#that if they leave their wizard partner its ENTIRELY PROBABLE that THEIR minds will be wiped??

[timeisacephalopod]

Y'all are aware of that 10 hour Harry Potter retrospective but the thing that gets me the most out of that whole thing that I never considered when reading the series is that wizards can obviously chose to adhere to the Statute of Secrecy but like... Magical creatures can't make that choice and Fantastic Beasts literally starts with Newt chasing down a rogue niffler, meaning that muggles probably frequently encounter magical creatures. There's no way that muggles and magical creatures could reasonably be segregated- Hermione's cat is half magical creature so how many muggle cats are also half neasel?

Like why on earth would you invent a world in which you have scores of animals, and also plants, that cannot reasonably consent to secrecy from muggles and the excuse of witch trials falls flat when actual magic exists that should factor into how those witch trials play out but never seems to come up. Anyway, the most unrealistic thing about a universe with magic and dragons and shit is that muggles would somehow never run into and remember a magical creature, there's zero way the wizards could catch every muggle who has seen something and obliviate them that's a herculean task designed to fail I refuse to believe no nifflers have ever stolen some muggles shit enough that they'd know what them little bastards were.

[kamaribvb]

Talia's Suffering Chapter Two:

In Which A Suspicious Letter Arrives, and Subsequently Y/n is Kidnapped by A Wizard

Member pairing: Y/n x Yoongi;

Genre: fantasy, fluff, adventure, angst;

Rating: PG-13;

Trigger warnings: descriptions of how a human trafficking organization that victimized Y/n prior to the start of the story works.

Word count: 2,909;

Summary: Y/n calls an old friend to babysit Talia the following day, and subsequently finds a fraudulent letter that raises suspicions about who is responsible for Talia's condition. The friend arrives a few hours later, at which point Y/n learns something about Talia that changes her mind about Aiden. Indeed, she demands that he come right that very second, and Aiden examines Talia then subsequently kidnaps Y/n.

After the phone call, Y/n began to gather all the scales that had fallen off of Talia since she had gotten sick.

“Wait, Yoongi, who will watch Talia while we are gone?”

“I don’t anticipate we’ll be gone for long, so maybe I could ask your older sister Adele to watch Talia.”

The storm had long since ended, so faint light was streaming through the entrance to the cave. Nevertheless, Y/n did not feel much different than she did while it was storming heavily. “No, I don’t believe that’s a wise idea since Talia has a tendency to be a little testy when unfamiliar people are in her cave even in the best of circumstances, but I’ve never seen her seem so sick. So the babysitter that would be least problematic would be a person who she’s familiar with and is trustworthy enough to speak up if something changes. The problem is that no one is coming to mind, so maybe it was a mistake to tell Adrian that both of us were coming.”

“You could ask Aileen,” he suggested as he helped Y/n gather the scales into a large bucket with a handle.

Consequently, Y/n paused, but still responded, “Yeah, I agree, she would probably be the best person, since she accompanied us on the majority of my missions back in the day. But I already know the first complaint she’ll have will be about how dirty this cave is, so would you please grab the broom from the house while I call her?”

Yoongi peeked over at her as his eyes widened a little as he asked, “Was she truly that intolerable?”

But Y/n shook her head as she replied, “Truthfully, I wouldn’t say intolerable, per se, just my polar opposite in numerous ways. We may have driven each other insane during missions with our clashing personalities, but one of the concepts she and I always agreed on is our respect and love for Talia.

With that, Yoongi disappeared into the fog with a nod while Y/n pulled out her cell phone.

“Hello, this is Aileen.”

“Hey, Aileen, its Y/n. Listen, I know it has been a while, but I have an emergency situation on my hands-Talia is extremely sick, so I need a trustworthy, prudent person to keep an eye on her while my partner and I travel to talk to a wizard healer tomorrow.”

“What the-Y/n? What’s wrong with Talia?”

“We don’t know for sure, just that her scales are changing color and falling off, her temperature has been consistently chilly, she’s obviously weak and fatigued, and I can tell she’s only eating to try to keep us from worrying.” At that moment, Y/n needed to be extra conscientious to keep her voice quiet and even to prevent herself from waking up Talia, but her entire body was shaking. “Aileen, I’m worried that she might be dying, and you know that I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life if I don’t try everything to save her, but I can’t just leave her, either.

“Calm down, Y/n, I’m already planning to come help out. In fact, if I’m as familiar with you as I suspect, you haven’t slept since Talia became sick so if it’s acceptable, I’m on my way right now. I’ll be there in a few hours, and once I arrive, why don’t you and Yoongi venture out for a picnic date or something?” she suggested.

“I’ll consider your suggestion once you arrive, but no matter what, I don’t need to hear a single word about how dirty this place is once you come, understand? I’m not in the mood to argue with anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill, Y/n. But just for your information, I will probably clean the entire place myself while I’m there.  I’ll be there soon, Y/n, so try not to lose your mind?”

Y/n sighed. “Just leave the pile of leaves. Talia likes to roll around in them and they are fantastic tools for building campfires on cold nights.”

At that moment, Suga returned to the cave and started sweeping the entire place, but he avoided the leaves as best he could.

“I’ll try. Bye, Aileen.” Y/n hung up. “Thanks for the help, baby. I appreciate that you’re using your super speed for this, even though we both know the wind is will bring dirt in sooner or later anyways.” In fact, as soon as she finished speaking, a strong wind blew additional leaves and dirt in, but the fog had mostly dissipated.

“Of course, jagiya. In fact, why don’t you go bathe and change into something comfortable? I’ll watch Talia.”

The moment Yoongi finished speaking, Y/n smiled faintly as she began to pace a little. On the one hand, a shower and a fresh set of clothes sounded wonderful to her at the moment, as she had only done the bare minimum to maintain her health as of late. But on the other hand, there was a reason she had relied mostly on herself to be Talia’s caretaker as of late. In fact, Y/n and Aileen had raised Talia, so they were both acutely familiar with the little mannerisms Talia used to communicate with people around her. Yoongi, on the other hand, would not know those little signs, and Y/n didn’t know how to teach him.

After a minute, though, he spoke. “Do you need a hug?”

Y/n nodded as she pulled him into a loving embrace while he kissed the top of her head. They stood there silently for a few moments, with only Talia’s shallow breaths and the wind as background music.

“I suggest that you do as I suggested, Y/n. I promise, I’ll call you as soon as Talia wakes up.”

Y/n smiled up at him as she quickly kissed him goodbye. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, babe.”

After she was finished getting ready for the day, Y/n went ahead and checked the mail, and among the pile of junk was a suspicious letter that appeared to be from Aileen, according to the stamped words in the upper left corner. But prior to even opening the letter, Y/n suspected it wasn’t actually from her. First of all, Aileen didn’t communicate via letters if she had the phone number of whoever she was contacting-she used either text messages or phone calls. Consequently, she picked up the letter by one of its corners and began walking back to the entrance of the cave.

She found Yoongi sitting on the ground as he stoked the fire. He stood up to come greet her with a smile.

“My love, I just received this letter, but I doubt it is from Aileen. What can you tell about it?”

Yoongi grabbed the letter and sniffed it. “You are right-Aileen has never handled this; her scent is nowhere on the envelope. Actually, I suspect the person who wrote this wasn’t even human-it smells of vampire, in my opinion. You can open it-I’m sure it isn’t cursed or anything.”

And so Y/n began to read the letter aloud. The majority of the letter was information about Aileen and her kids that Y/n fervently hoped were all lies, since the alternative meant that Aileen had a stalker. But the last paragraph read, “’Listen, I have come across information about a threat to Talia. Can we meet at the Recruiters Tavern soon to discuss it? Please reply with your availability soon so we can talk in person. Thanks. Love, Aileen.’ Ok, so now I know for sure that it actually wasn’t Aileen that wrote this letter- she would have lead with the threat and left everything else out. So, there is an unknown person out there, probably a vampire, who wants to meet up with me, but asked to do so by posing as a friend of mine instead of as him or herself- oh, no.” All at once, the color drained from Y/n’s face as her entire body stiffened, so Yoongi rushed over to support her weight as he asked, “What’s happening, Y/n?”

“I believe that I know who is behind this,” she whispered. “But Aileen is arriving here any minute, so I’ll explain later.” Y/n relaxed a little into Yoongi’s embrace as his grip tightened a little. She shoved the letter in her inner coat pocket right as they both heard a knock against stone at the entrance to the cave.

“Hello?” Aileen’s whisper echoed in the cave, so Yoongi and Y/N both hurried to the entrance, holding hands.

Y/n embraced her friend as she murmured, “You’re a real one for coming so quickly, Aileen. Thank you so much, and you remember Yoongi, right?

She nodded and smiled faintly at him as she embraced her friend back. “Yes, and its refreshing to be here with you both, so I was glad to come, however heartbreaking the reason.” Aileen lead the way back into the cave to check on Talia herself, and similar to Y/n, her gaze became a little blurry at first she closely regarded her family. Meanwhile, Talia awakened and started dragging her tail across the ground in glee as she recognized Aileen.

In response, Aileen leaned her forehead against her nose and gently stroked her face with both hands. “Yeah, I’m so glad to be here with you too, baby, we’re such delinquent owners for allowing so much time to pass in-between our little play dates. How are you feeling-oh, do you need a belly rub?” Aileen asked sweetly as Talia quickly rolled onto her side while she walked around to Talia’s belly to give it a rub.

The sound that came from Aileen’s mouth at that moment is difficult to describe. However, if you imagine the sound that results when you mix a squeal of joy together with a scream of horror, you’ll probably imagine something similar. Regardless, Y/n and Yoongi rushed over to her side to figure out what was wrong, only to realize that what was wrong was about to change absolutely everything. Yoongi was obliged to support Y/n’s weight to keep her from falling, but she was absolutely sobbing the minute Talia’s stomach came into her view.

Talia was pregnant, and this meant that the babies were probably dying, too. Since Y/n could not speak coherently at all, she had the following text conversation with Aiden:

Y/n: Aiden, it’s Y/n, I apologize for the late notice but I need you to come immediately to the cave next to 4070 West Birch Street in Norfolk, Starnia, 34431. Once you are at the front door, look to the west. You’ll notice a path made of marbled stones, so follow it through the forest. Once the forest is behind you, the cave will be dead ahead and please HURRY!

Aiden: Lady, what on earth? I practically needed to pull teeth just to convince you to bring scales to a public place tomorrow, and now you are texting me the address? I charge extra for rush jobs, you know!

Y/n: SOME SICK BASTARD CURSED MY BABY EVEN THOUGH SHE’S PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!

Aiden: I’ll be there in ten minutes, so in the meantime, try to calm down as much as you can.

          As promised, Y/n heard the sound of footsteps a few minutes later as a man wearing a hooded cloak and a belt filled with unfamiliar objects hurried through the entrance. In response, Talia’ rolled over and growled uneasily, but Y/n held up a cautionary hand.

“Easy, Talia baby. This is Adrien, he’s here to save you and your babies so try to tolerate his presence here just this once, alright?”

Once Talia obediently settled down, Adrien examined Talia closely as he asked several questions, which Aileen and Y/n took turns answering. Afterward, he concluded, “Yes, I can definitively say that your friend has been cursed by a particularly malicious and meticulous sorcerer; I can’t tell anything about who they are from the aura the curse gives off. Do you have any idea who is facetious enough to do this?”

“Actually, I do.” Y/n pulled out the letter. “I just received this fraudulent letter today that I was supposed to believe was from Aileen here, but I’m positive it is not. In fact, I’m almost certain it comes from one of the vampires of the organization I was kidnapped by, the Devil’s Brigade.

In an instant, Adrien did a double take, and subsequently seized Y/n by the wrist to teleport her away to an unknown location. It happened so quickly that neither Yoongi nor Aileen even had time to protest, but Y/n sure did.

“Shut up, woman, I had no choice but to leave with you, it is obvious that our enemies know you live there. If you stop screaming, I’ll explain-no, don’t bite, I told you I’m on your side! Do you wish to be tied up and gagged, if so, continue, I will absolutely do it here and now!”

After much struggle, Adrien finally managed to wrestle Y/n against a wall as he snarled, “LISTEN!”

Y/n grew quiet.

“I’m actually head officer of the vampire department of a secret organization called the Quintessential Protection Squad, which is a secret organization that regulates the interactions between humans and the supernatural. Our purpose is to protect humans, and it just so happens that The Devil’s Brigade is our biggest enemy. So congratulations, sweetheart, you just won the wizard companion lottery until they are eliminated.”

“Release me right the fuck now! And why the drama? Why did you need to separate me from Yoongi and Aileen and Talia? I hate worrying them-“

Adrien examined his nails as he responded, “Not my problem, sweetheart. My job is to keep you safe, but your happiness or lack thereof or anyone else’s isn’t part of my job description. Besides, I figured a reunion would provide fantastic motivation to tell me everything you know, so start talking.”

Y/n glowered at him as she lunged for his cell phone, but at the last minute, he pulled his leg back out of reach. “I don’t need an incentive; I was already planning to tell you everything before I was rudely kidnapped! At least tell Yoongi what’s happening!“ “No can do, sweetheart-“

“And if you call me a condescending nickname again-“

“Consider your separation payback for making my ears bleed, Y/n”, he snapped as he massaged the side of his head. “Just tell me your story, and start with how you first became involved with the Devil’s Brigade.”

Y/n glared at him incessantly as she replied through gritted teeth, “That was back in high school. One day, our history teacher assigned a classmate named Astaroth and I a group project. We agreed to meet up at his place after school to work on the project, but neither of us ever even touched our history books. Instead, once I was at his house, he basically kidnapped me and took me to their headquarters.”

“And what was it like for you to be there?” “Oh, sunshine and rainbows, truly,” Y/n said sarcastically. “Adrien, it’s a human trafficking organization filled with misogynistic, bloodthirsty, malicious vampires. How do you imagine I was treated?”

“Just say everything you know.”

“Yes, I would love to talk to my kidnapper about my trauma while pinned against a cold wall away from my sick baby, partner, and lover.

In response, Adrien loosened his grip a little, but still kept her firmly in place. “How did it work?”

“Okay, so basically, each human that was kidnapped would be sold at a top-secret auction to the highest bidding member of the organization. After the victim was bought, she would be required to spend all her free time with her master in one of numerous villa’s located around the headquarters. At that point, the vampire could basically do whatever they wanted to her when they weren’t at school and/or work to prevent anyone from getting suspicious. Including give the victim a new name to answer to while they were with anyone in the organization. Oh, we were allowed to leave, but only for the reason that our disappearance would raise suspicions.”

“That explains why it has been so difficult to track down victims,” Adrien breathed. “Continue.”

“But my slave trader-his name was Alistair-was unique from the others, in that he allowed his victims to buy their way to freedom. The price he would charge for that was obscene-something along the lines of a quarter of a million dollars-but somehow, I managed it eventually. Once I paid him his money, he lied to the other traders and Astaroth by telling them he accidentally forced his slave to bleed to death. After that, escaping was as simple as walking through the front door in broad daylight.

“So these slave traders would force victims to spend their free time at their assigned villas with their assigned vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember where the headquarters is?”

“Of course. Why do you think they are after me?”

“Well darlin, you have supplied enough pertinent information to earn a reunion,” he drawled as he snapped his fingers. And all at once, Aileen, Talia, and Suga appeared. Fortunately, the room Aiden had taken her to was gargantuan enough to fit all of them with room to spare.

A second later, Yoongi punched Aiden forcefully enough to knock him out temporarily, but not to break any bones. Y/n grinned as he pulled her tenderly into an embrace.

“I’m home, jagiya.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Welcome home, gorgeous.”

[dduane]

What are the middle kingdoms like to read? Is there cooking and cleaning? Gathering wood for a fire? Lighting lamps? Or is it just boring swashbuckling and sorcery?

For context, I love Mary Stewart's "The Crystal Cave" series until she actually gets around to the meat of the arthur legend and then it's just plot plot plot.

(chuckle) The characters would absolutely look at each other and then bust up laughing in helpless acknowledgement of the (their-world-too) truth of one Zen koan: "What do you do before Enlightenment? Chop [fire]wood, draw water. What do you do after Enlightenment? Chop [fire]wood, draw water."

First of all: there is absolutely cooking. OH BOY IS THERE COOKING. Just look over here. There’s an awful lot of food in these books.

There’s probably a lot less cooking-and-cleaning in the main sequence of the novels, though, than I would (in retrospect) like, because nobody’s at home... or not at home for very long.

We start out with one main character in exile and on the run, another (his partner) who leaves home quickly at the beginning of the series to get him out of trouble, and one soon-to-be major character who no longer (strictly speaking) has a home, and who’s been on the run with the first one for at least a year or so. (These are joined by two other major characters who are either wanderers by nature, or have a home but are not entirely welcome in it.)

Over the next two books this ragtag crowd—the principals, and a small stubborn group of friends and followers—makes its way out of the lands known to men in order to escape immediate pursuit: essentially embarking on (or continuing...) an extended camping trip. Then, after some interesting Shit Happens on the far eastern side of things, they make their way back across the Kingdoms toward the kingdom the first one wants to take back... stopping in with strategically useful friends, and essentially couch-surfing until the end of the series. ...So there’s not a lot of leisure for quiet times at home. That comes later, in the “bridging works” between the series as it stands so far and the final volume, which (as it has been for a while) is in the works.

