#(so it’s not like i’ve had the immediate means when the temptation does strike to actually try)

[tossawary]

Because my brain does NOT stop even when I’m grounded, today my brain told me, “Hey, I figured out how to make a Hobbit Fusion AU work.” And I was like, “Great! We’re working, though.” And my brain was like, “I’ve figured out how to make it a Pre-Canon Canon Divergence AU for Moshang.”

And I was like, “...I’m listening.”

The Hobbit is another one of my Comfort Media and it got brought up when I was asking about that, but I was feeling kind of “eh” about mixing Tolkien mythology with SVSSS. I mean, the mental picture of Dwarf Mobei-Jun is extremely funny and Shang Qinghua would make a great hobbit! But that interpretation felt a little too direct for my AU tastes.

So, hm, now I have another potential Big Bang contender. My love for The Hobbit is very, VERY strong and looking at my current outline, I have to be like, “Yeah, this could be 50,000 words, no problem.”

It’s a very good outline!

-

After saving Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua bailed A.S.A.P. because he honestly thought Mobei-Jun was going to kill him. He psyched himself out of sticking around before Mobei-Jun woke up. Mobei-Jun didn’t get enough information to track Shang Qinghua down.

Shang Qinghua (who isn’t SQH because he isn’t the Peak Lord) decides that he can’t fucking take it anymore and bails from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect too. The System objects, but also falls into line when Airplane shrieks at it. Airplane is going to go become a humble merchant and inventor and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him!

It turns out that Shang Qinghua’s presence or help was actually crucial to stop some Emperor of the Abyss from taking over the Ice Palace and the Northern Desert. Airplane is like, “Oh, yeah, I remember… offhandedly writing something about that happening in the past off-screen?” It was one of those things that he just threw in there because it sounded really cool, and it gave Mobei-Jun another reason to “owe” Shang Qinghua and not kill him immediately, but he never got to elaborate on it because he was too busy writing stallion novel bullshit.

So, borrowing the lore from my “Horns” one-shot, an extremely powerful Emperor of the Abyss escaped the Eternal Abyss. This is some devouring horror being from the depths of the abyss, which ate everything in its vicinity in the abyss itself and crawled into the Demon Realm to eat more things. The Emperor of the Abyss was attracted to Mobei-Jun’s father. They fought. Mobei-Jun’s father should have won, but didn’t, because he was too fucked up (thanks to his own hedonism or something) to fight properly. What an asshole.

Mobei-Jun’s father was killed and devoured by the Emperor of the Abyss, which has made it… exponentially powerful. It’s now… basically a calamity. The desolation that it leaves in its wake across the Northern Desert is unspeakable. Mobei-Jun and his family, their allied clans, and pretty much all demons in the Northern Desert have had to flee.

Mobei-Jun is currently essentially a “guest” of the Sha Clan. He’s homeless. He’s lost the power of his ancestors. He’s a “king” without a kingdom. It’s humiliating. He needs to kill the abyssal creature to retrieve: his title, his ancestors’ power, and his kingdom.

While working for other demon clans to support his family and people, Mobei-Jun crosses paths with Airplane. Airplane has become a relatively successful merchant and inventor, and he calls himself Shang Houhua. He lives a very comfortable life and does his best to ignore anything resembling the plot. He’s pretty successful at ignoring the plot.

Mobei-Jun is never in a good mood these days, but he’s especially pissed off to see that human who abandoned him all those years ago. Airplane tries to argue that Mobei-Jun told him to fuck off, but Mobei-Jun is too angry. Airplane makes lots of offers in an effort to get Mobei-Jun to spare his life, one of which ends up being a claim that he can help Mobei-Jun kill the Emperor of the Abyss and make him a king again. Mobei-Jun pauses, now even more pissed off than before, and Airplane just starts babbling desperately to save his own skin.

Mobei-Jun was already forming a company to take on a Quest for the Northern Desert - in the hopes of slaying the Emperor of the Abyss and retaking his homeland. Part of the issue has been that forming the company is difficult. Mobei-Jun wants people who are loyal to HIM and ONLY to him. He won’t owe anyone else anything or promise them pieces of his homeland.

(Airplane is like, “Bro, I don’t know if you can afford to be so picky, but okay.”)

So Mobei-Jun is like… “I still want to kill you, but fine, you can come on our quest and help us.”

So Airplane ends up on the Quest for the Northern Desert, led by his very angry future murderer the “king without a kingdom” Mobei-Jun, to fight the calamitous Emperor of the Abyss who killed Mobei-Jun’s father. Fuck.

Some details beyond this opening premise:

Airplane and Mobei-Jun fall in love over the course of the quest, obviously. They have their own hijinks like each chapter of The Hobbit (equivalents to the trolls, to Rivendell, to Goblintown, to Beorn, to Mirkwood, and to Laketown, etc.). 

Oh, damn, I just realized that making a pre-fall Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang the Beorn equivalents would be so fucking funny.

The Emperor of the Abyss is a horrifying Smaug equivalent. It can totally talk because Airplane having a conversation with a draconian horror sounds incredible. I would love to have Airplane outwit the Emperor of the Abyss in some fashion.

Mobei-Jun and Airplane somehow manage to successfully kill the Emperor of the Abyss together. Like, together. Probably using some plot device whipped up or some clever plan devised by Airplane on his feet. Mobei-Jun trusts Airplane at a crucial moment and it all works out. Airplane actually gets Mobei-Jun his kingdom back.

I’m tempted to just skip over the Ring and not having a Ring equivalent. BUT if I made this into a longfic instead of a one-shot, I would have a Ring equivalent (if it was a one-shot, I would ditch the Ring equivalent). I think I would make Xin Mo the One Ring equivalent. During the Goblintown equivalent event, Airplane falls either into the Eternal Abyss or into Bing-Ge’s dimension, where he proceeds to successfully take up Xin Mo because he knows the trick and portal himself out of the Eternal Abyss, or he proceeds to outwit Bing-Ge in some fashion and uses the Xin Mo sword to portal himself back to the right dimension.

So then Airplane is stuck with this super powerful sword that he doesn’t want to use again because he KNOWS that it will fuck him up. He KNOWS that it will FUCK HIM UP. So Airplane has to go through the rest of the quest ignoring the temptation of the Xin Mo sword that he is absolutely not supposed to have and can’t possibly let anyone else have.

(Oh, man, imagining the influence of Xin Mo giving Airplane extra horny thoughts about Mobei-Jun on the rest of the quest is very funny. Like, Airplane was already hot for Mobei-Jun, but now it’s worse and he might never have a normal thought ever again.)

Bagginshield Movie Hug when Airplane turns up again, for sure. Mobei-Jun thought he was dead. Mobei-Jun smiles and everything, until he remembers to frown again.

I’m feeling like I don’t want Airplane to use Xin Mo to help defeat the Emperor of the Abyss, but it makes sense if he does. Him not using it doesn’t make much sense. I do like the idea of Airplane dealing the killing blow and Mobei-Jun’s pride being hurt by Airplane being the one to kill it. I also like the idea of Mobei-Jun being a little smitten by Airplane just… loyally handing him his kingdom and restoring the power of his ancestors. I also really like the idea of Airplane just… not having some super powerful plot device up his sleeve on the quest.

Like, instead of Airplane’s Author God knowledge totally setting him up to deal with this thing no problem, Airplane had NO FUCKING PLAN when he set out with Mobei-Jun. He was talking completely out of his ass when he said he knew how to help Mobei-Jun. That this all worked out at all is almost completely due to luck and improvisation.

That feels MUCH more true to both Shang Qinghua and to Bilbo Baggins. Lucky lads of fast-talking, complaining, lying, not knowing what the fuck is really going on, thirsting after kings with tragic backstories, and somehow not dying despite winging it all the time.

Instead of goldsickness, Mobei-Jun is forced to deal with some side-effects of consuming the Emperor of the Abyss to regain the power of his ancestors. (Demon cannibalism rituals. Yeah.) He starts acting really scary and out-of-character and forceful, until Airplane loses his nerve and runs away. Maybe under the influence of the late Emperor of the Abyss, Mobei-Jun actually tries to kill him? I could see Mobei-Jun trying to kill Airplane for the Xin Mo sword which dealt the finishing blow on the Emperor of the Abyss.

(I need a better name for this thing. If I can’t come up with something that actually sounds good, I might just call it “The Calamity”, but that’s giving me BOTW vibes so I don’t like it. Maybe I’d call it “The Desolation” or something? Ehhhh, I don’t really like that either.)

I want to have a Battle of the Five Armies equivalent, if only so Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang can swoop in as benevolent helpers as the Beorn equivalents. Currently, I’m seeing three options. 1) The orc army equivalent are neighboring demon lords who want to strike while the new Mobei-Jun is getting established. 2) The orc army equivalent is Linguang-Jun trying to kill his nephew and take power at the last minute. 3) The orc army equivalent is Bing-Ge here with an army and he’s pissed off and wants his sword back.

On one hand, 1 and 2 would be SO MUCH EASIER to pull off. I could be really lazy about the whole thing. On the other hand, 3 would be much fresher (more surprising and links back to the Xin Mo element), more challenging and the idea of pre-fall Tianlang-Jun facing off with Bing-Ge delights me. Kick his ass, Tianlang-Jun!

(Su Xiyan gets involved? My brain says YES. Kick his ass, Su Xiyan!)

Also, I was sad about there being no Fili and Kili equivalents, because Mobei-Jun has no friends, and I’ll have to make up a company pretty much from scratch. (Sha Hualing is too young and Luo Binghe hasn’t been born yet.) BUT then I was like, “Where’s Linguang-Jun in all this?” And I would absolutely have Linguang-Jun be a part of Mobei-Jun’s Company. Instead of nephews, Mobei-Jun has a sketchy uncle who might be trying to kill him. Keeping Linguang-Jun out of it might be easier, but actually doing some character-building with him sounds fun and challenging, and I’d rather limit the number of OCs if possible.

Mobei-Jun manages to shake off the goldsickness equivalent somehow, probably through “the power of love” (and/or straight-up “dual cultivation” with Airplane?). Moshang makes up while Mobei-Jun is apparently mortally wounded from fighting Bing-Ge and Airplane thinks this is all his fault. But Mobei-Jun doesn’t die! It’s all good!  

It’d be pretty funny if there was a “Returning to the Shire” equivalent where Airplane leaves because he thinks Mobei-Jun hates him now and never wants to see him again. So then Mobei-Jun has to track his man down like, “Get back here and marry me. (Also I am so sorry for trying to kill you. Please forgive me. I hate myself so much for that.)”

And they all live happily ever after!

Holy shit, this wasn’t in Proud Immortal Demon Way.

#svsss hobbit fusion au #tossawary updates #tossawary svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #comfort media fusion aus #fic ideas

[lazyliars]

The Quackity Meta: Justice without the Blindfold

[Anonymous asks: (DSMP) Somebody talk to me about Quackity and Eret’s character. I wanna talk about what Quackity’s views on power are with what he’s planning to do with Sam along with whatever he saw in the egg. I wanna talk about why Eret thinks reviving Wilbur is the best option for the sever to lead and their views on what a leader should be with them being the king of the Dream SMP. I wanna talk about Quackity planning to create a casino for the server to rise to the top. What does it mean to be king?]

[/rp. All mentions of dream smp members should be assumed as referencing the character, not the cc, unless specifically stated otherwise.]

At the heart of every conflict, if you look closely enough, you will find a similarity. Two contrasting ideals will reveal their own likeness, in the stage they play out their war – they both fight for the same result; to be known and followed and asserted, and in this they are the same. There would be no conflict if both sides shared nothing in common.

Lets talk about Quackity.

We'll gloss over a good deal of Quackity's history to get to the meat of this discussion, which involves Technoblade. But there are a a few lesser known facts about Quackity's early days on the server that are relevant to the discussion, like  that Quackity joined the server because of Tommy.

Namely, he joined for The Cartel, a short-lived organization comprised of him, Tommy, Tubbo and Jack Manifold, and their aims of obtaining power over the entire server by getting a monopoly on one object, the Phantom Membrane.

(Trivia: This is why Technoblade had to strike a deal with Tommy for the membranes – Phantoms are turned off on the Dream SMP now, so their monopoly actually ended up working. (Un)fortunately, Tommy traded nearly his whole supply for the priceless act of... making Techno scream really loud and talk in a funny voice. Worth it.)

However, Tommy's interest in the Cartel waned almost immediately, to Quackity's frustration. Tommy was constantly busy with his Vice Presidential duties in L'manberg. Quackity wasn't entirely left out, and he helped Tommy on multiple occaisions, but this was back in Wilbur's L'manberg, where non-europeans were strictly banned.

Quackity would slowly come to resent Tommy for this over time. He joined the server to be with him, took his side in nearly every conflict, including the ones that were L'manberg-oriented, and yet he wasn't allowed to be a citizen of his friend's own nation.

The resentment would reach a boiling point when Quackity discovered Wilbur's bid to consolidate power by running a sham election – with a one party system. Quackity challenged him, formed Swag 2020, and the rest is history...

The takeaway here is that from the start, Quackity has been shunted aside by people in power – Tommy, Wilbur, and then later, Schlatt. This wouldn't prevent him from executing his own immoral power grabs, but that trait – the distaste for people with power holding it over him, is one that would stick around, and become even more prominent later... Quackity has more reason than most to hate tyranny.

But “Tyranny” Is a word thrown around on the SMP often enough, that it's probably up there with “betrayal” and “pop-off” in total wordcount. But few use it more commonly, or more persuasively, than Quackity and Technoblade.

This begs the question: what is Tyranny in a M/inec/raft role play, and why do Quackity and Technoblade both detest it so much while still hating each other?

Well, after a moderate amount of research, I have discovered the following:

Tyranny is complicated.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

...No, but really. Tyranny is very old concept. The words originates in, you guessed it, Ancient Greece, but conceptually, the idea goes waaaay back.

Now, that last thing I wanna do is give anyone a history lesson. I'd suck at it and I haven't done that much research. But the takeaway here is that “Tyranny” has come to be defined in fairly vague terms. We'll look at a few different ones in reference to the SMP.

Oxford dictionary defines a Tyrant as: A cruel and oppressive ruler. / a person exercising power or control in a cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary way. / (especially in ancient Greece) a ruler who seized power without legal right.

Lets look at the first and last definitions:  A cruel and oppressive ruler; (especially in ancient Greece) a ruler who seized power without legal right.

By these definitions, one could call Quackity tyrannical during his term as Tubbo's VP. He exercises the power granted to him as a government official to spearhead an operation to execute a man without trial. He violently invades the home of a citizen and then puts said man on house arrest, and to subdue the target of this operation he threatens a pet (-a vague but ostensibly severe criminal act in the terms of m/inec/raft specifically-) and then reveals to Techno that the reason he's doing this actually has nothing to do with the crime Techno was accused of, and it is instead a ploy to consolidate power.

Quackity is leveraging his position in the government to amass power, and using that power to harm individuals (Philza and Techno,) in process. As an added bonus, his position in that government came from usurping Schlatt, a legitimately elected official. Thus, Quackity is a Tyrant.

But there, in Schlatt's government is where things get complicated.

Quackity had some power in Schlatt's government. Not the same kind as he did in New L'manberg, but arguably a more unrestrained form – Quackity could basically do whatever he wanted, as long as it pleased Schlatt. In New L'manberg, Quackity needed to convince not only Tubbo, but the rest of the cabinet whenever he wanted to initiate a new project. New L'manberg, while still maintaining a ruling class, had a far more equal distribution of power than Manberg did. It was still democratic.

And while we're on the topic of Quackity as Schlatt's VP, Quackity had almost instant regret the day of the election. He was undermining Schlatt from the start, questioning him, trying to stop Tubbo from breaking the signs that read “if you break this sign, you hate your viewers” and freeing Niki when Schlatt trapped her in Jack Manifold's house and then whispering at her to run.

Quackity only fell into step with Schlatt in the aftermath of Election day, when he saw a major desire fulfilled; the tearing down of L'manberg's walls. These walls were a symbol of L'manberg's isolationist roots that prevented Quackity from joining in the first place. It was one of his biggest promises whilst campaigning.

From this point on, up until the festival, Quackity would be in support of Schlatt. The things he did try to push back on would be downplayed and ignored, if not scorned. This period of time is difficult to pick apart where Quackity's personal morals and ideals begin, and Schlatt's influence ends. The steadily worsening abusive dynamic between them doesn't help this vagueness, either.

I point this out because I've seen people conflate Quackity's abuse at the hands of Schlatt, and his willingness to participate in Schlatt's rule as being of the same root; implying that Quackity only followed Schlatt because he was in an abusive relationship with him, when the reality is far more complicated. Yes, their relationship was a major factor in Quackity's actions, but downplaying his ambition and willingness to accept Schlatt's Tyranny when it helped him realize his own goals does a disservice to the nuance of Manberg-era Quackity.

What all of this points to is an individual who has a strong, some might say defining sense of Justice, yet also a susceptibility to Temptation. Quackity’s experiences with disenfranchisement by Wilbur and Tommy, coupled with his Dark horse victory in the election paints him in a sympathetic, even heroic light. But the way he slowly relinquished more and more power to Schlatt, and ended up indulging in the fruits of tyrannical gains when they proved they could get him what he wanted.

...

