkkkkkk they definitely think it's me. whoever got murdered was probably someone i hated, but that could be anyone!! i don't really like a lot of people. they're all assholes to kylar, so fuck em. i'll just say i hate whoever hates kylar, that'll make me look like i hate too many people to hate someone specific so much that i'd kill them...) "i hate everyone who bullies kylar..."

Q: Have any deep dark secrets?

(of course i do!!! everyone has a secret or two, right? wait, am i the weird one for having secrets? do normal people have things they want to keep hidden so deep that they can't even feel or see them anymore??? do regular people keep secrets from everyone around them?? fuck. i'm such a piece of shit. are they trying to arrest me for doing mouth and hand stuff for rent money? is kylar possibly listening to this right now to find out about it? no. he would save me from this place if he knew i was here. he wouldn't allow these people to chain me up like this... he'd just follow me around town if he had any suspicions, he wouldn't do all this.) "m-maybe, i don't think about these things much..." he lies, badly.

Q: Do you have any bad habits?

(great, they're trying to find out if i kill animals for fun or something. i'm screwed. that's definitely what they're looking for. i don't do that, but still! what if rumors are being spread that i'm doing these things!! all i do is steal a little, get a little fucked up and (rarely, recreationally,) make kylar a little jealous! oh my god i'm such a bad boyfriend. what if he's doing this to me because i'm such a bad boyfriend and he wants to get back at me? what if he's breaking up with me??? what if this is him telling me that he doesn't love me if i can't be honest???) he looks like he's on the verge of tears, but nothing spills. his face is red and his eyes are scrunched up. his throat feels dry as he speaks, "a couple... n-normal ones, i think? just drinking some weekends... and, um. sometimes i'll have a smoke i-if i'm stressed..."

Q: Do you play any instruments?

he visibly relaxes. (finally, a question that doesn't make me feel like i'm being put under a microscope.) "piano, when i was a kid... don't remember much of it anymore."

Q: What's your favorite thing to do?

(maybe this is all just some big misunderstanding? what if i'm not being interviewed, or sold off, or being experimented on by doctor harper, or being investigated for murder, what if this is just a survey! haha, a totally normal survey!! yeah right. they're just trying to get me to lower my guard. i'm never getting out of here. i bet they've already made their decision on me, they know something's wrong with me. they don't know what, i don't even know exactly what's wrong with me!! but they're trying to find out so they can do something bad with me. i just know it.) "h-hang out with my boyfriend... talk to him, or, um. go to the arcade with him."

Q: Where do you think you'll be in ten years?

(hopefully not dead in a ditch or locked up somewhere because of whatever this is! i just wanna go home. i wanna see kylar... i miss him. i need him to tell me it's okay, i need his arms around me.) "...i just wanna be with my boyfriend, i want us to get our own house together... i want us to be happy." he sounds like he's mourning a future that he won't ever get to see.

Q: Thank you for answering these questions! That'll be all! :D

one of the interviewers gets up and unlocks the chains around lucian, stepping back after removing them. another one is by the door, having already unlocked it and now holds the door open for him. lucian wastes no time in running out of the door and exiting the building. it's still bright out, and lucian's first instinct is to run straight to the park to see kylar at the usual spot. he's drenched in sweat and wheezing when he finally spots kylar, and lucian barrels into him, pulling him into a big hug while he cries.

tagging: @dendrofiles @pinipig @beevosmeower @yaoipope @a-l0ve-that-b1tes <3<3<3

#i uh. i took this in a direction that probably wasn't as intended but i thought itd be a fun way to explore how lucian thinks #and how his anxieties and self deprecation affect his actions and thoughts LOL #i probably made some mistakes here but idc #lucian the dependent #kylu #kinda

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sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan · 2 years ago

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Thoughts on Short Chapter 90.1 (Long Post)

First of all, what in the world just happened? That short chapter was so unexpected for a short chapter.

Endo is really good at messing all of our brains in just four pages. Upon seeing it as an extra chapter, I thought it’s going to be on a lighter side but I don’t expect it to be dark and centered around Anya!

So here are some of my 6 takeaways. (Long post again sorry!)

1.Anya is probably not the real spelling of her name or not even her real full name

-Anya is pretty sure herself that her name is spelled as Ania, she spelled her name the same way in the Eden Entrance Exam.

-And the expression in her face when Loid corrected her tells a lot. (I’m really amazed how Endo conveyed this without the readers letting know what is going on in Anya’s mind. Meaning that he still doesn’t want to reveal that snippet of her thoughts process since it surely would reveal something about her past) Her expression was so subtle but it tells that for her, she's certain that it was really letter I. Then settling with oh, but not like a happy and excited or enlightened ‘Oh!’ But just a simple, Oh, okay... Like she had no choice but to just agree.

And her lying in her bed thinking about the name, saying it aloud as if familiarizing it.

So here are my thoughts about Ania/Anya’s name:

Ania is part of a longer name

Maybe Ania was a nickname given to her because she has a longer one.

I just told my sister days ago that Anya’s name sounds like Ostania and maybe that is where her name came from. So maybe Ania is just what they named her deriving from Ostania itself.

Ania could also be an acronym for something. Like the A could stand for Apple since the experiment is called Project Apple. The rest of the letters however I have no idea.

Ania could also be an experimental name (Like what I saw on some posts here the AN1A one so they decided to call her Ania but it was not a name but a label for her.

2.Why Loid assumes it was Y and not I

In the documents Franky had given him in the first chapter, her name is spelled Anya with a Y. Meaning, the orphanage thought her name is spelled that way but we can understand for Anya it was always spelled with I not Y. (The document is not readable in the manga but it was clear in the anime)

3.Endo has plans for everything, especially for the three main characters and their back stories

Endo often says that he thought things in a spur of a moment in terms of making this manga (Reference: fanbook Endo interview page 176) like how he decided Anya being a telepath on the last moment and called it luck that it worked out lol. But this was clearly planned and the anime creators, directors and writers are aware and is working closely with Endo. What he pulled in this short chapter isn’t something that can be thought for the last minute. It is planned from the very beginning. Probably some of the little details in the manga might mean more that what meets the eyes. (I saw a video before and in that video they showed Endo's studio and they showed miniature models of the designer chairs on the volume and there are chairs there that were just briefly shown that is yet to appear. I saw the video before the release of Volume 11, the one with Emile and Ewen and I saw their chairs in the line up of the models. So you can't convince me that he hasn't planned anything where he wants to take the plot next.)

4. The Anime on Anya's nameplate change

Anya's name changed in her nameplate, from Ania to Anya at exactly end of Season 1 Part 1 episode 12. Anime have been very persistent in showing that nameplate.

(Episode 3, not in the manga)

Then Episode 11, we saw the change of her name spelling on her test. So the short mission 90.5 took place before she got her first stella.

The Season 1 Part 1 Finale, we see this nameplate and I went to check the short mission of this in the manga and no, the manga didn't show the change of nameplate in that particular chapter.

Now I'm rethinking that it was really a well thought decision of Clover and Wit to make the Aquarium episode and this episode in the finale rather than starting the dog arc crisis and it was smart and sneaky of them.

Anime is doing a lot of work to elaborate the manga and I love them for that!

5.Like Father Like Daughter

It would make sense that in this family Loid and Anya would be the one who bears fake names. Yor being the one whose name being real symbolizes how she doesn’t lie about anything besides being an assassin, and there are times when she isn’t even keeping the fact that she is one. She always does things, mainly, because she genuinely cares for Anya and Loid not for her job at all (as the story progress she thought less about them being just a cover for her). Yet Anya and Loid often does things for their own ulterior motives (Anya for wanting a family for herself and Loid for his mission). They’re the ones who actively kept protecting their secret identities. The ones with the most the secrets. Both have names different from their real ones. Really makes sense don’t you think?

6.We could get an Anya backstory arc, if not by the next chapter, sooner than we expect.

We might have snippets of Anya’s backstory but I believe that Endo would not give out the whole thing. It’s too early to reveal it and what could Anya’s trigger be for her to think about everything that happened in her past?

Loid is triggered when he was rendered unconscious by Anya’s tonitrus

Yor is triggered when she’s thinking about Yuri

How about Anya?

What could trigger her to remember everything she went through?

-Will she perhaps see something or someone that will make her remember her past? (I read a fanfiction about her meeting a man who used to adopt her, it’s from coloredice I think and I can’t help but seeing it happen in canon)

Yet this is a short chapter, maybe Endo will continue this with another short chapter or give us a full chapter in the next two weeks centering around Anya. But it could also be not, since it could also just a way for Endo to add additional details to the narrative. But why bring this up now? for sure, it was a reminder, maybe a preparation on what the future ten chapters to the 100th holds.

Now it’s time for you to tell me what you think? Let’s be Twilight and overthink this four chapter short because our man's too attached to even care about knowing Anya’s background.

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silverynight · 7 months ago

Note

Hi!!!.

This is my first time doing this and I hope I'm doing it right, so here comes my idea.

I've had this idea floating around in my head that Tanjiro's family (including his father) is alive. Tanjuro may be part of the guild, however, he is inactive, this could be due to his illness, a minor injury, or he wanted his family to live in peace.

Anyway, the fact is that one day Ubuyashiki calls him, since he has been the closest to being able to kill Muzan or because he wants him to train the current Hashiras. The fact is that Tanjuro brings Tanjiro (since the latter will take the mantle of the Breath of the Sun), the Hashiras upon seeing Tanjiro instantly fall in love with him. So this is where the drama comes in, both Tanjuro and Kie don't approve of them, (this could be because they don't know them or don't know if their intentions are good) ; while Tanjiro's brothers don't want their brother to get married either, since they don't want their older brother to leave and forget them. So maybe Ubuyashiki or Nezuko have the brilliant idea that if the hashiras want to marry Tanjiro, they have to pass certain tests that the Kamado family chooses.

The tests would be like: who tells the best bedtime story?, who cooks better?, who tells the best jokes?, etc. Little by little the hashiras win the tests, just as they become the favorites of certain members of the family, then come the last tests, which are for Kie and Tanjuro, these could be from an individual talk (interview) or a fight with them (Kie knows how to handle sharp things).

The point is that when they arrive with Tanjuro they lose, however, Tanjuro tells them that they have his approval to go out with Tanjiro, but not before warning them that if they hurt him or Tanjiro doesn't want to go out with them, he won't hold back like he did today.

Notes: Tanjiro is friends with Inoske and Zenitsu, the latter can also participate in the testing or just observe, since the Kamados consider them part of the family.

I know this is a long text, but this idea has been floating around in my head ever since I read your stories. And I couldn't help but write this, so I'm sorry if it bothered you to read this whole text and I apologize if everything is poorly written or has spelling mistakes, but English is not my native language.

So goodbye!!!.

They would definitely do something like that in order to make sure the Pillars are worthy of their Tanjirou.

The younger siblings would also add tests like: Who gives the best piggyback rides? Who does the best impression of a monster while playing?

Those kinds of tests make Tanjirou slowly fall in love with the Pillars because he watches them play with his siblings and take care of them (even though he has no idea why they're doing it for).

#demon slayer #anonymous #asks #ask silverynight

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orcasoul · 2 years ago

Text

Oh Baby!

Summary: Pedro Pascal and reader are in a relationship. Pedro's career is sky rocketing and reader also has a demanding job. Throw in an unexpected pregnancy and well...... shit!