As for boring swashbuckling and sorcery: when I buckle a swash, I like to think it’s not too boring, as I have actually (invoking the trope) Studied The Sword and know what a good swordfight looks like. (My sensei in iaido was most succinct: “As brief as possible.”) ...As for the sorcery: there are two kinds, one fairly commonplace, straightforward and simple (and routinely deadly to the inexpert), one rarer, more difficult, and requiring—usually—a far higher price of its users. If you have any experience of the handling of magic in the Young Wizards books, you’ll already have a sense that I know how to manage it so you won’t fall asleep too quickly. :)

...More than that, deponent saith not. (But if you don’t mind a not-too-spoilery spoiler: here’s one of the primary characters giving me grief about cooking on the road.)

HTH!

[kaypeace21]

Analyzing the 5 plays in this drama club poster .From the bts pics of stranger things 4.

So... some of ya’ll know I'm going through the st s4 films given to us by the official st twitter + the films reffed in the show itself or mentioned by the Duffers in interviews .

So I decided to look at the plays mentioned here. Because even if we don't see the monologues in the show directly - the Duffers wouldn't name drop anything unless it inspired them in some way. Similar to films name dropped in the show. Tw : for some dark themes .

This is just a quick little analysis I decided to do since we probably won't get any new st content today (3/22). Nothing too deep. Just mentioning things that caught my interest especially cause these plays have a lot of narrative connections to the st s4 movies I've been watching.

Invitation to a march (Authur laurents)

Reminds me of the stancy/jancy love triangle. "A young woman is having second thoughts about doing the right thing and marrying a respectable , rich, kind, young man with good prospects.By way of a prewedding diversion, this woman becomes interested in the passionate but poor and entirely unsuitable son of a local landlord.Basically, the plot concerns the efforts of Norma Brown to choose between a conventional fiance who "puts her to sleep" but is wealthy (like what her own mother did) or go for this new-poor guy. The play is principally interested in how this youthful love triangle affects the three mothers involved (whether the kids like it or not)

12th night (Shakespeare)

 - viola (el) wrongly assumes a family member (hopper) is dead. She dresses up as a man named 'cesario'. A girl named Olivia falls for 'cesario' (violet dressed as a man). "Finally, when 'Cesario' and Sebastian (violet's twin brother: assumed to have drowned - Will) appear in the presence of Olivia there is more wonder and confusion at their physical similarity. Taking Sebastian for 'Cesario', Olivia asks him to marry her, and they are secretly married in a church. Cough if Olivia is 'straight' cause she fell for Viola (as a doppleganger dressed like her twin brother).Mike being into el who multiple characters in s1 said looked like a boy and specifically like Will is...suspish and a hint he's not straight lol. just like Olivia they're both into guys . plus, this play just has a butt load of love triangles (ugh i hated that aspect). There was also romantically coded letters (which was in the s4 films) . One character is also thrown into an insane asylum and framed as 'insane'.'Pretending that Malvolio is insane, they lock him up in a dark chamber. Feste visits him to mock his insanity'. We all know the psych hospital will be narratively important- talked about it more here.

The seagull (Anton Chekhov-russian)

similar to how I believed s4 will show m*#even already broken up since the months between s3-4 : act 3 (s3) ends with Nina begging for one last chance to be with Trigorin before he leaves/moves away. They kiss and make plans to meet again in Moscow.And in act 4 there's a timeskip where it shows they've been broken up for a long time between acts- and its established they never actually loved eachother. Do i even have to spell out why this parallels the m*#even ending in s3? There is also a play within the play (this is common in a lot of the st films- they have plays- or a story within a story- which illustrate certain themes or emotions of the characters within said film : blackswan, children of paradise, highschool musical, Rushmore, book of Henry, welcome to marwen, never ending story, romancing the stone, wet hot American summer, etc).The play is Konstantin's latest attempt at creating a dense symbolist work. There is also alot of love triangles in the seagull. TW!: for se#ual ab*se/su*cidal thoughts/ inc*st (here and in other play segments). The seagull motif reminds me a lot of Jonathan's rabbit story.Konstantin romantically into Nina shows up to give her a gull that he has shot. Nina is confused and horrified . Trigorin sees the gull that Konstantin has shot and muses to Nina on how he could use it as a subject for a short story: "The plot for the short story: a young girl lives all her life on the shore of a lake. She loves the lake, like a gull, and she's happy and free, like a gull. But a man arrives by chance, and when he sees her, he destroys her, out of sheer boredom. Like this gull."  This immediately reminded me of jon's rabbit story and some of the movies on the s4 list . Like in forrest gump- Jenny (who is poor) was se*ually ab*sed as a very young girl by her father. As a child she runs away into a field-away from her alcoholic father yelling at her -there she prays that she can "be a bird so I can fly far far away" .

Jenny as an adult struggles with this unresolved trauma- being with ab*sive partners, doing dr*gs, and having su*cidal thoughts . She as an adult when contemplating su*icide, jokes 'you think i can fly like a bird ?' while looking down at a bridge.God-i'm worried about jonathan (Jenny was also a musician sort of like jon). In another s4 movie example ' mystic river ' :(in the 80s) a preteen baseball playing boy is r*ped by men in the woods. He later says he wishes he could become an undead monster to not feel the pain of that experience - cause quote " if I'm not human anymore maybe the pain will stop" (Will) . slightly off topic but he also has another personality, imagines a alternate word that dissappears when he turns his head. And as a less direct animal parallel to the play - the boy from the film also imagined his perpetrators as monsters and wolves to cope.In 'getout' the photographer character sees a dead deer in the woods and it represents a parent/his own childhood tra*ma relating to his past. similarly in 'prince of tides' the 2 siblings as kids were ra*ed by men. The older brother remembered it and the younger sibling developed DID (so didn't remember but she would draw wolves- as the perpetrators/villains in her picture stories she created . In the film they also had an ab*sive dad and were very poor. She also tried k*ling herself multiple times-but started to get better after remembering the source of her pain and trauma.  There is also the theme of multiple attempted su*cides in the play- and the play ends with yet another attempt- and the audience is left unaware of the artist's fate at the end of the play.

The tempest (Shakespeare)

Prospereo - (the perceived antagonist) is a wizard with monstrous looks, storm powers , and ability to create monster-dogs

He wants revenge on a man who tried ra*ing his family member & revenge on his other family member who wronged him years ago. I mean... pretty much my did theory.But in the end.Prospero decides to show his enemies the mercy that they did not show him twelve years earlier. He tells Ariel to bring the men to him, he will restore their sanity and then renounce magic forever.Prospero breaks the spell that the men are under .

Diary of a scoundrel (Alexander Ostrovsky-Russian)

-  I suppose this could loosely relate to Jonathan? Glumov, is a young man from an impoverished family lacking status seeking entrance into society's pampered class. A 19th-century Russian scoundrel must scheme his way out of his meager life in a small apartment -whatever it takes.He has a quick mind and some talent for seeing through the hypocrisies of people around him ( Jonathan does make a lot of social critiques about society). That gives him some advantages. A tale of one man's mission to finagle his way into upper-class society and find a cushy job. Set in 1874, this social comedy follows Glumov, a Russian youth who begins his ambitious ascent to social esteem. He progresses by wit, guile and rhetoric. Pitting one stupid person against another, he soon gains his ends. To reach these goals, Glumov will lie, flatter, and cater to the vanities of the wealthy. Unable to contain his disgust with his victims, Glumov decides to relieve his unvoiced satirical comments by recording his schemes in a diary. But he is tripped up by his uncle's wife, to whom he has made passionate love on his way to success. At the end of the play, his diary is stolen and his duplicity exposed, but he can nevertheless suceeds. The author is much more critical about the high society itself than about the main character, so the play keeps attracting generations of directors by opening possibilities for political criticism while also avoiding naming names of the current rulers.The play's aim was to overthrow bourgeois tradition and establish a class-conscious art called eccentricism giving a deliberately comic portrayal of reality.

I suppose I notice some possible commonalities-  besides s3 critiquing the wealthy/capitalism in comedic ways . jonathan since s1 has worried about his family's finances / had some resentment toward the rich . In some of the s4 movies ‘orphan’ & ‘ girl interrupted’ someone reads their diary out loud to get at them (in girl interrupted the winona character’s diary even had critiques of her new friends).  Alot of movies also have someone (usually a teen/young adult) making a documentary about their life -which could narratively replace said diary? A few movies have a poor guy adjusting to snobby rich social circles (or being poor and then getting money)- titanic, kingsmen, karate kid, the craft , godfather,  wardogs,into the spiderverse,flashdance, and many others . And movies like wardogs has a poor-young-character do shady things to finacially support his family . There’s also that whole uncle’s wife thing- which makes me uncomfortable for obvious reasons (but I’m just thinking of Lonnie’s creepy gf who was into him). A few movies had the guy’s step mom innappropriately hit on him- orange county & you got mail. And him trying to avoid her advances. Or...not to mention ... it may be a problematic coincidence /trope. But in enter the void -the guy who needs to finacially support his sibling/ does dr*gs -hooks up with his dr*g dealing friend’s married mom (who would give him money).  Or in gilbert grape- the poor teen-who has to finacially support his siblings/single mom-has his endgame relationship be a girl his own age. But before that he h*oked up with a married woman -who would give him money. Don’s plum -young film guy-propositioned by older female film director (for dream job). Not even mentioning the other films that have the guy hooking up with toxic older women (like ‘the graduate’). Or analyze this-where the therapist accuses him of having an Oedipus complex (not touching that one... but the guy in ‘enter the void’ a 100% had one). It’s possible those movies were just- inspo for s3?  A coincidence? Or s3 was foreshadowing for this in s4- but unlike s3 it will accurately be played as wrong  and a sign of Jonathan recreating past tra*ma caused by Lonnie (cough like the photos) /being desperate for money. And not played ‘comedically’ like how it mostly was in s3. But shown as self destructive  (for Jon) and immoral on the Woman’s end. Like... Billy and Jon are character foils. Both are older siblings into rock music, with ab*sive dads who shoved them into walls. Both lose it (and beat steve to a pulp when Steve accidentally triggers their daddy issues). In s3 it’s established womanizer Billy has mommy issues, than he tries ho*king up with someone his mom’s age, and the characters ref ‘back to the future ‘ and Steve incorrectly says it’s about “alex p keaton trying to bang his mom.” This could illustrate his subconscious issues with parental figures/adults cause of Lonnie’s  possible past se*ual ab*se . One film the friend even says to the guy “you don’t have friends!” guy b: i have friends! him:  no you have acquaintances! ADMIT IT! YOU’RE AFRAID OF MEN!I mean-Jonathan liked Nancy- but he initially hooked up with her cause he wanted to prove he didn’t have ‘trust issues’ from his dad. Also it’s prob a bit of a reach (and maybe a coincidence)- but the fact Murray in the same breath compares Steve (Nancy’s then bf) and Lonnie  ... uh... if you think too long about it ... it’s very sinister .  Especially because in s3: muray tells Joyce  that despite her wanting to be with a nice guy, she’s curious about “the brute” Hopper despite him reminding her of a past “bad relationship”(aka Lonnie). Like- yeah connect some dots.  Quite a few films (other than forrest gump) also have the character who (as a kid) was  r*ped by their dad/parent-  begin to do dr*gs/be pr*miscuous as adults since they never learned to properly cope with their trauma (’girl with the dragon tattoo’,  ‘black swan’, and ‘magnolia’). Unfortunately the whole relative doing such things to kid-relatives is in at least 30+ movies. 

Personally, i would be MUCH happier if Jon had a age appropriate romance- and had not a single creepy adult near him. A few movies actually imply Lonnie gets yet another ‘new model’  replacing his gf in her 20s with a new gf- who is ‘barely l*gal” and just turned 18. so there’s that possibility as well- that she’s jonathan’s age.I just want Jonathan-happy &safe. GOD. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

[demonicheadcanons]

Undatables proposals?

AN: Thanks for sending this in,,,, probably a few months ago? I’m so sorry I’m responding to this so late, its been a wild time. This is back when the undateables were actually undateable ;u;

These are messy and Luke’s is undeniably my favourite.

Diavolo

Diavolo is a traditionalist. It takes him a long time to realise that you genuinely like him, but once he does, he knows all the right beats to make the relationship work out. He’s devoted and caring, and a lovely partner to have.

Sadly, your relationship is quite a public thing, him being the future king of the Devildom. However, this really inspires him when it comes to proposing. He follows Devildom tradition to a T - he’ll propose a second time following human tradition perfectly if you want, but he needs to show his people that you’re also one of them now.

The dagger he presents is something no one has ever seen before. The quality is perfect, the edge unreasonable sharp, the engravings intricate and beautiful. Its also enchanted, with his pact mark engraved into a golden jewel matching his eyes and inlaid into the handle, to grant you immortality by his side as a royal in the Devildom.

He proposes in public but the wedding itself is a slightly more private event - he still has to invite many high ranking devils along with enough press that it’ll be made into a story where everyone will hear every detail. You two receive gifts from most demons across the entire Devildom, eat traditional Devildom food, and your colour scheme is black and gold, with small hints of red here and there.

Its a once in a lifetime event and he goes all out for it, because he has to, and because he loves you. The honeymoon can be private, and he’ll have a smaller very private ceremony with you to make up for having to do everything the Devildom way, but everything from the proposal, to the wedding, to the marriage after is very extravagant and beautiful.

[[The other now-dateables are under the cut]]

Barbatos

Barbatos is similar to Diavolo in that he prefers a traditional Devildom proposal and wedding. He’s been to countless weddings at Diavolo’s side, but never considered he’d have his own. Still, after you meet he realises he might actually like to have one.

He proposes with quite a plain dagger under a full moon. In the moonlight, the silver surface of the blade has a green shine to it, and the small green gems on the black handle compliment it beautifully. It suits him, really.

Surprisingly, he actually is very hands on with the wedding planning. He knows exactly how he wants things to play out. He’ll take all your ideas and incorporate them well, and the entire thing is beautiful and flawless. Everything matches his demon form - black fabric and ruffles, teal and green accents, some white flowers thrown in to break it all up. He’s very involved from the beginning of the process to the end, and he has you by his side the entire time. His eyes gleam with excitement, and it’ll make you fall for him all over again.

Solomon

Solomon... doesn’t care, at all, about marriage and proposing and such. Still, if its something you want he’s down for it, but don’t expect it to be very elaborate and extravagant.

Or, do. Because he’s a wizard, and he knows all the right spells for this. You have a date, and when you enter the lights go out and colourful, floating flames that look like stars light up the room. You walk up to a scroll and unwind it, and it says ‘turn around’. Solomon is kneeling behind you, the ring shining as it reflects the colourful lights. Its engraved and enchanted, something designed to protect you for the rest of your life.

He lets you have whatever kind of wedding you want, but he really doesn’t want it to be a big thing. He loves you, sure, but he doesn’t feel the need to proclaim it to everyone. With his magic, you can have a special wedding without it having to be huge. He’s confident and he can handle whatever you throw at him for the wedding but he’s going to be pretty tired after if there are too many people there.

If you leave it to him, and never mention marriage? He’s not going to bring it up. You have to tell him if you want to get married, or better yet just propose yourself - if you propose he’ll accept it right away.

Bonus: If you two do get married, have a space themed wedding. He’ll love it.

Simeon

Simeon didn’t ever consider that he might get married, and especially not to a human. He assumed he’d be working for Michael and for his father... well, forever, really. Or for as long as he lived.

That all changes when you two start dating. He keeps it casual at first, knowing that there were too many factors that could force you two to break up. He’s not uncomfortable or distant, and still gives what he can in the relationship, but he reminds himself that it could end.

As time goes on he stops worrying so much, and as things get more and more serious he realises he can propose, and that you two can get married. Once the idea is in his head, he comes to you about it and asks if its something you want. You tell him it is, and the planning becomes something the two of you work on together. The proposal itself is very human and is a surprise, you know he’s going to propose but not when or how, but he keeps your preferences in mind. Its like a scene right out of a book, in the end.

The wedding itself he prefers to keep small, with only people who you two are genuinely very close to attending, but otherwise its all down to you. Michael himself blesses your marriage.

Luke

Luke hands you a cupcake with one of those Haribo rings on it and jokes about you two being married now. He cries when you eat the ring. You’re evil. Solomon almost passes out trying to hold in his laughter.

[wlntrsldler]

you belong with me (d.m one shot!)

“You belong with me” for Draco plz 🥺💚

@scene-awsten said:

you belong with me + fred or draco ( u choose im not picky at all !! ) ur writing is amazing btw <3

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PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Draco doesn’t know how to express his feelings.

WC: 2.8K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (d.m one shot)

You and Draco have a complicated relationship, to say the least. Most days you were at each other’s throats ready to tease each other until one left the room or turned an embarrassing shade of red. He’d reply to your words with a rude remark- which you learned not to take to heart- that leaves you in a fit of laughter because you knew he never really meant it. 

It started out in your first year, when you would try to talk to him, as best as your 11-year old half-blood self could. When you were sorted into Hufflepuff and were placed in the same class as the Slytherins for Defense Against the Dark Arts. You were partnered up with young Draco, who wore a frown on his face when he was separated from his friends in the class. 

You stared at the boy, taking in his appearance. You grew up in the Muggle world, only learning about the Wizarding world in small bits through your father’s stories. You tapped his shoulder, “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, looking up and down from your face to your outstretched hand. Reluctantly, he shook your hand, “Draco Malfoy.” 

You grinned at him, scooting over to get closer to him. “You look like a barbie doll.” 