So, back to the question... Is Quackity a tyrant?

The answer to that question is a solid “mmmmaaaybe??”

It comes back to what you consider Tyranny. Quackity has never held complete power – he has always, always been scrapping and struggling and fighting to get a foothold in the machinations of the truly powerful, like Dream and Wilbur. He's very much an underdog story.

On the other hand, the times that Quackity has held positions of power, he's done some questionable shit. People like to forget that, while he was deeply disturbed by it, he wasn't exactly against Tubbo's execution at the festival. Putting Phil on house arrest and executing Techno without trial also count against him.

Like most things on the SMP, it's just complicated. Quackity's motivations run deep and aren't always obvious. He doesn't seem to want to hurt people just for the sake of hurting them, or use his power in arbitrary ways, but when he can personally justify it, the sacrifice of his moral integrity gets severe sometimes.

What it looks like is that more than anything else, Quackity wants control, and to never, ever lose his own autonomy. That is also why he despises Technoblade.

...And here we are at the Technoblade part of this meta, AKA the MASSIVE BULK OF THIS ANALYSIS. Which you can read HERE, because it’s too long to fit in just this one post.

#Dream SMP #Quackity #Tommyinnit #Wilbur Soot #Jschlatt #Technoblade #Dream smp analysis #lazytext #long post

[jadelotusflower]

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.  

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014.  But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen?  Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?  

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak).  And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination.  How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

[galaxyofmyown]

can you do hotch with a reader with an age gap? maybe something to do with the song “dont stand so close to me” from the police

hello darling! here you go. i obviously aged the song up so she’s in higher education so as to not make her younger than 25 which is my usual rule of thumb. enjoyyyyyyyy! xo

aaron hotchner x reader - just a number

young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy

Aaron needs to stop letting himself get roped into this kind of thing. He’s much better suited for sitting behind a desk than standing in front of a classroom. But here he was anyway, at Virginia Commonwealth University, guest-lecturing for a Professional Ethics and Liability class. The professor was a friend of his from his prosecutor days and he owed her a favor. 

Despite Hotch’s general confidence surrounding his career, public speaking is not one of his favorite things. But he’s gotten good at faking it over the years, so his voice carries throughout the lecture hall confidently. There couldn’t be more than 30 people in the room considering the class was only open for people pursuing an M.S. in Criminal Justice. Perhaps this is why his eyes kept wandering back to you. Sitting third row left, dutifully taking notes.

At first, there didn’t seem to be anything special about you. Sure, you were beautiful, but all the girls in the lecture hall were objectively good looking. You weren’t even dressed to impress, lounging in your seat with leggings and a big sweatshirt on. But you had a wiser-than-your-years air about you, and you seemed extremely interested in the subject matter. Hotch couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t tear his gaze away every time you wrapped your lips around the straw of your iced coffee. His interest in you nagged at him. You couldn’t possibly be older than 25. He’d never felt so attracted to someone so young before. Although not explicitly wrong, it did conflict with his personal morals.

she wants him so badly, knows what she wants to be

Yeah, you had a crush on Aaron Hotchner. Despite having only known of his existence for about an hour and 45 minutes, you were under his spell. He’s more charming and well-spoken than most of your professors, and they do this shit for a living. The way he carries himself, the way he moves his hands when gesturing to the screen. It was… hot. But it was more than that. He was smart and competent and his credentials were certainly impressive. And you weren’t the only one to notice. There were many people in your class that looked as interested in him as you felt.

“That’s all I have for you today. Does anybody have any questions?” Hotchner asks the PowerPoint goes black. A few people raise their hands, including yourself. You actually do have a question, but you’re filled with nerves as he looks at you.

“Yes, you in the third row. What’s your name?” He asks. You feel hot. 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), sir.” God, he hates that you called him that. Or rather, he hates how much he loves it. You ask your question about how attorney allocations often lead to unjust decisions in court. Agent Hotchner smiles as you speak, causing one girl to turn to you and roll her eyes. Oops?

her friends are so jealous, you know how bad girls get  sometimes it's not so easy to be the teacher's pet

“That’s a great question, (Y/N).” Hotchner says (earning you eye roll #2) before spouting off an answer, which you scribbled down in your notebook. He answers a few more questions, and you notice that he didn’t ask anyone else for their name. But that doesn’t mean anything right? As your professor joins Agent Hotchner in the front to thank him for speaking, you realize that you’re never going to see this man again.

And frankly, that’s unacceptable.

You need to say something to him before he leaves, so you stay in your seat as the other students either leave or walk up to talk to Professor Ramirez or Hotchner. Many students are attempting to mask their blatant flirtation with a question, which, like, power to them, but you still felt the distant and unfamiliar sting of jealousy. You don’t miss the way the Agent keeps looking at you, however, which fuels your barely existent confidence. You walk up to Hotchner right after the last student leaves, and boldly stick your hand out. He shakes it and the warmth of his hand seems to move through your entire body.

“It’s (Y/N), correct?” He asks. You nod.

“That’s correct, Agent.” Hotchner smiles at you.

“Please, you can call me Hotch.” He says.

“Alright, Hotch. I just wanted to say that it’s great to meet you. An honor, really.” “It’s great to meet you too.” He says, and if you didn’t know better you would say his tone was FLIRTATIOUS, “Are you interested in working for the FBI?” He asks and you can’t help but laugh.

“God, no.” You say, which makes him raise an eyebrow.

“No?”

“Sorry, sir, no offense, but I really don’t trust the government enough to work for them.” You say, and try to contain your smile when he laughs.

“Fair enough. So what is it you want to be doing?”

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t laugh at me-”

“I would never laugh at you.” He interrupts, and you smile.

“Okay, then. I want to be a private investigator.” Hotch looks surprised, but he nods in approval.

“I can respect that. Although you’ll make plenty of enemies that way.”

“Hm. That’s okay with me. I have a lot of friends.”

“So you’ll strike a balance.”

“Exactly.”

You stand in front of him for a second, calculating your next move.

“Is there something you needed to ask me?” He asks, looking into your eyes. You almost chicken out, but then-

“Yes, actually. Um, this is a bit weird, and I’ve never done this before, but… would you maybe want to get dinner with me sometime?” You ask, forcing yourself not to break eye contact. Hotch’s face remains controlled, and you can’t gauge his reaction.

temptation, frustration, so bad it makes him cry

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). You’re lovely and seem like a great person, but I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He says, and you deflate (although you try not to show it). Trying not to cry from embarrassment, you smile at him and nod.

“I understand, Agent. Have a good night!” You say, staying as positive as possible. Hotch looks at you with pity, which is the last thing you need.

“I really am sorry, (Y/N).” He says.

“Don’t be. Have a good night.” You say, and you’re out the door before he can respond.

You walk to the exit and groan when you see that it’s pouring rain outside.

“Shit.” You say, digging around in your bag for your umbrella, but you can’t find it anywhere.

“Fuck.”

Usually, you’d walk to your apartment from school, but you can barely see the street in front of you with all the rain. You jog over to the bus stop and nearly collapse onto the seat, ignoring everyone around you. Today sucks.

wet bus stop, she's waiting, his car is warm and dry

Hotch pulled out of his reserved parking space carefully. He’s glad he thought to take an umbrella today. He turns up the heat in his car and breathes in the warm air. He can’t stop thinking about you. Was he an idiot for turning you down? It felt like the right thing to do, but now he just feels stupid. He groans as he pulls up at a stoplight. Driving through Richmond at night and in this weather was going to be a nightmare. He looks to his right and sees you, soaking wet and miserable. God. He’s pulling the car over before he can even weigh his options. There’s no way he was going to make you take the bus this late without any protection. He rolled down his window.

“(Y/N)!” He called, startling you. You look up, your expression a mix of hopefulness and embarrassment.

“Yeah?” You ask tentatively. Hotch falters for a moment, then says,

“I can drive you home.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay I’ll just-”

“I’m worried about you. Get in if you want. It’s really no problem.” 

You hesitate, and Hotch can practically hear your conflicting thoughts. But you get in the car nonetheless, and holy shit. He has heated seats.

“Thank you.” You say as you close the door. You immediately feel better, the warmth of the car soothing you, the leather seats making you feel less guilty for being soaked in this obviously expensive car.

“It’s no problem. Where should I go?”

You give him directions, his rumbling voice and soft demeanor making you feel so comfortable. The drive only takes 5 minutes, and suddenly you wish you lived farther away.

“It’s this one.” You say, and he parallel parks flawlessly. Hot.

“I’ll walk you up.” He says, reaching for his seatbelt. You put your hand over his before he can unclick it, and he looks up at you.

“Don’t please. I’ll be fine.” You rush out, not eager for him to see the inside of your shabby apartment building. He relents, but before you can pull your hand away he grabs it, softly stroking it with his thumb. It’s an awkward angle, but it makes your heart race nonetheless.

“Hotch?” You ask quietly, and he’s pulled out of his trance. He pulls his hand away and turns back to face the front.

“Sorry. Uh, good night.” He says, and you sigh.

“I’m 25, Hotch. I have a full-time job-”

“(Y/N)-”

“No. Let me say this, please. I have a full-time job and I’m taking night classes for my Master’s. I have my own insurance. I can vote, drink, rent a car. My brain is fully developed. You aren’t my boss. You aren’t my professor. You’re just a guy. I’m just a girl. It’s that simple. If you aren’t interested just say that and I’ll get out right now. But if this is about my age, or your age, then I think you’re making a mistake.” You say, your voice growing stronger with each word. Hotch looks at you, but his guard isn’t up this time. You know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Kiss me, Hotch.” You say. Hotch smiles.

“Call me Aaron.”

“Okay, how many times are you gonna change your name because-”

Aaron pulls you to him before you can finish your thought. His lips are softer than you expected, and he kisses like a guy with 20 years more experience than you. And it’s amazing.

“Wow.” You say as he pulls away. He presses his forehead against yours, and he’s full-on grinning now.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to your door?” He asks, and you can’t help it: You giggle like a schoolgirl.

don't stand so close to me

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 38: The Wandering Soul

Chapter 37

Read on AO3

Jenny crossed the threshold with a basket of wash, Maggie and Kitty trailing behind. Kitty was dragging her feet and groaning.

“Why doesn’t Brianna have tae help wi’ the wash?” she whined.

“Because Brianna isna my bairn, and she’ll do what yer Auntie says,” Jenny said simply. “And she had chores to do while ye were gallivanting all over the grounds on yer horse wi’ yer Da. Today is her turn tae be wi’ her horse.”

Kitty kicked a pebble with her big toe, grunting in annoyance.

“I like helping wi’ the wash, Mam,” Maggie piped up. “Especially on a fine day like this.”

“Och, shut yer gab!” Kitty rolled her eyes.

“Oi! None o’ that talk!” Jenny smacked Kitty upside the head with her free hand.

Kitty rubbed the back of her head and stuck her tongue out at Maggie, who was more than happy to return the gesture, however daintily.

“Come on, lass. Get the stool.”

Kitty obliged, not without kicking another pebble.

Jenny constantly had to remind Kitty to stay put, stopping her from harassing the goats and chickens or from wandering down the road and into the woods. She got away somehow -- again, leaving Jenny to call after her.

“Mam!” her little voice answered. “There’s a man comin’ up the road!”

Jenny’s throat went dry, and she dropped the sark she was scrubbing and rushed toward the grand archway. “A Redcoat, Kitty?”

“Nae! It’s a great big man, and he looks dirty!”

“Come here to me this instant,” Jenny called, and Kitty’s sandy head soon reappeared, bounding back to her mother. Jenny firmly seized her hand and dragged her back into the front yard. “See why it isna safe to be roaming around alone? See why ye must do as ye’re told?”

“What does he want, Mam?” Maggie asked.

“He’s giant, Maggie. Maybe he wants tae eat ye!” Kitty splashed Maggie with the water in the tub, eliciting a little squeal from her. “He’s got hair like fire, and he’s tall as a tree!”

Jenny felt her blood run cold.

“Brianna’s got hair like fire,” Maggie said haughtily. “And she’s never wanted tae eat anybody, ye numpty.”

Kitty giggled madly as if she were planning on announcing to her cousin that she must have been a goblin all along.

“Enough,” Jenny said shortly. “Back tae work. If he comes to us, I’ll deal wi’ him.”

Jenny was doing quite a poor job of hiding how her fingers trembled.

There are other redheaded men in Scotland, Janet. Redheaded men that are alive.

Yer brother is dead.

She briefly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then scoffed at her own stupidity, having gotten soapy water on her face.

She heard the sound of footsteps crunching up the road, getting closer and closer. She did her best to ignore them, to not appear as if she were ready to welcome a strange visitor without the menfolk nearby.

“Jenny.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she swore she stopped breathing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, and her hands froze in the water.

“He kens ye, Mam?” Maggie said in a small, frightened voice.

Jenny looked up from the washtub, and she screamed.

“Ma? Ma, what’s wrong?”

“Ma! Who is he?”

The girls were a cacophony of noise, tugging on her skirt.

“Thig an Diabhal a mhallachadh sinn!” Jenny cried, crossing herself several times. “Inside, girls, inside! Now!”

“But Ma!”

“Now, Katherine!” Maggie said, tugging on her sister’s hand, and they clambered up the steps, Kitty asking questions all the while.

“Begone!” Jenny shrieked. “We dinna welcome evil spirits in this home! Begone at once!”

“Janet -- ”

“Don’t ye dare say my name! I willna be Satan’s hoor!”

“Can’t ye see I’m flesh and blood?”

“Dinna come any closer!” Jenny lifted the washboard from the tub and held it over her shoulder, water dripping and all, poised to strike. She was aware of the absurdity of waiting to strike at a spirit, but every instinct in her could not listen to reason. “I rebuke Satan! We dinna want ye here!”

“It’s alright, a piuthar…” His voice was too soft, too sweet, too soothing. Too real.

Too Jamie.

“No!” Jenny shrieked, angry, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. “Enough! I’ll no’ bend to ye! I won’t!”

“I didna die, Jenny. I ken what ye’ve been told. All lies to keep ye safe. I’m home now. D’ye see?”

Jenny let out a fierce, high-pitched growl, hurling the washboard at him, which he sidestepped with ease as he moved closer to her.

“Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

“It’s really me, Jenny. I swear it. I’ve come home.”

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth -- Stop! Get away!” She was fully sobbing now, fully terrified, so deep in denial that even if it were true, she wasn’t sure she would ever accept it.

“Let me touch ye, sister. Let yerself feel that I’m no more than a mortal man.” He reached out with trembling hands.

“...as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our tresspasses…”

“Jenny…”

“As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation…”

Dinna be tempted. It canna be true. It canna be true…

He was only arms’ length from her now.

“Jenny.”

“And deliver us from evil…”

His hand came to rest on her cheek, and she shrieked again.

“Janet!” he cried, very abruptly seizing her shoulders and shaking her violently, nearly lifting her off the ground, Jenny screaming all the while.

She stood on her toes, held firmly in place by it, whatever it was, frozen in terror. She couldn’t stop herself, could not resist the temptation to look in his eyes, her soul be damned.

“Christ…” she breathed.

No spirit could hold such depth in its eyes as her brother. No spirit could ever replicate their mother’s soul so completely.

It’s him.

“It canna be...It canna…”

“ ’Tis, Jenny. It’s me.”

She shook her head, her mouth flapping uselessly as her eyes watered again rapidly.

“It’s...very fine to see ye again, Janet.”

“You bloody bastard!” Jenny howled, her rage completely overshadowed by the guttural sobs of relief tearing through her. “Where in God’s name have ye been…? What the Devil d’ye mean just...just showin’ up here like this…?”

Jamie did not answer her. Instead, he crushed her to him and buried his face in the crown of her head. Despite herself, Jenny clung to the fabric of his shirt and buried her face in his chest.

“Damn you, Jamie...God bloody damn you…”

Jamie hushed her and held her tighter, whispering Gaelic into her hair.

She suddenly tensed in his arms. “My God...My God…”

Jamie released her immediately, pushing her away and gripping her shoulders, looking her desperately in the eye. “Where is she?” 

Apparently he’d read her mind.

“She’s here, brother, she’s here...my God…” Her voice caught in her throat.

“I need to see her, Jenny.” His voice was tight and rough, his grip on her shoulders nearly bruising her.

Jenny nodded wordlessly and dashed off, nearly certain she was not running in a straight line.

“Claire!”

——

And then there she was.

She was even more beautiful than the image he’d conjured of her, even more beautiful than the angel that graced his dreams every night.

He watched as every possible thought and emotion danced over that glass face, and he thought his heart would burst.

“Will ye no’ say anything?” Jenny shoved her, but she remained rigid as wood, unblinking.

“It’s me, Claire.” It was difficult enough to breathe at the sight of her, let alone to speak.

She finally moved, however minutely; perhaps only he even noticed. Her chest spasmed, and her chin began trembling.

“I’ve come home to ye.”

She made a terrifying sound, and collapsed like a sack of grain, and whatever little was in his stomach leapt into his throat.

“Christ!” Jenny cried, dropping to her knees beside her. Before she could even blink, Jamie was upon her, scooping Claire into his arms, leaving Jenny to scramble to her feet, hiking her skirts and taking long strides to keep up with him. He stomped through the halls, right into the parlor. Jamie laid her limp form gently on the sofa, kneeling beside her on the floor.