Warnings: Swearing, Pedro being and not being an asshole (you'll see). Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Word Count: 4,037

Gripping the edges of the bathroom sink, you take slow, deep breaths to steady your breathing, while your mind is going into overdrive. Your chest feels tight and your legs are like jelly. Slowly you raise your head to stare at you reflection in the mirror. You don't even feel like yourself right now, almost like you're having an out of body experience. Reality suddenly feels foreign to you, like you're trapped in a surreal dream. But this is no dream. It's real, oh it's definitely real. The two red lines on the four pregnancy tests sitting on the under sink cabinet can attest to that! "Shit," you mutter quietly, still looking at yourself in disbelief. "This can't be happening." It wasn't supposed to happen . You'd been on the pill for two years and always used extra protection if you had antibiotics. You were always so careful, but careful obviously wasn't careful enough. How would you even begin to tell Pedro that you're carrying his baby? How would he react? Your mind keeps replaying one specific interview of his you'd seen. "I'm not a daddy. And I'm not gonna be a daddy." His words exactly.

He'd mentioned to you once that his hectic work schedule doesn't allow time for kids, and honestly it wasn't high on your priority list either. Your job as an editor is very demanding and sometimes trickles into your home life. Both you and Pedro had grown accustom the stresses and scarifies you've both had to make over the past couple of years when it comes to your jobs, but you'd both made it work and were happy and comfortable together. But adding a baby into the mix just seemed impossible. You try to remember your last period but you'd been so busy with work lately that you hadn't even noticed you'd missed..... shit, two! Two periods. It was only the past few days of constant queasiness and dizzy spells that led you to suspect what you'd hoped wouldn't be true. But here you are, the "truth" staring right back at you. "Oh my god," you whimpered while rubbing your hands over your face. "Fuck, what now?!"

You try your best to keep it together but you can't contain the rush of different emotions that are encompassing you at this moment and the tears begin to fall. It's exhausting trying to process everything you're feeling; fear and uncertainty but also a gravitation and protectiveness you've never felt before. This baby was certainly not planned and you couldn't deny that you wished the tests were negative, but knowing that it's definitely there has awakened an instinct in you that has always been present but dormant, just waiting to be unleashed. How is it possible to want and not want it at the same time? Will Pedro want it? Will he be mad? Pedro had been away for two weeks filming for a new advert and had a photo shoot straight after so he'd be away for another two weeks, at least. You both video called each other every day. You'd always looked forward to it but the thought of today's impending call left your stomach in knots! There was no way you could tell him something so life changing over the phone. You'd just have to keep it yourself until he gets home and try your best to act normal when talking to him.

It turns out pretending nothing had changed wasn't that difficult for the next week. Maybe it was because of the distance and the fact that you could make up an excuse to end the call when your anxiety began to creep in. But in one week's time he'd be home and you know it'll be harder to act nonchalant around him, especially now that your lower belly has started to swell slightly. Slight enough that you could blame it on junk food if he noticed, but it's only going to get bigger. After a long day at work, you finally get to relax for the evening, settling down to watch one of your favourite shows. Leaning back into the settee you found yourself gently smoothing your palm over the curve of your abdomen, wondering just how much would change in the coming months and how Pedro would take the news. You still struggled to get your head around it yourself but now that you've had time to think, you know there's no way you'd get rid of it, no matter what happened. Well, I have one more week to figure out how I'm going to tell him, you ruminate..... or so you thought.

"Y/N I'm home," Pedro called out as the front door slammed shut. You shot up off the settee faster than a rocket as Pedro walked into the living room with a wide grin. You stood frozen to the spot as he dropped his bags and rushed over to you, picking you up in a tight hug. With the fervour of a man touch starved he kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years, deep and sultry. You instantly dissolve into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Wow," you whispered breathlessly as you pull away to look into his eyes. "Missed me that much, huh?" You teasingly ask, trying to sound as though your heart isn't beating a million miles an hour. "What do you think?" he relied with a smirk, setting you back down. "How are you home so soon?" You hope your question did come across the wrong way. Of course you're thrilled that he's home. You always loved it when he returned home earlier than expected, and it happened so rarely that usually you'd be on cloud nine, but this one time you wished you had that week. A week where you could prepare for every eventuality. "We were ahead of schedule for once. I thought I'd surprise you instead of calling ahead." Your silent stare made Pedro chuckle, his soft eyes creasing at the corners. "That surprised, are you?"

You suddenly realise how off your reaction must seem to him and quickly collect yourself before he can think any more of it. "I just wasn't expecting you so soon. Great surprise though!" you smile genuinely as you tip toe to kiss the end of his nose. "I really missed you. How was it?" "Oh you know, early mornings, late nights, hours of hair and make up, retake after retake, blah blah blah..." Pedro trailed off while waving his hand in the air dismissively. "How have you been, sweetheart?" He asked while stroking down the curve of your back. "I've missed you like hell." "Yeah I've.... I've been fine. Works been fine." Your voice ever so slightly, nervously shook at his question, making you cringe inwardly but luckily he didn't seem to notice your change in tone. "Well, you go unpack and I'll make us something to eat," you offer, trying to keep your composure, even though you felt like a deer caught in headlights. As Pedro heads to the bedroom to unpack you hurry into the kitchen and pour a glass of water to quell your nerves. Not quite the same effect as alcohol, you huff inwardly.

You get to work preparing Chilean Avocado sandwiches, as it's one of Pedro's favourite foods. But after only a few seconds you are hit with a strong bought of nausea from the smell and lunge towards the sink, making it there just in time. After violently wretching up what not only felt like the contents of your stomach, but also every organ in your body into the sink you are startled by a warm and gentle hand rubbing your back. "You okay, baby?" "Oh fuck!" You turn swiftly, wiping your mouth with a tea towel. "Uh... yeah... must be a virus or something. It's going around. My sister's kids had it last week." You hated lying to Pedro. Well, it was half a lie; Your nieces and nephew did have a bug last week but you know that this is definitely not a virus. Pedro looked at you with a creased brow, clearly concerned. "Why don't you go lie down? I'll take care of this," he suggested, looking over at the ingredients on the kitchen counter. When he realised you were making his one of his favourite's he turned to you with an adoring smile.

"Aww, you were making my favourite sandwich, thank you darling." "Anything for you, baby," you lovingly reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I think I will go and lie down for a bit," you concede. "A bit" actually lasted until the next morning. Your body felt heavy and exhausted as you dragged yourself out of bed for work. The next three days were hard going. The morning sickness began each morning from the moment you woke up, getting stronger every day. Pedro became more and more worried asking, no begging you to call in sick for work. But each day you'd insisted you didn't feel that bad. The truth was you felt like shit! The unabating nausea and fatigue left you feeling on edge, knowing you can't keep this a secret for much longer. He's going to figure it out any day now or at least suspect, your anxious mind keeps telling you. By the evening of the third day Pedro couldn't take the worry anymore. "You've been ill for three days Y/N," he observed, uneasily, while sitting beside you on the bed, his hand caressing your cheek. "If you're no better in the morning you have to see the doctor." His face betrayed the apprehension he's feeling. "Ped, no I'm fine-" "You're not fine and you're starting to worry me." He cut you off in an urgent but not angry tone. "I'll drag you there if I have to." "Okay, Okay. I'll go," you groggily reply with a small smile. Relieved, Pedro leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Get some sleep baby. I'll check on you in a bit."

And with that he walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar. You closed you eyes and sighed. You knew this time would come. The time when you'd have to spill the beans, as they say. You weren't entirely ready for it but you have no choice now. You know he'll make you go to the doctor tomorrow and you can't use work as an excuse to worm your way out of it since it's one of your days off. You have to tell him tomorrow. The next hour was spent pondering what you would say to him and all the different ways he might react. Eventually, exhausted both physically and mentally you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

"You're what?!" Pedro's voice reached a pitch you didn't realise he was capable of. His earthy brown eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw hung slack. Your eyes dart to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn and your fingers begin to tap the sides of your hips in anticipation. "I'm.... pregnant," you repeated, voice shaking. "I don't know what happened. The pill has never failed in the past-" "We'll it fucking has now, hasn't it!" He shot you a choleric look. "Or maybe you just weren't careful." "Excuse me?!" You snapped back with furrowed brows. "Don't you dare blame this on me. I never missed one pill and we always used extra protection when needed. You know that!" "I don't know anything right now!" Pedro shouted through his hands which were now rubbing his face in exasperation. "Well I didn't make this baby all by myself so don't put this all on me!" Hot tears begin to cascade down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. "I just.... FUCK!" Pedro cried out, booting one of the kitchen stools, making you jump.

"We can't do this. I can't do this." "Well it's too late now," you huff at him with your arms folded across your chest. "Not if we don't want it to be," he stated flatly. Your eyes widened and your heart clenched at his cold demeanour, causing you to instinctively place your hands across the small swell of your belly in protection. "I'm not getting rid of it Ped. I.... I can't," you exclaimed. "Y/N..." Pedro sighed, shaking his head. "This would change our lives completely. Neither one of us has the time for such a huge commitment and-" "I don't care," you cut him off sharply, fixing him with daggers. "I'm not getting rid of it. If it means I have to work part time then it's something I'm prepared to do." Pedro threw his head back to look at the ceiling, seemingly annoyed at your obstinate determination. You continue, "Wether we like it or not this is happening and we need -" "No it's not." He quickly stated, with finality. You stare at him dumbfounded. "What?!" "I'm not doing this. If you want to keep it you'll have to do it alone. I never wanted this and you know it." He returned your own words to you with clear contempt.

You open your mouth to say something, anything but words have now failed you. Your brain is unable to form a coherent sentence as the realisation of his words hit you like a punch to your gut. You feel numb as your heart shatters piercing your soul. He can't mean it! He's just upset, you try to rationalise internally, still to shocked to speak. Pedro turned away from you, grabbed his car keys off the kitchen island and stormed to the front door. "Make sure you're gone before I get back," he demanded in an emotionless tone. Seeing him walk away from you, immediately loosened your frozen tongue. "Baby wait!" you sobbed after him as he slammed the door shut without a backward glance. You instantly drop to your knees on the cold kitchen tiles, embracing yourself as your grief becomes unbearable. Your head begins to spin as you try to suck in deep breaths. It's no use. The despair is now consuming you, seeping into every crevice of your being, gripping you and tearing you apart. "Y/N?" You continue to sob. "Y/N?!" The familiar voice sounds muffled through your tormented cries and you can feel phantom hands gently shaking your shoulders. "Y/N?! Baby wake up, wake up. Look at me!"

You gasp as your eyes snap open. You are met with concerned caramel eyes, glowing in the dim lamp light. Pedro was leaning over your body, holding onto both of your shoulders. "It's okay. It was just a bad dream," Pedro soothed you while cupping your cheek. The feel of his warm skin against yours brought a sense of calm to your confused and distressed state, helping you to catch your breath. He sat up, slowly pulling you up with him. "Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me. What the hell happened?" he asked nervously as he wiped away a mixture of cold sweat and tears that had soaked your face. "I..." your voice gave out as you realised it was nothing more than a nightmare and the man you love is right here beside you. "I... can't remember." Your voice didn't sound convincing at all, and Pedro's raised eyebrow told you that he wasn't convinced either. "You're pretty shaken up sweetheart. You can tell me." "It's just a blur now." You choke out, wrapping an arm around his broad, tanned chest and leaning into his shoulder. "Okay," Pedro replied, still sounding unsure. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you snuggle into his neck as you both lay back down. You wrap your arm and legs around him like a baby koala, desperate for some comfort and reassurance that he indeed hasn't left you. "I've got you," he whispered, while holding you firmly and stroking your hair. "Let's go back to sleep."

The sunlight spills in as the curtains lazily blow due to the partially open window. Your eyelids are heavy from the lack of sleep. Groaning you turn to the bedside table to check the time. 11:30am. "Shit," you mumble while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You never sleep this late. You throw the quilt off and sit up slowly, the nausea returning as you do. Downstairs you can hear Pedro in the kitchen. "Okay, let's get this over with," you sigh, knowing you can no longer avoid the inevitable. As you approach the kitchen you stop and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed. Pedro's back is to you and you take the opportunity to just watch him, appreciate him and contemplate just how much you love him. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you just absorb the mere presence of him. But as soon as the smile appears it evaporates as the nausea increases momentarily, pulling you back to the here and now, reminding you of what you must do. In a few minutes everything will drastically change for the both of you.