“A what?” he asked, looking at you with a grimace. He moved his chair to create more distance between you two, completely defeating the purpose of your move, “What the hell is a barbie doll?” 

“You guys don’t have barbies here?” 

“If it's something from the Muggle world, then no.” Draco scoffed, opening his book to the correct page. “Anything from the Muggle world is inferior to the Wizarding world.” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, oblivious to his obvious jab. “I will say I miss pens and pencils because these quills are just ancient.” 

Draco didn’t talk to you for the rest of the class period, just sneaking side glances at you as you struggled to write with your quill. He rolled his eyes at your cluelessness with all things Wizards and wondered how on earth you got accepted to Hogwarts. I already hate this bloody school, he thought. 

Over the years, you found yourself creating a bond with Draco. Despite his terrible people skills, you seemed to be patient with him, not really taking offense to his words. You would laugh and say something kind to him, throwing him completely off balance. Draco didn’t mean to be rude, you see, he just didn’t know how to talk to people. So he acted like a little boy on the playgrounds, pulling the pigtails of the girl he thought was very pretty. 

Then one day, you returned to Hogwarts and puberty hit you like a truck. Draco almost didn’t recognize you. You walked into the Great Hall, yellow tie proudly around your neck, with your fellow Hufflepuffs. You threw your head back laughing at something Cedric said and having to take a moment before you could say something back.

Draco noticed that your hair grew longer and your features matured over the summer. Your lips were more plump and you sported a natural blush on your cheeks. He gulped, ignoring the banter of Crabbe and Goyle to his left as he watched you take a seat beside Cedric. You noticed his eyes and sent a smile his way, causing the boy to look down at his plate, embarrassed that he was caught staring at you. 

Cedric looked at what got your attention and let out a chuckle to see a flustered Draco, “That boy is so smitten with you, you know that, Y/N? It’s quite funny actually.”

You grinned at Cedric, “How’s that funny?”

“Because he’s crushing on you like a little school girl and it’s funny to see it not returned.”

“Who said I don’t return the feelings?”

He raised an eyebrow at your question, “Do you?”

“Maybe.” 

Draco was both irritated and relieved that he didn’t have classes with you this year. To say that he forgot how to speak when you passed by him, was an understatement. Every time he saw you even walk in his general direction, he would turn around and walk the other way. He didn’t know why but he did. You made him nervous all of a sudden and he didn’t like it one bit. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed your banters. His days seemed very uneventful without them. 

He was walking towards the courtyard when he felt someone grab his forearm, pulling him towards a secluded part of the castle. Draco’s eyes widened when he realized it was you, angrily huffing as you stopped behind a pillar. You let go of his arm and crossed your arms over your chest. He was mentally debating if he should just run now. Surely you wouldn’t run after him, right? 

As if reading his mind, you glared at him, jabbing your index finger in his chest. “Don’t even think of running, Malfoy.” 

He gulped, nodding slowly, “O-okay..”

Once you saw his demeanor, you cleared your throat, realizing you’re probably scaring him. You frowned, “Why are you ignoring me?”

“What?” he asked, acting clueless but he knew he was ignoring you. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, nervously looking everywhere but your face in front of him. Merlin, you were prettier up close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/L/N.” 

“Don’t be daft, Malfoy,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re avoiding somebody. Remember when you got Pansy in trouble and she swore she would hex you the next time she saw you? She was so furious that you were absolutely sure that she would so you would hide from her. The same way you’re hiding from me now. So what gives, Malfoy?”

Panicked, he said the only thing he could think of, “I’m not avoiding you. Did you ever stop and think that maybe because we don’t have classes together anymore, that means I no longer have to talk to you?” 

“Oh.” You blinked. You swallowed down any feeling of sadness as his words marinated in your head. You looked down, hiding the stray tear that slipped from your eye from the boy in front of you. You wiped it away hastily, clearing your throat before looking up. “I-I’m sorry. I thought we were past being just classmates… I must’ve misunderstood, then.”

His face dropped, leaning over to touch your shoulder, “Y/N-”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile before backing away. “Silly me, thinking that we were friends. You’re Draco Malfoy, you’re too cool to have friends. I’ll leave you be now. Sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Before he could tell you just how wrong you were, you already disappeared from his vicinity. You walked away, hurriedly, down the corridor, ignoring the sound of Draco’s voice calling after you. Draco groaned, punching the side of the pillar in annoyance. Why can’t he just be nice for once?

You and Draco avoided each other pretty much entirely after that day. You were too ashamed to face him and Draco was too nervous and scared to come up to you and apologize. You just felt stupid thinking that something was brewing between the two of you. It wasn’t until Cedric dragged you to a Slytherin party- for Merlin knows what- that you and Draco were forced to cross paths again. You huffed as Cedric rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand to lead you to the Slytherin common room. 

“I don’t understand why I have to go with you.” 

Cedric looked over at you, irritated by your attitude, “Y/N, you need to have fun. Loosen up a bit!”

“Hmph,” you groaned, following him anyway. He mumbled greetings to Slytherins that you passed by, not letting go of your hand. Cedric was one of your closest friends, this affection between the two of you was normal. It didn’t mean anything but a sign of your friendship. “I am very much a fun person.” 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he stopped in front of the drinks, letting go of your hand to make the two of you some drinks. He mixed in random liquids, making you grimace because he was never good at proportions and you knew this drink would be horrid, before handing it to you. “I’m just saying you need to have fun.” 

Reluctantly, you chugged your drink, coughing after it burned your throat. You were indeed correct- the drink was terrible. “I hate you, Diggory.” 

Chuckling, he sent you a wink, “I loveee you, Y/L/N.” 

You wanted to say something back but Cedric suddenly stumbled over. Luckily, he caught his balance before he fell face first on the Common Room floor. Draco bumped into him, glaring at the Hufflepuff as he made his way to the group of Slytherins on the other side of the room. When he looked up to meet your eyes, his expression changed. His face became blank, eyes ghosting over your face. Draco gave you a small smile that vanished just as quickly as it came. He turned his back and returned to acting like you didn’t exist. 

Cedric snapped his fingers in front of your face, trying to get you out of your trance. You blinked a few times, now focused on your friend who had a shit-eating smirk on his face. You hissed, “What now, Diggory?”

“Seems like Malfoy’s jealous,” he sang, laughing behind his cup. “I would love to push his buttons and see him completely blow up at this party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sighed, stealing his cup and drinking the rest of his disgusting liquid. You grimaced, why did I do that? You continued, “And besides, how would we make him jealous?”

“Like this,” he started. Then, he leaned in your ear, dangerously close to your skin. In a breathy voice, he said, “Pretend I said something funny.” 

You giggled at his antics, thinking of how ridiculous your friend was being. But when you shot a look at where Draco stood, you began to reconsider your original opinion. He was standing there, uninterested by the story Blaise was telling him from beside him. Draco’s nostrils were flared and the cup he was holding was starting to lose its shape with how tightly he was gripping it. He didn’t even bother looking away when you cocked your head to the side to look at him. 

You thought he would’ve done something to get your attention but for the rest of the night, Draco kept his distance. After a while, Cedric gave up, shooting you an apologetic look that his plan didn’t work out. In fact, Cedric left you at the party a few minutes after Cho showed up. He said he was getting tired and was going to head up, but the two weren’t necessarily discreet when Cho left five minutes before Cedric did. You sent a wink his way and began to finish your drink, realizing that there was now no reason for you to stay. 

With a sigh, you tossed your cup into the bin and began to get ready to leave. Draco watched with a panic as you retreated to the exit. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, unsure of what to do. He watched you disappear into the darkness and slumped his shoulders. 

“Run after her, idiot.” Blaise chuckled beside him. “And hurry up, I’m tired of you sulking.” 

“What?” 

“Go on, Draco,” Blaise simply rolled his eyes and ushered his friend out of the Common Room. “You’ve been staring at her the entire night. I reckon you don’t even know what I’ve been saying all this time.”

Finally coming to his senses, Draco ran after you, getting a hold of your shoulder to pull you towards him. You looked at him, confused as to why he was out of breath and standing there like a deer caught in headlights. He stared at your face, taking in your beauty. He wanted nothing else but to tuck that strand of hair behind your ear or kiss your lips that seemed to be glistening under the glow of the lights in the corridor. 

“Draco?” you asked, removing his hand from your shoulder. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to seem defensive, but in reality, you just missed him. “What do you want?” 

Draco gulped, not realizing that he now has to actually talk to you. He didn’t think he’d get this far. He blushed, gaze averting to the empty hallway behind you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sheepish smile on his face. You leaned forward a bit as if saying, “Well get on with it.” Draco sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Are you dating Diggory?”

“What?”

He grimaced, mentally face-palming. That was not what he wanted to say. He groaned, “I mean-”

“You’re a git, you know that?” you hissed, shoving him a bit. “You tell me that we’re not friends and make me feel so bloody stupid then all of a sudden, after not talking to me for weeks, may I add, you think you have the right to ask me about my dating life? You-” you paused, taking in a breath. “You-Draco Malfoy- have no right to ask me anything.” 

He stood there, unable to say anything back. What could he even say? What you said was valid, you had a reason to be upset with him. He has been such an arse to you and for no good reason! Draco knew he was just being stupid. 

You rolled your eyes and walked away, assuming that Draco wasn’t going to say anything else. You scoffed loudly, shooting him a glare as you turned to leave the boy alone in his loneliness. 

Draco called out for you again, “Y/N-”

“Oh and for the record-” you turned around to face him again, but not daring to walk closer to him. “Not that it’s any of your business but me and Cedric are just friends. He’s not the guy I fancy.” 

“Y/N! Merlin, please stop walking away! How do you walk so bloody fast?” Draco jogged towards you again, this time stopping in front of you to prevent you from moving any further. You still wore the same scowl on your face and he couldn’t help but stop and think about how cute you look. He chuckled, eyes lighting up when he saw your lips quirk up to a small smile before it vanished. “I didn’t mean to ask about Cedric. Quite frankly, I don’t care about your relationship, or erm, non-relationship with him. Well, I do b-”

Both of your eyebrows raised in amusement at the boy’s blabbering, “Why would you care about my non-relationship with Cedric?” 

“I just said I don’t, Y/L/N,” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up at you, growing more flustered once he saw the smirk on your face. “Okay, yes, I do care but listen… Blimey, how do I say this? I just, Y/N, I-”

“Spit it out, Malfoy.”

“Youbelongwithme.” Draco spoke quickly, almost making you miss what he said.

Mouth agape, you asked, “Come again?”

He sighed, “You belong with me. I fancy you. A lot actually. That’s why I avoided you all this time. I just… I don’t know, you know? I’ve never really fancied anyone before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Not run away from them,” you teased, laughing lightly at his cluelessness. 

“Alright now, no need to laugh,” he mumbled. “It’s already embarrassing enough confessing my feelings to the girl I fancy but for her to laugh at me is something else.”

“I’m laughing because you’re cute, Malfoy,” you hummed, reaching up to touch his cheek. “But run away from me again and I’ll hex you into oblivion.” 

Draco couldn’t do anything else but nod as your scent filled his senses. You were slowly inching closer to him, breath tickling his lips. He visibly gulped, snaking his hands around your waist to pull your body closer to his. His nose nudged yours, “Promise I won’t.”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes flickering up to meet his own and then looked down at his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. You pushed your lips together, sighing in content as he groaned into your mouth. His lips moved with yours in sync. Both of you were too caught up in the feeling that you didn’t hear the footsteps coming closer to the both of you. 

Someone cleared their throat, making you two jump away from each other, fearing that it was one of the professors. You shook your head, burying your head into Draco’s chest when you realized who it was. Draco wrapped an arm around you, smiling down at your retreated figure. 

Cedric chuckled before walking away, “Told you we could make him jealous.” 

Draco nudged you, “You were trying to make me jealous?”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. To silence him, you pressed your lips to his again, “Shut up.” 

“Gladly,” he muttered, kissing you deeply.

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

A/N: i bought cameos from the phelps twins and oliver’s video came in today and it was so lovely. i can’t wait for james’!!

[sapphicquill]

TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen 

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.” 

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face. 

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that. 

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson. 

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.) 

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly. 

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth. 

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two. 

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go. 

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how  fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops? 

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated. 

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—” 

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus. 

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?” 

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder. 

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks. 

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind. 

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head. 

“You leave me no choice, then.” 

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save. 

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well? 

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.” 

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether. 

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak. 

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up. 

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else. 

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst. 

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic? 

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that. 

“I—what?” 

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes. 

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—” 

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off. 

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?” 

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells. 

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream. 

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it. 

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying. 

He’s absolutely not lying. 

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second. 

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable. 

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest. 

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness. 

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go. 

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.  

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs. 

[daydream-believin]

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Star Wars and the Space Opera

In 1941, a writer by the name of Wilson Tucker coined the term: ‘Space Opera’, used to describe what he called the “hacky, grinding, stinking, outworn space-ship yarn”.  This derogatory term followed in the footsteps of words like ‘Soap Opera’, a familiar term used even today, and ‘Horse Opera’ a less-used word referring to a cheap western.

However, in the years following this initial term creation, the words ‘Space Opera’ soon became associated with a different connotation.

Today, well, we’d probably call it ‘Soft Science Fiction’.

The term ‘Space Opera’ as we know it now refers to a story set in an unfamiliar galaxy, full of space faring civilizations with access to wonderful technology that isn’t terribly important to the story. Space Operas are epics, action/adventure stories spanning solar systems and galaxies, full of political intrigue, romance, huge space battles, sprawling empires and planets, and larger-than-life heroes and villains playing out the age-old good vs. evil conflict.

The total opposite of hard science fiction, Space Operas are concerned with characters and stories, rather than how the warp-drive works.  In the years since its original examples in the days of Buck Rogers, the term has lost nearly all of its negative connotations.  No longer looked down on, many writers and moviemakers have come to embrace the Space Opera.  Science fiction author Brian Aldiss even wrote a poem describing the steps that every self-respecting Space Opera must take in order to be an example of it’s subgenre:

The world must be in peril.

There must be a quest,

And a man or woman to meet the mighty hour.

That man or woman must confront aliens and exotic creatures.

Space must flow past the ports like wine from a pitcher.

Blood must rain down the palace steps,

And ships launch out into the louring dark.

There must be a woman or man fairer than the skies,

And a villain darker than a Black Hole.

And all must come right in the end.

There have been plenty of Space Operas in recent media history, ranging from the Dune novels to television shows like Battlestar Galactica or Star Trek.  However, easily the best known and most recognizable example of a Space Opera ever created is obvious: George Lucas’s science fiction epic from 1977: Star Wars.

Star Wars was more than a film.  Like Star Trek, it was a cultural phenomenon, sweeping the world immediately and paving the way for stories like it to find success in the future, as stories either inspired by it or intending to cash in on it were created in the years following.  While hailed as the start of a renaissance of Science Fiction in film, it was more accurately the start of the Space Opera in modern popular culture.  While set in space, the film states its scale firmly from its opening words: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Star Wars wasn’t concerned with telling a story about science or logic.  It was a story about heroic rebels rising up and fighting back against an evil empire.  It was about big H heroes, Cool Starships, and Saving the World.  Star Wars was the shift in connotations for the Space Opera.  It was Star Wars’s thouroughly ‘space fantasy’  nature that changed the term ‘Space Opera’ from an insult to simply a genre.  

As such a game-changer, it bears some discussion.

Star Wars was the template used in countless science-fiction films after it, whether outright copied by films like Starchaser: The Legend Of Orin or spoofed in films like Spaceballs, creating a series of characters, scenarios, locations, and technology that has inspired multiple stories since it’s release over forty years ago.

The fact that Star Wars has become such a codifier of Space Operas makes a lot of sense, considering that it almost follows Aldiss’s poem to the letter.  While it does put an entertaining, fresh spin on a lot of fantasy and science fiction conventions, it doesn’t stray from those conventions.  In fact, it embraces them.

Hence our discussion.

Today, we’re going to be analyzing the 1977 film Star Wars in the context of the Space Opera, using Brian Aldiss’s poetic criteria above to analyze how George Lucas, whether knowingly or not, managed to create the perfect Space Opera, starting with, of course, point number one:

The world must be in peril.

To start, let’s look at the opening crawl.  Spoilers below!

It is a period of civil war. Rebel

spaceships, striking from a hidden

base, have won their first victory

against the evil Galactic Empire.

During the battle, Rebel spies managed

to steal secret plans to the Empire’s

ultimate weapon, the DEATH STAR, an

armored space station with enough

power to destroy an entire planet.

Pursued by the Empire’s sinister agents,

Princess Leia races home aboard her

starship, custodian of the stolen plans

that can save her people and restore

freedom to the galaxy….

The story of Star Wars begins in an era of galactic unrest.  The evil Galactic Empire rules with an iron, tyrannical fist over the planets under it, squashing attempts at resistance, but stubbornly, the Rebellion fights on.  However, even their attempts are hopeless in the face of this new weapon: the Death Star.

The stakes for the story are established immediately.  By introducing the idea of a weapon powerful enough to destroy a planet, the audience, themselves only confined to one planet, immediately understand the threat that this weapon holds.  Billions of people extinguished in one shot, and the people with the only hope to stop them are on the run, in danger.

It looks grim for the galaxy.

At the beginning of Star Wars, it’s the End of the World as We Know It, and it’s not just an idle threat.  The Death Star is fully operational, and we see its effects as it destroys the homeworld of Princess Leia, Alderaan.  Billions of people are destroyed instantly, and the weapon won’t stop there.  