“I dinna ken what ye expected!” Jenny said, exasperated. “Ye may very well have shocked her to her death!”

“Don’t. Say that.” Jamie burned his eyes intensely into Jenny. She blanched, feeling her face and neck getting hot.

“I…I’m sorry, brother…I only meant…”

“I ken what ye meant,” he said quickly, though less aggressive.

“I’ll…I’ll get her some water.”

Jamie nodded, returning his gaze to Claire. He looked down at his hands, suddenly very aware that they were touching her. Her. The real Claire. He removed his hands, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation. They hovered over her face, ghosting over her features, afraid to touch her. 

When he no longer felt like he would lose consciousness, he willed his violently trembling hands to move closer to her face. He swore he was lit afire as the very tips of his fingers came in contact with her skin again. He raked his fingertips down her cheeks, reverently, as if she were the Holy Mother of God herself. Still shaking fiercely, he willed his hands to cup her cheeks, ever-so-gently caressing her sweet face. He let his thumbs swipe over her eyelids, desperate to see them open, looking back at him with the same hunger that was in his eyes as he looked at her.

There was dirt on her forehead from her fall, and he gently wiped it with his thumb, smoothing her hair with his other hand. She suddenly whimpered, and his heart leapt into his throat. He dared not speak, lest he frighten her out of her wits again before she even opened her eyes. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed at first, but they quickly came into focus, and then widened. He heard her breath catch in her throat.

“You’re real…” she whispered.

“So are you,” he answered.

“You…they said…you’re dead…”

“I’ll explain it all…right now I…” Claire struggled to push herself into a sitting position, and Jamie helped her. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, removing his hands from her. “I dinna mean to presume…”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Presume…?”

“Well I…I want to touch ye of course…but only if ye want me to.”

Her chin trembled again. “I do.”

He took her hands in his; they were shaking as fiercely as his. “I want…” he stammered, pausing to lick his lips in hesitation. “I would very much like to kiss you.” Claire thought her heart would explode. “But only if ye want me to.”

She exhaled sharply, and he could taste her breath. “I do.”

Both of their lips now trembled like their hands. They hovered over each other, feeling the vibration of each other’s lips, but still not touching.

“I havnae done this in a very long time,” Jamie breathed. Claire finally closed the distance, and her stomach felt like liquid fire. They could each feel the other’s tears slipping onto their cheeks. The kiss deepened, only slightly so, before they pulled apart to look in each other’s eyes.

“I’ve dreamed of you for so long…” Claire’s voice hitched, and she swallowed thickly. Touching him, holding him, kissing him…it was enough for her to lose herself completely in the bliss of it all. But the realization of exactly what this meant was starting to come to her, and she blinked rapidly, her chin trembling.

“I mourned you…for eight years…” She shook her head, her eyes widening in a mix of horror and astonishment. “You were dead…we had a bloody funeral for you! We grieved you for eight fucking years…I…I buried my heart in that empty coffin…I raised…oh God…”

“Claire…” he groaned desperately. She was breaking his heart.

“There is a headstone with your name on it! I sat in front of it and talked to it like you were there…but you weren’t even there because they wouldn't give us your body…your body…and all this time you…Oh God!” 

Her hands balled into tight fists, grasping the collar of his shirt, shaking him furiously.

“Where have you been?” she spat. “I have been your widow for eight fucking years…” She opened her mouth to say more, to scream, admonish him, but the only sound that came out was a wretched, miserable sob. Her fists loosened and trembling fingers spread over his chest, pressing her palms into him.

“Claire…oh, Claire…” His hands hovered over her uselessly, entirely unsure of what he should be doing.

“Oh, hold me…” Claire sobbed. “Hold me, Jamie. Please.”

He obeyed immediately, enveloping her in his strong arms. Rather than Jamie getting onto the sofa with her, she ended up slipping to the floor beside him, melting into his embrace. She buried her face in his chest, weeping freely into his shirt. He held her as tightly as he possibly could without crushing her, caressing her beautiful, brown curls with one hand, pressing her head into him, desperate to feel closer to her than he already was. If he could fold her into himself permanently he was sure he’d do it.

“Jamie…Jamie…Jamie…” She whispered his name, over and over, as if to convince herself he was really there.

“I’m here, Claire…Oh, Claire…mo nighean donn…Claire…”

Neither of them kept track of how long they’d held onto each other, but they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Claire only partially moved, just her head so she could see. Jamie did not relinquish his hold on her.

“Glad to see ye’re awake, Claire,” Jenny said. “I’ve brought ye some water.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Claire said, her voice hoarse. Jamie suddenly felt her tense. She gently pushed herself out of his embrace so she could sit up to address her. “Jenny, keep the children outside. Tell Fergus to keep them busy. We just…need a moment, first.”

Jenny immediately understood her meaning, and she nodded vigorously. “Aye, I’ll do that.” And she was gone.

“Fergus? The lad is still here?” Jamie said.

“Yes. He…he calls me Maman now. He has for…a long time.” Claire eased herself onto the sofa, and Jamie followed, their hands not leaving each other all the while. “I did as I promised, Jamie. I raised him as my own...our own. Our boy.” Two lone tears trickled down her cheeks, smiling bittersweetly.

Jamie exhaled with a great shudder, another single tear escaping his eye as well. “I had no doubt ye’d be a fine mother, mo ghraidh.” He pushed her hair back, threading it through his fingers.

Her stomach flipped at his words, and she nodded. “Yes...which...I...” Her heart was bruising her ribcage. “Jamie…there’s something I need to tell you.”

Jamie’s hands immediately left her. “Ye remarried.”

“No.” Claire said firmly, frantically taking his hands back into hers. “No. Never.”

He sighed in relief. “Even when ye let me kiss you, I couldna be sure.” He kissed her again, possessively this time. “That was my greatest fear, ye ken.”

“I…I couldn’t. Not ever, Jamie. You are the love of my life, only you.”

“And you are mine.” He hungrily kissed her again.

She put a gentle hand on his chest, separating their lips. “But Jamie,” she continued, their faces so close she couldn’t even discern his features. “There is something I didn’t tell you. At Culloden.”

“What are ye talking about?”

“Something I knew would…would make you change your mind about sending me to Lallybroch.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself. She backed up only slightly so they could look into each other’s eyes when she said it. “I was — ”

“Mummy!”

Fuck.

Her scampering footsteps got louder and louder, and Claire scrambled to detach herself from Jamie, scooting several inches away.

“Claire, why’ve ye — ?” 

“Mummy!” Brianna appeared in the doorway to the parlor and immediately approached Claire at the sofa. “Oh, Mummy, I ken you didn’t want me going very fast, and I promise it wasna that fast, but Alastair got to a trot, and I promise Fergus didn’t let go the whole time, and the wind felt so lovely in my hair, and Alastair was so pleased, he was so very bored before when we were only walking, and — ”

“I am sorry, Maman.” Fergus appeared in the entryway, breathless. “I tried to keep her in the corral, but she was too excited, and she got away from me…” His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Jamie, his jaw falling slack.

“Fergus, tell Mummy it wasn’t really that fast, tell her! Tell her how I was a good girl and that’s why you let me go fast! Tell her, mon frère!”

Jamie very abruptly stood from the sofa, stumbling over it as he backed away from Claire and the child.

“Fergus!” Brianna started to panic. “Tell her!” She fretfully looked back at Claire. “Oh, Mummy, I’ll never do it again. I’m sorry. Please don’t be cross wi’ me.” But Claire wasn’t looking at Brianna; she couldn’t take her eyes off of Jamie, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Brianna. Brianna followed her mother’s gaze. “Mummy! Is that man a giant? Did he come from a faery hill?”

Too little too late, Claire returned her attention to Brianna. “Darling, why don’t you and Fergus — ”

“He has hair like mine! Copper, and gold, and auburn, and red, and cinnamon,” she sang the words, a silly song that Claire had invented. It had first come about when she was a baby, still afraid of the water and the soap. It was a list of the “ingredients” that went into her hair. It was just nonsense words strung together in a sing-song pattern, meant to keep her calm while she got clean. Claire had planned on forgetting it after a while, but it kept coming back for every bath thereafter, and now they sang it together, in the bath and even when Claire brushed her hair.

Jamie turned suddenly, knocking over the little table that Jenny had placed the water pitcher on, shattering it as he quickly strode out of the room.

“Jamie!” Claire stood up, terror seizing her heart. She threw a distressed look to Fergus, then hurried after Jamie. “Jamie! Stop!”

“Mummy! Are ye angry wi’ me?”

“Viens, Brianna. Now.”

“Jamie! Wait!” Claire followed him through the house and out the back entrance.

He stopped several feet away from the back door, his back to her, running his hand through his hair.

“Jamie…”

“Is that — ” He whirled around, pointing into the house. “That…Is she…”

“Yours, Jamie. Yes,” Claire said. “She’s your daughter.”

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The hand that was pointing at the house ran through his hair again. He began pacing, putting the pieces together. “You were…you were with child, at Culloden. Ye were carrying my child…”

“I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid!” Claire cried. “I was afraid you’d send me back through the stones to keep her safe, and I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t leave you!”

“The…the stones?” Jamie stammered. “The stones?”

“She’s safe here, Jamie! She always has been! We are both so much happier here than we ever could have been if you’d sent me back.”

“You…you lied to me?”

“No! I just…didn’t tell you…”

“That’s lying, Claire!” Jamie took several menacing steps toward her, pointing that finger again. “I canna believe…after what happened to Faith…ye gave up the chance to have yer modern medicines, ye risked yer life, and her life…my child’s life…”

“I know it was selfish! But I only regretted it one time, and only very briefly!” Claire’s voice threatened to break, so she paused, taking a breath and swallowing against the lump in her throat. “I never, ever thought of being happier in my own time with her,” she continued evenly, as calmly as she could muster. “I couldn’t leave Jenny, or Fergus. He needed me; you said he needed me to stay,” she reminded him pointedly. “My life at Lallybroch was just as much your idea as mine. She belongs here, and so do I. I’ve only ever once had cause to regret it.”

He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair yet again. “Why…what made ye regret it? Even the one time?”

“Her birth was difficult…almost deadly. But your sister saved both of our lives. And I am grateful to her every day.”

“As am I, but she wouldnae had to do it if ye’d kept yer promise to me!”

Every word he said was another blow to her chest, widening the crack in her heart.

“Aren’t you happy I’m here? That she is here? You would never see me again, you’d never even meet her if I’d gone back!” Her voice was rising dangerously, her throat searing with pain. “I never could have known you weren’t dead! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does! Ye dinna think I’ve been burning for ye every day these past eight years? Ye dinna think I thanked the Lord and every Saint above to see ye still standing on this Earth? And ye dinna think…” His voice caught in his throat. “My heart wasnae fit to burst when I saw that…that bonny wee lass, calling ye her mam…” Tears spilled down both his cheeks, and Claire felt splinters in her heart. “It’s…it’s almost too much to bear.”

Fresh tears sprang out of Claire’s eyes as well. She fought the urge to run to him, to close the space between them and take him in her arms and never let go. Instead, she hugged herself around the middle, wetting her lips before she spoke, calm and level.

“I…I’ve told her all about you. How brave and strong you were…or, are. How you fought for your clan and country. How you…how you protected her from Heaven, how you…” She breathed shakily. “How you had to leave us to be Faith’s father in Heaven.” Her voice broke, and Jamie looked like he could collapse. “That’s what I told her. That’s how I got her to understand how you couldn’t be with us and still love us as much as I said you did. You’re…you’re her hero, Jamie.”

Jamie sank to his knees, and Claire could not stop herself from rushing forward and gathering his shuddering frame in her arms.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he wept. “Please, forgive me. I dinna mean…it’s just…my heart…I canna bear it…”

“I know, Jamie, I know…” She was all the way up on her knees, and he was back on his haunches, leaning into her, so she was able to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Forgive me for betraying you all those years ago. It was never my intention. I just…I wanted you to be able to meet her if you survived.”

He gently pulled himself out of her embrace, rising to full height on his knees. “Forgiven.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her, sweetly, tenderly.

“All the times I imagined you coming back...none of them ended up like this.” Claire offered a weak smile, feeling foolish even as she said it.

“Aye...I’m sure my shock could rival yers at the moment.” His brows furrowed, and his gaze became far off as he slowly sank back on his haunches. Silently, they settled into the grass together, sitting side by side, holding each other.

“What are you thinking?” Claire said softly, looking up at his face, following the patterns of the protruding veins with concerned eyes.

He remained silent for another brief moment before answering. “I’m thinking that I canna imagine what I’ve done to deserve ye.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Claire sat up straighter, taking his face in her hands, holding on perhaps just a bit too tightly.

“All this time I’ve been...a shell of a man. My soul wandered aimlessly, reaching blindly fer any semblance of...of you. To come home to you, Sassenach, my wife, to see yer face and hear yer voice...Christ, I was grateful enough fer that.” His jaw hardened; he was struggling not to cry. “The pain I know I’ve caused ye these eight years...fer ye to take me in yer arms again is more than I deserve…”

“Jamie…”

“But to know that through it all...ye brought my child into this world, ye raised her, even in yer pain. Ye told her...about me.” He swallowed thickly, and another tear trickled down his cheek. “I dinna ken what I’ve done to be so blessed.”

Claire’s face screwed up with the effort of holding herself together. “Raising your child is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. She has saved me over and over. And I only have her because of you.” She pressed her forehead to his, and he sighed shakily again. “I told myself...before...that you were saving me from beyond the grave through your daughter. And I was so...so grateful for that.”

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, their tears mingling together on each other’s cheeks.

“No grave, Sassenach. I’m home now. To stay.”

Claire whimpered with a mixture of relief, disbelief, and fear -- fear that it was a vivid dream that would disappear any second.

“I mean to be yer husband again. And I mean to...to be a father to our child. If ye’ll have me...if she...will have me.”

“Of course. Of course we will have you.” Claire kissed him fervently, holding his face firmly in place for several seconds, only pulling away when she was sure she would faint again for lack of air.

“This is more than I’ve ever dreamed of,” she whispered.

“Aye. I could say the same.”

They smiled tearily at each other for a brief moment, before Jamie pulled her into his lap, cradling her like she was fragile as glass. They sat for a while in reverent silence, relishing in the strange familiarity of each other’s embrace.

[thetypedwriter]

Imaginary Friend Book Review

Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky Book Review 

This is undoubtedly the weirdest book I have ever read. 

You might be thinking… but, thetypedwriter you read fanfiction! This can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever read! Things like ABO universes exist!

You would think that, wouldn’t you?

But no. 

I shall endeavor to give you a spoiler free synopsis of the book first followed by my thoughts and criticism, but note that this is an endeavor for a reason. I have now explained this novel in depth to two different people, and both times I have found myself completely and irrevocably stuck on how to even begin, let alone end. 

With that forewarning, here we go. 

The novel surrounds a single mother and her young son moving to a small Pennsylvania town in order to escape the tragedies of their past that include the passing of her husband and her current abusive boyfriend. 

However, while things in their new home start out well-they find solutions to unemployment, poverty, the son’s dyslexia, etc, things start to go awry when Christopher, the son, is lured into the Mission Street Woods at the edge of town by a voice only he seems to be able to hear. 

As Christopher continues to listen to the voice in the form of a cloud, or a plastic bag, or even inside of his mind, he starts recruiting his friends to build a treehouse in the woods that will transport him to a different time and place. The voice, lovingly called the Nice Man, instructs him to finish the tree house by Christmas Day. 

Or else everyone will die. 

As Christopher struggles with newfound powers and responsibilities, coping with two different worlds, his mother struggles with her son’s sanity, the town struggles with anger, blame, and temptation, and what follows is the chaotic descent of a small town into the throes of good versus evil, love and loss, and most importantly, trying to differentiate what is real versus what is imaginary. 

In the simplest terms possible (a facetious statement if there ever was one), I thought this was going to be a thriller mystery book about a single mother and her young seven-year-old son Christopher leaving their home and her abhorrent abusive boyfriend in order to start a new life with hope and potential. 

And it….is? 

But it doesn’t stop there. Chbosky crams so many genres, themes, motifs, and messages into this book that when you think about it, it’s unsurprising that it’s over 700 pages long with the tiniest, most miniscule font I have ever had to squint at. 

However, make no mistakes like I did, this book is horror. 

Yup. You read that right folks, horror. 

To preface, and I might have mentioned this in another post for another book at some point, but I vehemently dislike horror of any kind. This extends to books, movies, shows, etc. 

I understand that horror is a great joy and pleasure for a vast amount of people and that it contains its own literary merit, tropes, and rules, and I can appreciate that for what it is from afar, but I personally take very little enjoyment from consuming anything horror related (I apologize to all the Stephen King fans out there in the world). 

I did not fully realize the extent to which this book was a true horror. 

This is entirely my own fault. I was very much blinded by the rosy colored glasses from college when I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Chbosky’s first and only other novel. 

Perks is wonderful. It is a tragic, yet fundamentally hopeful and loving bildungsroman that shows the beauty and the pain of growing up and accepting yourself. The movie with Emma Watson is what dreams are made of. 

I committed author fraud when I picked up Imaginary Friend based on the pure speculation that I would most likely like it since he had written Perks, a book I adored as both a reader and a teacher. 