Images from last night's dream flash before you, making your heart race slightly and your palms sweaty. A part of you knows deep down that Pedro would never treat you so cruelly and walk out on you, but it would be a lie to say the dream didn't shake you and make you feel somewhat apprehensive at this moment. "Hey darling," Pedro smiles as he turns to see you idling in the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" "Not long," you shrug with a wan smile. He set his coffee mug on the counter and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. In return you run your hands up his arms, gently holding onto his triceps. "How are you feeling?" He asks with a creased brow. "Okay." An obvious lie. "Why didn't you wake me?" "Figured you needed some extra time since you didn't sleep much last night. I felt you toss and turn all night long." Worry and unease laced his voice. A few moments of silence pass before you clear your throat. "Baby, can we talk?" "About what?" he enquires with trepidation. "Just come with me," you exhale softly as you lead him by his hand into the living room to sit next to you on the settee.

With a deep breath you turn to face him, and feel your heartbeat quicken while twitching your fingers in your lap. A nervous habit of your that Pedro knows all to well. He places his soft palm over your fumbling hands to calm you. "You're making me nervous Y/N. Please just tell me what's wrong," he all but begs you. "I uh... I don't know how else to say this so I'll just say it..... I'm pregnant." Shock adorns Pedro's features as his hand slips off of yours. The cold feeling of emptiness where his warm hand had just been resting caused your breath to catch in your chest. You couldn't hold his gaze any longer and dropped your head, anxiety threatening to consume you. You wait with a sense of dread for his possibly angry or fearful reaction but are caught off guard when he delicately takes both of your hands in his, causing you to look up at him in anticipation. "Are you sure?" He whispers, his voice shaking slightly. "Yes," you nod. "I took four tests...all positive. I'm so sorry...." You began to ramble, "I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know how it did. I know you never wanted-" "Hey, hey shhhh.... take a breath." Pedro cooed as he pulled you into his chest, cupping the back of your head with one hand and smoothing up and down your back with the other.

You begin to weep desperately as the past weeks' tension and worry finally break through the mental and emotional dam you had built within. "I'm sorry," you wail into his shoulder, chest shuddering as you try to regain some semblance of self control. Pedro cradles both of your cheeks in his hands and pulls you upright to look into your weary eyes. "Why are you apologising? Last time I checked it takes two to make a baby. You are no more responsible for this than I am, so please stop saying you're sorry." Your breaths become less laboured as his thumbs smooth small circles over your cheeks, the action soothing and reassuring. "It's just.... I know you never wanted kids..." You begin in a slightly exhausted tone. "I just don't know what else to say except.... I'm sorry." Pedro takes a a deep breath. "It's true I've never seen myself becoming a dad, and I never would have purposely had a baby..." you look down and nod in understanding, feeling guilty for putting him in this situation. "But..." He tilts your chin up to make eye contact with you again. "If it was going to happen, I'd only want it to happen with you."

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise. "Really?" You ask astonished. "Really," he assures you. "Is this why you've been acting so strange and been so sick lately?" You gulp and nod once. "How long have you known?" "A couple of weeks," you confess quietly. "And you kept it to yourself all this time?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You should have told me straight away. You never should have had to go through this alone," Pedro said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I was scared," you admit somewhat timidly. "I was scared of what this would mean for us. I was scared because I want to keep it." Pedro smiled softly. "You know I'll support you no matter what, right?" "I know." A relieved smile made it way onto your face. "Was what happened last night anything to do with this?" Pedro questioned while reaching for your hand. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter now." You try to shrug the question off. "Tell me. I wanna know." "You.... you got angry," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "You blamed me, told me I'd have to do this alone and... you left."

Pedro's shoulders slumped as you finished speaking. "You didn't think I'd actually do something like that, did you?" The hurt in his voice was clear and it broke your heart. "No! no of course not," you cut in quickly. It wasn't a lie. You know what kind of man Pedro is and that he'd never hurt you like that. "I guess it was just all the stress and worry coming out in that dream. I know you and I know you love me. I know you'd never do anything like that." His face visibly relaxed hearing you confirm what he already knew to be true. "I do love you, baby. I know this is a huge change but we'll make it work. I promise." "I just don't want you to ever resent me or feel trapped-" "Shhhh..." he gently interrupted. "I could never feel that way, okay?" His voice left no room for any doubt. "I love you so much," you exclaimed, eyes beginning to fill again, but this time from relief and happiness. "I love you too, darling," Pedro whispered as he pressed his lips to yours. After several seconds he pulls away to look down at your belly, noticing the tiny bump through your pyjama top for the first time. "Can I?" He asks almost shyly. "You don't ever need to ask," you laugh with adoration. You take his hand and gently place it over the swell of your belly, watching as his eyes widen in amazement. "Wow!" he breathes out in awe. You both look at each other, eyes conveying the love you have for one another and now for this little one. The stress that had plagued you for the past two weeks began to dissipate like fog being burned away by the sun. The uncertainty of such a life altering future hung in the air but you know that together you can both handle whatever that future brings.

Oh Mama A Continuation

#pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal fluff

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lamuradex · 1 month ago

Text

Short Story: Cosmo's Story

Tales of Hero City

Wordcount: 5,140

Synopsis: *Click* "This is Detective Lucy Anne Washburn, interviewing Mr Cosmo Derringer concerning his involvement with the supervillain Dark Dragon. How are we doing today, Mr Derringer?"

"I'm well enough, all things considered."

“Oh, that’s too bad. Hopefully we can make things worse for you before this is over.”

AO3 Link for those that want it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66505861

Full Story Below The Break

Cosmo’s Story

*Click*

“Begin recording. This is Detective Lucy Anne Washburn, interviewing Cosmo Derringer. How are we today, Mr Derringer?”

“I’m well enough, all things considered.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Hopefully we can make things worse for you before this is over.”

“…You know, Detective, I didn’t expect such immaturity from such a distinguished officer.”

“Then you honestly know nothing about me. It might be the third or fourth thing a colleague would tell you. Hell, I’m considering sneaking down to the cells and putting itching powder in your pillows.”

“I see… I can tell this isn’t going to be a usual police interview.”

“Well, you aren’t a usual criminal. But, by way of an explanation, let me ask you something. How are you finding the manacles? I mean your cuffs. They may not be connected, but I’m assured they work just great.”

“These? I honestly haven’t even tried to test them. Concerned they’ll shock me.”

“Oh, they’re not electrified. They were made for us by Wandering Fist. He might be a show-off superhero, but I’m told he can be quite a talented sorcerer when he wants to be. Those cuffs will keep whatever magic you use locked down. As in, no teleporting. You’re stuck here. Are they too tight, or...?”

“They are a little, but I’m beginning to suspect that might be the point.”

“You are correct. They’re made from an old pair of handcuffs I got from a dear friend’s locker. Officer Jack Parker?”

“Ah. I see.”

“Do you remember killing him, Cosmo, or is he just one crime in a sea of atrocities?”

“You know, Detective Washburn, I’m honestly just impressed you managed to link me to his death. I was meticulous, covering my tracks. Even so, I can imagine your evidence is thorough. But, may I make one correction to it?”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“I didn’t kill Jack Parker.”

“Oh really… Then point me to the man you ordered to do it, Lord Apocalypto.”

“Dark Dragon killed Jack, Detective Washburn. I know you’re going to call me a liar, but I did try to warn him. I attempted to send him on his way. Perhaps not to the best of my ability, but I did try.”

“Of course. Dark Dragon did it. Dark Dragon, but not you or any of your cultists. That’ll certainly be convenient in court. Split personality doesn’t usually play well.”

“Again, detective, they aren’t my cultists. Dark Dragon and I are two distinctly different entities. Not one split. Two minds in one head, yes, but independent of one another.”

“So what is it? Do you say some magic spell or is it more like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde? You drink some little potion and then you go off and let loose your darkest desires?”

“My word, Detective Washburn, I didn’t figure you as one for literature. Most people only know of the tragic doctor turned into a horrid monster, not the true meaning of the transformation, and its moral implications.”

“Oh, we know all about monsters here, Cosmo. We’ve caged enough of them.”

“Heroes and villains alike, I’d assume.”

“More one than the other, though I’m not a fan of either. But, quite frankly, you sicken me more than anything. So, let’s not get off track. What’s it like up in that sick little head of yours, Cosmo? How did it work between you and Dark Dragon?”

“As much as I appreciate your curiosity, detective, I’m afraid it’s here I must stop. I wouldn’t want to breach the terms of our little agreement, and neither would you. Not with my lawyers waiting.”

“Oh, yes. Your ridiculous little arrangement with the city. I’d almost forgotten. You waive your right to council, for the time being, and in return you will -Quote- Only speak concerning the topic of Dark Dragon with one Miss Melody Planker -End Quote-. Yes, I’ve got it all in black and white back on my desk.”

“Yes, and as such, I can say no more.”

“Miss Planker’s on her way. I have to say though, Chorus is not who I’d have expected you to call. Why her?”

“…”

“Oh, don’t go quiet on me now.”

“…”

“Fine. If you’re going to be stubborn, let’s change the subject. Surely, even if you can’t discuss your master, you can discuss events that we both know about? Events such as the murder of Jack Parker. What happened?”

“He confronted me at the metal works with two thugs. I didn’t catch their Christian names, but Jack called one of them Brickhead. I’d assume that’s enough to track them down?”

“We’ve already done so. The Tramridge boys. What then?”

“Jack already knew most of the truth. Me, The Hand of Fate, that I was connected to the Apocalypto Cult. Then Brickhead, ordered by Jack, attempted to intimidate me. He failed, I’m not easily shaken, so his tactics escalated to violence. I don’t think Jack approved, but nor did he stop it. And when Brickhead physically harmed me, my ‘master’, as you so eloquently put it, didn’t have much of a choice but to deal with them.”

“Okay, seriously, how does it work between you? A demon knight and a magic businessman? All in one head?”

“…”

“Loose lips sink ships, I guess… Well, Cosmo, you were right about one thing. I’m about to call you a liar. Why else would you make up such a cockamamie story?”

“You know, you fascinate me, Detective Washburn.”

“I’m disgusted, but please, go on.”

“For all the ‘Sea of Atrocities’ you claim I’ve committed, you focus on but one crime. The death of one man. Why?”

“I’m asking the questions, Cosmo.”

“Sure, Jack was a friend, a good man, but all you have is a single murder charge. Is that all that matters to you? Vengeance?”

“I call it justice, Cosmo. It’s the whole thing about being a cop. But if you’re not going to talk, why are you even here? Why not just rot in a cell? There has to be something you wanted to tell me.”

“Not you, no. I’d actually assumed you’d be a standard officer and have much more basic questions, like who, what, when, where and how? Not a personal grudge and questions on the nature of my existence.”

“Well, I’m full of questions. Do you plan to answer?”

“…”

“Didn’t think so. Very well, shall we get started on that “Sea of Atrocities” I mentioned instead? A full confession. I think I’m going to need more ink for that though. Either that, or you can cut the crap, forget your agreement, and talk to me about why we’re really here.”

“Not until I’ve spoken with Miss Planker. I’d rather we speak before my lawyers become an indomitable force in this conversation, and we’re both mired in legal proceedings.”

“Why her though? I understand there’s half a connection between you, her and Dark Dragon, but it’s still a little odd.”