The galaxy is definitely in peril, and in order to prevent its destruction, the heroes must obliterate the weapon first, which, of course, answers our next line:

There must be a quest.

The quest is twofold.  The immediate quest is a small-scale one, a quest as old as fairy tales: rescue the Princess.

After Princess Leia is captured by the Empire, she sends the plans for the Death Star, and a message pleading for help, in a droid, R2-D2, trying to get them to an old Jedi Master, (The Mentor and Wizard of the story) Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Unfortunately, the droid (along with fellow robot, C-3PO) end up in the hands of farmboy Luke Skywalker.  Luke, recognizing the name, takes them to the Jedi, and ends up whisked away, determined to rescue Leia.  As he finds out more and more, the second part of the quest, the larger one, becomes clear:  Destroy the Death Star.

In order to prevent the destruction of the Rebellion, Luke must go on a journey, traveling through interesting places, all while learning the secrets of the Jedi: a power known as the Force.  Throughout this journey, he learns and grows, becoming better equipped to complete his quest along the way.  As Luke passes through criminal-infested cantinas, the Death Star itself, and the Rebel base on Yavin 4, he gains new understanding and perspective, all while focusing on his main goal: Rescue the Princess.

This version of The Quest storyline falls under the ‘Overcoming the Monster’ quest, a single-minded one focused on the end goal of the story.  Rather than focusing on a series of smaller quests that tie into the large one, the story of Star Wars revolves around the final act, with the characters pushing to Rescue the Princess and destroy the Death Star.  It’s concise, simple, but solid enough to work, propelled forward by the characters in the narrative.

The Quest directly overlaps with the famous Hero’s Journey narrative, seen in countless stories on the page and screen.  The combination thereof gives us a story where the focus is on the Hero’s growth and development as Luke finds his destiny, reacting to events pushing him forward, all while striving towards the end goal of the story.  It’s a very compelling narrative, traditionally done as a fantasy story, which naturally makes it perfect for the standard Space Opera story.

Which brings us to our next point:

And a man or woman to meet the mighty hour.

Of course, the man of the hour in Star Wars is farmboy Luke Skywalker, whisked up seemingly by accident into this world of Jedi, Evil Empires and Rebellions.  As with most Space Opera/Epic heroes, he isn’t terribly complex.  There are no moral struggles for Luke Skywalker, he knows what he has to do, and with determination, he strives for it.

In many ways, Luke Skywalker is the quintessential Hero archetype.  When we first meet him, (stage 1 of the Hero’s Journey), he is living on a desert farm that he desperately wants to get away from.  He craves adventure, excitement, and information about the father he never knew, constantly badgering his aunt and uncle for a chance to leave the planet Tatooine.

Luke is a big H hero, good and pure, bent on achieving his goal.  He’s an archetype, as old as stories themselves: the Ideal Hero, determined to finish the quest, stop the villain, and rescue the princess.  He’s new to the galaxy at large, serving also as the audience surrogate as the other characters explain and teach him about the more mysterious elements of the galaxy, but he proves a quick learner, also able to (clumsily at first) wield the powerful Force to assist him in his quest.  He even inherits the lightsaber (the science fiction equivalent of a sword) of his father, further adding to his Knight in Shining Armor role in the story.

Despite his good qualities, Luke isn’t perfect.  He’s inexperienced, and naive.  He’s a good shot with a blaster, and a better pilot, but he has problems with patience and anger, and has to be reigned in by other members of the cast.  He also doesn’t always get along with everyone else on his team, as evidenced by his arguments with reluctant partner and Lancer Han Solo.

Oddly enough, Luke’s motivation to start this journey is mixed.  While it would seem like he must want to Jump at the Call, when initially offered the chance for this adventure, Luke turns it down, citing his aunt and uncle as reasons not to go.  Unfortunately, the Empire, in search of the droid in Luke’s possession, burn down his homestead, killing his aunt and uncle in the process.  With nothing left of his home and family, Luke embarks on the adventure he seems to have always wanted, being pushed into the role of unexpected Hero.

While initially starting the story in a role akin to The Load, it doesn’t take long for Luke to go through some Character Development to rise to his full potential.  When dragged into the belly of the beast, trapped within the Death Star where Princess Leia is being held, it is Luke who assembles a plan, convincing the pilot who brought them, Han, and his copilot, Chewbacca, to assist him in rescuing Leia and escaping the Death Star.  Later on, it is Luke who exploits the Fatal Flaw of the Death Star design, destroying the weapon and saving the galaxy (for now).

Throughout his Hero’s Journey, Luke inevitably fulfills the next part of our criteria:

That man or woman must confront aliens and exotic creatures.

While most of the characters are examples of Human Aliens, not all of the beings in this galaxy are.  Good Space Operas tend to have interesting aliens to populate the planets the characters travel to, further spicing up the environment.

For Star Wars, one need look no further than the cantina sequence in Mos Eisley.  The scene is filled with odd looking creatures, some of which even assault Luke.  Earlier on, there are the Jawas, a species of scavengers who are responsible for C-3PO and R2-D2 ending up in the hands of Luke in the first place.  But both of these examples are minor in comparison with the token alien of the team: Chewbacca.

Chewbacca is Han Solo’s copilot, and a Wookiee.  Large, furry, and unintelligible, Chewbacca’s contribution is invaluable, being the decoy prisoner, and the Big Guy of the team.  The Bruiser with a Soft Center Mr. Fixit, Chewbacca is presented as more than an alien, but a character who happens to be a different species as the rest of the cast.  He serves as a constant reminder of the ‘otherness’ of the galaxy, a constantly present ‘exotic’ creature to drive home the Space Opera atmosphere.  As the co-pilot and mechanic, it is also part of Chewbacca’s job to keep the iconic Millennium Falcon running, and fly her when Han is needed in the gun turrets.

Speaking of the ships:

Space must flow past the ports like wine from a pitcher.

The galaxy is a big place.  In order to move the plot forward, the characters need to get around, fast.  Unfortunately, space is so large that characters would likely die of old age before reaching anywhere interesting, so a faster method must be developed.

The problem of slow space travel has long been ‘fixed’ in science fiction stories since the ‘60s, with Star Trek’s warp drive being a prime example.  In Star Wars, a similar idea is used: that of the hyperdrive.

In order to get anywhere, the ships in Star Wars travel faster than light, enabling them to hop from location to location speedily, as well as engage in high-speed chases and dogfights.  Indeed, it is due to this that the Death Star is such a threat.  Being able to travel quickly, it could destroy multiple planets that much faster.

Using the hyperdrive, the Millennium Falcon is able to travel from Tatooine to the ruins of Alderaan, to Yavin 4 quickly, adding to the urgency and allowing the characters to keep moving.  As useful an invention the hyperdrive is, though, there’s more to the use of speed in space than just travel.

Star Wars ends, not with a sword fight or shootout, but with a dogfight.

The battle of the Death Star is a tense action sequence making up the climax of the film, reliant entirely on the forces of the Empire (flying TIE fighters) versus the Rebels (flying X-Wings and Y-Wings).  The fast pace and high stakes combine to make a tense ride, and an unforgettable ending.  Neither the Death Star trench run, nor the escape from Tatooine would be possible without the Handwave to physics, but in a Space Opera, it doesn’t matter.

All of this talk about stakes leads us right into the next line:

Blood must rain down the palace steps,

Victory does not come without a price.

Throughout Star Wars, lives are lost.  Owen and Beru, Luke’s Aunt and Uncle, are the first notable victims, although the death toll is surprisingly high.  Princess Leia’s entire planet is wiped out with one blow.  Obi-Wan Kenobi is killed, sacrificing himself to allow Luke and the others to escape the Death Star.  And the final Death Star trench run ends with a victory for the Rebel Alliance, but only after all but three of their ships (and pilots) are killed.  These deaths are not without purpose within the narrative, demonstrating the severity of the Empire’s threat, as well as serving as reminders that more peoples’ lives are at stake.  These horrible events push our heroes on, forcing them to always consider the cost as friends are lost.

There may not be a palace, but there certainly is bloodshed.

And ships launch out into the louring dark.

Spaceships, like mentioned above, are absolutely essential to the quintessential Space Opera.  They are beyond forms of transportation, they are characters in their own right.  From the Empire’s menacing Star Destroyer to Han Solo’s beat up freighter, each ship has its own unique look and ‘personality’.

Star Wars coded it’s ships in a very specific way.  The Empire’s ships are shiny and sharp.  They are grim and foreboding, all greys and blacks, well-put-together and dangerous looking.  From the tiny TIE fighters to the imposing Star Destroyers, the Empire’s fleet is both foreboding and numerous, a frightening force pitted against the small Rebel Alliance.

The Rebellion ships, on the other hand, look a bit different.  From the Tantive IV vessel to the tiny X-Wings, the ships of the good guys look a little more worn down, a ragtag assembly of ships that are utilized to the best of the Rebel’s ability to fight the Empire.  The X and Y-Wings are small but fast, evocative of our own fighter planes, bringing home the imagery of the space-dogfight.

But no ship says ‘personality’ like the Millennium Falcon.

The Millennium Falcon is, to quote Luke Skywalker, a ‘piece of junk’.  She looks awkward, clumsy, cobbled together, and at times, she doesn’t seem to work all that well.  The ship is easily recognizable, with a unique design, and she seems to have a personality of her own.  A faithful ship, despite her flaws, the Millennium Falcon is fast, very fast, and maneuverable.  It is her speed that makes Obi-Wan and Luke choose to hire Han and Chewbacca to pilot them, as the Falcon turns out to be quite a match for TIE fighters, and is able to outrun the Empire’s forces.  It is Han and Chewbacca flying this trusty hunk of junk in for a last-minute rescue that enables Luke to destroy the Death Star, cementing the Millennium Falcon as a ‘Hero’ ship.  In fact, it’s the Falcon’s speed that made a lot of the rescuing possible.  Speaking of which:

There must be a woman or man fairer than the skies,

This one depends on how attractive you find Han Solo, but in the story proper, the ‘fairer than the skies’ part seems to land to Princess Leia, the Damsel in Distress who is the one giving the quest in the first place.  However, Leia is a subversion of the typical Damsel and Quest Giver character, as being a leader in a Rebellion, she is no stranger to battle, and once rescued, takes charge, and gets in on the action.  Leia is beautiful, and it is remarked upon by Luke, but her royal station and her position as a prisoner does not stop her from being a Royal Who Actually Does Something, and is quick to take up a weapon to help fight her way out of the Death Star.  In the end, she is the beautiful Quest Giver, but Damsel in Distress?  Only slightly.

But we can’t talk about heroes, quests and battles without talking about the other side.

And a villain darker than a Black Hole.

Every Epic story needs a villain, and the bigger, the better.  The Dreaded Evil Overlord is a staple of the Space Opera genre, the very epitome of villainy.  In the case of Star Wars, thankfully, the villain bases are covered.

Besides the overarching evil that is the Empire in general, there are specific villains in the story for our heroes to overcome.  Grand Moff Tarkin, a cunning, proud military leader, is in charge of the Death Star.  He orders the destruction of Alderaan, and is a cold-blooded killer, also willing to terminate the captive Princess Leia.  He presses in on the Rebel Base with the Death Star, intending to wipe them out, and it is his pride and arrogance that keeps him from being concerned about his superweapon’s fatal flaw.

Despite how horrible Tarkin is, he is not our villain ‘darker than a Black Hole’.  That would be, of course, Darth Vader.

Darth Vader has long been heralded as one of the greatest villains of all time, and with good reason.  With an iconic, unique look (dressed head to foot in black armor, with a mask obscuring his face), Darth Vader, much like the rest of the Empire, is unquestionably evil, the epitome of darkness to contrast with Luke’s light.  Despite the fact that Tarkin commands the Death Star, Darth Vader’s power is greater.

Like Obi-Wan, Darth Vader is also a Force user, but one who uses its power for evil.  It is Darth Vader who tortures Leia for information (which she resists), and Darth Vader who strikes down Obi-Wan in the Death Star.  He is a foreboding enemy, and his skill with the Force, the lightsaber, and as a pilot is a triple threat to the Rebels.  He also plays a large part in the Death Star trench battle, picking off many Rebel pilots and nearly finishing Luke off as well.  Only Han Solo’s last-minute entry into the battle stops him, sending Vader careening off into the galaxy, defeated, but not destroyed.

Unlike most variations of the villains of Space Operas, Vader does not stick close to his base.  He ventures out, actively hunting down and destroying the Rebels.  He commands his officers, but seems to answer to the Emperor himself, setting up the idea that he may not be the Evil Overlord he seems to be (revealed to be the case in later films).  Darth Vader is incredibly dangerous, however, cunning and powerful, and it is telling that, at the end, he is not destroyed with the Death Star, but merely taken out of action for the time being, indicating that he will return.

But although Darth Vader isn’t entirely vanquished, the day is still won.

And all must come right in the end.

Although Luke’s family is gone, Leia’s planet destroyed, Obi-Wan dead, most of the Rebel Fleet destroyed, and Darth Vader still out there, there is still a Happy Ending.  The Death Star has been demolished, proving that the Empire is not invincible, and Grand Moff Tarkin has gone with it.  The Rebel Alliance survives to fight another day.  Luke Skywalker has found his destiny and become a hero, pulling together his band to do so.  Han Solo managed to find a selfless side, joining the fight as well.  Leia has been rescued and can return to helping lead the Rebellion’s fight against the Empire for the future.  There is a New Hope for the galaxy.

Star Wars, like most Space Operas, is an idealistic story.  The villains are defeated, the heroes are triumphant.  Good wins over evil.  It’s a good ending, a happy ending, well-earned by our heroes.

The ending doesn’t feel saccharine, either.  It is a hard-won victory, and many lives have been lost.  It is an against-all-odds victory, one not without cost, but thanks to the courage and sacrifice of people who believe in freedom, the Rebellion has a fighting chance, and the Empire is that much closer to destruction.  It’s a Happy Ending, and more importantly, it’s the right ending, perfectly matching the tone and characters of the rest of the film.

Star Wars is not about how the hyperdrive works, or the technology required to build the Death Star.  It’s not about how humanity contends with it’s own creations, or how we live in a technologically advanced society.  In fact, it’s not really about ‘humanity’ at all.  It’s just about people.

Star Wars is a fantasy epic set against a backdrop of stars, set a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.  It’s about good vs. evil, about the defeat of tyranny.  It’s about a heroic farm boy, a rogue smuggler, and a brave princess.  It’s about heroes and villains, magic and battles.  It’s a fairy tale.

All of the above comes together to make Star Wars the definitive Space Opera.  Every point is perfect, every element in place, so much so that it seems paint-by-numbers.  But it’s not.

Star Wars relies on tropes that are almost as old as stories themselves, but it all feels fresh and new.  By developing interesting worlds, compelling characters, and a moving conflict, Star Wars managed to rise above the standard, taking the term ‘Space Opera’ and turning it into a defining subgenre, rather than an insult.

Star Wars single handedly changed a genre thanks to its earnest storytelling and characters, proving definitively that Tropes Are Not Bad, and that any story, no matter how ‘old’ it is, can still be made something fresh and beloved.

Don’t forget that the ask box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations!  Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

[warsofasoiaf]

Character Analysis: Jon Irenicus

Irenicus is a fun villain, and I think nailed one interesting element of writing down, that of bringing down the villain’s threat in an interesting and believable way. The hero typically grows in power in any story, not just in a game where your progression is literally your XP, but what the villain does, how they grow, is also interesting. If the villain is more powerful than the hero, and also does things to grow and learn, theoretically the villain should still be wrecking house. BG2 wove this into the story itself, where the more you learned about Irenicus, the less menacing he became, culminating into where he was arguably your lesser at the end: he was powerful but only aping what you were. 

Obviously, spoilers for BG2 abound.

Baldur’s Gate II introduces us to our villain almost as a cold open. Fresh off the high of defeating Sarevok, you leave Baldur’s Gate after being pressured to leave by “dark forces” and by those who suspected that you shared similar heritage to Sarevok. Seems a bit odd, honestly, to oust the Bhaalspawn with suspicion given that during the course of Baldur’s Gate I, you saved two of the Grand Dukes. It’s certainly understandable that folks would fear your heritage and you’d want to move on to greener pastures, but something more than a 3-minute cut scene would have probably set the scene better.

However, this opening, and the ‘cutscene’ that follows gives Irenicus a grand initial reveal to the player. This guy is an ultra-powerful wizard, and he speaks with a clinical detachment as he states: “It’s time for more experiments.” It’s a wonderful opening to illustrate exactly what you’re dealing with. He’s clearly interested in your godly soul, and exploiting it to some unknown purpose. What is unknown, as he gets called away by some unspecified intruders by a golem. In the next scene, magical traps are set off as an unspecified Shadow Thief gets disintegrated. Story-wise, this serves no purpose, it’s purely meant to be a way to show off the new spell effects and other cosmetic changes to the engine from Baldur’s Gate II, with the disintegration dust and the screen shaking. But it does help illustrate the power level that Irenicus is throwing around. Save-or-die spells were relatively rare in the lower level of Baldur’s Gate I, even Semaj, Sarevok’s mage companion, wasn’t firing off disintegration willy-nilly. Throwing around disintegration spells clearly shows that Irenicus is a new high-level baddy. Later we see that he killed characters from Baldur’s Gate I off-screen, Khalid and Dynahier, two of the three sets of paired companions from BG1. This gives their partners reason to join in with the player character, but it also serves to show his power; Irenicus is such a bad dude that he can wipe your party before the game starts, like he was getting coffee. It might be a cruel cut, but that’s its intent, to make the player character mad at the villain, to want to punch his smarmy face in.