I’ve warned readers against this in the past, but it seems like I should have taken my own advice: just because an author has written one good book or one book you like, does not automatically mean you will like their second book, or any of their other books for that matter. 

This cannot possibly ring more true for Stephen Chbosky, as not only are his two books completely different in narrative and structure, but also vastly different in genre and purpose. 

I should have stuck with my gut and realized that I probably wouldn’t like this book based off the synopsis, the genre, and yes, even the cover (it looks scary to me, okay?), but I said noooooo, it’s Chbosky, you have to read it!

And this is where we ended up. 

First of all, I didn’t hate the book. 

I can recognize that it is extremely well written, well crafted, and well developed. I can enjoy a slew of characters, and oh boy are there a multitude to pick from, and I can give credit where credit is due. 

Chbosky is a talented writer. There is no doubt in my mind about this. The way he crafts words, the way he plays with texture and space, and with fonts and sizes, is nothing less of sheer brilliance. 

He undoubtedly is also masterful at motifs, foreshadowing, and symbolism. Notably, there were so many recurring objects, colors, metaphors, and so on that were sprinkled out so consecutively and intentionally throughout the novel-some I didn’t even pick up until the end-that I was left reeling from how immensely talented and brilliant he is. 

Things like his use of baby teeth, blue moon, and fogs/clouds/mist struck me in particular. I know this seems like gibberish, but Chbosky truly came across as understanding what he wanted to portray and how he wanted to deliver it. 

However, the biggest compliment I can give to Chbosky is the sheer magnitude of his imagination and creativity. This book almost overwhelmed me through the use of ideas and concepts I had never really thought of before. 

Alternate dimensions? Check. 

Supernatural powers? Check. 

Incredible use of diction and figurative language? Check and check. 

Chbosky had so many wild and tantalizing beautiful turns of phrases, expressions, and descriptions that it left me with the same sort of gasping epiphany that Maggie Steifvater’s writing always leaves me with, the feelings that writing can be so utterly beautiful and compelling, that it can be all-consuming as well as never ending with its potential to stun, to create, and to warp to unique needs and purposes. 

It definitely was a reading experience quite like any other I’ve had. 

Be that because of the horror genre or because of Chbosky’s odd, yet addicting writing style and this has definitely become a book that left me more than a bit dumbfounded. Although I’ve sung its praises and admitted to my own faults at this point, this book isn’t without flaws. 

To me the horror genre itself is just not my cup of tea like I’ve stated. Strike number one. 

Second, the book was...abysmally long. Atrociously long. As I’ve also said before, I do not mind large books. In fact, big books when you’re reading something you love is a true blessing. Finding that fanfiction at 3am that hooks you immediately and you look up to see its 300k? Amazing. 

Starting a new book series that you fall in love with body and soul and realize you have several installments left in the series to gorge and devour? Ecstasy. 

Sloughing through a single book that starts to drag on and on repetitiously for what seems like forever? Borderline hell. 

This book could have been 300 pages shorter and still contained everything Chbosky wanted to accomplish. It could have had the same brilliant writing, messages, and motifs, but without all of the never-ending back and forth between worlds and battles that just kept popping up time and time again. The abominable length considering its content is strike two. 

Last, the ending was a bit of a cluster. At this point in the novel, so much is going on, you are being exposed to so many pov’s that it’s almost stress-inducing, and events taking place are cataclysmic and 10/10 on drama. Chbosky bit off more than he could chew here. 

The book choked itself at the end, which, after reading for 700 pages is not the feeling you want to have. The ending left me befuddled, disappointed, and also bereft of a conclusive end and explanation for the shitstorm that had just rained down. It was not the ending I wanted, could understand, or could even really grasp. Strike three. 

This book has a plethora of merits followed by three enormous criticisms. If you like horror, then you’ve already crossed hurdle number one. If you can accept it’s repellant length (let alone have days upon days of free time to actually ingest said behemoth) then that’s hurdle number two. 

Hurdle three is up to you. Perhaps you would like the ending where as I found it lacking in structure, content, and answers. I like my endings tied up with neat little bows. I don’t like to be left thinking...hmmmm what does this mean? 

If I am going to read your massive book, I deserve an ending that satisfies the journey. Authors telling readers that it’s up for interpretation makes me want to strangle something. It comes across as enormously pretentious to me and oftentimes lazy. 

In the case of Chbosky, I think he had given himself so many loose threads that the neat little bow I desired was next to impossible. 

So he didn’t even try. 

Score: 6/10

Recommendation: If you love The Shining, are lacking bouts of creativity and imagination, have lots of free time during Quarantine, and don’t mind having an Inception-esque ending where you might not get all the answers you want, while being tasked with concocting it for yourself, Imaginary Friend might be your new best friend. 

Bonus: Here’s a pic of my kitty photo bombing this book shoot. Hope she brightens your day!

#imaginary friend #stephen chbosky #perks of being a wallflower #horror #horror book #stephen king #the shining #literature #books #book blog #book review #book rec #Book Recommendations #book reflection #book analysis #popular fiction #top books #booklover #book

[reallifejedi]

//Just Things I Think About Concerning Butters (contains spoilers, for my friends still reading the books):

So, the Butters tag has... kind of a lot of hate in it, but I’ll admit it’s a tag that just doesn’t move, because The Dresden Files has a surprisingly small fandom for 17 books plus supplements.

I’ve seen a few posts complaining about how he didn’t deserve Fidelacchius and became a Gary Stu, and some hate about how he’s creepy for dating Andi or that scene in White Knight. I’m not gonna touch the dating bit (because considering the content of Butcher’s books, hating Butters and not Harry or other characters is... really awful), but I will talk a bit about Butters and how it’s really thematically interesting about how he got the sword.

So, Butters is a (loose) definition of the Hero’s Journey. He starts at status quo (Ignorant-Of-The-Supernatural, Science Loving Medical Examiner) and is thrust into this insane life. Usually the journey is thus:

Status Quo > The Calling >  Supernatural Aid > The Transformation > Changes and Temptations > Death & Rebirth > Transformation > Atonement > Return.

A very famous example of this is Luke Skywalker. In the movies, we see an ignorant farm boy thirsting for more, and he goes through a series of changes. The Call (R2D2′s message), Supernatural Aid (Obi Wan), the Transformation (training to be a Jedi), Changes and Temptations (visions) etc. The part I really want to focus on, is what Luke went through in The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi.

In the Empire Strikes Back we see Luke embracing his path of becoming a Jedi and he goes to see Yoda and train. During training he’s cautioned about visions and temptations of the dark side, and to have faith in the force, and let go of his friends to further his path to becoming a Jedi. When Luke has visions of his friends being hurt, he immediately runs to Cloud City. HIs arrival does little to nothing to change the fate of Han and his friends, and in the end he is injured and needs to be saved by his friends rather than the way around. 

In Return of the Jedi we see a more confident person, and more cautious. He has faith that he can turn the tide and find the man within one of the scariest, most powerful people in the galaxy, and he has faith in his friends that they will win the day in the space battle he does not take part in. In the end, that faith wins out.

Let’s look at Butters in Skin Game:

When Harry first showed back up after death, no one really knew what to think. Butters had his apartment broken into, then he was kidnapped, and then he saw Harry do things that were scary powerful (like freezing the lake water). Andi was hurt, he was upset, and before any closure could be given to him in Cold Days following a year of watching friends kidnapped, reading about people dying and going missing, and dealing with his grief over losing Harry (who, and you can fight me, he has a massive hero thing for), they lost Molly, and Harry disappeared onto an island no one can really visit. 

Then Harry comes back. He needs fixing up again. He says nothing about what happened before (he’s on a schedule) and Butters has been going through two years of paranoia and learning from Bob and taking a lot more on his shoulders than he ought to. How could he not? His girlfriend and best friends are werewolves and they fight for justice, and Murphy is Murphy. And he still models himself after Harry. He wants to fight. But he’s scared. And when Harry comes back acting (in his eyes) like a Fae... what can he do?

Murphy tells him to have faith, but like Luke in Empire Strikes Back he has a choice to make. Hold it... or do what he can to fix a situation that’s looking terrifying. There’s Denarians, there’s all kinds of shit going on, Butters is scared, and no one can tell him what’s going on. So he decides to try and take matters into his own hands (foolishly, yes). And he gets burned for it. Several of his biggest fears come to life:

Harry Dresden says out loud he’s going to, in so many words, kill him. He genuinely believes Harry has snapped and his fucking hero is about to murder him.

Karrin Murphy was hurt, bad, and it was his fucking fault. She’ll argue she was doing what had to be done, and Nicodemus was going to do something eventually, but he’s still carrying this. 

He realizes how in over his head he in, how stupid he was for playing Batman when he’s just a guy. His lack of faith and attempts hurt the people around him, and probably their trust in him.

Then Michael's gone, and he’s left in his own head. Harry’s busy with his heist, so we don’t know what’s going on, but this is the transitory period between ESB and RotJ. 

They come back. Nicodemus is there. He’s got a choice. He can run and hide (and live). Or he can trust in the people around him that it’s going to come out okay. He can grab Harry’s god damn coat and buy some time, and have faith that Harry will get up and come through. That the kids will be saved, that Charity and Micheal and Uriel will live, and that Harry who he ought to have had faith in the first place, will live. He’s okay with dying. He’s okay with it if it means he can make up for screwing up so badly before. 

He grabs the coat and goes out against insurmountable odds, knowing he’s going to buy maybe a few minutes, and for what he was done.

It was time for him to step up and become a Knight, to transform and atone.

Fidelacchius responds to Butters’s faith in his friends and he drives off Nicodemus. He has a choice to set the sword down or take it up, and he does. And in the end, at Murphy’s bedside we see a Butters who has been absent for 3 books, and return to a man full of hope.

tldr; Butters basically had the hero’s journey/Luke Skywalker’s arc, and honestly he’s had some of the best character growth out of anyone in the entire damn series.

#//ignore me or don't #//just some meta im afraid to tag #//feel free to reblog tho

[skywalkersapprentice]

fic: a time to say goodbye

summary: Ezra isn't the only one facing the temptation of change in the World Between Worlds. Just minutes after facing Vader, Ahsoka falls through a portal seventeen years into the past and must relive her final encounter with her former Master without drastically altering the future.

But Anakin Skywalker taught her many things. How to push her luck was one of them.

relationship(s): anakin skywalker & ahsoka tano

word count: 2233 words

rating: t

(read on ao3)

Note: This started as a slightly incoherent tumblr post this weekend, but I’ve added many more words and most of them hurt. If you’ve read the original, hello, I’ve made it better.

Ahsoka runs through the stars after a boy seeking his Master and all she can see is gold.

The crack in the mask. The Sith-gold eye. That voice, once so familiar, now hauntingly twisted beyond recognition.

Her failure stabs at her like a second heartbeat with every step she takes.

Anakin.

Reconciling the man she knew during the war with the terrifying Sith lord she’d heard stories of had proved near impossible for months. The dark side had taken Anakin Skywalker and twisted him into something unknowable. In the Force, he burned like a terrifying slash of red-hot anger. When he spoke, it was cold and slow. He was nothing like the Anakin of her memories, who was bright in the Force like a star, enthusiastic and kind. She was grateful for the mask that Vader wore. It was easier to lift her blades against a faceless man.

But then, a strike to his mask at an opportune time, and-

He’d looked at her with Anakin’s eyes. He’d said her name in Anakin’s voice. It had been enough to make her reckless.

I won’t leave you, not this time.

She’s not so different from Ezra, running blindly after a voice and a chance to save his Master.

Ahsoka won’t get a second chance. Ezra won’t either. But if she were 17, with the opportunity to make things right…

The thought has barely crossed her mind when below her feet, a circle begins to glow. A voice from the stars stands out from the rest.

Ahsoka!

Ahead, Ezra is still running to find his Master. For the second time in a day, Ahsoka has been frozen by the voice of her own.

How are you? Where are you? Are... you okay?

In the space of a blink, the world between worlds dissolves around her in a rush of stars. When reality rebuilds itself, Ezra is gone and a shuttle ramp is opening ahead of her.

Something’s not right. Her skin feels odd, like she’s wearing it wrong. Her clothes fit differently than they had just a moment ago. She brings a hand up to her head, only to flinch at how small her montrals are. And her lekku-

She closes her eyes before the ramp can lower all the way and reveal their welcoming party. Her lekku are short.

They are seventeen years too short.

Of course the ancient plane of all worlds and times would bring her here. The day she spent so many years replaying in her head, wondering what she could have done differently to avoid the horrors to come.

Ezra runs toward his temptation, and she has fallen into her own. But just as Ezra cannot save his Master, there is nothing she can do here. It’s too late for Anakin, for the Republic. It is too late to right any wrongs, to prevent order 66. Any dramatic modifications would have consequences.

Why?  she asks the Force. Do you think this is a kindness? To watch and do nothing?

The Force, calm and silent, has no answers for her.

Always in motion, is the future, Yoda used to say. And many possible futures, there are.

“Let’s go,” says Bo-Katan from behind her. “We don’t have much time.”

One foot in front of the other. She keeps her eyes on Artoo, waiting happily at the bottom of the ramp for her, takes perhaps a moment too long stroking his dome. But she can’t delay forever.

She looks up and there they are.

This Obi-Wan, a little greyer and sadder than he had been before she left the Order, but still with a gentle smile and nod for her. And next to him...

Blue eyes. A smile. Barely contained eagerness. Something in her chest cracks open.

This is not a vision, or a holocron, or a sliver of a man staring at her with Sith eyes. This is familiar. This is who she has been missing for nearly two decades.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin Skywalker from half a lifetime ago says, sincere and heartfelt, “I’m so glad to see you.”

She’s supposed to rebuff him here, to silence him and tell him of “another time” that can never be. There’s nothing in her that wants to.

It was foretold that you would be here. Our long awaited meeting has come at last.

Ahsoka decides. She’s carried regrets about this for too long. If this is a test of the Force, she’ll fail right here to keep him smiling.

“It’s good to see you too, Anakin,” she tells him. A deviation from the script, but the world hasn’t collapsed around her. The Force is calm.

Anakin Skywalker taught her many things. How to push her luck was one of them.

-----

In the war room, Ahsoka recites the information about Maul to Obi-Wan and Anakin from memory.

“I was able to obtain transmission codes from the Pykes on Oba Diah.” This time, she’s prepared for the wary look Anakin throws her way.

“What were you doing on Oba Diah?”

Then, she’d been defensive, thinking he was about to try and lecture her as a Master would. Now, Ahsoka takes the concern for what it is.

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done,” she assures him. A small grin tugs at the corners of her mouth at the familiar exasperated look she gets in return.

The confrontation between Bo-Katan and Obi-Wan goes about as well as it had the first time, which is to say, not at all. Ahsoka of seventeen years ago had carried deep-seated resentment towards Anakin’s former Master for his loyalty to the Council before anything else. She’d seen him as a representation of everything the Jedi were doing wrong, and it had infuriated her. But it doesn’t matter now. Just a few days from now, there will be no Council to be loyal to, no Jedi to protect the galaxy from anything. There is no point in resenting a man who is days from losing everything.

She never did find out what happened to Obi-Wan, beyond what was on Kanan's holocron. Given what she now knows about Anakin, she no longer wants to.

You wouldn’t, would you Anakin? Surely not him, too?

She knows the answer. It’s not something she wants to dwell on.

“You two certainly haven’t changed,” Ahsoka tells Anakin when Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan have left. This time, she means it not as an accusation. Stagnancy is a compliment when you come from a time where everything has changed for the worse.

-----

She falls into step alongside her old friend as he leads her to her surprise and wonders how, how can he be this happy, when his fall is imminent? Reports of Darth Vader were elusive, but could be traced back to the very beginning of the Empire. How is the man at her side mere days away from becoming the monster she met on Malachor?

But- it’s something she never noticed the first time around. The mania around the edges of his happiness. The shreds of normalcy that he clings to like a lifeline. A euphoria born of desperation. Ahsoka understands now, as they walk the corridors of the Resolute. For very different reasons, they’re trying to pretend they’re still the same.

When Anakin unveils his “surprise” for her, she walks around, looks at all the clones wearing her face that will soon be dead. The ache in her chest grows at the sight of a youthful Rex.

He really never learned how to stop calling her Commander. This time, she doesn’t bother telling him not to.

The sirens blare overhead, scattering everyone. To everyone else, they're a sign of an emergency. To Ahsoka, they’re a sign that she’s running out of time. Obi-Wan rushes in with news of the Coruscant attack, and she knows she has just minutes left.

“What about the Chancellor?” Anakin immediately asks. It takes everything in Ahsoka not to react to that because now, more than ever, temptation eats away at her.

She could do it. One sentence to start a chain reaction. The Chancellor is a Sith Lord, she could say, and everything would change. They would know, they could take action, they could-

The Force roils uneasily. No. This is not why she’s here. She is here perhaps as a cruel punishment for failing to stop Vader, but she has not been given a chance to fix this.

She bites her tongue, and stays quiet.

“We can be there within the hour,” Obi-Wan is saying. Ahsoka frowns. She has no desire to argue with Obi-Wan, who she will never see again after this, but she needs to get troops on Mandalore. Perhaps it’s time to take a page out of the Negotiator’s book.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, careful to keep her tone neutral. “Bo-Katan and her people are counting on the Republic.”