“Detective…”

“Look, Cosmo, let’s be grownups about this, shall we? There are no secrets here. Even when you speak to her, I’m just gonna be on the other side of that glass. She’s on her way, but until then it’s just you and me. Now, I’ve heard you’re good at standing up to interrogation, we’ve all heard the stories, but I’m the best this station has. Plus, if I needed a better motive to try and break you than the murder of my friend, you also just set that monster Dark Dragon loose on my city!”

“I thought you weren’t too fond of Hero City?”

“Oh sure, it’s a superpowered hellhole, but it’s my hellhole. My home. So you can either talk, or you can sit there in silence while I give you my best interrogation tactics. I’m thinking a car battery will be involved. Of course, you only have to hold out until Melody shows up, but we could keep her waiting all day if we have to.”

“To be fair, I only have your word she’s coming at all.”

“Do I look untrustworthy to you, Cosmo? Do you think I’d lie like that and be as dishonest as scum like you?”

“… No. You wouldn’t, would you? Honest and true, unlike some of your brothers in blue.”

“Plus, we can show Melody the tape when she gets here. Catch her up to speed.”

“I still won’t discuss Dark Dragon directly.”

“Whatever you can give me, Mr Derringer. Let’s start at the beginning. How did this all start?”

“Very well. I was born and raised in Hero City back when it was still called Greystoke. I honestly wish it still was. It was back then I realised what was wrong with the world.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but that means you saw the Apocalypto Incident first hand, right? Saw Dark Dragon terrorise the city the first time? Did you have a front row seat as part of the cult, or did you just enjoy the show from the side-lines?”

“I was not a member of the Apocalypto Cult, and I’m still not. I was 26 years old at the time, and I watched it happen on TV like everyone else. I must admit though, it was… disturbing. All that power in the wrong hands. Even before that I could see the imbalance in the world, and the Apocalypto Incident was just proof. Power running wild, lunatics in the street. Madness. I felt a responsibility to do something. Someone had to. But I knew I couldn’t do it alone. Not as I was. So I sought out teachings and studied methods to help fix my home. I even learned the art of sorcery, much to my personal disdain at the time.”

“Yeah, you certainly had it rough. Just magic and riches. But it wasn’t enough, right? So you saw that monster from the news and said ‘That’s the guy. I’ll get him to help me. He can live in my head’. Because that makes sense.”

“You’re only half right, detective. I did try to change the world by myself, but as you correctly guess, I couldn’t manage it alone. Not with politics, not with business, not with magic. I needed more, and so I sought out something greater than myself. Myths, legends and stories of power. I didn’t know it was Dark Dragon until I found the temple deep in the mountains. The temple isn’t there anymore, if you were going to ask about it.”

“Darn. I was hoping.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, detective. Truthfully, I was terrified to learn what I’d found. Dark Dragon himself. The epitome of everything I hated. But I saw no other way. You sometimes must become a monster to fight the monsters, correct, detective? I’m guessing you’ve gone undercover before, lived amongst the scum and done their work?”

“Once or twice. Still, doesn’t mean I’d invite a drug dealer to live in my head. How did that arrangement work, exactly?”

“I was his host. We were two distinct psyches in one head. I’d liken it to two people living in two rooms, with one window between them. We could each hear the other talking, but not know what the other was thinking… well, outside of little flashes. Whoever stood at the window was in charge, and he could pull me away if he wanted, or just ask me to step aside. I did not make the choice to kill Jack Parker.”

“You just covered it up, aided and abetted, and lied to police by omission for months.”

“I’m not denying my involvement, detective, nor my responsibility in the matter. Just my agency.”

“But, in all this, you haven’t mentioned something rather vital. What were you fighting against? You’re talking as if I should know. What was so important that you learned sorcery, became a billionaire, and kept trying for almost a century? That you became the creep that you are? What enemy drove you to become a monster?”

“I would have thought you’d know, detective. It is an opinion we share, though I’m sure you’d be loathed to admit it. My enemy was singular but vast, and I wouldn’t rest until I could defeat it. Until I could fix the element I knew was wrong with this world. Until I could crush the one thing we both detest.”

“And pray tell, what’s that?”

“Superpowers.”

*Knock knock*

“Come in.”

“Miss Planker’s arrived, Detective Washburn.”

“Thanks, Jimmy. Send her in.”

“Well, thank you, detective. It seems you were as good as your word. Do you intend to stop the tape while Miss Planker is here?”

“No, I don’t think I will. Greetings, Miss Planker. I hope you’re well.”

“I’ve had worse days, detective, but not by much.”

“I’ll just be on the other side of that glass if you need me. And don’t give this bastard an inch.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Greetings, Melody. Please, sit down.”

“It’s Miss Planker to you, Derringer. Now tell me what you wanted. What’s so important you had an old woman trudge halfway across town just to talk to you?”

“I wanted us to speak while I still had the opportunity. I don’t think it will be possible during my trial, and you were unlikely to accept my invitation if I was in a cell.”

“I suppose you’re not wrong. So, what did Dark Dragon want you to tell me?”

“It’s… actually quite the opposite. I’m fairly sure Dark Dragon would revile me telling anyone this, especially the hero Chorus, even if you no longer wear the mantle.”

“Well, you haven’t told me anything yet. And because of you, he has my sword. One of the most powerful artefacts in superhero history. Congratulations.”

“I’m well aware. I pursued it under his orders. I must admit though, before yesterday, I didn’t have any clue to the true extent of its power… and neither did he.”

“Talk, Derringer!”

“Fine. How much do you actually know about Dark Dragon?”

“You mean his current plans, or overall?”

“Overall, though I’d argue they were one and the same.”

“Surprisingly little, considering he was my official nemesis. I’ve done my research, but there are so many tall tales. Stories of a general or a peasant or a nobleman, possessed by darkness or vengeance, though all tell of a monster.”

“A monster that the first Chorus, your predecessor and originator, defeated.”

“He did. Seems to be the one consensus. Why? Are you going to fill in the blanks?”

“The reason there are so many conflicting stories, Miss Planker, is that legends tend to lose complexity. I don’t even think he properly remembers anymore, but I’ve pieced it together from glimpses into his mind. I just thought you of all people deserved to know the truth. The truth of his power… and the truth of your own.”

“And why should I listen? You’re just a stooge for a monster.”

“A monster that has always been a mystery to you, just like that lyrical voice in the back of your head. Just like your Choir.”

“…”

“You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to, but after all these years don’t you want to know why the Apocalypto Incident happened?”

“Fine. I’m listening, Derringer.”

“It’s a long story, and I’d rather not be interrupted. Can you promise me that?”

“I’ll sit like a good little girl. Now talk.”

“Very well. Then let’s begin. Because, you are right, Miss Planker. There are multiple conflicting stories of Dark Dragon and his origins. Some say he was a peasant, some say a nobleman. Others say a general or a soldier. That he was born a demon, or he’s a warrior polluted by dark magic. Some even say he is the product of evil rituals that fused a thousand souls into one body. The truth is that all these stories are true… More or less.”

There once was a man, his name and his kingdom lost to time. As such, we shall call him Enoch. Enoch was a nobleman, born into money and luxury. However, his kingdom was bereft and stricken by poverty, a cruel and greedy king oppressing the people. But Enoch, as a nobleman to this king, was not evil, merely oblivious. He had little knowledge of his people’s suffering, no understanding of poverty, and had never known hunger. He just lived, unaware of the misery beyond his grounds.

But then the revolution came.

A warrior, let’s call him Noah, gathered the suffering people and overthrew the crown. The royal houses were sacked, and Enoch and his family dragged from their halls. And, despite never having raised a hand against these people, Enoch watched his wife and child executed, while he was thrown into a cell to rot for his perceived crimes.

And in his cell, with naught but the memory of his family’s death for company, hate and rage consumed him. But through the bars, he heard a song, one which sang of the suffering under the old king. And through that song he understood the revolution’s fire, found guidance in its verse, and found momentary solace in its tune. And so he rotted in his pain, with naught but the song as a poultice.

Eventually, as the new kingdom began to expand, Enoch was dragged onto the front lines to serve as a slave knight, an unwilling warrior to the cause. They forced him to fight and kill, to serve their new King Noah, and so, at the point of his king’s sword, Enoch fought. He fought like a berserker, driven by his rage, yielding to none. He fought with the fury of a man who’d lost everything. 100 soldiers would march out beside him, and if they were outmatched, often Enoch alone would return.

And, in his soul, he marched to the drums of that song. The anthem of the troops. The ballad of King Noah, even as he despised the king. But the song was a driving call which kept him from death’s door.

Enoch battled on, fury and might in all he did. He battled legions and left them destroyed. He faced proud warriors and left them humbled. None could face him and live. His skills soon earned the eye of his commanders, and he ascended in power and rank. He became a Commander himself, a General, and eventually the chosen knight to King Noah.

And still the song drummed in his heart, driving him on. It filled him, a song like a choir in his soul.

One I think you might know, Miss Planker.

Then, one day, a witch arrived in the kingdom. She sought an audience with the king and attempted to warn him of a terrible curse upon the throne. A power which would drive them to ruin, and destroy not just the kingdom but the world. However, King Noah would not hear her. He saw her words as sacrilege and sentenced her to death, commanding Enoch to do the deed. And so Enoch did as he was commanded.

The witch fled the kingdom, but Enoch pursued her, over mountains and oceans and deserts. When finally she tired, she fell and pleaded with him to hear her. If he did, she would gladly go to her death.

Still having some scrap of decency left, Enoch allowed her to talk. The witch told him of a terrible power that hung over the throne. Something that empowered the king, and had led his rebellion. The power that allowed him to seize the crown. A power born in the very anthem of his revolution.

The Choir.

Enoch heard her words and was filled with new hatred. The same power that flowed in him, that had driven him to kill and survive, this song, this Choir, was the same that led Noah to the throne. The power that led Noah’s forces to his door. The same power that had led Noah’s knives to his family’s throats.

Like a raging inferno, he purged the song from his soul, hatred burning it out. And in its place, something new was born. In wrath, in The Choir’s absence, new power was forged. If The Choir is music, then this was pure, unrestrained noise. A discord against their harmony. A chaos to their order.

And thus, Dark Dragon was born.

Enraged, Dark Dragon returned to his kingdom and sought the king. He tore through soldiers until he reached the palace gates. He ripped through palace guards until he reached the king. Finally, he faced King Noah himself, but even the usurper could not stand against him.

And so he took King Noah’s head.

With the king felled, Dark Dragon took the kingdom for his own.

And I believe you know the rest, Miss Planker. With his rule, darkness infected the land. The people were twisted into demons, made into armies, and the land corrupted by his touch. But he did it all to challenge his one true enemy. To defeat The Choir.

And so The Choir sent their first champion, empowered a hero, the very first Chorus, your ancient predecessor, and Chorus bested Dark Dragon. And with his defeat, the kingdom and its people were dragged into the void with him, and Chorus was revered for all time as their saviour, though he saved no one.

But Dark Dragon would return, his rage eternal. He would always come back. Host after host, lifetime after lifetime, he could not die until his battle was done.

Until The Choir was destroyed.

“So, what do you think, Miss Planker?”

“Do you expect me to believe a word of all that, Derringer? It’s a nice story, I’ll grant you, but you can’t prove a single word.”

“Neither can you disprove it, Miss Planker, with all your beliefs.”

“You mean my belief in The Choir, right? They gave me my powers through the Sword of Songs, but you think they’re the bad guys.”

“Have you ever wondered why they gave you such a gift, Miss Planker?”

“Of course I have, but I’ve never really been too bothered by it either. I’ve always had free will, and the ability to choose what I do with that power. My choice.”

“But you still don’t truly know why.”

“No. No I don’t. But The Choir have always been a force of order and peace in the world. A balance to monsters like Dark Dragon.”

“Even if their betrayal created him?”