Commensurate in the danger of Irenicus is the need to find out what’s going on. Irenicus clearly knows something about your godly soul and so you want to find out what he knows. Even for an upstanding lawful good character, growing in power means finding a way to effect good on a larger scale, and perhaps to overcome the evil in your tainted blood. After all, no matter how good you were in Baldur’s Gate I, you still were an incredibly powerful killer. Sure, most if not all of them were bad dudes, Mulahey the iron ore poisoner, the bandits of Cloakwood, the Iron Throne and their plans to take over the Sword Coast. But chaos and destruction follow in your wake, and that chaos undoubtedly would hurt innocent civilians; Saradush in Throne of Bhaal is clear of that enough. Even just knowing more about what is going on could better prepare you for the next Irenicus or the next Sarevok.

When you go through the starter dungeon (another piece of game design, you are being tutorialized but the pastoral instruction of Candlekeep makes no sense for someone who already had an adventure), pieces of the man start to fall into place. He holds a bunch of captive dryads as concubines to remind him of someone he lost. He keeps an immaculate bedroom for a companion that is never there, with an alarm ready to dispatch the golems to kill any who cross the threshold. There’s a woman that was in his life that is no longer there, and the loss pains him, or at least, it seems that it should. Chatter with Imoen and the dryads show that this mystery man is trying to elicit feelings that he had lost, and that’s an entirely different case of worms than pining over a lost love. There’s some element of almost-unwilling psychopathy to these actions. Other hints in this dungeon illustrate this as well. His servants, discarded in vats and forgotten about entirely, would at first evoke classical evil overlords casually disregarding their own subjects. He’s almost all of the way there, but there’s enough there that the player is suggested that there has to be something more to it than that. He does seem to have some sort of sociopathy to him, where people are objects that he can find fascinating but he has no empathy. We see this later with Wanev, who Irenicus spares solely because he was hit by a spell that left him a lunatic, which Irenicus found funny, the administrator of a jail for the insane now rendered an insane patient himself.

He is powerful though, that much is clear when you break out of the starter dungeon. His display of magic collapsed part of Waukeen’s Promenade, and when the regulatory magical body of the Cowled Wizards comes to shut it down, Irenicus is capable of swatting mages like they were mosquitos. Just like the Shadow Thieves that he had been fighting, Irenicus seems more annoyed at the interruptions than any physical threat posed by his myriad foes. He’s definitely a powerful wizard, and when he finally submits to the Cowled Wizards, he does so clearly as their superior, dragging Imoen along with him. It’s fairly plain from a game design perspective what Irenicus is doing; he’s going to Spellhold so you have to get there. Good characters want to rescue Imoen, evil characters want to interrogate him to unlock the power in your blood. Either way, the player character is given a goal, and Irenicus disappears physically from the story for the moment.

He isn’t absent though. In your dreams, Jon Irenicus waxes philosophical at the player character, evoking thought-provoking questions. He explains the paradox of your existence of being born of murder, given life from the act of taking life. He speaks about accepting the gifts that will be given to you, regardless of whether or not you want them. These dream sequences are clear upgrades in quality and presentation from the spoken-dialogue text boxes from the first game after you beat major milestones. David Warner does a great job here in delivering Irenicus’s lines, he feels like a evil mentor speaking about philosophical topics with the same detachment that he tortured the player character with in the opening. While we find out later that these dreams aren’t sendings from Irenicus but rather parts of your character’s godly subconscious, they suggest to the player going through Chapter 3 that Irenicus does indeed know a hell of a lot more about you and your godly blood, keeping the player interesting in finding out exactly what it is you need to find out. The other quests in Chapter Three don’t have much to do with Irenicus, aside from some random events with the guild war in Athkatla at night, where the player will find out pretty quick that one side is powered by vampires, the level drain and click-dialogue of “your blood is rather inviting” isn’t exactly hiding that there be vampires engaged in a secret war with the Shadow Thieves. Even then, it’s tangential. You knew the Shadow Thieves were attacking Irenicus, which suggests at least some level of camaraderie with the vampires, but as we saw with the deep dwarves in Irenicus’s lair, he doesn’t care about followers, and they might simply be disposable assets if anything at all. If you want to know about Irenicus, you’re going to have to get it from the man himself. 

Of course, as befits a high-level mage, Irenicus breaks out of the prison in a cutscene, kills the Cowled Wizards and goes back to whatever unsavory plans he thought up for Imoen, teleporting into the lobby and chewing the scenery with his “I CANNOT BE CAGED!” speech, reinforcing his position as the central big bad and confirming the Cowled Wizards as mere obstacles. This part of his plan has been made clear. Far from the meddling Shadow Thieves and Cowled Wizards, Irenicus can continue his experiments on Imoen in Spellhold, and it falls on the player character to go there and end it. Irenicus, of course, knows this too, and he makes sure he has contingency plans to deliver you to him. I’m of three minds on this. On one, he’s so powerful it seems that he is so powerful, and Amn so large, that plenty of these isolated areas within the continent would service just as well for Irenicus’s lair. Why waste time with all of this blah-blah-blah and just take what he wants? It’s not like teleport spells are beyond his ken. On the other hand, it’s a good way to break up into the freeform quest design that Chapter Three gives, offers the chance for your characters to level up and get cool gear, lets you rock the stronghold quests which definitely let you feel your class and increase replay value, and the idea of the forbidding wizard in the island lair is an excellent backdrop. On the third, it’s in-character for an immortal mage to have plans within plans, even to the point of complexity addiction, although his conduct afterward sort of torpedoes this idea. 

That is, after he recaptures you, he immediately goes back to work to his experiments, and after another trippy dream sequence with Imoen, you find his plan. His goal is to absorb your divine soul, taking it for his own. He doesn’t explain anything more, but now that he has you, he discards you just as he has so many others. Telling his sister Bodhi to dispose of you is what keeps him from being someone like the Riddler, since he’s actually going for a proper smart villain play and killing the soulless husk he leaves behind just in case he pulls a protagonist move and comes clawing back for his stolen soul. It’s Bodhi’s instability, her desire to hunt you brought on by her vampirism, that keeps you alive. After the player character becomes the Slayer, Bodhi tells Irenicus, but true to his condescending nature, he simply...ignores the PC, writing them off as someone who is going to keel over any second due to their lack of soul, completely oblivious to the fact that Bhaal’s avatar was the Slayer, and it’s clear that something is replacing the void that he left within you. The PC must effectively turn that dismissiveness against him, by releasing the imprisoned mages within Spellhold, from the powerful but mostly harmless Dili to the megalomaniacal Tiax. Yet this hard-fought battle does not end with Irenicus’s death and your victory, instead Irenicus goes to pursue his other, as-yet unknown goals while he sends another band of cutthroats to die at your hand. 

Yoshimo is sort of my feelings on this Irenicus’s Spellhold plot writ small. As powerful as Irenicus is, he really doesn’t need Yoshimo, not if he has Sarmon Havarian and so many others. Yoshimo shows up in the starter dungeon, and is useful if a bit obsequious in a “who me?” sort of fashion. He doesn’t have a really good reason to stay with the party from a story reason that he gives you. He could have said: “Hey, thanks for getting me out. Deuces!” Yoshimo’s geas gets him to want to stay with the party, otherwise he’s dead. In that sense, it makes sense for him to want to be with the group. And as the only thief who gains levels aside from the absolutely annoying Jan Jansen, he’s useful for dealing with annoying traps, because reloading a game because your main PC tripped a trap and got petrified is certainly frustrating. Game mechanics though, interfere with this. You as the player character have control over the six-person party and if you want Yoshimo to be there, he’ll be there, and if you don’t, he’ll sit in the Copper Coronet, geas be damned. He’ll stand right there until you go back in after the Underdark chapter, in which case he flops over dead and hardly anyone cares. That’s a system engine limitation certainly, but it’s remarkably clumsy. What is good though, is Yoshimo’s regret during this. He knows he has to betray you and is forced to do so, and he genuinely likes you. The writing that happens is crisp, Yoshimo truly does apologize and Irenicus backs up his dismissive assholery by telling him to shut up. When Yoshimo confronts you in Spellhold, his writing is crisp. “No redemption, and no second chances. My heart to Ilmater.” He fights you and goes down swinging (which was annoying the first time I played because he had the Celestial Fury +3). And you can actually take that heart to Ilmater, occupying a valuable inventory space through the next chapters until you can reach Waukeen’s Promenade again, where you can choose to forgive him or not, but give the heart to Ilmater either way. It would have been saccharine to restore Yoshimo, but this way, I feel, is more powerful in a world with such powerful enchantments to see the effects on the people whose lives it ruins. So the game can be clunky at parts, and Irenicus can be as well, but there’s true craft and joy in it.

Back to Irenicus though, we get the sense of more to him when we see the intro splash screen for the next Chapter. Making a dark bargain with the drow, we see that they have captured surface elves, one of whom immediately refers to Irenicus as Joneleth, suggesting a backstory far deeper as Irenicus immediately resorts to killing the prisoner after being the one to suggest interrogation instead of immediate execution, a lashing out that seems out of character for the clinically-detached evil villain we’ve been coming to know. The backstory is clear in the Forgotten Realms, the dark elves and surface elves are mortal foes and anyone who is known to the surface elves to ally with the dark elves is a great betrayal. As the PC goes through the Underdark and comes out, they are captured by the surface elves. Through a conversation with Eldoth, it can become evident that the surface elves know more than they are letting on, such as when they are the ones who suggest holy water and stakes to fight Bodhi, despite not knowing anything about either one of them. After you slay Bodhi and restore Imoen’s soul to its rightful place, you can call Eldoth out on it. Irenicus is “the Shattered One,” an exile of the elves, and it’s here that Irenicus’s story becomes apparent.

Irenicus was a powerful wizard and lover of Queen Ellesime named Joneleth. Yet in his heart, Joneleth yearned for more power and sought to take the essence of the Tree of Life, the lifeblood of the city of Suldanesselar, for himself and Bodhi. This dark ritual nearly killed many that existed within Suldanesselar, and so Joneleth and Bodhi were punished, stripping their elven nature and immortality away from them, leaving them with a mortal lifespan, thus Joneleth became Jon Irenicus, the Shattered One. Bodhi sought to become a vampire to transgress the mortal years she had, but Jon had felt that it degraded her to that of a high-functioning beast. Irenicus’s scheme was far more grandiose if also possessing an elegant simplicity: he lost an immortal soul and so he needed to take one for himself. The Bhaalspawn was the perfect choice, powerful enough to defeat Sarevok and awaken the power within, weak enough to be captured and have the divine soul snatched away. With his stolen soul freshly acquired, Irenicus now looked to the second part of himself, to revenge himself on the elves. The dark elf invasion ultimately failed, helped out by the PC butchering the leadership of Ust Natha, but Irenicus is still going with golems and summoned demons to destroy the city, usurp the power of the Tree of Life, and complete his long ago schemes. 

I... I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory, but it is gone... a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too. I look upon you and feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others. Once my thirst for power was everything. And now I hunger only for revenge. And I... WILL... HAVE IT!!

When confronted by Queen Ellesime, she even asks if there was any part of him that remembered the love he had for her, and the PC sees that it’s her that was in his mind for the beautiful bedroom way back in chapter one. It was almost certainly her that Irenicus thought of when he was with his dryad concubines. And when she poses that question, he answers with the above quote, that he feels nothing. While it seems like this is a loss of depth, that he’s just a flat character, I don’t think this is the case. Irenicus had the chance to change, for self-reflection. Instead, he remembers it as all the others turning their back on him, without any recognition that his schemes nearly killed them. It’s the classic abuser mentality, how dare you make me do these things to you. When his victims tried to defend themselves, he lashed out and remembers only their ‘cruelty’ to him. It’s this that makes Irenicus, for all his great arcane might, so small. Where before he was this intimidating figure, now he’s a petty man, and fittingly, it’s here that you can kill him. Temporarily, at least, because there’s still one more dungeon. Irenicus and you are still battling for your divine soul, and after a few self-reflective quests of your own, you duel Irenicus, who dies pitiably, torn to shreds by demons as his power fails him. It fits the heroic and thematic heft of the arc. As you grow in power, Irenicus diminishes in threat. He was your torturer, an inhuman menace, then he became just a man, torn apart by tiny demons that you probably could take down by the truckload. 

There’s good things to learn here. Irenicus isn’t a super-unique villain, although some of the villain tropes are personalized for the sake of the Baldur’s Gate story specifics. But he does his job admirably. David Warner’s voice work, and the special effects (pretty good for when the game came out in 2000) really was able to sell Irenicus as an enjoyable villain. 

Thanks for the suggestions, Anons who were looking forward to this.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[chalmogsico-college]

The witch Mint, the wizard Tortoise, and Luara who hadn't found her style quite yet, carefully made their way through the dark pine forest just outside of the school grounds. The perpetual frost that clung to the cold soil crinkled under foot as a sharp wind rattled the branches above them. The three mages were warm in their enchanted robes even as their breath fogged the air infront of them.

"I'm sure he's fine," Mint said, his arms crossed tight across his chest and his voice shaking just so slightly, "Hell, he was probably just running late. I bet he's already at the class room and we're going to be in trouble for not being there."

"No way," Luara replied, as she pushed onward towards the small cabin they knew was somewhere around here, "Professor Van Shamanov is never late, and you know how weird hes been acting over the last few weeks,"

"He's been acting weird because you keep trying to talk him into summoning a new familiar," Tortoise rolled their eyes, "Let the old bastard grieve,"

"Grieving is one thing, but his familiar has been dead for like a hundred years? He needs to move on, and like, its obvious he's capital L Lonely," Luara turns on her heel to follow a different path through the woods, hopeful that This would be the right one. She doesn't worry about getting lost, worst case scenario Mint's insane sense of direction would save them.

"Yeah, I'm going to side with Luara on this one, Tort," Mint nodded as Tortoise gasped in mock offense, "You heard what Headmistress said, the man's getting to the edge of what The Viper will allow. He shouldn't be all alone in the end, and you know he won't just make a friend or something. Too much of a loner,"

"Nope! He won't make new friends because his trio is broken," Luara said,

"And how would you know that?" Tortoise quirked a brow, "Been snooping on our favorite GILF?"

Luara stopped and turned to glare at them, and to their credit, Tortoise managed to not flinch or look away for an entire ten seconds, "He isn't a GILF because that would imply one of us wants to fuck him," Tortoise intoned like a scolded child as they dropped their gaze.

"Good neither." Luara turned to set back on their way as Mint snickered.

Eventually they did find their way to the rotting cabin, a full two hours after class was supposed to have started. Luara took the old brass knocker in hand and thunked it down hard against its strike plate three times.

A moment passed with no response.

Luara raised her hand to knock again as the door swung open on screeching hinges.

Professor Van Shamanov's impressive bulk filled the doorway as he stooped down to glare at his visitors from below the head jamb.

His eyes softened as he saw his startled students, bending to step out of his home and closing the door behind himself as he spoke, "Hello," his voice was rough with too many years spent in fire warmed rooms, "I suppose I'm a bit late for class aren't I?" He untied his robe from around his waist to put it on properly as he started back towards the college.

"Yes sir," Luara never thought of herself as short until she was having to jog to keep pace with their frankly giant teacher's strides, "We were worried about you, its not like you to be late,"

"Yes, I know I've been out of it lately," He nods before changing the topic, "Did you three complete your assignment? Gathered all of your components for today?" he holds out a hand and whistls to call his staff to him, the gnarled thing shot out of the woods like a torpedo but he caught it with practiced ease before it could splinter itself against the trunks of one of the trees, "And are you positive the components you chose are the ones you want to use? The difference could very well change the course of you lives."

Mint fussed with the bundle in his pocket before nodding. Tortoise pulled theirs from under their hat and smiled as they held it up proudly. Luara pulled two from her coat, one wrapped in the yellow she preferred for her spell work, one in the soft lavender Van Shamanov did.

"Yeah, and I brought one for you two," Luara chirped as non chalantly as she could.

To all three students surprise the professor actually held out a hand for it, "I'm curious what you think I'd put in that circle," he huffed good naturedly.

Luara handed it over and giddily tossed a smirk over her shoulder at the others as Van Shamanov undid the bindings to open it up.

A moment later she crashed into him as he stopped dead in his tracks to turn towards her. Luara staggered a step back, "Everything okay professor?" She asked nervously.

"Who told you? I assume Katy, but Headmistress might have known as well," his gaze was focused on the items in his palm, a dried orchid bloom, a nickel ring, and a wishbone.

"Dean Deane ," Luara said with an averted gaze, it wasn't like the professor to show such open anger, "She thinks you need to summon a new familiar, and that if you had the same components you did for your first it might be easier for you,"

"Please do not snoop like this again." Van Shamanov said firmly before turning back on his path, "We will be quiet until we get to class," he commands.

---

The other two trios that made up their summoning 833 class perked up as Van Shamanov entered.

"My apologies for being late. Is everyone ready to begin?" He pulled a tarp from his desk drawer and tossed it into the air. It straightened itself out and settled ready for use in the clear spot in the center of the room.