Obi-Wan has always been one to react to the tone in the room. Then, he'd met her accusing tone with condescending defensiveness. Now, he replies with a calm, “Ahsoka, surely you understand that this is a pivotal moment in the clone wars. The people of Coruscant need our help.”

Ahsoka thinks but doesn’t say, no. The Chancellor does.

“I understand,” she counters instead, “that Coruscant and Mandalore need help from the Jedi.” She turns to Anakin. “Aren’t there enough forces on this ship to handle both?”

Anakin narrows his eyes in thought. “I’ll…. divide the 501st! Make a new division under Ahsoka’s command.”

There you go, she thinks. They can sort out the rest from there.

Obi-Wan still makes his quip about Maul never staying dead as he heads out, and Ahsoka privately, fervently agrees.

And then it’s just the two of them, for the last time, in a moment she wants to freeze forever.

Perhaps it’s selfish. She knows exactly what this man is capable of. She could strike him down where he stands right now and alter the course of history. She could warn him of what he will do, in the hopes that he won’t fall this time. But the Force has not brought her to change the future.

She understands now. This isn’t a punishment, or even a test. It is a chance to say goodbye.

When Ahsoka faces Anakin for the last time, she gently inclines her head. Not quite a Jedi bow, but respectful all the same. “Thank you. For everything.”

He’ll take it to mean for the clones, the lightsabers, for having her back. She means it to encompass more than that.

That grin again. “That’s what friends are for.”

Friends.

Then you will die.

She can’t look at him like this, exactly as she remembers. She can’t look away, either. There’s an ache in her ribs as she carefully accepts her old lightsabers- they were blue for a time, a detail she’d nearly forgotten- and when she looks back at her former Master, everything she wants to stay gets stuck in her throat.

I miss you. Every day. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry it can’t be different now.

“I have… so much to tell you,” she says softly.

“Me too,” Anakin says. There’s an excited glint in his eye that breaks her heart. “You capture Maul, I’ll take care of Grievous, and with any luck, this will all be over soon.”

“Master Kenobi always said there’s no such thing as luck,” she makes herself say.

“Hmm.” His eyes are still kind. “Good thing I taught you otherwise.”

He begins to walk away- and this is it. In her memory, she quips a “good luck” for old time’s sake, gets one more smile, and then she loses him forever.

You abandoned me. You failed me. Where were you when I needed you?

“Anakin!”

This time, when he turns expectantly, Ahsoka takes five steps and flings her arms around him, lightsabers still in hand. He lets out a quiet oof, then a little laugh and his arms come up over her shoulders.

“Good luck,” she says into his tunic, and gives herself three selfish seconds.

One- to reach out for a Force presence she’s been missing for seventeen years, to find not a slash of anger and fear, but something bright and intense and, for the moment- happy.

Two- to let her expression finally break where he can’t see her, and finally grieve for the loss of one of her oldest friends.

Three- to convince herself to let him go.

When she steps back, she’s smiling again. Anakin hesitates for a moment. His brow furrows. But then he gives her that one last crooked grin.

And she loses him a final time.

In the space of a blink, the world shatters, rebuilds itself into a vast array of starry paths and she’s herself again, running after Ezra through the World Between Worlds as he seeks closure with his own Master.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do!” he chokes out when she finally catches up to him.

“Yes, I do.” A kind smile. A cruel gold stare. Both a pain as fresh as an open wound. “You can’t save your Master… and I can’t save mine.”

One last thing she learned from Anakin- teaching a lesson often requires holding your student to higher standards than you hold yourself.

With the knowledge that she’s holding him to a standard she herself might never reach, Ahsoka tells Ezra, “I’m asking you to let go.”

#the clone wars #anakin and ahsoka #tcw spoilers #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #tcw #clone wars fic #writings #ooo it's been an age since i last used that tag #anyway. vibrates w/nervous energy

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Prowling For Pleasure

Vergil reveals one of his secret fantasies and you cannot deny the allure of fulfilling it. 

Part One: His Deepest Desire

You remember the first time you opened your eyes after your death. It did not feel like waking up from a long restful slumber…in fact, as a vampire, you no longer truly sleep. Instead, you just fall into torpor each night and become the inanimate corpse you technically should be. And as soon as the sun dips down below the horizon your body simply reanimates, ready to stalk the night for mortal quarry as an immortal predator.

Stirring from your torpor feels just like it always has since that first time…empty yet strangely nostalgic.

Your eyes snap open just after the infernal sun sets and twilight settles in sky. Despite the complete darkness of the room, your supernatural sight can still trace patterns on the ceiling. You lay there in bed for a moment, assessing your surroundings while your mind shakes the remnants of whatever dream or memory plaguing you during the day. The ever so soft cadence of deep breathing close by has you glancing up with a fond smile on your face.

Vergil Sparda, the Dark Slayer and your devilish lover, is still snoozing away as he holds your nude form close to his own bare chest. This is very unexpected since he is usually awake before you rouse from repose, ready to offer you his blood as he softly strokes your hair. You are about to reach up to brush away a stray strand of white hair from his striking face when you catch some subtle movement in the corner of your eye. You immediately peer down the bed and spot a sizable tent underneath the bedsheet just over his hips, which can only mean one thing…

Mmm...it must really be a sexy dream if he’s that hard, you thought as the ever-present insatiable hunger starts to stir inside you. As he jerks beneath the bedsheet you feel that primal urge to stalk your prey…and before you know it, you are untangling yourself from his arms, using some of your blood to enhance your stealthy removal from his protective embrace. You slip down the length of his body underneath the bedsheet until you come face-to-face with the object of your voracious desire.

You settle in between his long legs, shimmying a little as your predatorial gaze hones in on his innermost thigh. A quiet sigh of delight escapes your lips as you ready one hand to grasp his hard member as soon as you strike. Vergil stirs in his sleep a bit, but you hold your position, brushing your mouth against the vein close to his groin. You wait for a moment as he drifts back into the world of dreams…and then you pounce, hissing softly before sinking your fangs into his thigh while you swiftly grab his cock.

Vergil’s entire body jolts at your sensual bite. You purr softly against his thigh as your hand strokes his shaft in time with every pull of your lips. A deep growl fills the air as he rips bedsheet away from both of your bodies. Your eyes flicker up to meet his confused yet lustful gaze as you continue to partake of him. He props himself up with one arm while the other reaches down, silver blue eyes never straying from your own amorous gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair.

You let out a satisfying hum and draw in one last mouthful of his crimson nectar before pulling away from this thigh. “Good evening, my love,” you murmur, not caring about the warm blood dripping down your chin as you languidly rub his cock.

“It seems I’ve fallen prey to my Evening Star’s desire once more,” he remarks, fierce eyes glancing over to watch your hand as it strokes him. You laugh ominously while baring your fangs, knowing that even though it is pitch black in the room, he can still witness your show of domineering seduction.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you admit before turning your head quickly to press a kiss at the base of his cock, which earns you a guttural grunt as your eyes catch his gaze again. “I’m not the only one who is temptation made flesh,” you declare adoringly, using the exact same words he uttered to you during that fateful night in the sparse motel room.

The corners of his mouth lift into a soft smirk as you kiss a trail up his stiff shaft, smearing the blood still clinging to your lips on the way up to the tip. You lick and nibble the sensitive skin on the underside of the head, fangs noticeably on display while your free hand wipes some blood off his thigh. Your tongue peeks out and swipes a pearly drop of precum leaking from the tip as both of your hands slicken him with blood. He twitches against the palms of your hands while you give the head a tentative suck before taking all of him into your mouth.

Vergil lets out long rumbling growl as you lavish the underside of his shaft with your tongue. One of the unforeseen perks of being a vampire is not having to breathe at all, so you can keep his delicious cock in the wet cavern of your mouth for as long as you want. You purr at the taste of his blood against his soft skin, teasing his rock-hard member with your sultry sounds while your head remains motionless around him. It is only when he starts to thrust impatiently against your lips that you decide to show some mercy.

The low rumbling growl turns into a series of sensuous grunts as you move your head and begin to suck him off with gusto. You feel him bury his fingers back into your hair, massaging your scalp as you let out your own growl of pleasure. The sensation of all his blood rushing straight to his cock makes your head spin in the most maddening way, making you ache for another taste of his devilish nectar. Your fangs elongate at the thought, dragging against his shaft with every stroke of your mouth.

Most men would be wary of a vampire using their fangs during such an intimate act…but not Vergil. In fact, going by his breathless groans, he rather enjoys the feeling of your fangs as they graze the most sensitive part of his body. Your ravening eyes shift their gaze up to admire the expression of total rapture on his handsome face. You relish the thought of him getting off on the danger of bedding such a powerfully seductive vampire.

You bring one of your hands back down to his thigh when you feel his skin grow even more taut against your lips and tongue. Vergil lifts his leg and splays his thigh out for you, already knowing what you plan to do next. Your lips curl into a pleased grin as your other hand encircles the base of his cock. Your hand continues to pleasure him while you pull him out of your mouth and rush back to that delectable spot on his thigh.

A resonant groan bursts from Vergil’s lips as soon as your fangs pierce his skin, hips rocking up with abandon to meet the downstroke of your hand. His cock gradually grows harder with every draw you take of his succulent blood. You sense his impending orgasm swelling up deep inside him and just before it breaks forth, you tear away from his thigh and push your chest close to his cock.

Vergil suddenly lets out a prolonged growl as he comes undone, vigorous hips still thrusting into your hand as he spills himself onto your chest. His warm blood sprinkles from your wanton lips and mixes with his white-hot seed as they both trickle down your breasts. You moan in satisfaction while you greedily pump him for all his worth, making sure to coat every inch of your chest with his cum until his cock is utterly spent.

Your mouth curves into a smug smirk as you gently relinquish his softening cock from your grasp and climb up over his body. You sit astride his waist and lovingly rub his chest while you wait for him to come around, feeling pleased with yourself when you see nothing but total bliss upon his gorgeous face. A deep throaty growl fills the air while a pair of strong hands caress your thighs…it does not take long for his eyes to snap open, gracing you with his intense gaze as he squeezes your hips.

You purr in pleasure as one hand slides up and swipes the mixture of blood and cum off your breast with his thumb. “It’s a shame that I can’t partake of it,” you note softly before licking the remainder of your luscious feast from your lips. “Sleep well?” you ask with an impish grin, leaning over a little so that his hand can fully cup your breast.

Vergil hums as one corner of his mouth quirks into an amused grin. “I believe you already know the answer to that,” he murmurs back as his other hand glides over your hip and gives your pert bottom a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Mmm…” You wiggle your hips playfully as you lean down closer to him. “You drank a lot more of me than usual before going to bed this morning,” you point out with a cheeky grin. “Perhaps you’re finally feeling the normal effects vampiric blood has on mortals after they’ve had a taste,” you surmise as your hands slither up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders.

“If the effects include conjuring up arousing dreams,” Vergil presumes wryly as his hand leaves the comfort of your breast. “Then yes…I suppose it did.” His arm circles around your back and brings you down closer to him, not caring about the sticky mess dirtying his chest. You lower your face down closer just as he lifts his head and captures your lips with a passionate kiss. A few gratifying grunts and heavy pants mingle together as it deepens, bodies swaying against each other gently in this quiet moment after a storm of heated desire.

After a few more thorough strokes of his tongue, Vergil nibbles softly on your bottom lip before pulling away to stare up deeply into your eyes. “You took me by surprise, my Evening Star,” he marvels, brushing your hair away from your face as the blue hue of his eyes light up in wonder. “Not many can do that,” he adds while both of his hands rub up and down your back.

“As I said before, I couldn’t help myself,” you giggle softly as you rest your forehead against his brow. “You looked so perfect and so peaceful while you slept,” you murmur while nuzzling his face fondly. “But then I saw that you were pitching a rather delectable tent down there.” You grind your hips to emphasize your words, earning you a low snarl of warning from him as the head of his reinvigorated cock brushes against the backside of your thigh.

You just give him a naughty smirk as you continue to shamelessly writhe against his body. Your voice lowers down to a hushed whisper as your lips brush against his frowning mouth. “So, I went on the prowl for pleasure. And when I found it…” One of your fangs peeks out and pricks his bottom lip, which earns you one final growl of warning and smack against your bottom. You respond with a soft hiss before lapping up the droplets of blood as it drips down his chin, meeting his sharp stare with your lustful gaze as you provoke him with your dirty whispers one last time.

“Your blood and cock taste so good together, my love.”

A ravenous snarl echoes through the room as Vergil bucks his hips, wrapping your body against him in a vice grip as he rolls over and entraps you beneath him. “I am not easy prey,” he contends with a deep growl while staring you down with his heated gaze. The blue hue in his eyes seem to melt away as his pupils dilate dramatically. He uses a some of his strength to hold you down, effectively barring you from using any of your vampiric trickery to escape. You whimper as he starts to rock against you ever so slightly, teasing you with the tip of his cock as it barely slides over your slick entrance.

The corners of his mouth curve into a pleased smirk as a cocky laugh bursts from his lips. “It seems the hunter has become the hunted.” He hooks his elbows behind your knees and pins your arms down against the mattress with his hands. You struggle in his tight and overbearing embrace, but to no avail: he has you completely at his mercy. He looms over you, leering down at the lewd sight of blood and cum all over your breasts, and asserts in a deep and wicked voice full of dark promises and exquisite sins…

“Now I’m on the prowl for pleasure.”

Vergil rears back and licks you from your chest all the way up to your neck. You cry out when he nips the crook of your neck, teasing you with his teeth before going back down below the curve of your breasts. He looks up at you with a sinful glint in his eye as he pokes his tongue out and licks some of his own cum off your skin, humming softly at his own taste before going back for more. You whine and wriggle beneath him, silently begging for relief from the aching need growing with every swipe of his devilish tongue. He ignores your weak pleas as his unyielding tongue cleans every inch of your breast.

His hungry mouth captures your nipple and sucks it just enough to have you moaning and quivering beneath him. Another frustrated cry bursts from your lips as he releases that breast, only to move onto your other breast, lazily cleaning it as he stares up at you with enraptured eyes. As you watch him savor his own blood and cum, you feel a very primal part of yourself begin to stir deep inside you. It reawakens the insatiable hunger that constantly clamors for more and you cannot help but to thrash against his unmoving form as it demands to take, to bite, to fuck…

Vergil must sense your oncoming frenzy since his questing tongue becomes more direct and quickly finishes licking the rest of his seed from your breast. He lets out a deep rumbling growl as he shoots back up your body, once again thrusting his hips while his cock slides against your slick center. You answer his growl with your own ravenous snarl while your hips rock furiously against him, trying in vain to alleviate the tortuous tension building up between your legs.

“Vergil, my love…”

His silver eyes spark with a predatorial glow as they stare down at you in total awe of the feral vampire currently baring her fangs while moaning his name. For the first time since turning the tables on you, he groans and lowers his face closer to yours as his hips move faster between your legs, careful not push himself into your wanton heat just yet. “You may not be able…to partake of my seed,” he pants between hard thrusts, bringing his mouth close to your snarling lips. “But you can, however…taste this part of me.”

And with that sudden revelation, he pries your lips open with his dominate mouth and immediately pushes his tongue past your fangs, ravishing every inch of your mouth as it glides against your own grasping tongue. You let out a heady moan as you revel in the taste of his cum, noting that it is cool and slightly salty with dash of sweetness. It may not be as thick as his demonically blessed blood, but it is just as delicious and utterly satisfying. You cannot get enough it as your tongue seeks out more and more, truly savoring your devilish lover as he stokes the flame of desire burning deep inside you.

Vergil loosens his grip on your arms to brace himself on the bed and you practically purr in excitement as you instantly rake your fingers through his disheveled white hair. But this, along with his tantalizing kiss, serves as a distraction from his hips as they slowly drawback. Before you can even notice this sly move, he slams his cock deep inside you, burying himself all the way to the hilt in one swift motion. You tear away from his mouth as a shocked gasp bursts from your lips, but it soon turns into pleased moan as he begins to fuck you senseless.

“Oh, my Evening Star,” he murmurs in reverence as his hips set a brutal pace that will assuredly make you come undone very shortly. “You always look so glorious when you have my cock between these dangerous lips,” he avows as his soft fingertips caress your mouth in wonder. All you can do is keen and whimper while his cock pounds into your welcoming heat, driving you mad with every ruthless thrust as he grinds against your clit.

Vergil chuckles softly at your incoherent response before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “It’s no wonder humans and devils alike cannot resist your alluring charm,” he praises darkly, nipping and nibbling your skin as your cunt clenches tight around him in anticipation.

A guttural growl is the only warning you get before feeling his teeth bite down hard upon your neck. You cry out in pain as the sharp sting of his bite shoots through your entire being before coming to a head at the center of your quivering sex. Your cry molds into a choked scream as you finally tip over the precipice of pleasure, clutching his head tightly as you come crashing down around his impressive cock. He relentlessly pumps into you as intense pleasure wracks your body, humming and grunting against your neck as he partakes of you. You are vaguely aware of him bending your legs up higher over your head, which only prolongs the rapturous waves of wild bliss as he pounds even deeper inside you.

When your pleasure finally dies down, Vergil release your neck and regales you with dirty whispers that never fail to rekindle your insatiable hunger. “You must shine so beautifully when you have a mortal under your seductive sway…tempting them to follow you through the shadows with your beguiling gaze,” he purrs by your ear, sending shivers down your spine as the deep timbre of his voice titillates your ego.