“If I were to believe that, then yes. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“But don’t you see, Miss Planker? Even as a child, I saw what was wrong with the world. I had a dream, as in a literal dream during the night, where I saw a world without superheroes. Sure, this imagined world wasn’t perfect, there was still corruption and war, but at least random maniacs wouldn’t get hold of doomsday weaponry. In that world, the guilty would be locked up by police, not by delusional madmen in tights. Since that dream, I’ve been unable to look at the world the same way. Everyone would always tell me ‘This was just the way things were’. No way to change it. That this was fate. But what if they were wrong?”

“Do you have a point, Derringer?”

“My point, Miss Planker, is that the state of this world isn’t fate. Fate is unavoidable, but choices are not. I spent years playing as The Hand of Fate to create new villains for Dark Dragon, but that wasn’t destiny. It was me. It was just me dangling a carrot while people made predictable decisions, heroes and villains alike, and the same is true of you. The Choir isn’t destiny, Miss Planker, it’s just a force trying to make the world a certain way, perhaps the wrong way, and you have to ask yourself why. What is their intention? What do they want? From you? From the world? And if you don’t know, why should you trust them?”

“They’ve saved more lives than you ever have, Cosmo.”

“Perhaps, arguably, considering all I’ve done for Hero City, charitable donations and all that. But that is precisely my point. After all the charity work I’ve done, all the hero lairs I’ve sold, all the heroes I’ve created, all the good I did for this city, do you trust me?”

“…No. No I don’t.”

“Precisely. You see, I’ve done my research too. Every hero who’s wielded that Sword of Songs has described the same thing. That The Choir are beings of order. But order isn’t kind, Miss Planker. If you lined up everyone on earth and then killed every tenth man in line, and then kept going until there were only nine men left, then that would be orderly. Horrific, but orderly. Fascism is order without freedom. Dictatorship is one man’s order overwriting everyone else’s. Order is relentless. It may even be cruel. In opposition, chaos is merely any system too complex for us to understand the variables. Freedom is chaos when you get down to it. And so, being a force of order gives absolutely no guarantees that they are good.”

“… Are you done, Cosmo?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Good. Because I think you’re an idiot. I mean, I get not liking The Choir, fighting them, but how does that connect to superheroes now? You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, siding with Dark Dragon himself to do this. How does destroying The Choir serve you stopping superheroes?”

“Because Chorus was the first. As far as I can tell, the first superhero of all time. And then the floodgates opened.”

“So you think The Choir are behind superpowers in general?”

“Perhaps. What else could cause such madness. Forces that even our science cannot explain. Experiments, accidents and disasters that don’t kill anyone, they just give people bizarre abilities. A reactor explodes, there are casualties, but one man gets to be indestructible and fly? A world of superpowers doesn’t make any sense. There has to be some force behind it. There has to be an explanation.”

“Alright, Cosmo, I get it. You have a belief and you went to extremes to follow it. I’ve seen it before. But, quite honestly, to me you’re just another person who doesn’t like superpowers. Most of them are just jealous, or think it’s unfair that there are people with abilities they can’t have, so they claim it’s wrong or unnatural. But most of those people just end up pursuing superpowers research and turning into supervillains, destroying their whole point. Same with you. I mean, look how you’ve entangled yourself with heroes and villains, selling lairs and keeping their secrets. You became the very thing you hate. You became a sorcerer and then helped Dark Dragon unleash chaos, time and time again… On that point, were you Dark Dragon back in my day or…?”

“No. To my understanding that was a rock star named Brainsmasher Billy.”

“Aw, really? I was a fan of his. Anyway, I get it. You saw a problem and fought to fix it. You think The Choir shouldn’t be trusted, and I can’t say for certain you’re wrong. But, if I’m reading what you’ve said right, then the Apocalypto Incident… All this madness right now with my sword… Every battle with Dark Dragon anyone has ever had was just so he could reach The Choir, wherever they may be. That’s what the antennae on the roof during the Apocalypto Incident was for, right? To open some portal to them?”

“I believe so. It’s why I helped him. So we could kill superpowers at the source.”

“And that’s what people like you don’t get. How many people have died, Cosmo? How many to serve Dark Dragon’s cause? How many battles? You may hate superpowers, and there are some legitimate arguments why you should, but powers aren’t what make you a villain. The line between being a hero and being a villain is people. Just people. You can pursue a goal, no matter how noble, but if you don’t care about the people along the way, the people you might be hurting, that’s what makes you a villain. Dark Dragon, Enoch, whatever you want to call him, he gave up people long ago. And so did you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand right now, Miss Planker but-”

“I do understand, Mr Derringer. And Jack Parker was a good man, and he died because of you. While you philosophised if the Apocalypto Incident was right or wrong, watching it on TV, Jack was in the thick of it saving lives. He cared, Mr Derringer. And you’re just another villain. I’m done. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Miss Planker.”

*Knock knock*“

“Hello, again, Detective Washburn.”

“Are you done here, Miss Planker?”

“Yes.”

“You can wait by my desk. I’ll get Jimmy to give you a lift home. And as for you, Cosmo, I’ve got some excellent news.”

“I’m sure I’ll be overjoyed to hear it, detective.”

“You should be. While you were talking, every intelligence agency in the city and beyond has been ringing us none stop. FBI, NSA, CIA, IRS. A whole alphabet soup of investigators. They all want a crack at you, Cosmo, the head with all the secrets. Super identities, lair locations, tax forms, the wealth of info they could get from you could change the world. But better yet, they won’t get to.”

“Really.”

“Chief McElroy managed to argue that since you killed Jack Parker, we’ve got priority investigating you until further notice. That means me and the rest of the station’s best and brightest get to take turns trying to break you, to get every bit of info out of you, for as long as it takes.”

“You seem remarkably chipper about spending so much time with me.”

“Oh, I am. Because that means I get to spend that time tormenting you with every crime you’ve ever committed, prising up the identities of every Apocalypto agent, and ensuring that not one ounce, not one tiny bit, of your former pride and power remain. I’m sure Jack would enjoy that, especially putting the lid on Apocalypto. And, when I get bored, I can farm you out to the NSA or the FBI, who are considerably less pleasant than I am. But if you ever talk to them, revealing, say, a supervillain’s lair, you’ll have made some incredibly powerful enemies in the villain community. Not that I’m trying to dissuade you from doing your civic duty, but then again, at the end of it all, you’re still going to prison. And all without Dark Dragon to protect you. Isn’t. That. Fun.”

“I’m overjoyed, Detective Washburn.”

“I guess I should take you back to your cell. You’ll have a long forever starting tomorrow to think on your sins. But chin up, Cosmo. It’s not like you don’t deserve it. Now, I’ll just shut this off. Detective Washburn, ending recording. Signing off.”

*Click*

#writeblr #writing #lamura dex writes!#writing community #writers on tumblr #comedy #superheroes #short story #short stories #Tales of Hero City #17 #Cosmo Derringer #Detective Lucy Washburn #Chorus #Dark Dragon

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bycaprinae · 2 years ago

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Okay so it's been a while and I saw a lot of people trying to sell the idea that Aaravos is lying to Viren about him dying on that night, because of that one Tweet were Aaron said this

And when I first saw that tweet I thought it was really odd because they literally went out of their way to say that Aaravos never lies, not only in that one line in the show, but also in interviews, and Justin even said that if you know where his coming from, he's not lying. So why would they contradict themselves?? Just for one weak plot twist? No, they wouldn't.

Aaravos said with all the words, Viren will die when the sun rises, he said it MULTIPLE times in that episode, so what I'm trying to say here is that the catch is probably not about the fact that HE'LL DIE, but probably about what he have to do to NOT DIE.

What does that mean? Well, it could mean anything, really, just by myself I thought about that one theory that Viren will unlock the Star arcanum and achieve imortality (unlikely), there's the fact that we know the current spell is temporary, but they never said Claudia couldn't just... re do the spell???? (very unlikely), but if the answer lies in Aaravos' lines in the last episode, to me, there's just one thing that makes sense:

Infantis sanguine is not a spell that requires the death of a child, it's a spell that requires the BLOOD of a child.

There's not a moment where Aaravos say with ALL THE WORDS that DEATH is required for the spell. He LITERALLY says the spell is named for the ONE necessary ingredient, the BLOOD of a child.

When questioned by Viren he says

Yes, I'm aware, sacrifices are often associeted with the killing of something, but sacrifices can come in many forms. And if the twist really is embendded into the double meaning of what Aaravos is telling Viren, "Sacrifice" would suffice as a "generalist" enough term to fulfill the role. But I'm not done talking.

Soon after, Viren says he's not a monster, and he would sacrifice his own children. Aaravos proceeds to calm him down and says:

Curious how he chooses his words really careful, "harm", instead of "kill". Not convinced yet? Sure

"I will show you how to use every DROP of his living essence, to restore you OWN LIFE and you FUTURE." "every drop" "EVERY DROP" and more than one final gain. Doesn't it seems to imply that the main ingredient isn't the soul nor the life of something? but rather the actual blood, something that can be counted in drops?? If the main ingredient was the LIFE, then it would be gone the moment Viren kills it, then what the hell is that talk about the future???? Yo I'm not CRAZY.

The last thing Aaravos says about the topic is just this. Make the sacrifice. Not "Kill the creature", he never says anything clearly about death.

He never taunts Viren about killing the being, never tells him not to worry about killing something that doesn't actually has a soul, that would fit him perfect, he went out of his way to tell Viren that the being is their ACTUAL child, and for what reason you might be asking yourself? I don't know either, but I saw one theory that this was a test on Aaravos part. Maybe the reason why he stood there, quietly, while Viren stormed off and cut ties with him wasn't just because he doesn't need him anymore (?? He doesn't need Viren for a long time now, come on, why's he clinging to him is a mistery to me, but I won't let the viravos in me talk louder haha), but maybe, just MAYBE he was testing his morals (?), what he truly stands for, if he already knows that Viren wouldn't sacrifice his children, but to what extent does this goes? can it include anything that falls under the label of "his children"? Can he really sit back and wait for the inevitable death and do nothing?

I have no idea why exactly would Aaravos play these mind games with him, it's not just a wild guess tho, I'm coming from the perspective that it might be related to his own motifs, the things we don't know about him yet and the special person from that past once mentioned in an interview. But here's some food for thought:

Once in season 2, Viren asked Aaravos why should he trust him, and Aaravos said he shouldn't... yet. Aaravos told Viren that he would like to gain his trust, there's even one of my favorite lines in the show (if not, MY FAVORITE)

To me, that scene is just too personal, he could have just listened to Viren's wishes and shared with him how to solve the problem, but he pours his own perspective in the matter, and I do in fact think that this is his actual principles. I think Aaravos does care about loyalty and kindness. Pherhaps it has come to the point where Aaravos will test if he can trust Viren, maybe he'll wait until the final moment to reveal the truth. And to be honest, Viren doesn't even need to harm anyone, because Claudia is already bleeding (she lost her foot!!!).

Personally, I can see that being the case, I might be wrong about how and why it will be revealed in canon, but that does seem to be the only thing off in the story.

What ya'll think?