He waits for the murmurs of agreement to die down before starting on his spiel, "I trust that every last one of you has put the necessary time and thought into what will be happening today. A familiar is a life partner, they will be at your side through thick and thin and will be entirely reliant on you for the magical energy that sustains their like. They will aid you in every way they can and do whatever it takes to help you as long as you return that favor. They are powerful and temperamental creatures of contract, harming or betraying them will be the last thing you do. If any one of you has any hesitations about this, any second thoughts, anything other than Full confidence in what you are about to do, what components you have chosen, or what you will say to them once they are listening, leave. You are not ready yet, and I say that without judgment, I'd rather see you leave today than with a disloyal familiar tomorrow."

He stood infront of his class, head held high as he finished his final warning and reminder and waited to see if any of his students would flinch. When he was met with only eager eyes and nervous smiles he grinned from beneath his beard, "Very good," he turned to who he has decided will go first, "Tortoise, you're up," he finishes firmly as he steps back towards his desk

"Wait, Why?" Tortoise hesitated to get out of their seat.

"Because I'm upset with Luara and I know she wants to go first. By asking you to go first I am acknowledging that as directly as I am ethically allowed to." He takes his seat at his desk as Luara pouts.

"Why not Mint?" Tortoise looked to his friend who blanched at the suggestion, "Never mind, I forgot he was a coward," they sighed and pulled their bundle of components and their wand from beneath their hat as they stood to go to the edge of the circle.

The bundle was dropped in the center of the interlaced runes. The room was near silent beside the soft crackle of the torches. With everyone's attention on them Tortoise knelt in one of the smaller warded circles that surrounded the larger summoning circle.

Their instincts told them to just start pouring magic into it, a show of power to attract an equally powerful familiar, but Professor Van Shamanov had warned them against doing that. Power and Impulsiveness were not a good mix. Besides, they were a wizard, without structure their magic would fizzle and drain too quickly for them to really get anything going.

So, they took a deep breath and reached out to the warding line, pouring magic into it to set it glowing and active. Familiars didn't tend to turn violent with their summoners even if they declined the offer, but it never hurt to be cautious. Then they found the connecting line, the one that wrapped around and around and around the circle, that conected it to the other they'd be reaching into to try and coax a familiar across the boundary from one universe to another. Finally, they found the call line and pushed a surge of power through it, along with the promise of their favorite dice set, a bell they found in the sand outside their childhood home, and a bracelet their little brother had made for them before he passed away.

Speaking the meaning of the offerings was not a necessity, but Tortoise always struggled with the ephemeral and passing concepts along a line like this was definitely more a witch's skill than a wizard's.

"I offer you a dice set with the blessing of The Raven, she's my patron and she could be yours as well. A bell I found when I was young, I carried it with me on a chain around my neck for many years, it doesn't ring anymore but it holds more memories than I could speak, and a gift from my little brother, he didn't know about magic, but he told me that it would protect me. And well… I haven't died yet? So, I assume it works," they take a breath to find their center, "I am called Tortoise and I ask for…" They paused, this was the part that even with the years they had had to think about it, he could never decide on, "I ask for a friend. Someone who's sturdy and who I can rely on."

A hushed moment passed as the candles flickered and the smell of ozone filled the room. At first a fine mist formed within the summoning circle, it glittered like a frozen fog as it passed from its world and into ours, though soon it was thickening around the offered items and taking a solid form.

Tortoise couldn't help but choke out a laugh as a galapagos tortoise took shape before him. Its dull grey shell alone was bigger around than the circle Tortoise knelt in,

"What am I called?" the tortoise asked with a smooth water thin voice,

"Wizard," Tortoise responded with the name that formed heavy in their mind as soon as the tortoise had taken shap. They grinned and stood and let the magic fade from the circle, to set Wizard free of the bindings on it that trapped her within it.

"I look forward to being your friend, Tortoise," Wizard said as she made her way out of the circle with the slow elegant confidence only a fey shaped like a tortoise could muster.

The rest of the class clapped and jeered, Mint shook their shoulder as they took their seat, and Luara clapped and half jumped out of her seat to take her turn before Professor Van Shamanov could call on someone elsee.

Tortoise couldn't stop smiling after Wizard got comfortable next to them, nor could they focus on their friend's turn. They had a familiar and they looked forward to being her friend.

[ikkos]

﹅   000   ✩     一    THE SILHOUETTE !

“See the horizon. See the sun that’s coming awake there, or perhaps it’s retiring for the moon now; see the golds and pinks and the promise of a sunny day’s blue, or perhaps the indigos and violets stark behind stars. See the one that approaches, their gait and their pace and the clothes that hang off their figure. Most details are lost to the distance, but if you look and listen hard enough, you might be able to discern their identity…”

⠀

TW: Death.

—  Describe your muse as best as possible in a single sentence.

“She’s standing on a line between giving up and seeing how much more she can take.”

—  Describe your muse as horribly as possible in a single sentence.

“I just gotta kiss myself sometimes, I’m so f*cking pretty.”

— Describe your muse’s voice.

Honey drips at the seams every time her lips dictate any form of noise. It’s sweet, delicate, gentle - perhaps, formal. She has been trained since a young age to maintain posture and reduce aggressiveness or excessive negative language due to her growth of rank. The classes have always been about creating a purr as opposed to a stuttering, unconfident statement. As, for a woman, in such an industry, one must be taken seriously by the way they stride or maintain themselves. Maybe if you leaned a little closer, listened a little more, there could be something seething in her undertones of dishonesty and toxic intentions.

— Describe your muse’s fashion sense.

Fashion to her is more than cute clothings, but rather an expression of personality, uniqueness, and showcasing her own self-confidence. From pleated skirts, thigh highs, short dresses, and high heels - she’s maintained the typical ‘rich girl’ aesthetic by the amount of high end brands endorsing her look. However, she enjoys a twist, her own sense of self in her clothings by either: cutting, restyling, recoloring, or repurposing.. which makes all of her closet options simply distinctive to only her. Nothing about her fashion sense would be found on anyone else, but her. It is what she has taken the most pride in over the course of several years as her style continuously evolves into something of a more formal business woman. No, you won’t ever catch her looking basic, even if she’s dead.

— Give a quote of something your muse has said before.

“How many funerals can someone attend before they’re twenty?” Black adorned her frame a little too perfectly for the event, at least, if you ignored any dark circles coated underneath her eyes that were negligent to constant appraisal; yet the mirror mounted in-front of her paid no mind to highlighting all of those small details to her. She knew she looked like a mess and didn’t need the untrustworthy reminder. “Miss. Jeon, that’s inappropriate.” Komi’s eyes rolled at such a statement since she nearly forgot someone else accompanied her in the tight space. “But, it’s true.”

— What fable, mythic, or fairy tale character would your muse best play the role of?

Sleeping beauty; her favorite princess.

“Princess Aurora (also known as Briar Rose) is the protagonist of Disney's 1959 animated feature film, Sleeping Beauty. She is the daughter of King Stefan and Queen Leah. On the day of her christening, Aurora was cursed to die by the evil fairy Maleficent. Due to the efforts of three good fairies, the curse was altered to instead draw Aurora into a deep sleep that could only be broken by true love's kiss.”

— Which archetype best describes your muse?

The Lover.

“The lover archetype represents play and sensual pleasure. They like to live in the moment and are appreciative of the physical environment. They try to be more attractive physically, and emotionally. They crave intimacy and enjoy being in a relationship with people. The lover archetype is also known as a friend, spouse, team builder, partner, and sensualist. The lover archetype is probably the most passionate, but they have a tendency to lack discipline. They want to stay young, innocent, and pure. They remain one of the most likable of archetypes.”

— Which temperament does your muse have?

Sanguine 21, Phlegmatic 12, Melancholic 6, Choleric 8.

“Your temperament is Sanguine. The Sanguine temperament is fundamentally spontaneous and pleasure-seeking; Sanguine people are sociable and charismatic. They tend to enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be boisterous. They are usually quite creative and often daydream. However, some alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when they pursue a new hobby, they lose interest as soon as it ceases to be engaging or fun. They are very much a people persons. They are talkative and not shy. Sanguines generally have an almost shameless nature, certain that what they are doing is right. They have no lack of confidence.”

— Describe your muse’s favorite memory.

Four years old, a memory at its earliest stage, yet so delicate and precious. The young girl trotted after her father in a near skip, smiles echoed on both of their features. This was the first time she found herself glued to the man’s side in endearment rather than fear; something of a new emotion for her to experience. But, It was only given that her attention faltered onto the beautifully decorated frames of different generations alongside the wall by her. Curiosity at its finest, one that her father indulged in while they toured the vacant manor. “One day it’ll be your’s, darling. Your own castle that you can protect.” At the time, of course, she didn’t fully understand the definition behind his words, yet the idea alone gave nothing but a euphoric feeling as her fingers laced together with his. “You can do that for me, right?”

— Name something your muse will always believe in.

Destiny & soulmates.

— Name a song that would play during the opening of a movie about your muse’s life.

Worst Behavior by Ariana Grande

— Going out or staying in?

Going out.

— Read the book or watch the movie?

Read the book.

— Talk during a movie or absolutely not?

No. What do you think this is?

— Sing to a song, hum along, or people should just stay quiet and enjoy listening to the song?

She wouldn’t be able to decide herself.

— Windows up while you’re driving or roll them down?

Wait, she’s allowed to drive?

— A wizard casts a spell on your muse that reveals their true colors. No, literally. The wisp of an aura is beginning to form around your muse. What color is it?

Crimson twirled around her in a deep fog. It felt suffocating as if air was forced out of her lungs within mere seconds, being replaced by nothing but the encasements of red. She knew very well that she deprives herself into two different personalities. She just didn’t expect the full showcase to cause such an intense pressure down against her chest. Red..? The color of love, creativity, passion, adventure, energy, and so many more beautiful things. Although, all she could think about were the color’s relativity to danger and aggression. There’s no way to tell which is the true or honest tell of her character.

— A wizard casts a spell on your muse that reveals their true nature. Smoke curls around your muse, accompanied by distant sounds of wildlife. When the smoke clears, what animal is standing in your muse’s place?

The previously suffocating smoke finally cascades from her senses. Opposed to the expected, a small fox appears in her wake, sounds of birds and leaves in the wind peeking from the distance. Many appeal to the fox as an ideal spirit animal by the way they follow signs of loyalty, independence, adaptability, beauty, and positive signs of luck. This is something she felt she could agree with as well as understand despite the strange circumstances. It’s what she didn’t know is the entire reason behind her revealed spirit; that the foxes are the royalties of mischievousness and tricks.

— A wizard (is this still the same wizard?) casts a spell on your muse that allows them to see what they most desire right here, right now, right in front of them. What do they see?

It seems these strange events never stop. This realization dawned on her the moment a figure shaped in-front of her, a figure so familiar yet unknown. The figure reached out to her with worry printed on their ghostly features. She didn’t know how to react at first, it was only natural that her hand reached out to his, an unforced smile tugging at the edges of her lips. When their fingers touched, all shades of color and light became possible. It became easy. It felt like fireworks plus all previous negative emotions or pressures ceasing to exist in his wake. She believed that this was her fate, the one she’s destined to be with. At least, until the figure lifted her small frame off the floor in a more maternal stance. Her eyes grew wide while everything around her froze. “Fa-..”

— A wizard (why haven’t they given up yet?) casts a spell on your muse that forces them to see what they are most afraid of. What do they see?

Within an instant, everything vanishes from her line-sight. Nothing but pure darkness surrounds her, not even indications of time or location. Her heart begins to pound inside her chest as panic shivers its way down every nerve and fiber of her being. Where is she? Where did everyone go? The girl paces back and forth before eventually running anywhere she could go without truly feeling like she’s moving at all. In the end, her body falls down to her knees as weakness or hopelessness settles into her bones; a broken sob stuck in the back of her throat. Being alone is the most tragic feeling anyone could experience.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Adventure Time Reviewed - S1E09 and S1E10 - My Two Favourite People and Memories of Boom Boom Mountain

My Two Favourite People

This ep is about Jake’s plight of not being able to spend time with Finn and Lady together, so he decides to solve the problem. Finn isn’t very supportive of Jake running off to hang with Lady, lol. He thinks it’s lame to want to spend lots of time with your girlfriend. He’ll eat his words in season 4, where all he can think about is Flame Princess. I love that the cat and shark appearing every day and getting decapitated. They were brought up later but the cat said the shark died of old age. That’s the only thing that can kill him... :(  

The first appearance of Shelby the worm!!!! Jake trying to wave his arms in the air out of exasperation while cycling, so he crashes into a tree. Beautiful.  They picnic by a fire lake, with skeletons and treasure, instead of by a normal lake.   The joke that doesn’t translate very well is actually a very naughty reference to Jake and Lady dancing in the field. Jake felt too awkward to tell Finn LOL 

Post getting the translator, I think this joke may be inspired by how they couldn’t decide how Lady should speak. At first it was jargon but they eventually settled on Korean.  Old man voice: “Come on darling, wrap your legs around me!” Incredible. 

I wonder how Finn got rid of the power rings? There are many instances of Finn and Jake having random magic abilities. These are usually explained as items - in Wizard, they always wore wizard robes, and in Chambers of Frozen Blades, they wear headbands. 

This ep is an early example of Jake being a flawed character. Before this point he had been mostly reasonable, demonstrating some laziness but always being on Finn’s side. This time he blows things out of proportion in his head and acts immaturely, which is actually pretty sweet. He really cares about Finn and Lady but also has the tendency to feel left out!!!!!  And to expand on Jake’s past, we get our very first appearance of TIFFANY. (and a passing mention of the flying lettuce brothers)  “Why would I be jealous?” “Because TIFFANY’s.... A BOY!!!!!!!” Incredible- OH MY GOD FINN CALLED HIM A “HOMEWRECKER”. That refers to someone who “breaks” a household by sleeping with one of its partners.  

“Oh sweet potato. I love you BECAUSE you’re an idiot. You make me feel like a genius.” Well at least she’s honest. A tender moment. 

“Let’s always be stupid. FOREVER!” 

Memories of Boom Boom Mountain

The start of this episode is brilliant. Pen Ward at his best, and I assume Bert Youn or Sean Jiminez too. 

Finn having fun with the marauders, getting dissed because he wanted to help someone, then having a go at them and laying down that he helps everyone with the smallest of problems because he remembers when he fell into boom boom as a baby... it demonstrates the touching naivete of his pure righteousness. Finn doesn’t yet understand that some people have to solve their own problems, and some people don’t deserve his help. He’s pure hearted. That’s the obstacle this episode makes him challenge. 

I love that the marauders clap for him when he’s done. They understand he’s just a kid. I love these sorts of interactions in season 1, where people treat Finn like a kid.  

Jake looks out for Finn by taking those rocks for him. There are so many moments across the show where Jake takes damage on behalf of other characters. I think the most recent example is when he swallows the birds in the finale, and they make him explode. Jake is very brave in ways it’s easier to appreciate as an adult.  

Finn also jumps off the mountain holding Jake, which indicates to me he used him to parachute down.  

I love that the mountain is actually having a crisis of sexual identity, he can’t stand the roughhousing men because theyre too attractive, which is why hes so happy when his heterosexuality is reaffirmed by the girl mountain calling him attractive

The part where they tie ducks and animals to their hands always cracks me up, the quacking noises when the punches lands instead of thumping noises. It looks genuinely soft but at the same time I understand the mountain’s perspective at being alarmed over all this animal punching. Doesn’t seem the animals are too bothered though! I love how in AT you get animals undergoing experimentation, observation, all sorts of crap, and they just don’t care. There is that poor cow from the graybles ep mind you. 

The petting part of this ep is pretty gay. 

WHOAH! There is some music in this episode that is used in Varmints. The banjo that plays when Finn suggests rotating the mountain is the same banjo that plays when Bubblegum is rocking on her chair waiting for varmints. 

After a hilarious scene with everyone of every species having problems, my favourite being the dandelion person that wants to be pollinated, Finn implodes, and we have a beautiful moment where we meet Joshua and Margaret for the first time. I believe this is when it was revealed Finn and Jake are brothers, not just best friends. 

I love the Rune Goldberg device. It’s entirely unsustainable. The flies will leave the guy’s ears, the marauders will want to take a break, the dragon will stop scratching its butt and will stop blowing fire, and the mountain will probably start crying again. But for the moment, it’s a solution, so Finn probably goes home feeling happy with himself. 

The part at the end with the dolphin is such a random early AT moment.

Overall this was a great episode. What I loved in particular is the worldbuilding. Not only do we get a look into Finn’s motivations and backstory, long before he would be revealed to have come from an overseas human colony, we also get adventure time characters of all sorts of different species. I think this is the first time a “dragon” had shown up, and naturally it doesn’t look like a normal dragon.

The end actually made me think of Obsidian. First of all, both episodes have weird “dragons”, which have their own emotional problems because of course they do. Secondly, the dragon transforming into a butterfly cat - which is actually a sea angel - draws from the randomness of this episode, and from the later episode with Gunther’s kitty baby. 

[atamascolily]

After Ursula K. Le Guin died, I made an agreement with myself I would read anything and everything she'd written as the chance arose. That said, Searoad: Chronicles of Klatsand probably would have been the last on my list, had I not stumbled across a paperback copy in a library booksale (in pre-pandemic times) in a "fill a paper bag for $10" sale and it languished in my TBR pile for months before I finally got around to it.

The reason? Genre snobbery, in reverse of the usual direction. Searoad is a collection of short stories published in magazines like The New Yorker, and fancy-sounding publications with Review in their names. Serious publications publishing so-called "literary" fiction, or maybe "realistic fiction" or just plain fiction--fiction that's supposed to tell-it-like-it-is, lay bare the inadequacies of modern life, and leave you feeling empty and unfulfilled after watching empty and unfulfilled people make poor decisions in futile attempts to fill the emptiness and inadequacies of their lives. Because that’s the whole point of literature, right?