“Oh fuck…” you sigh helplessly as your body responds to his erotic words, already feeling that sweet tension gathering up in your quivering core once more. Vergil growls harshly while his hips pick up pace, chasing his own pleasure with every slick stroke of his cock. He lifts his face away from your neck and pins you down with his fervid gaze as he drives you ever closer to sweet oblivion.

“I want to watch you from afar…as you seduce your prey,” he divulges with a hoarse grunt over the vulgar slap of your bodies, silver eyes never leaving your hazy gaze as he reveals his inner most desires. “I want to see you bring their quaking body…into your enticing embrace,” he groans while he leans forward to offer you his neck. Your eyes instantly spot the prominent vein pulsating underneath his skin and you cannot help but to moan in ecstasy as you feel another orgasm welling up inside you. And just before it spills over you hear him whisper the last part of his fantasy:

“I want to admire your distant fire while you bite their warm and inviting neck.”

A feral hiss leaves your throat while you bare your fangs, diving in for another feast just as your pleasure breaks forth once again. You feel his cock grow thicker in your twitching cunt before he comes with hoarse roar, filling you his warm seed as both of you let the throes of passion carry you away. As you drink his blood by the mouthful, you bask in the presence of this extraordinary man that makes you feel so alive as pulses of pleasure ripple through your body.

Vergil gradually slows his ardent thrusts while both of you float back down from your indulgent summit. You carry on with your luscious feast as he comes to a complete halt. He lowers your legs and wraps them around his waist as a contented hum rumbles through his throat. One of his hands slip under the small of your back while the other cradles your head closer to his neck. You hold onto his shoulders before he lifts you up from the bed, stubbornly refusing to pull out of your warmth as you sit down on his lap with great care. He strokes your back gently and you nestle deeper into arms, totally serene and completely satisfied.

“Have I sated your hunger, my Evening Star?”

You smile and draw in one last mouthful of his blood before detaching your fangs from his neck. “Yes, my love,” you whisper, pulling your head back to stare into his silver blue eyes. “But it won’t be long before I crave more of you.”

Vergil hums in approval as his dripping red lips quirk into a soft grin. He surrounds your body with his warm embrace and intoxicating scent as he plants a gentle kiss between your brow. The feel of his lips as they imprint his kiss with your blood still clinging to his mouth makes you shiver in quiet delight. You plant your own bloody kiss on his chin before both of your lips press sweetly together. His tongue lazily swipes out and you instantly let him taste and explore your mouth at his leisure, giving you more time to relax in the comfort of his embrace.

After a few more ravishing kisses, Vergil breaks away from your mouth and finally pulls himself out of you, making you whine in disappointment as the sense of fullness disappears. He chuckles under his breath and tells you to hold onto him as he shuffles toward the edge of the bed. You grasp his shoulders and squeeze your legs around his waist just before he stands up. He makes sure you are secure in his arms before proceeding to the adjoining bathroom.

As he ambles over to the bathroom door, you lean over his neck and lick your bite mark until the wounds fully close. A soft giggle escapes your lips as parts of his incredibly hot fantasy come to mind. “It seems that my fierce fella craves some voyeurism,” you recall salaciously, nipping at his ear playfully with one of your fangs while you your hips wiggle suggestively.

“It’s hardly voyeurism,” Vergil scoffs as he tilts his head away from your teasing mouth.

You snap your head back and stare at him in disbelief. “Really?” you prod with an unblinkingly as he opens the bathroom door before entering. “What would you call it then?” you question curiously as he puts you down in front of the shower.

“Genuine curiosity,” he retorts as he draws back the curtain and turns on the water. You quirk a brow and cross your arms as you both wait for the water to heat up.

Vergil has always let you indulge in both your desires and his blood, yet he never voiced any of his own personal desires until now. There was that time in the cemetery with the Yamato, but he claims that it was all just to help you get over your fears. You always thought that there was more to it than just lending a helping hand…no one just casually offers you to use a very powerful and revered relic in the most indecent way without getting something from it. In fact, as you look back on that night of debauchery, he loved every single moment of you handling the Yamato in such a fashion! He does not say what he desires often, but when he does…

No fella of mine is gonna go unsated for as long as we’re together.

As your devilish lover tests the temperature of the water, you step over to stand beside him and lovingly wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m glad you decided to share this…genuine curiosity with me,” you reaffirm softly, feeling him stiffen for a moment in your embrace before relaxing at your words. You snuggle up to his chest as he brings his arm around your shoulder, hugging you back tightly as you continue to speak.

“But secretly watching me as I seduce and feed on unsuspecting mortals sounds pretty voyeuristic to me.”

Vergil hums softly in thought as you look up and give him a lascivious wink. He lets out an irritated huff, but the small smirk and slight shake of his head means that he is just playing hard to get. After another test of the water, he takes your hand and helps you into the shower, quickly joining you as soon as you are under its cleansing spray. Both of you take turns under the shower, letting it wash away some of the evidence of your dirty deeds before washing up with soap.

“This sudden desire,” he begins, opening up a little more to you as he grabs a blue loofah, “to watch you hunt for mortal prey has been plaguing my dreams for some time now.” He snatches a bottle of soap and pours some onto the wet loofah, lathering it up thoroughly before taking you into his arms. “And you have no room to criticize since you obviously enjoyed every single detail of it as well,” he finishes with a low grumble as one of hands comes down and gives your bottom a firm smack.

“Well, yeah! Of course I did! It’s fucking sexy!” you openly admit, earning you a slight quirk of his brow and a gleam of interest in his eyes as he starts to scrub your back with the soapy loofah. “And I wasn’t criticizing! I just didn’t expect you to be into that kind of fantasy since…uh…” Your words trail off as you ponder the best way to explain. You sigh and decide that the best approach is to just be direct and hope that he understands that it is just a normal part of being a vampire.

“Do you know how mortals react to the Dark Kiss?” you inquire, staring up at him nervously as you nibble on your lower lip with one of your fangs.

“They are paralyzed with ecstasy while they experience the most exquisite pleasure.”

Vergil’s correct response has you quirking a brow as your mouth gapes open in shock. He simply keeps washing your back as he gives you a cocky smirk. “I must admit…I didn’t foresee having this fantasy either,” he confesses as he kneels to scrub your legs. “But I do find the prospect of watching you bestow this Dark Kiss very intriguing.” He stands back up after a few more strokes along the curve of your calves and thighs with the soapy loofah and prompts you to turn around before proceeding to wash your chest and belly.

“But what arouses me the most…is the thought of beholding my Evening Star in all her splendor and glory while she shines at the height of her power,” he whispers sinfully by your ear while fondling one of your breasts.

You whimper at the thought of him watching you mesmerize a mortal before sinking your fangs into their flesh. “We can fulfill your fantasy if you want,” you provocatively propose, leaning back against his chest as he drops the soapy loofah to cup your other breast. “I do kind of miss the hunt…but not because you don’t feed me well! Or that your blood isn’t potent enough!” you reassure, worried that you might have offended him. You hastily try to remedy the situation with compliments. “Because believe me it’s the best blood I’ve ever-”

Vergil tilts your chin up and interrupts your glowing praise with a hard kiss. You immediately relax against his lips and just melt into his embrace as he continues to caress your soapy breasts. He gently breaks away from your mouth after a few moments and rests his brow against your forehead. “I understand why you would miss it. The thrill of the hunt is just part of your vampiric nature,” he reaffirms in a hushed whisper, fondly stroking your cheek as you stare into his admiring gaze. “And if fulfilling my fantasy assuages one of your desires as well…” The corners of his mouth curl into a wicked grin as he nuzzles your face.

“How could I resist such temptation as this?”

A sultry moan leaves your lips as he grinds against your ass, nestling his hard cock in between your cheeks. You thrust your hips back against him a couple of times before reaching down between your legs. “If you promise to let me taste this part of you again,” you purr, grabbing his cock and giving him a few firm strokes before sliding him in between your thighs. “I’ll be sure to pull out all the stops on this night of carnal delight.”

You clench your thighs and begin to thrust back once more, teasing both of you as the head of his cock rocks back and forth against your aching center. Vergil grunts and grabs your hips, meeting your every thrust with his own teasing stroke. “All we need to do is go somewhere like a bar or a nightclub,” you explain breathlessly, reaching up to cup his face while you stare up at him with affectionate eyes. “And while I go on the prowl…you can just hang back and enjoy the show.”

Vergil lets out a low rumbling growl as he slides one hand up along your spine, gently bending you over until your supporting yourself with your hands against the shower wall. You feel his cock slip into your slick heat as tiny flecks of water sprinkle over your skin. He brings one arm around your waist while the other rests above your hands. And as his hips begin to move in a slow and steady pace, he leans over and peppers your back with light kisses before confirming your plans in a deep sensuous voice dripping with untold tales of forbidden pleasures:

“It’s a date.”

🌹🦇🌹

Read on Ao3

My Master List if you want more 💖

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona @exsultry @blooddrop-palace @thenightgazer @fandomhell97 @thedyingmoon @iggy-dearest @dl-1979 @clevermentalitybeliever @yepps @nalax9 @veenus-ow @cherryvane @queenmuzz @flipping-fan-tastic @just-an-adventurer @lewdbunbun @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @virberos 

#vergil #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc 5 #vampire spice #vampire reader #blood #vampire bites #Prowling for Pleasure #sharing fantasies #and making plans to fulfill them 👀 #hope ya'll enjoy what im setting up 😘 #harlot writes

[fantasyoverreality98]

Fight the Darkness

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius x MC

Author’s Note: Yes, I have written another fanfic about Gaius x MC. I can actually see potential for this one to have more than one part though so maybe I’ll write a continuation in the future, we’ll have to see. There is some sexually suggestive content in this one so just keep that in mind when reading. Anyway, I think I should take a break from obsessively writing fanfic and do something else for a bit. As always, sorry for any potential grammatical or spelling mistakes.

Word Count: 3,333

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

Gaius Augustine was a murderer. He was her murderer. And she had never wanted anyone more in her life.

“Amy, where did you go? Call us back, please. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She ignored the message from Adrian, deleting it immediately after listening.

The town was small, the chances of him being here were extremely slim, and yet she just knew. Somewhere, probably in some desolate manor, the object of her obsession was lingering.

She felt him more than heard him. Smirking, Amy continued to walk down the empty path, into the trees. The sword on her back served as a comfort. No matter what strange creatures may lurk inside the forest, she could fight them off. Years of training had prepared her for whatever might come.

A branch snapped off to her right, and Amy whirled around, drawing her weapon. She laughed to herself when a rabbit ran out from the shadows. Momentarily relieved, her guard dropped.

That was when he decided to strike.

“Took you long enough.” She spoke with a breathy voice, staring up at the hooded figure. “I was beginning to think I might have to resort to more extreme measures to draw you out.”

“How did you find me?” Gaius kept her wrists pinned against the tree beside her head, his face inches from hers. The hood kept most of his features shrouded in shadows, but he looked just as he had twenty-five years earlier.

Amy leaned into him, her chest brushing against his as she breathed heavily. “It’s a secret.”

He stared into her eyes a moment longer before letting go, taking a step back. “Do your friends know you’re here?”

She rolled her eyes, pushing off the tree. “No. I left without saying anything.”

Gaius looked as if he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He pulled his hood back, looking exactly as he had a quarter of a century earlier. “What are you doing here?”

“Always with the questions.” Amy took a step toward him, trying not to grin when she saw that he looked flustered. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for you.”

“Amy—”

She held up a hand, and he stopped speaking. “Why is it that I haven’t heard from you at all since you left? You’re a hard man to find, Gaius Augustine.”

He studied her with interest, desire shining in his eyes. So, she wasn’t the only one who had never forgotten those moments on the boat. “I didn’t want to be found. I’ve been moving around over the decades.”

“Well, I found you. It took me a while, but I did it. Good luck getting rid of me now.” She broke out in a grin, and, to her surprise, he laughed.

“Now, why would I want to be rid of you?” Gaius looked as though he was about to reach out for her, but he hesitated, letting his arms drop back to his sides. “We should get out of here. Something evil lurks in these woods.”

Amy couldn’t resist answering, trying her best to maintain a serious expression. “Is that something evil you?”

Gaius scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I am the least of your worries.”

The temptation to continue teasing him was overpowering. After twenty-five years, she felt an uncontrollable urge to torment him with her bad jokes. “Tell that to the mortal Amy that you ran through with Jax’s sword.”

It took a minute for him to answer. “Do you plan to spend all night reminding me of all my evil deeds?”

“Maybe not all night. I did come here for another reason.”

With a long sigh, he turned away and started to walk back toward the town. They’d been walking for a few minutes before he finally spoke again. “How is it that you have managed to stay just as insufferable as you were twenty-five years ago?”

Amy shrugged, her face starting to hurt from smiling so much. Teasing him was just too much fun. Sure, she could tease all of her friends back home, but the sort of ammunition she had for Gaius beat any joking insults she could ever throw at them. The amount of murder jokes she could make was insane.

God was she ever fucked up.

“So, how’s your redemption been going?” Amy wanted to fill in the silence, the idea of them walking without saying a word too serious. She genuinely wanted to know what he’d been up to.

Gaius stared at the road ahead, frowning as he considered the question. “I guess you can say I’ve done a few more good deeds. I’ve been trying my best.”

They ended up walking to an abandoned house on the edge of the town. It wasn’t a manor, but it was close enough. Amy bit her lip to hold back a laugh. The man sure did like to live up to the dramatic.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” She bit her lip harder when he glared at her.

“Are you coming, or are you going to stand out here making horrible jokes all night?” Gaius looked like he regretted bringing her back to his house. If it could even be considered a house. It was more like a ruin.

Amy followed him inside, taking in the decaying structure. Her nose wrinkled when she studied what looked like a petrified animal corpse. “This place is absolutely disgusting. Not exactly the romantic or sexy reunion I was hoping for.”

“We had sex in a tiny room on a boat. I have trouble believing you would be opposed to this place. Your standards don’t seem very high.”

“Hey!”

Gaius didn’t look at her, but she could see him fighting back a smile. He started to chew on his bottom lip, turning his face away from her. She watched him attempt to clean, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” Amy sat down in a chair. It immediately broke under her weight. Scowling, she struggled to her feet, brushing the dust off her clothes. “Did you really have to pick the setting of The Haunting of Hill House for your temporary home?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Is that a film? None of your references make sense to me.”

“Forget it.” The problem with hanging around a three-thousand-year-old vampire was that they never understood pop culture references. For the first time since finding Gaius, Amy missed Lily.

Lily. Her best friend who was probably going insane trying to find her. They had barely spent any time apart since defeating Rheya. Amy would have to send a postcard one day, just to let everyone know she was okay.

The silence inside the house made the situation more awkward. Both of them knew, though neither of them had said it, that Amy had come here because she wanted Gaius. And not in a friend kind of way.

“So, do anything badass lately?” Amy couldn’t get any lamer if she tried.

Gaius stared blankly at her. He blinked, looking like he just might answer, before he shook his head and went back to ‘cleaning.’

Wind howled outside. A storm was on its way. The sky had been full of dark clouds when they were walking back to the house, the air chillier than it had been when she’d first arrived right after sunset. It was probably past midnight now.

“Why are you really here?” Gaius finally stopped pretending to clean and looked up at her, throwing a broken chair leg over his shoulder. Something else fell from the projectile, the sound of shattering glass filling the room. “You can make all the murder and sex jokes you want, but I think we both know that you came here for a reason.”

Amy crossed her arms over her chest, pacing the length of the room as she searched for an answer. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t question her. No normal person traveled around the world searching for someone they should do their best to stay far away from. Just because she decided to give him a second chance didn’t mean that the two of them would remain close.

Rain started to fall on the house, the cracks in the roof allowing water to drip down onto them. Amy ignored the ice-cold raindrops that fell on her, sliding down her spine. “You know why I searched for you.” The vagueness of her answer would no doubt irritate him.

“That does not answer my question, Amy.”

The storm outside seemed to slow for a moment. Her eyes flickered over to Gaius, who was standing near a crumbling fireplace. Finally, when she figured she could only put off answering for so long, she turned to face him. “Because I have feelings for you. What else do you want me to say? And don’t lecture me again on how it’s wrong because I know. I know.”

Gaius didn’t answer her. He stayed beside the fireplace, watching her without a word. Amy wasn’t sure whether she should feel relieved that he didn’t react to her outburst, or if she should worry that it meant he didn’t feel the same way. The worry slowly turned in annoyance, then anger.

“Can you just say something!” Her voice boomed, the sound startling both of them. Swearing under her breath, Amy closed her eyes, digging the heels of her palms into them, trying to block out the sensation of darkness that had started to sweep over her.

Hands grabbed her wrists, gently pulling her hands away from her face. She waited until the feeling had passed before opening her eyes to look at Gaius. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open. The last time she had seen him look so terrified was when she’d broken Rheya’s control over him.

“I thought Rheya’s powers were gone,” said Gaius, looking as though he feared she might snap again. “Didn’t they disappear in the opera house?”

Amy was breathing heavily, trying to shove the darkness back down. “That’s what I thought too. But then one day, about a year later, I got so angry that—” She shook her head, trembling at the memory. If Adrian hadn’t been there to talk to her, she had no idea what might’ve happened.