#mental illness at its finest #tdp #tdp theory #caprinaetext #Viren Tdp #Aaravos TDP #Claudia TDP #sir sparklepuff #Blood of child #s6 #prediction #long post

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cloud-based-and-rainpilled · 2 years ago

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Staged 2 thoughts!! (this will take a Year because I have a Lot of feelings)

tl; dr at the end

Hmmm I don’t see how it’s a love story yet

Staged 1 works well enough on its own but the second season is really essential as a companion piece upping the emotional ante (which is exactly how I feel about Good Omens 1 & 2 lol)

The opening scene mindfuck; The meta! We have reached levels of irony not previously seen possible

Who do I thank for the tacky Zoom interview show background? It deserves top billing

HE DOESN’T WANT THE GOLDFISH TO BE LONELY (metaphor) and then it FUCKING DIES

Celeb cameos in season 1 being all “hey! I like you!” in season 2 like “you are tearing them apart. I hate you. scum

Also the themeing of Michael Sheen and David Tennant being on their own “side” VS everyone else……….. Simon Mr. Writer Sir i see u and unfortunately i am in your walls

The writing feeling less theater-y works for the meta and I’m wondering whether they always had a second season in mind or if it’s just that well written

Was really hoping for a Colin Firth & Hugh Grant cameo ngl :/

The music didn’t annoy me as much this season since it was more of the horn oomp-pah-pah than the piano. Idk maybe my mind just changed

I didn’t know Whoopie Goldberg could be terrifying but here we are (also I forgot her name isn’t Whoopie)

“I think the wizard fucked your ass” ???

Setting up the awards and the baby was peak *pops P* comedy 🤌 Definitely needed since it gets Sad as it goes on

Welsh kink spotted!!! And so fucking blantant I was scandalized

“I’ll shove it up my ass where the rest of the excrement goes” Michael casually asking David to peg him. Nice

More bad magic. More pls and ty

Also moar Nina pls. T’was but a brief beautiful bluster in the wind

Tbh missed a lot of Michael & David’s back-and-forths VS season 1 but I get that’s… the point

Everyone agreeing David is whiney and annoying lmao get wreck’t

Also I forgot they don’t have air conditioning in Englandland ‘cause my man is sweating in every scene he’s in (unless that was intentional in which case… go on…)

The ladies!! That meta ending with the Bechdel test… I see you…

Still love Georgia and Simon’s sister (who I apparently don’t respect enough to google her name); I like Anna now too! She’s got this kinda quiet sarcastic edge I didn’t notice the first time. They all played off each other well in their 3 some (phrasing) scenes

Big amongus sus react that Anna has better chemistry with the two of them than with Michael of which there is literally zero chemistry. Compared to Georgia and David who are just electric with each other it’s honestly distracting

Actual torture watching them break down as other actors play them and drive their friendship apart, it’s fascinating to watch especially on top of it being themselves but, like, not we swear

“Am I your best friend” “No” Fuckin REJECTED !! looser!!!

Oh huh I can see how this is a love story, interesting

The David Tennant fanboy (he is a Real actor I just can’t think of his name) served juicy vomiting SFX realness

“So you’ve made love with him” BROTHER

It took me 87 years to realize warthog and mongoose were in reference to Timon and Pumbah lol <- I am not looking up how to spell this

The bannister being part of the bookshelf why did this make me laugh this hard

Ken Jeong actually reaching into the heart of everything and casually tearing into it Temple of Doom style and leaving everything to ruin lmao

I miss people getting too close to me (feral noises)

Ewan McGregor is cute and I am shallow 🥰

AU where Simon Pegg and Nick Frost did Staged and honestly it would still work aside from being dangerously heterosexual

Simon & Nick doing the Staged 1 back and forth but literally? mmmm that’s sum gud meta

Oh right I forgot the actual writer Simon’s in it too. He’s still good. I like his Zoom tantrum

Jim Parsons unconvincingly looking for his phone after he casually tells David that he and Michael are obviously in love and everyone sees it lmao

David Tennant has the unique ability to make this absolutely insane face reserved specifically for the emotion “oh shit I’m in love with Michael Sheen” which like

I could kill the Good Omens costume department rn I stg take off those fucking sunglasses I’m so mad

Ohhhhhhhh yeah this is a love story

The Frozen snowman being the big bad final boss of cunt, oof you gotta love a good villain

Michael’s monologue the only one not in the kitchen area just breaking down completely I mean *claps until my hands fall off* he put his whole pussy into it. The frustration? The despair? I mean it felt like an audition monologue (in a good way) he walked through the valley in the shadow and death and came back a broken man with a fuzzier beard

CATE BLANCHETT ZOOM SNIPE

Apparently people didn’t like Phoebe Waller Bridge in the new Indiana Jones movie which I haven’t seen but idk I thought she was pretty funny and hot here. *ding*

MOOMIN MUG SPOTTED

The use of travel as a metaphor for feeling stuck emotionally *clenches fist*

“I like silence” *screaming from the other room*

“It’s like gas filling a room” <- fascinating way to describe their dynamic, it’s specifically referring to aimless conversations that snowball and “fill up a room” but it could also refer to the palpable energy between them— like even through the abstraction of a computer screen there’s this magnetic force that’s just riveting, it’s hard to describe

“We haven’t talked about love” > Seen at 2:17 PM LMAO

Michael alone with the black frame lingering shot. Acting and editing and directing choices so simple and on point. everything hurts

Struggling to say goodbye on Zoom physically reaching out unable to leave the frame that whole scene was just. You can just feel the love through the screen, it’s so layered and intimate despite essentially being “No you hang up first”

Zoom wedding! He stayed!!

I wonder if that’s Michael Sheen’s actual best friend. That would be cute

Anna whispering and telling him “nah I know your bestie is literally an hour away but he can’t come over lol” like??? why? let them love each other I cannot handle this villain arc

“I have to bring that one otherwise my tits will explode” Wait wasn’t she drinking earlier though? #ShivRoyMoment

“I was standing outside your job for four hours because I love you” <- dog from Up moment

Yes he is legally a Hobbit

The car window as an abstraction like the Zoom boxes *continued feral noises*

The direction of David putting his hand on the window and Michael walking away only then revealing Anna and the baby far in the background? We’re in 3 dimensions and they are all painful!!

Okay yeah I get it it’s a love story but I thought this was a comedy haha right guys why does everything hurt

It ends on that meta moment between David and Georgia which I can only assume is to set up for the third season although I dunno if that was planned at the time as well. It’s ambiguous but not distracting if they didn’t make another one

tl; dr: Staged 2 is a unique and excellent addition to Staged 1. The added meta textual layer of the other celebrities breaking down their relationship based on Staged 1 allows for a lot of “hiding behind my hands so embarrassed” moments, but also by pitting them against each other, it reveals their actual love for each other through the bickering. Season 1 on its own is a nice vignette of its time but season 2 with it adds a tension and intimacy that really takes both over the top

Kinda dreading watching Staged 3 since it seems like people overwhelmingly like it less than the other two because of the loss of the Zoom format and constant arguing, but I’m already in this far deep so I’ll stick the landing

To wit— awwwwwww, they love each other!

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ansbobcar · 1 year ago

Text

EP 10. Fleeting moments

WORD COUNT. 1457

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

“Mr. Madl, Slagturn has been killed.”

Their only lead in regards to the shadow organisation had shrivelled up into a corpse within a night. No traces of poison or offensive magic was used in sealing the fate of this old mummy. Cuts and wounds were never found as if an energy beam had vacuumed the moisture and health of his body. Perhaps it was indeed Innocent Zero, rumoured to know forbidden spells, who had managed to bypass their security and end their captive confidant.

‘I guess, such an investigation will never start,’ Orter told himself, ignoring the stares and murmurs as he waited outside the bureau. He checked his wrist as he continued to lean against the wall as he remembered her words.

“There’s a flea market happening for the next 2 days,” she showed him a flyer, it would span until this Wednesday. “That’s no good,” he replied with a slight furrow in his brows; “I doubt a single police officer is enough to handle such a crowd.” Even if it happens near Marchette Street, it’s likely to become unregulated quickly. Typically, events like these are told a month in advance in order to allow for ample time to schedule and allocate officers to patrol. Additionally, Wednesday was the break day for the officers patrolling that area due to being the least busy day out of the week.

“Why don’t we go on patrol there for the last day?” She suggested. “The public hasn’t seen us together since the news, it’ll help settle certain things left from the initial shock.”

“Aren’t you busy that day though?”

“I’ll be done by 10.”

It was 10 minutes till 11.

He might as well find her instead of waiting for her, he told himself as he began strolling around the premise. The Blood Cane had 3 appointments today: the first was with Tsurara in regards to testing the effectiveness of a new technology due to her stable application of magic, the second was to the overlook the interviews for potential staff members with head of HR, Mary Shawn, and the last was to check up on the team leaders of their department. All of which should be done by now. She wasn’t the type to get lost either so it confused him.

“Bloody Sicko!”

Until he saw what seemed to be an increasingly violent situation between 3, including the woman herself, and disarmed them of their wands instantly without another breath wasted.

“What’s going on here?” Eyes coldly assessing the situation. “What department are you two from?” Their faces and black mops of hair were unfamiliar and they seemed to fear him compared to her by comparison.

“M-magical security…”

“New recruits, huh? I’d suggest heading back, they usually hold weekly meetings for newbies,” he stated, watching as the two stiffened at his words and with reluctant pleasantry scurried off with their wands. The blonde seemed unphased by what had happened as she blankly stared at them in the distance but he questioned. “Do you know them?”

“I think… they were my cousins,” uncertainty traced her voice as her fingers ghosted her temple. “Sorry for holding you up,” she scratched her head, changing topic. “Mary wanted me to choose at least 1 person from the interview to join our department so it took a while to decide.”

He stretched out his hand with a simple phrase, equally switching to their planned topic. “Let’s go.” To which she gladly accepted, loosely locking their fingers together as they began their patrol.

_ _ _

The flea market’s a bustling place with wooden stalls with fresh produce, and the scent of sweet and savoury bites wafting through the air as people of all kinds browse around. The Desert Cane walked in tandem with her, unused to the focus and swash of attention as his grip on her hand tightened. The clacking of the pots, and creaks of the carts replaced their unheard conversation. A glance at the younger man seemed to imply unease and irritation from the atmosphere, although he kept quiet and held on an unbothered expression as his gaze scanned and took in the area.

‘Just focus on doing the patrol.’ Pushing down his discomfort as he continued his pace with Rinka in tow. Words were drowned amidst the tunes of buskers, the sizzling of food, and the chatter of neverending people. An argument escalated between a stall owner and their employee regarding the quality of food, as the laughter of children with contempt shrilled amidst the marching band and puppet theatre antics scratched at his ears. Like a carousel he couldn’t get out of, he continued to increase the pace of his stride.

‘It’s just a patrol.’ It’s not like he hasn’t executed one before on this particular cobblestoned path. It’s by the book. Every police officer does it. Even if it’s a chore, he had agreed to it. ‘It’s just a patrol.’ Even Rinka had told him so. ‘It’s just a patrol.’

‘Why doesn’t it feel like a patrol?’

‘It’s just a patrol.’

‘It’s just--’

Unnaturally, the uneasiness nested within him thawed as his eyes read a the signboard of a crepe stall and he heard a suppressed hiss right beside him. He had forgotten about her who as much as he did, covered her discomfort. But with a warm smile as he loosened his grip on her hand. “I…”

“Let’s take a break, shall we?”

_ _ _

Orter took a deep sigh as he took a seat on a bench near a park further down from the market. She had used a temporary soothing spell to alleviate his clouded and muddled mind which was slowly returning as he watched a child play with simple light spells, pompously showcasing them to friends-alike. A light spell would be the first magic one learns before the manifestation of your own magic. They must be rather young to be amazed at such a sight, calmness washing over him.

The familiar bright crisp maple leaf robe entered the corner of his eye. She had returned with crepes in hand and an earmuff hung on her forearm. Why did she buy an earmuff? They don’t get hit with snow like the north, his heart thundered for no reason. ‘Don’t say it.’ She aimed her pointer to the side of her head, his eyes following them with baited focus. “You looked out of it.”

“Did I really?” he replied to her words, helping himself the chocolate syrup one while she took a seat.

“You didn’t reply to my words until I used Tranquilier.” He clenched his freed fist at those words. “Not even Sapaiserez?” What was he even doing? He scored decently during those practical tests barely 2 years ago. “The range of that spell is too cumbersome to adjust,” she muttered taking a bite into her own snack. To use a sedative spell meant for rogue dragons was indeed concerning for him but she seemed to think otherwise. “It has a guaranteed effect which is what I wanted.”