Oh. Perhaps I'm generalizing. But so it feels to me whenever I dip into one of these publications. They are "literature", everything else is "genre": romance, science-fiction, fantasy, action, adventure, thriller, mystery, crime. "Literary" fiction is usually just plain old "fiction" in the library classification systems and in common parlance: it is assumed to be the norm, the default, from which everything else is a deviation. And I hate this. I've always hated this.

To write about petty modern people with their petty modern lives is one thing--we all have our kinks--but to disdain others for imagining different things, for epics and grandeur and you-could-have-anything-so-why-not-go-for-it always struck me as a deep failure of, and disdain for, imagination. Genres, like so much else in our lives, are social constructs: us and them, the have and the have-nots. Literary fiction are the "haves", everything else is the "have-nots". That's changing, obviously, and the boundaries aren't as rigid as they once were, but I still see that divide reflected in so-called "serious" publications, and I generally avoid them.

Ursula K. Le Guin has always hugged the boundaries between "pure" genre (aka trashy, flashy, unfit for serious folk in the eyes of the pedants) and "literary merit". She's been accepted and respected by both camps, although the "literary" folks speak of the sci-fi rather patronizingly in their reviews of her works. Le Guin, however, never disdained the sci-fi labels in the same way that Margaret Atwood--another boundary-spanning writer--has always done.

For this reason, I've retained infinitely more respect for Le Guin than Atwood, despite Atwood's considerable talents as a writer. Atwood wants to play with sci-fi tropes, but she doesn't have the backbone to stand up and be proud of it. Atwood wants to write science fiction but not be judged for it, and the easiest way to do that (since genres are a social construct) is just to firmly insist that it's not sci-fi at all--move along, nothing to see here.

Here's a blurb on the back of my copy of Searoad by Carolyn Kizer, a Pulitzer-prize winning poet from the Pacific Northwest:

"For a number of years, the only science-fiction I read was that of Ursula K. Le Guin. I don't read science-fiction any more, thought I wouldn't think of missing a book of Le Guin's. She has transcended the genre..."

How very generous and open-minded of you to only read science-fiction so elevated it “transcends” its genre entirely, thereby becoming worthy of notice. And this is supposed to make me like literary fiction? 

That said, the irony is that Kizer’s statement sums up my approach to non-genre stuff as well, although I would not have phrased it quite so baldly. More like “Okay, not usually my cup of tea--but if it’s you, it’s okay....” The genre transcending thing, as much as I despise the phrasing, works both ways here.

All this is to say I finally read Searoad, even though I had to coax myself into it by pretending that this was an alien society that Le Guin and I were exploring together in order to tell us stuff about our own, and that helped. It also helped because the stories were so damn good, and I got carried away, even though they are very literary stories, with ambiguous endings, the usual focus on unexpressed and/or self-destructive emotions of love, birth, and death, and no magic or wizards or dragons whatsoever.

(To repeat: I am a genre snob who has never understood why writing without dragons was inherently better than writing with dragons in it. I have always operated under the principle that dragons made everything better. And I have never understood why depicting the world as it is was a stroke of literary genius, if all you were going to do with it it is show people being unhappy in the usual old ways instead of unusual ways. Or even imagine something new and different!)

Searoad reminds me of Lake Wobegon a little, but that's only because it's a small town, with characters from one story popping up in others in the most unexpected places--just like small town life. After a while, it feels like we're constantly running into old friends, a shared world--real, but in a good way. The stories were published across a wide range of outlets from 1987-1991, yet flow into each other astonishingly well when read in rapid succession, or indeed, in any order at all.

My favorite is "True Love," which is all about ditching unsatisfying conventional relationships to focus on one's true passion instead:

For me, sex is sublimation. Left to itself, in its raw, primitive state, my libido would have expend itself inexhaustibly in reading.

And since I have been a librarian ever since I was twenty, I can truly compare my life to that of some pasha luxuriating in his harem--and what a harem! Half a million mistresses, when I was at the Central Library in Portland! A decade-long orgy! And during the school year, since I teach now at the Library School, I have access to the University Library. Here in Klatsand where I spend the summers, the harem is very small and a good many of the houris are rather out of date, but then so am I. My lust has lessened somewhat with the years. Sometimes I imagine I could be contented with a mere shelf of tried, true, and highly selected Scheherazades, with only now and then a pretty little novel to flirt with, or a volume of new poetry to make me cry out with excess of pleasure in the heart of the night.

And in the same story, Le Guin makes it clear she's one of us:

"Do you like science fiction" I asked her, because all I can really talk about is books. And of course, she couldn't talk about books. That had been knocked out of her years ago. We compromised on "Star Trek," new and old. She liked the new series as well as the old one. I liked the old one better. Antal stared, not at Rosemarie, only at me. "You watch it?" he said. "You watch television?"

I didn't answer. ... I was not going to let him try to shame us for our commonness.

"The one I liked best was the one where Mr. Spock had to go home because he was in heat," I said to her.

"Except, he never, you know," she said. "They just had a fight over the girl, him and Captain Kirk, and then they left."

"That's his pride," I said, obscurely. I was thinking how Mr. Spock was never unbuttoned, never lolled, kept himself shadowy, unfulfilled, and so we loved him. And poor Captain Kirk, going from blonde to blonde, would never understand that he himself loved Mr. Spock truly, hopelessly, forever.

Reader, I LOLed. Because it's true. You know it, I know it, and so does Le Guin. And she had the guts to say so in the Indiana Review, and the editors published it. LEGEND.

Like all of Le Guin's writing, the stories in Searoad are lyrical, elegant, soaring, and moving--sympathetic, yet unafraid to call out bad behavior and terrible things when she sees it. My other favorite story, "Sleepwalkers," is a brilliant example of this: it starts with a complaint by a privileged male playwright about the housekeeper at his summer cabin, only for us to quickly learn (if his tone and phrasing didn't give it away) that he's an arrogant asshole who sees only what he wants to see and misses what's actually in front of him. We then pivot to a number of other people at the little resort, and their views of the housekeeper, and we're left with an open question at the end: which view is more accurate? Which story do we believe? What is actually going on? Can any of us really know or understand the hidden depths within another person? It's so deep and lush and well-written, and even funny on occasions.

And there's also a diversity of viewpoints and perspectives and scenarios enough to keep me interested: a lesbian grieves the death of her long-time partner, a war veteran deals with PTSD, a college student runs off into the woods to secretly map illegal old-growth logging stands, a ghost appears in a late-night diner to a sexual-abuse victim. The ghost thing seems like it ought to fall under genre conventions, but doesn’t because of the framing, and yet it still works for me--another example of Le Guin’s skill.

Anyway, so Le Guin actually made me enjoy so-called "literary" fiction and that was unexpected and delightful. Regardless of my feelings about most "realistic" fiction, I'm glad I read this collection.  

[league-of-thots]

Masks: A Soulmate AU

Pairing: Nejire x reader

Warnings: minor drugs/alcohol reference

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: the prompt for this discord collab was a sfw soulmate au

masterlist

You were 16 years old, like everyone else, when you opened the box that had appeared at the bottom of your bed. Inside, laying on golden straw, was the mask that the fates had given to you to help you find your destined partner.

The night before, you’d been so excited, tossing and turning all throughout the night, sleeping short bursts and then waking for a few minutes before inevitably passing back out again. The whole night you’d had weird dreams that were both surreal yet vivid in their detail, confusing and disorienting you. During the dreams you could only imagine chasing after this one swan who was always moving along from one thing to another. At one time, it was floating down a river but stopped to go see a dam on the other side of the river. You could only watch as it looked around, observing and carefully taking stock of the surroundings, before it was jolted into action seeing some small animals run by. It flew away and the dream shifted and soon enough you were running after it again…

Opening the box, you felt yourself shudder unconsciously, your heart felt warmer than it had just moments ago and you wondered if your partner had already received their mask or was waiting patiently just as you had been for the past few years. Wonder, curiosity and excitement were all warring for your attention as you looked onto the beautiful creation in front of you, it truly was a gift from the fates.

The mask was covered your forehead to just under your cheekbones, leaving perfectly shaped holes for your eyes to see. It was a beautiful platinum, looking silver-blue in the light of the morning streaming through your window. All across the bottom lining were alternating triangular holes and slightly above that were complicated swirling patterns. There were small white gems places at the ends of swirling branches, making them look as if they were pale roses growing out from vines.

You lightly ran your fingers over the smooth metal, the mask oddly light considering the amount of surface area it had. Along the top were feather designs stitched in, their shape matching those of the swan who you’d dreamt about.

You sat there for a few minutes, staring down at the mask and touching it almost reverently. Somewhere out there, was a perfect match for it, and with such a pretty mask, you knew they would be special, you could feel it in your bones. Soon you’d put it on, and wouldn’t be able to take it off until you found that partner meant for you. It both scared and excited you to know that one day you’d find them, and hoped desperately that the two of you would like each other and fall in love. Soulmates didn’t have to be romantic, but you were a bit of a sap, and having a partner destined for you? It would lift your heart up if they’d be your significant other.

You placed the mask on your face, and felt the mask magically adjust to your face, locking itself into place after a few slow minutes of adjustment. The metal was a nice cool touch to your face, and you closed your eyes feeling it slowly shift on your face. You wanted to remember how it felt, knowing that it would one day change your life. When it was done, you looked in the mirror to see the upper half of your face was fully covered up to your hairline, the only thing you could see were your eyes peeking out from behind it. Happy with the results, you giddily moved out of your room to go show everyone how cool your mask was.

 As you continued your journey through high school, you didn’t meet your soulmate unfortunately. Some of your friends did, both in and out of school, but they were the minority. It was after all, very unlikely to meet your soulmate before the age of 24. You were happy for them, but at the same time, couldn’t wait to find your partner. You were reminded again that not every one was destined to be lovers though, unfortunately one of your best friends had met their soulmate and he wasn’t romantically interested in him.

You remember consoling her, distraught as she was, and reminding yourself that this was why you tried to keep your hopes low, you don’t know what role your soulmate is going to take in your life. You were there by her side though, and as she worked through her own dashed hopes and feelings, the two of them had one of the strongest friendships you’d ever seen in your life. It was beautiful, and honestly made you a bit jealous. You were impatient, you wanted to have your soulmate in your life now, even though you knew deep down that they’d be worth waiting for.

Something that you’d be able to partake in when you turned 18, because you hadn’t yet found your soulmate, were the extravagant galas. They were held both publicly and privately by benefactors for people who hadn’t yet met their soulmates. They were always wild times, held in busy city halls, or in fields with beautiful sunsets. Each of them was full with magic and everything slightly distorted by the number of soulmates meeting up and finally getting to share their lives together. They were also full of practiced wizards creating entertainment of both amusing and wacky feats, which made the parties highly attended no matter the age or personal status.

There were only a few rules of the parties; that you always had to be dressed in masquerade attire that matched with your mask, and even if you found your soulmate at the parties, you couldn’t remove your masks until after the party was done.

These parties were often held a few times a month, so that those with busy schedules could still get the chance to go out and try to meet their soulmates. Although part of you wanted to go to one of these galas the moment you turned 18, you didn’t really get the chance until a few months after your birthday.

You remember vividly from that night many things, the wizard in the lovely velvet top hat who was creating life sized characters out of smoke to do battle with one another, the giant ice sculptures that seemed to change shape every time you looked away, the creatures that normally avoided humans coming to watch, seeing what was happening and making deals with the foolish ones. You felt the entire night as if you were in a daze, and you probably were with the fumes from many different things clouding up your mind just slightly so that the entire night was just slightly hazy and tinged with a surreal quality. Were you really sure that you’d seen those flash of fangs from the tall dark man with the dreadlocks? You couldn’t be sure.

All in all, you’d enjoyed your night plenty, met some great people and seen interesting things. Alas, you were no closer to finding your soulmate than before. You decided that you’d go to one of these galas every month or two, just to see if by chance, you’d happen upon them one time. For a few months during the summer, you’d had no such luck, going and enjoying yourself with only a few new friends to show for it and a much greater understanding of magic and its limits. You’d decided as you went into university to pursue some discipline that would allow you to combine your other interests with your newfound interest in magic.

Life continued that way for a couple years, school, a part time job, friends, galas, and visiting new places when you could to see if maybe in one of those random places, you’d finally happen upon one of them. First year had kicked your ass, but you’d gotten through it with some help from your friends, and even though second year had been tough as well, you’d gotten the hang of it quite well. Something that made you feel marginally better about your lack of success, was that you weren’t the only one who was still stuck with their mask attached to their face. It was actually pretty even set still, the people with masks and without, despite everyone around you being an older age than you were when you first got your mask.

Every once and a while though, you’d dream of the gorgeous swan again, although the dream was never the same as any of the ones that would happen before. Sometimes you were chasing it through the outdoors, whether that be through a forest, a cave or a city, or if you were following it through places you knew like the back of your hand. Every time you’d have one of these dreams, you’d feel melancholy for a few days afterwards, your mind always feeling foggy and unbalanced.

Since it had been a longstanding occurrence, after consulting some friends, you decided to visit a woman in your university that specialized in dream studies and soul connections. Their office hours were online and they actually encouraged people with reoccurring dreams and those with what people thought were atypical soul connections. You were excited and ready to see if you could learn something to help you find your soulmate with their help.

So, the next day you had class, you went ahead of your schedule by an hour to the campus, wanting to drop in to their office as soon as you could. It was in a secluded area of the university, quiet and peaceful, you felt yourself grow more relaxed as you entered the hallway where their office was. Your breath was slightly taken away as you realized it was located on the inside of the greenhouse. There were gorgeous flowers and ivy growing up the walls of the greenhouse and flowers of all colours covering most of the available garden space. There was a flowing artificial river, which beside them were benches and small tables for games. Around the entire room where floating orbs of colour lighting up the garden many shades from different locations. There were also bird feeders and other decorations floating merrily in places.

You approached the door that was between the two trees, looking at the nameplate to read Professor Nirone, the person who you looked up on the weekend. Hyping yourself up a little bit, you steadied your nerves and gave three sharp knocks on the door and stepped back

“Come in!” came a reedy voice from inside, mid-toned and rather sleepy.

You turn the knob and open the door which creaks a little. Inside is a rather homey looking office, one that is well lit with natural light, and has a few chairs by a crackling fireplace. The rugs were worn with intricate designs, and the Professor behind the desk was a cheery person, slender and wearing spectacles.

“Hello Professor Nirone? I’m Y/N, I saw that you had open hours for people who had questions about dreams and strange soul connections?”

“Yes, yes of course!” they say excitedly, standing up from behind the desk to go and shake your hand. “My office is always open to students and faculty!” They have a firm handshake and they guide you to sit down with them at the fireplace. “Would you like some tea? I have a pot of earl grey on right now.”

“Yes please!” and they grab it for the two of you, pouring out two cups. One of them was a bright blue and the other was an orange. They hand you the orange cup.

“How can I help you then?” they ask once you’ve both settled down.

“Well, Professor, I came to you because I was curious about some dreams that I think are connected to my soulmate. I’m really unsure of what they mean though, and I could use some guidance on understanding them.”

“Then you came to the right place! Please, when did they start and what were they about that you believe mean they’re connected to your soulmate.”

“Ah, it started the night before I received my mask on my sixteenth birthday, and they weren’t reoccurring dreams per say, more that they had similar elements and feelings attached with them.” You begin. “I’ve had them every few months or so since then.”

They nod. “That’s a common occurrence within soulmates, often times they will get dreams about something that really shows the essence of their partner. Although usually they change a bit over the years depending on your partner’s life journey.”

“Yes, well the reason I’m confused is because the object of the dream is always the same no matter the setting. Sometimes I know the setting, sometimes I don’t, but I’m always following this swan no matter what. I get this sense of familiarity and happiness, but I never catch up to it no matter what.”

“You have an interesting story, my dear. Let me ask you, what is the swan doing while you’re following after it? If it does, does it depend on the setting or is it always repeating actions?”

“Well, I guess the swan kind of does a pattern of things, it looks around, observes things for a time until it gets distracted and moves to look at that new thing or event. It kind of spends as much time as it wants observing something? But the swan is always out of my reach. So is there anything you could tell me about that?”

“Well, let me get some materials out and show you a few things. There might be some answers that we can see fitting for you.” They go back over to their desk, looking through some file folders and grabbing a few sheets. Leafing through, they start speaking again, and you listen up.

“When there’s a reoccurring pattern within a soulmate dream there are a few ways to interpret that. One, that something in the dream is talking about how to find one another and giving insight into the fated meeting, or two, that the dream is giving you insight about the nature of your partner.”

“So, I might not even get to meet them? There are no repeated meeting spots or anything, which means its all about their nature…”

“Maybe, however I like to think that there’s a good chance for meeting your soulmate when you have this many soul dreams so close together. Don’t give up faith so quickly.”

“I’ll try my best, thank you for the help Professor.” You continue to chat with them for a little while, finishing your tea and feeling much better about your current situation. The whole meeting had gone better than you had hoped it would.

 The next gala was two nights away from today, and you were excited, because for some reason, you had a good feeling about this one. You felt emboldened by the words of the Professor, and kept faith that you’d get to meet this soulmate that seemed to have an endless sense of curiosity and wonder with the world around them. You feel like they’d definitely attend the soulmate galas, there was always so many interesting things taking place in and around them. Especially in the warmer months when the parties would seep outside, and they would become an entire community event.