Whatever darkness that had possessed her inside the opera house when she drained Rheya’s powers hadn’t disappeared forever. For a short time, she had believed it, thought that life would return to a relatively normal state, but it seemed outside forces had other plans. The temptation, the possibility that she might be able to bring Jax back still haunted her. It followed her everywhere she went, a voice that was not her own whispering deep inside that she could do it. All she had to do was embrace the darkness.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get it.” Gaius was standing so close to her that his breath hit her face. He inhaled sharply, staring at her lips.

Desperate to both forget about what had just happened and satisfy the reason she had come here, she tilted her head back to brush her lips across his. He let go of her hands, pulling her closer. She sighed when he put his thumb under her chin and tilted her head further back, kissing her harder.

Thunder boomed somewhere in a distant field, the force of the sound shaking the walls of the decrepit house. The rain found its way inside, soaking their clothes. Lightning flashed outside, so bright that it flared behind Amy’s closed eyelids. Every touch felt more intense than it ever had before.

“Is there a bed in this place?” she mumbled, holding back a laugh when she felt Gaius frown against her lips. “Just curious.”

He shook his head, pulling her with him to the battered couch a few feet away. “Those beds have several inches of dust on them. And other unappealing things.”

“Couch it is, then.” Amy laughed when Gaius pulled away to look at her, running his fingers along her face. “Don’t look so surprised. You were the one who said I have low standards.”

Before he could retort, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. He fumbled with her jacket, moving without complaint when she shifted to be on top. Amy’s chest heaved as she slipped the jacket off, pausing for a moment before she pulled her shirt over her head immediately after.

Gaius started to breathe heavier, his eyes drawn to the place where he had stabbed her so many years ago. The scar had mostly healed, but the skin was slightly discolored. It had always struck her as odd that a scar remained, but she guessed it was because the wound was from before she’d been Turned.

“You’re looking a little overdressed.” Her voice was lower than usual. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone. Years, she was sure.

Gaius smirked, letting her undress him as he lay beneath her. She ran her hands down his stomach once she’d got him out of his clothes, digging her fingers into his skin as she ground herself against him. He moaned, sitting up to kiss her.

The rain continued to beat against the house, the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing and the occasional quiet moan. Amy pulled away long enough to slip her underwear off, her heart pounding harder than before when she straddled Gaius’ lap again.

They moved at a slow pace, his hands running up her back to unclasp her bra. She threw it on the floor, trying her best not to think about how filthy it was. The couch itself wasn’t any better. But she didn’t care.

“Amy—” Gaius spoke her name with a sigh, brushing his lips across her chest as she moved above him. He swore under his breath when she picked up her pace, his nails digging into her skin as he gripped her hips and helped her to move faster.

One of his hands made its way between her legs, and she bit her lip as she felt herself getting closer to finishing. His name slipped past her lips as a whisper, her forehead resting against his as her breathing grew ragged.

Amy took a trembling breath, moaning quietly, and stopped rocking her hips against him, the two of them sitting in silence once they’d finished. The pitter-patter of rain filled the house, the storm finally coming to an end.

“This was one of the reasons why I came here,” Amy said, a breathy laugh escaping her when Gaius rolled his eyes. He sat up and pulled her off of him, running his hands through his hair.

“You make it hard for me to focus.” He turned to look at her, not looking like he was too concerned about focusing. “Do you plan to stay long?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers through his. “Who said I planned on leaving at all? You’re the reason I left New York.”

Gaius sighed, staring at the shattered window across the room. “The others will come looking for you. I doubt they would appreciate knowing I’m the reason you ran away.”

“Who says I care what the others think?” She stood from the couch and slowly got dressed, feeling him watch her the entire time. “They won’t ever understand the way I feel about you. I gave up thinking they would get it a long time ago. I wasn’t happy there. I belong here. With you.”

He stood and got dressed, turning to face her, the tension that was between them when she first arrived now gone. “I will never understand how you can even stand to look at me after everything I’ve done.”

“The conversation we had on that boat changed my perspective. I like the real you a whole lot better than the person you were under Rheya’s control.” She reached out to run her fingers across his face, and he leaned into her hand. “Plus, the whole having sex with you right after that kind of helped you win me over.”

Gaius laughed, his teeth gleaming in the dark room. “You are irresistible.”

Amy grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer. “I thought I was insufferable.”

“One can be both irresistible and insufferable.” He cut off her response with his lips, dragging her back to the couch. A puff of dust shot out from the cushions when they dropped down, and Amy coughed, making a mental note to find them a more suitable place to stay the next night.

Eventually, the rain stopped, the world outside growing quiet. Amy struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to enjoy every second she could with Gaius after twenty-five years apart.

“How are you feeling now?” His question startled her. She had thought he might have fallen asleep.

With a shrug, she continued to trace random shapes on his chest. “Okay. The darkness went away, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Gaius shifted, and she lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “Does that happen often?”

“What? The whole earth trembling, voice booming thing?” She could see that he didn’t appreciate her attempt at making another joke. Amy sighed, rolling onto her stomach to look at him properly. “No. It only happens when I can’t control my emotions. The last time it happened, I was thinking about Jax again.” A figure jumping in front of her to prevent Rheya from turning her Feral flashed in her mind and she closed her eyes, trying to rein in the pain.

“Do you—” Gaius gulped, the fear in his tone not going unnoticed. “Do you think you could ever get as bad as you did in the opera house again?”

Amy didn’t have an answer to that question. The thought of ever returning to that state of mind terrified her. In that moment, she had felt truly unstoppable. A lust for power had overwhelmed her. If that ever happened again, she wasn’t so sure she would be able to resist it a second time around.

For over two decades, the thought of what if had haunted her. Almost as much as she missed Gaius, she missed the feeling of invincibility that Rheya’s power had given her. To bring Jax back, to help her friends in whatever way she could…power like that was irreplaceable. It was tempting beyond belief.

“How long are we staying here?” Amy forced a smile, a hint of hunger starting to creep in. She couldn’t be completely certain if it had anything to do with thinking about her hidden powers.

Gaius watched her, curiosity shining in his eyes. “I move every few weeks. I planned to leave in a few days.”

“Great,” she answered, putting her head back on his chest, shutting her eyes before the conversation about Rheya’s power could continue.

Twenty-five years ago, Amy had absorbed the power of the First Vampire. For a fleeting moment, she had felt the fate of the world placed in her hands. Then, mere minutes later, she had made the decision to choose love. The love of her friends had overpowered the hunger for power. And she had been content. Most of the past twenty-five years had passed without incident.

But Amy could feel a darkness gathering deep inside of her. It came in flashes, brief moments where she lost control and her voice shook walls. The endless possibility still flowed through her veins. One day, she feared it might burst. Darkness could only be contained for so long before it enveloped everything in its path.

Ignoring the claws that seemed to dig themselves further into her heart, Amy closed her eyes, reminding herself that she was with Gaius now. The years of pain were over. She would overcome this thirst for power in no time. It was nothing. She would be fine.

Just fine.

#choices: stories you play #choices fanfiction #bloodbound #bloodbound 3 #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #gaius augustine x mc #the amount of fanfic i've been writing can't be healthy #i should really be doing my school work

[fifteenleads]

amīcitia

Chaos amidst order, like fire burning water itself.

All in all, a dire situation, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in sheer madness.

His grip on the floating plank tightens, willing his weakened biceps to work with him, even as the rest of his submerged body shakes in earnest in the freezing river water below. The dark clouds overhead thicken as lightning strikes the distant altar; the Hydraean is not pleased with Ryuunosuke, and the result of that displeasure is the destruction of Altissia.

While First Secretary Ango had promised protection for the Oracle for the Rite of the Summoning, he did not extend the same to the fallen Prince and his deplorable retinue, who will actually face the Trial and receive the Astral's blessing for it. It was an unfair deal Ryuu accepted, regardless— nothing else mattered to him, so long as his betrothed is kept safe.

A laughable sentiment— Ryuu never considers Lady Kouyou as anything but an estranged older sister, yet he remains utterly devoted to her, nonetheless. Their shared grief over the loss of Kyouka during the Siege of Tenebrae had bonded them in a twisted but tragic understanding to do everything it takes to survive.

It was the only principle Ryuu swore to live by as they embarked on their journey to reclaim Lucis from the Empire— his last order to them, in fact, before everything began and went to hell.

An order, it seems, he won’t be able to see through to the end, as Imperial soldiers stare him down, like vicious hunters to helpless game, trapped without any form of escape.

Osamu considers his limited options at this point— the most logical one would be to swim away, let himself get swept by the unnaturally strong current down the major canals into the open bay. Ango had mentioned something about boats in the briefing; maybe he could commandeer one of them and make his way to the altar post-haste. The other, more impulsive one, is to muster the little strength left in his thin, untrained arms, and teach these glorified lapdogs a lesson in humility for daring to underestimate a half-dead Crownsguard with only raw intellect and an uncanny secretarial experience to show for it.

To be fair, though, he did take combat training with Kunikida seriously— or, at least, as much as what was expected of him at bare minimum. Those lectures on ‘ideals’ and ‘expectations’ didn’t rub off him as much as they both would have wanted, but who needed physical prowess when he had aptitude for harnessing the King's magic?

That sentiment now bites him hard in the back, with the King long-dead and the Prince, too, now feared dead. ‘Don’t blame me when you’re all alone out there, Dazai.’

A small voice in his head tells him to just let go of the plank and let himself sink— a lot easier for everyone, by far.

Osamu levels his would-be executioners with an unnaturally serene gaze. With more than half of the city destroyed by Divine Wrath and the remainder plunged in utter chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising if a member of the Lucian Prince’s entourage winds up dead or permanently incapacitated at this point. Atsushi would probably sense it— he did always have the strongest affinity with the Armiger, probably more than its actual owner, Ryuu himself. Kunikida, who’s always had his back since they were children, would just know — theirs was an unconventional partnership, enough to overturn propriety and station twice over, and then some.

And Ryuunosuke— His Royal Highness, whom he is tasked to protect and mentor— Osamu feels genuine regret at the prospect of leaving his young charge to face the rest of his life alone, all because of a fleeting moment of cowardice. He had been looking forward to teasing Ryuu at his wedding as one of the royal groomsmen, too, but that certainly isn’t happening now.

He closes his eyes and lets go, one finger at a time. Everything around him slows down— the rumble of explosives, the clap of thunder, the sound of gunfire, then—

— the shrill of a drawn blade, followed by two thuds and a loud splash, and Osamu feels himself being pulled to safety and roughly thrown onto the pavement. He barely has time to process the dead soldiers beside him before he feels a strong kick to his gut.

“I’ve always heard that the brat Prince’s shady advisor is an impossible man, but I never expected him to be this much of a mess,” intones a cocky, nasal voice from above him. Osamu looks up at his unwilling savior by instinct, and instantly resists the temptation to laugh. It seems that the rumors about the High Commander of the Imperial Army being a Napoleon are actually quite accurate, after all.

Osamu immediately rises to his full height, dispensing with any courteous gestures right off the bat; his head bows and knee bends to no one else but his own Liege. “I suppose this is the part where I express my deepest gratitude for saving this worthless life, Lord Chuuya Kashimura Nakahara, High Commander of the Imperial Army of Niflheim, First Prince of the Imperial Province of Tenebrae, younger brother to Lady Kouyou Tokutarou Ozaki, Venerable Oracle of the Six.” He cocks his head to a side, as if to ask if he had missed anything.

The recitation of his full title elicits the desired effect, and Lord Chuuya comes at him with full force, roughly grabbing Osamu by his dress collar and yanking him down to his level. “Do not speak Sister’s name with that plummy voice of yours, Lucian scum. It is your royal brat’s selfishness and naivete that brought her into this whole mess.”

A mess which, until now, he still has yet to forgive, Osamu does not say, looking directly into those clear eyes, blue as the sky, yet burns brightly like fire. For a moment, he thinks he is looking into Lady Kouyou’s eyes, deep red as the sunset, yet calms gently like water. It is the only differing trait between the two half-siblings, as they share everything else like copies of each other, from the bright salmon of their hair to the sharp angle of their jaw, down to the unwavering pride with which they carried themselves as heirs to the Royal House of Tenebrae, even as they were abruptly orphaned, deposed, and held captive as political prisoners, acting in the interests of the Empire against their will.

Lord Chuuya, it seems, still retains that fire of rebellion within him, just as Lady Kouyou still holds the quiet spark of revolution close to her heart. It makes Osamu relieved, in all honesty— ‘He still holds you in high regard, Your Majesty.’

“What are you grinning about, Advisor?” The Crusading Prince spits out at him, his voice dropping several octaves as the grip on his collar tightens in all earnest. Osamu widens the space between his lips a little further in response, before finally deigning to reply, “Nothing at all, Your Highness. I am merely amused at how the Imperial Raiment hardly suits your frame at all.” There is no lie in this, either; the stiff, white robes marking one to be from the Empire are made to appear large and imposing— neither of which befits Lord Chuuya’s lithe form at all. Still, he manages to make it work, somehow, and make the outfit his own, in more ways than one.

There is a short silence as Lord Chuuya considers his words, before Osamu feels the tight sensation around his throat loosen and he remembers to breathe once more. “Enough of this farce. We merely waste time here,” the Prince huffs indignantly before brusquely turning in the other direction. “You are coming with me, Lucian Advisor. We find my Sister and that royal brat of yours.”

Lord Chuuya does not give Osamu time to assent, instead trudging ahead along the ruined walkway, angrily kicking the stones along the path. Osamu could sense palpable anger from his hunched form, and the growing urgency and desperation from beneath it. He is reminded of Kunikida’s forcefulness for a moment, and it makes him want to hold on to his life just a little longer for now.

‘You must survive,’ Ryuunosuke had told each of them, coal eyes burning with grief and rage as they watched Insomnia be consumed from the far outside, with no way back in. ‘Promise me.’

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Osamu puts his hands in his pockets, slowly moving forward until he falls into step with Lord Chuuya. Time, too, flows normally once more— the rush of the river current, the crackle of boots on gravel, the howling of a far-away tempest, then—

— a slight pause, followed by a deal to start a partnership, as unconventional as the last. A temporary truce, too, for so long as they have loved ones they cherish and wish to keep safe. “If we’re doing this properly, Your Highness, you might want to know your companion’s name as early as now, just so we can coordinate our attacks properly later, should the need arise.” Osamu follows with a smirk, for added measure— surely, someone who serves in the military should recognize the benefit of the practical suggestion.

Lord Chuuya merely raises an eyebrow incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I know your name, Osamu Dazai,” he says in a much more relaxed tone, the sudden use of informal language momentarily throwing Osamu for a loop. A snort leaves his lips before he could stop himself, which soon blows into low, controlled chuckles as he turns away, clutching his sides with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Annoyance creeps into the Prince’s voice once more as he questions the sudden fit. “What’s so funny, Dazai?” It takes Osamu a full minute to calm down as he wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Nothing at all, Your Highness— or, should I call you Nakahara instead?” he offers, as if to return the unexpected courtesy granted him.

There is hesitation in Lord Chuuya’s stilted movements as he raises a hand to the back of his head, absentmindedly threading the long, red mane there, still dripping wet from the rescue earlier. “... Call me ‘Chuuya’,” he asks instead, looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Only the Niffs call me Nakahara. It makes me feel… quite uncomfortable.”

‘Do forgive him his rudeness,’ Lady Kouyou had apologized for him long before. ‘He is actually quite a gentle child.’

Osamu smiles at the memory, noting all of these things in Chuuya and more. ‘Indeed, he is. You must be proud of him, Princess Kouyou.’

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, befitting only her alone: ‘I indeed am.’

“Very well, Chuuya, since you doth insist so much,” Osamu complies, raising his tone to that of the plummy impersonation the Napoleon Prince hates so much, “but blame me not if I end up calling you names you might dislike. Consider yourself warned.”

The well-placed taunt elicits the desired effect, and Osamu merrily skips on ahead, effortlessly dodging Chuuya’s attempts to stick his daggers into his back. It’s a much easier feat than drowning himself, by far, and surviving seems a lot more bearable now.

Hope amidst despair, like sunlight dispelling the darkness.

All in all, a fortunate circumstance, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in subdued contentment.

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #dachuu #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #final fantasy xv AU #episode ignis AU #ignis!dazai #ravus!chuuya #first meeting #platonic / romantic compliant

[pulaasul]

The Reaper and The Master of Death

Harry Potter and Death watch some events unfold, starting with Tobirama Senju's creation of the Reanimation Jutsu.

[FFN] [Ao3]

--------

Harry looked amused as the personification of death sighed beside him as he and the personification watched a certain white-haired, blue-armored man successfully create a spell, jutsu as they were called in this world, that resurrected the dead, technically speaking.

The shinobi, as Harry learned they were called, slammed his hands on the ground and the three persons that were bound before him had dust, ash and dirt sticking to their bodies up until three unfamiliar figures replaced the prisoners.

"Reminds me of the inferi actually." Harry thought out loud.

"The inferi are called zombies in other worlds," Death huffed. "This one actually grabs the souls of the dead and forcibly puts them in another, after ejecting the soul of the host body," They continued. "It's rather accurate to compare them to the Black Lantern Corps minus the use of host bodies to call forth the souls of the dead."