“But doesn’t it require a lot of energy?”

“You’re overthinking it.”

Yes. That’s all it was, he told himself. He was doing just that. There’s nothing wrong about it. There’s nothing wrong about her reaction or assumptions either.

"Take your time, the flea market continues until 8 o'clock," she added. There’s no reason to push him to open up. Especially, if you know half of the story. He was simply too tense for the civilians’ ease of mind, which corresponds to their duty and purpose for being here. If the cold and stringent Desert Cane looked distressed, it wouldn’t fare well for any of them. It was like telling the world they had screwed up in the worst way imaginable. "We can always head back."

A sense of envy pervades their thoughts as they watch how carefree the children and their parents were. Something neither of them have the luxury of enjoying, even though it was clearly a date: it didn't feel like one. An unstated heaviness took over the space between them as they seemed to enjoy each other’s presence. Soon enough, they would continue their patrol with Orter wearing the earmuffs due to the precarious position she held them in. Their fingers interlocked once more as the crowd swallowed them in a bustling embrace, wandering with no end in view as he continued to be led by her until she stopped.

As if staring back at a reflection of her future, she paled. Instead of her pale blonde locks, they were honey brown. The spitting image of the Blood Cane in a much more approachable form.

Under her breath with utter confusion and discomfort, she muttered: “Why is she here?”

_ _ _ _ _

Emotional baggage vibes honestly.

Made up some soothing spells!

Tranquilier - A rather high level magic spell that eats up a lot of magical power reserves. Singular targetting spell. 100% guaranteed effect. Most notably used to tranquilise rogue endangered dragons/magical creatures, and sedate Agito Tyrone and Tsurara Halestone on two separate occasions.

Sapaiserez - A 1km radius wide soothing spell indiscriminate of who its cast one excluding the caster. Uses less magical energy than Tranquilier. With enough magic fortification and strong will the spell's effect on a person by person basis will be reduced and can even be bypassed when in the area. It's possible to adjust the range of the spell but that requires more finesse. Most commonly used to curb mass hysteria in large crowded areas and even amongst shepherds.

#mashle oc #mashle fanfic idea #orter madl #mashle x oc #mashle #orter madl x oc #divine visionaries #orter mádl #orter x reader

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shivering-isles-cryptid · 2 years ago

Text

The Theocratic Papers

Bit of background before you read these, these are 4 essays written by me in character for what I believed should have been a third option in the Skyrim Civil war. Also, warning, this was proofread but no spelling or grammatical errors were brought to my attention so I’m not sure if there are any or not, and it’s very long. Very.

Also here it is @nerevar-quote-and-star and @stormbeyondreality the complete thing, even though Mal has already read it all.

You can also find this on Ao3:

My fellow citizens of Skyrim. Our land has been plagued by a brutal war that has deprecated not just our home, but families. That’s why me and my comrades are proposing a third option. We shed our imperialized form and return to the glory days of the Old Nordic pantheon. The glory days of Kyne and Shor, Tsun and Stuhn, of Jhunal and the Testing Gods.

Now, i understand that this will be a difficult choice for many. The Imperials have had a grip on Skyrim for centuries, and we do not expect for it to change over night. But we do believe we can get there eventually, with the grace of Jhunal. In this document, we shall list the many reasons why we believe neither sides of this war are truly good options, and why we think you should join with us in returning to the true glory days of Skyrim.

Point 1: the Sins of a Stormcloak

The first issue we wish to bring to light is the sins and crimes committed by the Jarl of Windhelm. This list is by no means small, and many of them were well hidden by him and those using him.

First, the Markarth Incident. The Reachfolk took back the city, which was stolen from them in the first place, and treated all of the Nord residents fairly, allowing them to live their lives as if nothing changed. The Empire wasn’t going to do anything about it, as they were already spent from the Great War, and trying to keep the Aldmeri Dominion at bay. They had bigger enemies to worry about than some Skyrim natives fighting over land. But Jarl Hrolfdir decided he wanted his castle back, so he contacted Ulfric and told him he would allow Talos worship in his city. So Ulfric gathered a militia and ransacked Markarth, slaughtering women and children’s n’s every single Reachman in the city.

Stuhn teaches us the value in keeping prisoners of war. But Ulfric slaughtered all of them. Man, woman, child, none were spared by his harsh hand. This one example shows the cruelty in Ulfrics heart, as he took the kindhearted Reachman who merely fought for their homes and never harmed a single Nord that didn’t attack them first, and he massacred them all. That is what truly happened. It was not a Markarth Incident. It was a Markarth Massacre.

I have personally interviewed a Nord resident of Markarth who was present for this event, and his story will further support our argument.

“I was there when the Forsworn took the city. It was not a blood full battle, with the Legion having left us for the Imperial City. They dethroned Jarl Hrolfdir, instead of executing him. They lived in the city, occupying empty homes instead of removing us from ours. I remember them all, reuniting with family and friends, making new friends and starting new families. I watched children grow up, seeing elders die, and couples wed. 2 years they lived alongside us, families mixing and growing. Then he came. Ulfric, wielding powers long forgotten. He invaded the city, alongside a militia of farmers and mercenaries. And the dethroned Hrolfdir. Ulfric gathered every Reachman in the city to the city square, executing each and everyone of them. Man, woman, child, elder, it didn’t matter to him. They were all killed, save for Madanach and the few who escaped. He even killed Callacha, my sweet Callacha.”

At this moment, the man broke into tears at the memory. This quote acts as a first person account of the true event of the Markarth Massacre. Ulfric is no hero, he is a battle thirsty, power hungry man who doesn’t deserve any kind of power, much less the power of the Voice. And once our informant finished mourning his lost love, he continued to explain to us that despite the victory, Ulfric refused to cede the city to Hrolfdir until he decreed that Talos worship be allowed in the city. When the Thalmor agents came and demanded Ulfrics arrest, many of the cities residents demanded Hrolfdir agree.

Ulfric killed their friends, their families, and almost took control of their city, and then faced no punishment until another invading force came and demanded it. Ulfrics actions not only caused the deaths of hundreds of people and the ruin of countless lives, but he directly caused the Thalmor to occupy Skyrim, which they hadn’t paid any mind to nor did they enforce the White-Gold Concordant.

Second, Ulfric murdered the High King of Skyrim. This is a topic under heavy debate across Skyrim. The Stormcloaks argue that it was an honor-duel, a tradition that dates back to the first kings of Skyrim. That is something I can not argue with, as a challenge was made and accepted. But that does not mean Ulfrics victory followed the rules of the duel. Ulfric used a power not seen by any but the Greybeards for hundreds of years. His use of the Thu’um to kill Skyrims High King is an affront to Kyne and a bastardization of her gift to her people.

The Thu’um May once have been used by Nords the way swords are used today, but that day has long since past. Once upon a time, magicks were used by the Norse under the watchful tutelage of Jhunal, but that day was long ago, and has been replaced with a fear and hatred for the ancient arts. Would the Stormcloaks defend Ulfric the Murderer with as much fervor and fury if he had used a spell instead of a Shout? Would they still declare him king if he had used the gift of Jhunal instead of the gift of Kyne?

No, they wouldn’t have. And I ask you, dear reader, what is truly the difference between the two arts? What is the difference between flames from you hand and flames from your mouth? Moving back the High King Torygg. We hold members in our ranks who work in the Solitude Court, and their accounts of Torygg show that he agreed with Ulfric. He believed that Skyrim should be an independent nation, and that the Imperial Empire had grown weak.

But Ulfric challenged him anyway. And yes, I will admit that Ulfric couldn’t possibly have known of Toryggs beliefs, but if he had just given him a chance. If he had pleaded his case first, instead of jumping on the chance to challenge the young man. This challenge held no glory, no honor to be won. Torygg was young, with little martial training, and Ulfric was a war veteran wielding an ancient power from the Gods themselves.

All who die in worthy ways go to Shor, on the wings of Kyne and her daughters, but because of Ulfric, Torygg will be going to him young, dishonored, and without the wisdom of age.

Thirdly, Ulfric caused the return of the dragons, however unintentional it may have been. We all know of the Dragonborn. The hero who bears the soul of a dragon and the body of a mortal. We grew up on the stories of their return, on the stories of Alduins destruction of the world. And we all know the prophecy.

When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world.

When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped

When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red-Tower trembles

When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls

When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding

The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn

Those last two lines are the ones I’d like to bring a focus to. “When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding. The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.” Our scholars have spent wells analyzing this prophecy, and they have come to the conclusion that the Snow Tower refers to Skyrim herself, a bit obvious once you look at it, and once we learned that, it was obvious what the other words meant.

With the death of High King Torygg, Ulfric set the final part of this prophecy into place. By killing the High King, he left Skyrim “sundered, kingless, bleeding.” He opened the path way for Alduin to return, setting in motion the end of the world. While he also set in motion the return of the Dragonborn, if the Dovahkiin had failed, all of Nirn would have fallen under his control.

Ulfrics lust for power and hunger for glory has placed not just him, not just Skyrim, but all of Tamriel in danger! He had endangered everyone in his quest for glory with no concern of the consequences. While he may not have known he would cause Alduins return, even the political backlash from the Empire, Thalmor, and Skyrim itself weren’t considered by Ulfric the Murderer.

All of these reason, and more we may not know yet, are why Ulfric is not fit to rule Skyrim, or even Windhelm. He has shown a blatant disregard for the lives of the Nords, and even though he claims to hold the values of a traditional Nord, he only follows the ones that support him and his lies. He calls for an ancient duel, then uses magic to win, he calls for religious freedom so he can worship an Imperial god. He lies and cheats when it suits him while preaching about honor and Nordic pride. But do not take my criticisms of Ulfric for support of the Empire, for that has issues of its own.

Point 2. Imperial Issues

The issues with the Legion are easier to list, as they have been happening for centuries, unlike Ulfrics all being within the past 20-30 years. Many of our issues are not with the legion itself, but with the Empire, much like Ulfric we have members who are war veterans, who fought in the Great War, who even joined the Civil War when the Empire called for them, but were dismissed due to injuries and saw how little the Empire truly cares about Skyrim.

The first thing we should discuss is the Great War. This war weighed heavy on many people in Skyrim, and all of Tamriel, with the deaths of loved ones and almost themselves. This war with the Aldmeri Dominion is not an issue itself. The Dominion is a blight and that is plain for us all to see. Their head god is the killer of Shor, and they talk as if they’re inherently better than the Nords.

Our issue is not with the war. Our issue is with its conclusion. During the siege of the Imperial City, Emperor Titus Mede II sacrificed an entire Legion so he could escape. He then called all of the troops from Hammerfell and Skyrim back, leaving the provinces defenseless while he marched on the now Dominion controlled Imperial City. Jhunal and Stuhn teach us the importance of strategic planning, but this follows the precedent of the Empire abandoning Skyrim. Much like during the Oblivion Crisis, when our lands were ravaged by the forces of Mehrunes Dagon, and yet the Legion couldn’t spare a single legion to help. Yes, they had they’re own issues to deal with, but they couldn’t even send a militia?

Now, back to the Great War, more specifically the treaty that ended it. The White-Gold Concordant was a treaty signed by Emperor Titus Mede II 4E 175, after he had taken the Imperial City back. And it was completed unnecessary. The Empire had won, they had the City back, they had driven the Dominion from Hammerfell, it was only a matter of time before they regained their strength and took the rest of Cyrodiil back.