You tried to get through the next few days as quickly as you possibly could, breezing through your lessons, homework and job as you looked forwards in excitement. Finally, the day arrived. This gala would be held by the community center in your city, and you were hoping to see which magicians would be there this year.

You dressed in your formal attire, taking care to make sure that your mask was clean and gleaming, and making sure your hair is all in place. You want to make a good impression if you meet them today after all. Grabbing your phone, you head down to the subway station near your house to get to the gala. The station was busy, as expected, and you got jostled around a fair bit. The closer you got to the community center however, the more outlandish the people and decorations became.

This was your favourite part, seeing everything morph from normal to fantastical, colours streaming everywhere, smoke creating shapes as people try and awe one another with their skills. You swear you see a couple of centaurs running through the crowd, causing chaos and laughing boisterously. The subway has to stop a few stops early due to the congestion of the inner core of the party. You don’t mind the walk, because you get to pass by little vendors who’ve set up shop, selling pretty wares and drinks and food.

You stop at a little man’s shop a few buildings down from the community center, purchasing a small drink to help you relax. It’s a potion with a light sedative meant for calming the mind and enjoying the party.

You sipped it as you finally reached the steps, there were people of all types, some with masks, some without, all decorating the surrounding area. You could hear music streaming from the inside as people and lights and colours streamed in and out without any discernable pattern. You let the sensations wash over you, feeling yourself relax despite the amount of people and excitement around you.

You wander in, eyes greedily taking sight of anything and everything you can. No matter how many times you go to these events, you’ll never get enough of the sights, you’re pretty sure that you’re going to attend many a gala after you find your soulmate.

You glide up the staircase, watching a couple blow bubbles into balloon animals to entertain a small group of younger high school students, this is likely their first event. You recognize the wonder in their eyes.

Inside the community center is a hall, within it, both couples and newly met soulmates dance a sweet waltz, the mayor seated above them on a balcony on a grandiose chair watching down on them happily. His soulmate sits beside them and they both have donned their masks for the special occasion.

You get swept up between the dancers, overwhelmed in a good way as you giggle and move along with the flow, putting your arms up and doing half the steps on your own. You twirl around, feeling your clothes swish around you, as colours spin around the room in a dizzying array of beauty.

Getting lost like this is your favourite.

But there was something different this time, there! Out of the corner of your eye! You caught a dress the colour of your mask, but they were running after something the other way. You immediately drop your arms, the dance forgotten as you dodge and weave between the people. You’ve seen the colour of your mask every time that you’ve looked in the mirror, and haven’t seen it on anyone else’s clothes. But that woman’s dress, it matched, you knew it did.

So, you followed, as quickly as you could in your stuffy fancy clothes and shoes. From what you could see, she had long light blue hair, which looked sleek in the candle lighting. She was moving quickly, faster than anyone you’d seen in heels, as she seemed to take in everything around her.

Suddenly, you lose sight of her as she stops and stares at something then dashes off. You get to where you last saw her, and looked around carefully, trying to get any hint of which way she might’ve gone.

You see nothing. You’ve completely lost her.

You tried to fight down the disappointment that was threatening to overcome you. So close, but you didn’t even get to reach her, you couldn’t speak with her at all! It felt like the universe was keeping them away from you on purpose or something. It made you feel bitter and upset, but if you saw her here, you figured she must be around in the area. It would be tough, but you knew you had to try and hold out hope that you’d find her once again. Maybe she’d even be around for the next local gala, and you could perhaps find her there?

The next few days were difficult for you, but you tried to keep your mindset as positive as you could, despite the massive amounts of disappointment you felt from the party. Nothing else happened that night, even though you kept your eye out for her in case she was still wandering around. For the first time, you left a gala with a disheartened feeling completely choking your chest, tears leaking from your eyes. You’d been so close.

The greenhouse you had found looking for Professor Nerone became a bit of a salvation for you, it was far out of the way, so you didn’t have to see a bunch of people happy with their soulmates, but also was a calming place with a beautiful scenery. Plus, with the tables and benches, you could catch up on work in comfort and solitude.

This carried on for about a week, you felt depressed no matter how many times you told yourself that you’d lasted this long without your soulmate, so you were being a bit ridiculous.

It’s just that before then, you hadn’t seen her.

“Hey, hey, don’t you know? This place is really far from all of the main classes. What are you doing here, if I could bother you a little bit?” A voice interrupted your wallowing. Her voice was cheery and wistful, with a curious lilt to it. You’d never heard such a sweet voice before in all honesty.

“Oh, I’m just here doing some work-“ You brought your eyes up to meet hers, and you gasped in shock as your eyes met hers. “It’s you!”

“Oh my, well isn’t this a surprise!” she smiles. You feel the mask that had been moulded to your face for the past six years just let go and drop into your lap. Hers falls off as well and she catches it, eyes crinkled at the corners from how wide she’s smiling. “I’m Hado Nejire! It’s nice to meet you soulmate.” She gives you a cheeky wink.

The few weeks of getting to know Hado were something interesting to say the least, she was by far one of the most inquisitive and entertaining people you’ve met. Often times asking people questions that had your mouth gaping in shock, because that’s not the societal norm to do that. You could tell she never meant any harm though; she just had an insatiable appetite for knowledge and understanding.

She was also open with her affections with you, after getting signs that you were alright with her touching you, she’d often hold your hand when you walked places, swinging it around as she told you about all the cool things she’d seen the other day. She also gave some of the best hugs, and was probably the coolest person you’d ever met.

You’d also learned that people didn’t exaggerate the soulmate bond. Never before had you clicked with someone so easily, and you didn’t ever really feel uncomfortable around her. She made you feel more confident and opened your mind up with all of her interesting discoveries and off topic information.

“Hey, hey, Y/N? Can I ask you a question?” she asks as you’re both hanging out, doing your different sets of homework in her apartment she shared with two friends; Mirio and Tamaki.

“Of course,” you responded, a little amused at her need to always ask in that little way she had. It was endearing to you.

“What did you hope for me to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was curious as to what you wanted from your soulmate before you knew who I was.”

“Hado, why is that important? I have you and that’s what matters.”

“Hmm… I suppose so. It’s just I wanted to know if we were in a similar boat, so to speak.” She taps her chin her eyes focused on something you couldn’t quite see. In the few weeks you’d known her, you noticed that this was a frequent occurrence, she seemed to be in another world sometimes, connecting things all around her.

You loved it, you felt like you loved her. But you didn’t know if she felt the same, and you think it would break you if she didn’t feel the same way.

You felt more sympathy for your old friend then you ever had in your life. Losing something once it was presented in front of you was so much more difficult than you’d thought in the moment. You knew you wouldn’t lose Hado, she wasn’t as shallow as to cut you out of her life for liking her in a different way she did. It was more the fact that you know you would likely lose the possibility of finding a deep soul connection with a romantic partner. It wasn’t unheard of, but very rare, for anyone to establish a bond as deep as the ones with their soulmates.

You wanted to be with Hado in every sense of the word, she made you better, and you like to think that you made her better too. The world seemed a bit more mystical with her in your life, and you wanted to have that in all aspects of your life. You knew it was a bit selfish, but you would back off completely if that’s not what she wanted from you.

Hado shakes you out of your thoughts, “I suppose I should tell you, because I do trust you, Y/N, I really do. I just don’t want you to look at me differently, you know?”

You put your hand on hers, your heartbeat elevated as you look into her eyes. What did she mean? All you could do was tell her the truth.

“Hado, I would never look at you different because of what you hoped that I could be for you. All I hope is that I’m enough for you.”

She grasps you in a hug after that. “Of course you’re enough for me Y/N! You’ve made my life better! It’s just, you know how much I seem to get lost in another world, when I was a kid I used to imagine being with my soulmate.”

“I did too,” you admit, shyly locking eyes. “I imagined meeting them and falling in love, going out on dates, marrying them.” Her eyes were sparkling as you spoke, listening raptly to you.

“I did the same!” you felt immensely relieved at hearing that.

“Well, Hado, I think part of that’s already happened with you if I’m being honest with myself.”

“Y/N, it’s alright, I’m falling for you too!” your mouth falls open in shock and she laughs at the face you’re making.

“Hey, hey Y/N? Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” You respond and she leans in and presses her lips to yours sweetly.

You really were lucky to have a soulmate as good as Hado Nejire.

[spellnbone]

Contrary to what some people think at first sight of his description, Edgar is not someone who rejects emotions. He might be driven by a mind that craves logic, but his heart is a loyal one and contributes to his decisions greatly. Following positive nihilistic philosophies, he knows the importance of love, of loving, and of living in the moment freely. This being said, while he does enjoy a night full of quick-lived romance, he is mainly a terrible serial monogamist.

Age Fourteen - Ainsley

He was in year four when the kids around him began trying things out. Drinking, flirting, kissing. Removed from everyone as he was at that time, he saw no reason to participate, but when he heard that Amelia too had played such games at a recent party, he grew jealous. The two were still in a process of detaching themselves from the other and the idea to be so purposefully excluded from her adventures lit an angry little fire inside of him.

So he stomped up to one of his (very few) friends, Ainsley, who was herself reading a book in a corner at a Ravenclaw party, and prepared a whole speech about why logically it’s of fundamental use to try some of those games yourself, for the sake of both philosophical and physiological development, and then -- never got a single word out. Instead he just pressed a kiss to her mouth.  

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

And they never spoke of it again.

Age Fifteen - Tsi / Fabian

It was in a similar line of thinking that Tsi, a Slytherin, chose Edgar to be her boyfriend. They’d been transfig partners for almost three months, working on a project together, and eventually she decided he’d be good for snogging. Seeing how Amelia, too, just had gotten a boyfriend, Edgar wasn’t very hesitant to agree. He thought it rather agreeable that Tsi didn’t care about his opinions or wishes and just told him what to do, when and how, as it at least alleviated any form of awkwardness -- and taught him a lot.

She broke up with him when the Summer holidays came, with the words: “You’re probably gay anyway.” He was a little upset as to how one could possibly come to such a conclusion, and then spent the Summer drunk and making out with Fabian.

Age Seventeen and Eighteen - Wandering Philosophers

After graduation, Dell invited Edgar to join his little group of Wandering Philosophers. If one has ever seen one of those Summer of Love hippie bus drug montages, one can image what this year abroad was like for Edgar. It was perhaps 1971 and not 1967 but that did not stop the excess of free love and free drugs.

By the end of the year, Edgar had made more experiences than his mind cared to remember, had massively changed his opinions on friendship and other people, and had -- somehow managed to find a steady girlfriend?

Age Nineteen - Janis

Said steady girlfriend came with him back to Hastings. It’s not entirely clear what came first, her or the end of Edgar’s travels, but either way, the moment he’d spoken his first I Love You, he knew he wanted her to come to England with him. As he worked for the West Sussexian Wizarding Paper, they rented a small apartment by the sea, and he was the happiest one could be.

She was not. The American Witch often hinted at him how small the world had become, how the routines felt so terribly familiar, how there was no newness anymore -- and he thought she meant it in a positive way. It turned out, she didn’t. When Edgar stumbled upon Ainsley one day, she suggested he’d join the Daily Prophet in London, and when he told this to Janis, her cry of relief was great.

“Yes, please, Edgar, go!” she said, and in between words of reassurance that she did love him, that she just hated the small town life, she was already packing her own bags.

Age Twenty to Twenty-Two - Lucienne

It took a while for Edgar to recover from Janis basically fleeing from him, but it was all the easier now that he’d moved to London and was close to Amelia. The two had barely been in contact since graduation, and while he’d done nothing but smoke weed and discuss heatedly if Camus or Sartre were superior, she’d worked herself up to the top of the Ministry of Magic. He couldn’t be prouder. But as he waited for their very different lifestyles to clash, they only grew closer and closer again.

This process was brusquely interrupted when Edgar met Lucienne. She was an actress from one of the underground Wizarding Theatres he wrote about regularly, and (as he’d written in one of his reviews) she needn’t no spotlight to make her shine. She was a bright firework herself, wherever she went, people turned heads, and Edgar never fully understood what she saw in him, why she picked him.

But it mustn’t have been pity, for she was the one to suggest he move in with her. The fact that their greatest obsession was also their common interest helped. While Edgar joined the Order and had his mind growing clouded with the dangers of this war, Lucienne always managed to remind him of the world’s beauty as well. They could rehearse, discuss and analyse plays for hours and hours without it ever growing boring, and while the city outside grew dark, at least inside their apartment Lucienne’s light illuminated everything brightly.

Age Twenty Three - London

It was in the Fall of his twenty-second year that Edgar witnessed the first death of someone close in the Order. Some even said he’d been the cause for it. It changed something in him. After the funeral he saw Caradoc cry for the first time. Had the two hated each other up until that point, something connected them over the grave of their friend. Edgar brought him home, not to Lucienne, but to Amelia. They told her about the Order and about their loss, and till this day, Edgar is not sure why he chose Amelia to comfort them. Perhaps if he hadn’t, if he’d brought Caradoc to Lucienne (who was, after all, an anti-bloodpurism activist) everything would’ve been different now.

But as it were, he stayed with Amelia for days, perhaps weeks, incapable to face Lucienne again, until, about a month later, she sent him his things. No letter, nothing attached. Just a clear sign: they were over.

This was the only time that he and Amelia shared a flat, and along with the truth of his political endeavours, this truly sealed their relationship with wax. Ever since having been sorted into two different houses at Hogwarts, they’d slowly but surely grown apart, but now it was as though they were in Mexico all over again. They cooked together, went out together, slept together -- that is in the same bed, of course. Sometimes they brought home someone from a pub, but it was never until they fully reached the bedroom that it became apparent for who that person was meant for. Amelia? Edgar? Neither? Both? Either way, the moment the person was gone the next day (or same night -- after all, the Bones twins were quite good at being hostile to unwanted people) they were clinging together again.

It was during this time that Edgar remembered why he’d changed his writing hand from left to right, once upon a time: it was to hold Amelia’s at all times.

Age Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five - Genevieve

(Un)fortunately, there were still moments they had to spend apart, namely at work. And it was during work (visiting a Muggle play on Drury Lane) that Edgar met Genevieve. She was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was of royal blood and knew her manners, spoke of luxuries and her own charities with ease, while at the same time showing no sign of vanity or arrogance. She loved theatre and due to being a Muggle, knew nothing about the war that was slowly but surely devouring Edgar’s mind.

Edgar realised quickly that if he wanted to keep up with her, he needed to leave Amelia. And so it came that only after about three months of dating, Genevieve bought them an apartment and they moved in together. He was enamored by her every move, every word, every sight. He was incapable of reviewing any plays but romances, began writing terrible poetry himself and -- neglected everyone but her. Had Amelia been the center point of his life only half a year ago, he now barely remembered to reply to her letters, and was the war still raging, he struggled to see its somber colours through his pink glasses.

So it came, that when it turned out that Genevieve was no Muggle at all, but a Muggleborn who’d chosen to live amongst Muggles, something changed. On the one hand, he loved her even more, now capable to show her the House of Bones and introduce her to his family, on the other hand he knew what this meant. And indeed, it didn’t take long until her family was attacked by Death Eaters. The family had once upon a time been closely connected with a family from the Sacred 28, but after the Statue of Secrecy had been established, the ties had been cut. However this didn’t change the fact that the family knew of the Wizarding World, being reminded of it ever so often whenever a new magical child was born.

“My family is in danger and I don’t know what to do.” “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

It was the first time Edgar told someone about the Order, other than Amelia. But while Genevieve thought he’d now ask her to join the fight (she was eager to), he told her about this pilot project of theirs, about taking in refugees and helping them to flee.

“You want me to leave?” He wanted to say no, because never had he loved someone as earnestly and deeply as her, but he said “Yes,” and she was too noble and dignified to fight. After all, it really was the smartest decision.

Age Twenty-Six - Tsi

Yes, Tsi from Year Five. What happened in between Genevieve and the heartbreak she caused and Tsi, should be of no mystery anymore: Amelia. They didn’t officially live together this time as she had her own boyfriend, but they still very much spent every waking moment together. Eventually the boyfriend left. Neither of them really acknowledged it. What mattered was that Amelia forgave Edgar for leaving her so suddenly, and he promised to never to it again.

About four months later, Tsi found Edgar. She had barely changed. She was still a fierce and stubborn Slytherin, hungry for power and control, and all too earnest about her urges and desires. So Edgar, still nursing his heartbreak, was willing to submit himself to her demands once more. She was so different from Genevieve it was easy to forget her in Tsi’s commands and willful ideas.

It ended abruptly when Edgar learnt she agreed with Voldemort’s ideas.

Age Twenty-Seven - London Again

Once again heartbroken, Edgar found himself with Amelia again as well. But this time she made him promise to never hurt her again properly.

“No one must come between us again.” “No one will, I promise.”

Amelia was by now an affiliate of the Order and because Edgar was almost certain that the Other Side knew his face and name, he didn’t want to put Amelia in danger by living with her. So he got his own apartment, a little thing in Muggle China Town, and on the nights he doesn’t spend with Amelia or working, he does bring people home. He cannot stand sleeping alone anymore, the silence causing his thoughts to spiral terribly.

So it doesn’t really matter who that warm body is, he’s content as long as he can nestle up to it at night. Sometimes it’s a good friend, drunk, like Fabian, who needs a place to crash, and sometimes it’s a stranger, who Edgar makes sure not to learn anything about, out of fear to fall in love again.