And they still signed it. They outlawed the worship of the God of the Empire. They gave Hammerfell to the Dominion, without even discussing it with them. They disbanded the Blades, the honor guard of the Empire. This is such an obvious show that the Empire doesn’t care for its citizens, or it’s traditions. They sold an entire country to the Dominion, what’s to stop them from doing it again? They outlawed the worship of the man who founded their empire, why wouldn’t they outlaw our gods? They disbanded the Blades, the personal guard of the Dragonborn, if they would throw out they’re own traditions without a second thought, imagine what they would do to ours?

Secondly, Titus Mede the First was not a liberator of the Empire, but a conqueror and the Mede Dynasty holds no legitimacy to their rule. After the assassination of Chancellor Ocato, a Nibenese witch-warrior was crowned emperor. While he was not liked by the people, he was favored by the Elder Council, who’s duty it is to choose the Emperor. They had made their choice, and as citizens of the Empire it was our duty to respect it.

But Titus Mede did not. He marched on the Imperial City, crowning himself Emperor. He conquered an Empire, not founded. He dethroned the Emperor and went against the Elder Council. This once again shows such a blatant disregard for tradition that we can’t help but fear what they’ll ignore next.

And our current Emperor, Titus Mede II has made our current empire a shadow of itself. Valenwood and Elsweyr have been ceded to the Thalmor, Morrowind has yet to recover from Red Mountain and hasn’t been a part of the Empire since 4E 48, Hammerfell was sold to the Dominion before ceding from the Empire itself, and Black Marsh was lost long ago. The current state of the Empire only includes 3 countries, and they struggle to hold onto even those.

Titus Mede II signed the Concordant which started the Civil War, and he makes no moves to end it, sending one general without an army, with no weapons, no money, and no supplies. He is unfit to rule, as he had proven time and time again. And that’s not even touching on the illegitimacy of his claim to the throne.

Titus Mede I stole his crown, conquering the Empire. Titus Mede II dragged the Empire to the ground. And neither are truly worthy of their titles. The Empire was started by the Slave-Queen Alessia with the help of Kyne and Mara. The Second Empire was started by Reman Cyrodiil, the next in the line of Dragonborn Emperors. The Third Empire was started by Tiber Septim, Dragon of the North. Our current empire was conquered by Titus Mede, a Nibenese noble with an ego.

One of these things are not like the others, with Titus Mede being the first non-Dragonborn emperor to start a new dynasty. Why, in this time of war and dragons, would the Last Dragonborn not be born in the line of Emperors, if they were truly meant to rule? Why would Akatosh not bless the ruling family with his blood if he truly approved of their reign. Because they hold no legitimate claim to the throne. Instead, he gave the power to Skyrim, with the blessing of Shor and Kyne, in order to stop Alduin the Word Eater and set the world to a new age.

The Last Dragonborn holds a stronger claim to the Empire than any of the Mede’s could hope for. And yet they make no grab for power, because they know they don’t have to. They have their kingdom here, in Skyrim. The land of the Nords and home of the Sons and Daughters of Kyne.

Now, while we call for a return to the Old Ways of Skyrim, we understand that many may have forgotten their roots, and will need a reminder. So in the next passage we shall educate you all on the true path of the Nords.

Point 3: Traditions and Customs

A return to tradition can not happen if we do not know our traditions and history. Us Nords are an ancient culture, and our ways date back to the founding of Skyrim. We have many things to cover, so this may be the longest part of the Papers. First, the gods of the Old Ways.

Kyne

The Kiss at the End. Goddess of the Storm. Widow of Shor and patron of warriors. The Mother of Men. She, her daughters, and Parthunaax taught the Nords the Thu’um or “Storm Voice”. Her tears over Shors death were the first rain in Nirn. She is associated with hawks.

Mara

Goddess of Love. Handmaiden of Kyne. Concubine of Shor. Goddess of fertility and agriculture. She is often depicted as a she-wolf.

Dibella

Goddess of Beauty. Worshipped across Skyrim, each of her cults being dedicated to different parts of her sphere. Some are devoted to women, others art, and others the more sensual sides of her. Dibella is often times associated with moths.

Stuhn

God of Ransom. Brother of Tsun, Shield-thane to Shor. Warrior-god who fought against the Aldmeri gods. He taught Men how to and the importance of taking prisoners of war, and is represented by the whale.

Jhunal

The Rune God. God of knowledge and hermetic orders. His worship and teachings have been shunned by modern day Skyrim. He is often times depicted as an owl or has an owl with him.

Shor

God of the Underworld. Shor sided with Men after the creation of the world. Elven gods conspired against him and brought along his defeat, dooming him to the afterlife, Sovengarde. He is the Chief of the Gods. Not explicitly worshipped, for he is a dead god. Shor is depicted as a fox in most cases. And it is commonly believed that Shor would come down to Earth in mortal vessels known as Shezzarines to the Imperials and Ysmir to us.

Orkey

Also called Old Knocker, he is the god of mortality. Nords once held lives as long as the elves, until Orkey tricked us into a bargain that shortened our life spans to 6 years, until Shor removed the curse. Orkey, like the other testing gods, is depicted as a snake.

Alduin

The World Eater. He is fated to destroy the world, eating it in order to make place for the next. He is both a creator and a harbinger of the apocalypse. Many of modern day Skyrim has become very well acquainted with Alduin, due to his return and defeat at the hands of the Dragonborn. Alduin is, obviously, depicted as a dragon.

The Testing Gods

Herma Mora (the Woodland Man) tests the Nords through wit. He is an ancient demon of knowledge, who spent much of Ysgramors life targeting him. He is also called Hermaeus Mora

Mauloch (God of Orcs) tests the Nords through warfare. Mauloch spent much time torturing the heirs of King Harald. He is also called Malacath.

Tsun

The Dead God of trials against adversity. He died defending Shor in battle and now guards the whalebone bridge leading to Shors Hall. He is the brother of Stuhn. Despite being one of the dead gods, when Tsun is honored he is often depicted as a bear.

Now that we have covered the Gods themselves, it’s time to talk about the traditions. One thing that is very important in both the old ways and modern ways is music and stories.

The skalds of old held places of high esteem in our society. The oral traditions and stories they passed down hold the history of our people, and the songs they spun acted as the light in the darkest of days. And with Dibella being the patron of the arts, it is no wonder that the skalds hold her favor.

Another part of our traditions are the ice wraith hunts. In the dead of winter, young men would go to the tallest peaks for weeks hunting the wraiths in order to earn their citizenship. This acted as not just a test of their battle prowess, but as a way to prove their faith in Kyne, for those who’s faith is strong are rewarded with an immunity to the cold.

One very special tradition is the naming ceremony. Where a priest of Jhunal and a priestess of Mara would use omens and prophecy to choose a name for a child during a special ceremony before they’re ninth birthday.

One tradition that is not so happy is the practice of wergild, an act of retribution in Stuhns name. Where if one life is taken, another must be given, or an amount of high value items will be taken as payment, if it is agreed upon.

To bring this back to a lighter note, there are 4 holidays celebrated in the ancient traditions. The first is the Feast of Dibella, where a silver, moth shaped mirror is displayed for the goddess so that she might be drawn in by her beauty and bless the city. Another holiday is Feast of the Dead, where on the 13th of Suns Dawn, a feast takes place in honor of the Five Hundread Companions of Ysgramor. One very special holiday is Konunleikar, which is a celebration of the 10th anniversary of the High Kings coronation, which we sadly did not get to celebrate for High King Torygg as we had not even made it to the one year anniversary of his rule.

One lost tradition is the use of the Thu’um. Like Ulfric and the Greybeards, the ancient Nords were capable of using the Thu’um and shouts since we were created by Kyne. The Ancient Tongues were a staple of Nordic civilization and honored as parts of the society. They were instrumental in wartime and sieges, while also acting as voices for the gods. But that changed when Jurgen Windcaller banned the use of Thu’um outside of times of “true need”.

Windcaller never specified what true need meant, and so the Greybeards, his disciples, sit in their home of High Hrothgar doing nothing as the world falls around them. Tiber Septim did establish the Imperial College of the Voice in hopes to return the practice to Skyrim, but it never amounted to anything.

The funerary rights used by ancient Nords are still in practice in many places today, such as Windhelm, Markarth, Winterhold, Riften, and Falkreath. While Falkreath doesn’t bury their dead in a tomb, the rites used are those done by ancient Mords, albeit with an Imperial twist that honors Arkay instead of Shor. Winterholds burial practices are more similar to Solstheim’s burials as they entomb the body’s in ice using magic only known by the College of Winterhold. Another funeral rite that was practiced by the ancient birds was ancestor veneration, with offerings of gold, wine, apples, snowberries, and weapons being left for them to take to the afterlife. This is a practice still held by many Norse to this day.

Now, we have covered as many of the old traditions as we can, it is time for us to move on to the true point of these essays. How the old ways and help us move into the future.

Point 4: The Future with the Past

We know how we sound, we must return to the past in order to move into the future. But listen to me my brothers and sisters. The Nords have lived under Imperial control since the first empire. Since Alessia, they have tried to convert us to their gods. They have tried to make us forget our culture in favor of there’s, and for centuries they had failed.

We can return to that strength again, if we return to the old ways. The ways of Kyne and Shor, Jhunal and Stuhn, Mara and Orkey. The gods gave us strength, and ever since we abandoned them, we have gotten weaker. Now do not get us wrong, we understand that this can not happen immediately. It will take time for the Nords to return to our old ways, so here is what we suggest.

First, we dethrone Ulfric as Jarl of Windhelm, replacing him with an actual True Nord of Skyrim. Then, we convene the moot to vote in a high king or queen who is dedicated to the old ways. Then, we reinstate the temples to the old gods in each city. Converting the temple of Kynareth in Whiterun to a temple of Kyne, the Temple of Talos in Windhelm to a temple of Shor, we shall open a temple of Stuhn in Morthal, and Winterhold shall be known as the City of Jhunal.

The High King or Queen shall also act as avatars of either Shor or Kyne on earth, being placed as the heads of not just the country, but also the religious practices.

The traditions named previously shall come back to Skyrim, with the naming ceremony and ice wraith hunt being the first to come back. We know that many in Skyrim do not hold the martial prowess for the ice wraith hunt, so we do not expect the first one to take place for 9 years after we take command, as to rightfully train Skyrims people in warfare, to at least take on a wraith.

Skyrims Halls of the Dead shall also be converted into temples of Shor and Tsun, and be open will laces of worship and veneration to not just the gods, but ancestors as well. Outside of each major city, there shall be a spot of nature and trees sacred to Kyne. Hunting is permitted here, as long as you can prove yourself to the goddess and her servants.

Efforts will be made to excavate Labyrinthian, and return it to the great city it once was. We shall also set up a museum to teach about Nordic heroes and history such as the Dragon Cult and the Nordic-Falmer War. With help from the College of Winterhold, we hope to excavate as many Nordic ruins we can, either converting them into cities, burial mounds, or at least setting the dead to rest.

And as for the Thalmor and Empire, they will be given a chance to leave Skyrim or join us, but if they wish for neither then we will make them leave. We hope to avoid war, as enough blood had been spilled during the Great War and Civil War, but if we are left with no other option, then we will fight and we will win for the glory of Skyrim and her children.

Now, one thing that neither side of the Civil War has yet to address is the Dragons. We will not be as blind. With the defeat of Alduin, the dragon threat has been reduced but not eliminated. So we shall create a group dedicated to wiping out the rest of the dragon threat. Under the patronage of Kyne, our Einherjar will eradicate the dragon threat from Skyrim.

This is not everything we wish to do, but it is as much as we can say at this point in the war. We hope this essay has convinced you to side with us against both the False Empire and the Traitorous Stormcloaks. If so, come to the Skyrim Historical Society in Whiterun and present them a copy of these papers and they shall know what to do next.

Published by the Skyrim Historical Society, Whiterun Wind District.

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