"So how this works is that a DNA specific to that body is what's triggering an effect akin to the Resurrection Stone through their Chakra and puts the summoned souls into a living body, essentially creating a zombie that retains all their personality and knowledge that uses a living host to exist."

"In a sense." Death nodded.

"At the very least, he seemed not too keen on playing god as the thought of resurrecting the loved ones he lost in the clan wars hasn't crossed his mind." Harry offered. "I'm pretty sure he's just using the emotions and skills tied to the dead to his advantage."

Indeed, none of the unfamiliar figures resembled the white-haired man at all.

"Working with Weasley has strengthened your strategies, I see." Death commented. "You are right, even your very own Albus Dumbledore succumbed to the temptations of the Resurrection Stone and tried to call for the actual resurrection of his sister and parents."

"I'm pretty sure this type of strategy wouldn't cross Ron's mind," Harry offered. "The guy has a pretty good sense of morals despite what we experienced."

"My point still stands," Death shrugged. "He was a strategic genius even when you both were still eleven."

"Still can't believe there are versions of Professor Dumbledore that wanted to control everyone, who'd gaslight everyone around him just to keep everything in his control."

"You've seen for yourself how those Dumbledores are," Death offered. "I mean there are versions of you who sided with Riddle."

"I know," Harry sighed. "Still uncomfortable with those realities." He shook his head. "In any case, back to the man, Tobirama was it?"

"That's his name." Death nodded.

"I don't think we should worry about this spell or jutsu of his to be used to resurrect entire armies, as Voldemort did with his inferi, the jutsu is still limited to the caster's chakra."

--------

"Okay this, this I did not expect." Harry admitted.

A hooded, pale as white man had a lot of prisoners bound up before him as he slammed his hand to the ground, making the earth and dust gather around his captives and took the form of another person.

"I did not think possible that using the chakra around them can be used to fuel the jutsu." Death nodded. "This makes for good entertainment I suppose."

"Even that Orochimaru person wasn't playing god as soon as soon as he understood the jutsu," Harry pointed out. "Even though he has a lot of similarities to Voldemort regarding his animal of choice and his quest for immortality."

"I agree, and he had his hands sealed inside my stomach for some time alongside the souls of the Hashirama, Hiruzen, Minato and the creator of the jutsu, Tobirama."

"I've got to say, it was pretty ironic that the jutsu's creator was summoned by the very jutsu he created." Harry commented. "I still have a lot of questions regarding you eating their souls tho, I still remember being human and that looked like cannibalism to me."

"It's a visual metaphor." Death shrugged. "How I seal the souls is dependent on the cognition of the jutsu's creator, had the jutsu's creator created the jutsu with a gourd as a container in her mind, I would have appeared with a gourd in hand."

"So where are they, if not inside your stomach?"

"Limbo." Death answered. "Until anyone finds a way to free them from limbo, which in this world's case my stomach, they're staying there for good."

--------

"I feel sorry for the Uchihas." Harry offered as he observed the shinobi alliance fight against the hordes of dead shinobi. "They were wiped out, barring a few survivors, and they don't get to join this war."

"Well fate works in mysterious ways," Death shrugged. "It turns out there actually was a consequence to creating this jutsu."

"Don't tell me, the early demise of Tsunade Senju's fiancé and younger brother." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"That and a few others."

"No way! The Uchihas were collateral damage too?"

"Remember one of Tobirama's students?" Death asked. "The one that had bandages all over his body?"

"Danzo? What about him?"

"Well Danzo took Tobirama's paranoia and suspicions on the Uchihas to the very extreme that lead to the massacre of the clan, which tied everything in a neat ribbon."

"But what about Naruto, he's been wearing the cursed necklace since he won that bet against Tsunade."

"What do you think? You're a child of prophecy, the same as him."

"Huh, never thought of that." Harry hummed.

--------

"What great irony." Death commented.

Kabuto has just finished the hand seals necessary to dispel the reanimation jutsu.

"The Uchiha, the collateral for the creation of such jutsu was the one to stop it from running and return the souls of the dead, where they belong." Harry grinned. "It's the man who was forced to kill his entire clan too."

"I want you to meet him and give him a reward for such display." Death urged.

"Any reward?"

"Yes, but if he does go for an actual resurrection, limit it only to one or two." Death nodded.

---------

"Hello Itachi Uchiha." Harry greeted the confused Uchiha.

"W-who are you?" Itachi's eyes narrowed. "The Reanimation jutsu should've been undone."

"It was." Harry nodded. "Take a look around you, where do you think we are?"

"The Uchiha compound?" Itachi looked around. "Only silent and cleaner."

"The Uchiha compound you say?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Regardless, your effort to bring the souls back to where they belong was rather brilliant." He praised.

"It was in an effort to save the Hidden Leaf…" Itachi trailed off.

"Call me Harry."

"It was to save the Hidden Leaf Harry." Itachi continued.

"An altruistic reason." Harry nodded. "In any case, fancy playing a prank on everyone alive? Especially Madara?"

"Prank?"

"Don't you think it's rather curious that no Uchiha, apart from you, was summoned from the dead?"

"I didn't question the absence of the Uchiha in the front lines. "Had the Uchihas were present the Shinobi alliance would have been wiped out almost immediately or at the very least would prove difficult to be fought against."

"Are you so sure about that Itachi-kun?" Harry questioned. "I was under the impression that only a few of you were able to awaken the Mangekyou and train it's exclusive powers."

"No, I am aware that only a few of us have unlocked the Mangekyou and even fewer to fully harness its powers." Itachi shook his head. "Had Shisui been present in the battle, he'd have killed a battalion in one strike."

"Shisui of the Body Flicker." Harry nodded.

"With the benefits gotten as a summon of the Reanimation, he'd be unstoppable, he's fast enough that no one would be able to seal him, even moreso if Kabuto had sealed his personality and made use of his abilities."

"Shisui's presence would've put more casualties than they already are." Harry nodded. "In any case, back to my idea."

"What does pranking everyone mean for the people battling now would entail?"

"Apart from a short reprieve from all the battles, especially for the living? Imagine the look on everyone's face as soon as some of the Uchihas started showing up."

---------

Everyone has just lost the alliance's intelligence headquarters through the ten tail's attack.

Without a moment of reprieve Madara and Obito, by controlling the ten tails, resumed their assault on the shinobi alliance and bombarded with attacks with its appendages: tails, feet and hands.

It culminated with another tailed beast bomb that directly targeted the entire shinobi alliance, if not for the timely intervention of the reanimated fourth Hokage: Minato Namikaze.

As the previous Hokages arrived, they immobilized the ten tails which gave the shinobi alliance a turn to attack the huge beast.

The unprecedented happened however, the ten tailed beast created 'clones', for lack of better term, of various sizes and forms in an attempt to defend itself from the onslaught of attack form the alliance.

The alliance were able to stand their ground but none were able to approach the main body, where it lay restrained.

Suddenly, a lot of those 'clones' were suddenly slashed and bisected, some were even obliterated.

"You sure grew up Sasuke." A voice commented as he stood on top of Sasuke's summon.

"Shisui."

"Eeeeh! That's Shisui?!" Naruto exclaimed in disbelief.

"The Uchiha clan will officially join the Shinobi Alliance!"

The third Hokage and Sasuke immediately recognized the person who made the announcement, one Fugaku Uchiha.

"The Uchiha clan?" Tobirama questioned. "I thought they were extinct."

"Do not worry about that Lord Second." Shisui grinned as he appeared beside the second Hokage, slashing a clone that managed to get through the rushing shinobi. "We're all still dead, someone used the white Zetsus lying around as sacrifice and reanimated some members of the clan."

"Hiruzen, Minato." Fugaku acknowledged the presence of the Hokage he was familiar with.

"I apologize for Danzo's actions Fugaku, I was too weak to stop him."

"It's too late for apologies Hiruzen, I am however thankful that you let Itachi spare Sasuke."

"Of course."

"Shisui, accompany Sasuke and his companions to the ten tail's body the rest of us help clean these up."

"Yes Lord Fugaku!" Shisui and the other members of the Uchiha clan voiced their affirmation.

With the aid of the Uchiha clan, some that have access to the Mangekyou and Susanoo, they made quick work with the ten tail's clones that some were even able to assist Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura and Shisui obliterating all the obstacles the appeared on their way towards the ten tail's main body.

--------

"Apart from Madara, who's the other man beside him?" Fugaku asked the two Hokages he was with.

"You don't recognize him?" Minato questioned. "That's Obito."

"Obito? Shouldn't he have died during your mission at the Kannabi bridge?" Fugaku beheaded a ten-tails clone.

"From what I have gathered, he didn't." Hiruzen smashed another clone right under his bo staff.

"According to Kakashi, Madara was the one who saved him, his body was indeed crushed by the boulder that we thought had killed him." Minato slashed a ten tailed clone

"This is your fault Sarutobi! Namikaze!" One of the Uchihas with the third and fourth Hokage exclaimed.

"I will not deny my part on Obito's descent, but do not put all the blame on the third and me," Minato shook his head. "It was the Uchiha clan who thought he was a disgrace in the first place, did you not?" He huffed as he stabbed another clone in the eyes.

"From what the intelligence corps had been relaying since they were reanimated, Obito was also the one responsible for releasing the Kyuubi and ordered it to attack the village." Hiruzen slammed three ten tailed clones with his bo staff. "He was also the one who killed the entire clan, Itachi's hands were only soaked in your and your wife's blood."

"He's also responsible why both Kushina and I died." Minato offered. "Why don't we continue this conversation when were done with the war." He suggested as he shook his dead.

"No need," Fugaku shook his head. "What happened to the clan was a series of karmic events that started with the clan doing wrong with one of their own."

"He was such a sweet, optimistic and helpful boy," Minato lamented. "To see him turn out this way was what hurt the most."

--------

"Lee Focus!" Neji barked as he performed the Rotation and destroy all incoming enemies.

Neji landed beside Lee and performed a series of air palms and blew alot of the clones away from his general vicinity.

"Neji… Y-you're."

"Yes I am dead." Neji nodded. "However I was summoned alongside the Uchiha clan to help aid in this ongoing war."

"A-are there others with you?"

"Now's not the time for that." Neji shook his head. "We will battle one last time." He smiled at his teammate. "We will rendezvous with Tenten."

"Yosh!"

---------

"What's going on Shisui? The reanimation Jutsu should've been undone." Sasuke questioned.

"It was undone alright." Shisui jumped from an incoming attack. "We were reanimated right after it was undone." He fired a fireball at the enemies in front of the group.

"After it was undone?" Naruto questioned.

"Apparently, like with Orochimaru reanimating the previous Hokages, someone used the jutsu to summon members of the Uchiha clan and some others." Shisui shrugged.

---------

"Looks like your clansmen disagree with you Madara." Hashirama commented.

"It wouldn't be the first time that this happened." Madara scoffed.

----------

"The One Tailed Beast was once connected to me, I'll get them!" Gaara released a thick trail of chakra infused sand and grabbed hold of the One Tail's chakra.

"We finally found the weakness and that is the key. Leave the Eight Tailed Beast's chakra to me." Killer Bee rapped as he used the Eight Tail's tentacles and clung unto the Eight Tail's chakra.

A chakra tug of war between the ten tail's jinchuuriki against Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara and Killer Bee ensued. They managed to pull out the tailed beasts' chakra from inside Obito but they were at an impasse.

Obito was a strong shinobi in his own right and with the added bonus of being the ten tails's jinchuuriki, that power increased exponentially. He was able to cling unto the tailed beasts' chakra that reacted to Naruto and Sasuke's attack.

"Don't underestimate the ten tail's jinchuuriki!" Obito declared as he pulled the tailed beasts' chakra harder to his person.

The Susanoo armor sprouted a handed from the back and pulled on one of Kurama's armored tails.

"Just keep pulling Naruto!"

The members of Naruto's graduating class arrived and gave their assistance as they clasped on one of tails.

Soon after everyone from the shinobi alliance arrived and with the help of Minato's tailed beast form's chakra, everyone gave their assistance and pulled.

"That's great! Everyone on my mark!" Naruto declared. "Ready! Set!"

Everyone positioned themselves comfortably as they awaited Naruto's signal.

"Pull!"

Everyone from the shinobi alliance heeded Naruto's call and pulled on the chakra.

Naruto himself pulled with all his might.

"Don't underestimate everyone's power!" Naruto declared.

As much as Obito's will had wavered for a brief moment, he was still the most powerful being present, even with everyone trying to pull away the tailed beasts' chakra from him. He responded everyone's convictions and actions with his own and pulled some of the chakra back to him.

"Continue to pull Naruto!" A very familiar voice exclaimed. "Leave Obito to us!"

Kushina arrived with Mikoto and Jiraiya.

"Mom." Naruto and Sasuke muttered to themselves as they watched their respective mothers join the fray.

Another Susanoo armor manifested around the Uchiha matriarch as chains sprouted from Kushina's body and wrapped themselves around Obito's torso.

"I will be joining into the fray, I'll leave him to you ladies."

"Thanks for the lift Jiraiya." Kushina grinned.

"Kushina get in here." Mikoto scooped up her friend and placed Kushina beside her inside her Susanoo.

With Kushina and Mikoto pulling Obito and the shinobi alliance pulling the chakra with Naruto, the leaf's jinchuuriki was successful in liberating the other tailed beasts' chakra from the ten tailed beast, defeating Obito in the massive tug-of-war.

---------

The Sage of Six Paths and the all the previous Kages summoned Team 7 and all the other tailed beasts from Kaguya's dimension.

The reanimated people began catching up to team 7, particularly the Uchihas with Sasuke and Naruto's parents and godfather.

Shisui made one last action of ruffling his cousin's hair before joining Fugaku and Mikoto.

"I'm afraid we all must go." The sage of six paths voiced out as he shook his head.

The reanimated people nodded in understanding as they glowed and began to dissipate, their bodies disintegrating into earth and dust.

Naruto and Sasuke didn't waste time and bid farewell to their loved ones.

---------

"Why haven't we left the living plane?" Hashirama questioned.

"Some of you have yet to leave your earthly constructs." The Sage of six paths shook his head. "Also, as I am the father of Sasuke's and Naruto's first incarnations, of Indra and Asura, it is my duty as their father to watch this conflict I knew I have helped sow to its very end."

"Choosing Asura over Indra." The second Hokage crossed his ethereal arms.

"Go Naruto! Know that your mother's rooting for you! You know!" Kushina yelled.

"Go for it Sasuke! The entire Uchiha clan has got your back!" Mikoto responded her own cheer.

"Mikoto, is that how the wife of the Uchiha clan head should act?" Fugaku rebuked.

"Really?" Mikoto raised an eyebrow. "We're dead if you haven't already noticed Fugaku, I don't care about upholding the clan's values when the same values got all of us killed."

"I didn't realize Mikoto-san has quite a temper to her." Minato commented.

"Motherhood mellowed her out," Fugaku admitted. "She knew she didn't want her sons to inherit her infamous temper."

"I guess I should've known considering how good friends she and Kushina were." Minato chuckled.

"Birds of a feather indeed." Fugaku nodded.

---------

To Naruto's and Sasuke's surprise, and utter embarrassment, their loved ones have yet to return to the pure world and they just knew that everyone witnessed their battle.

"You did good Sasuke." Fugaku nodded.

"You were great Naruto!" Kushina praised. "My son is so powerful!"

"Just like we'd hope, right Kushina?" Minato asked his wife.

"As for the reason we're still here, I felt it prudent for everyone to say goodbye to their late loved ones instead of just a few of them having that chance," The sage of six paths voiced out.

The casualties of the fourth shinobi world war as well as the fallen loved ones of the living people, who just woke up from the infinite tsukuyomi-induced slumber, appeared and they talked with each other like Tsunade talking to her late fiancé and younger brother.

Team Gai talking to Neji.

Shikamaru and Ino talking to their respective fathers, and with Chouji, they conversed with Asuma.

"Wait!" Naruto exclaimed. "Konohamaru needs to know you're here old man!" He exclaimed as he disappeared in a yellow flash and appearing a moment later, carrying the third hokage's grandson.

"What gives boss?! I know I was bored in the village but you didn't have to drag me out of it out of nowhere!" Konohamaru whined.

Naruto shook his head and gestured to the third Hokage.

"Grandpa." Konohamaru's eyes widened. "Gramps!" The young Sarutobi tackled his grandfather and hugged him as tight as he could.

"You've grown Konohamaru." Hiruzen returned the hug. "I heard you had defended the leaf spectacularly." The late Hokage ruffled the young Sarutobi's hair affectionately.

"He has indeed sensei." Tsunade affirmed. "Saved his jounin sensei from being killed during one of Akatsuki's attacks."

"Keep up the good work Konohamaru," Hiruzen smiled at his grandson. "I'm proud of you."

"And so am I." Asuma interjected.

Asuma turned to his team. "Look after him will you?"

"We will Asuma-sensei." Shikamaru nodded.

Soon enough everyone bid farewell to their loved ones: Naruto with his parents and godfather; Sasuke with his clan; Ino, Shikamaru and Chouji with their fathers and teacher; Tsunade with her grandfather, fiancé and younger brother; Konohamaru with his grandfather and uncle.

As soon as everyone disappeared, Shisui, whose body have yet to disintegrate, collapsed.

"What's happening?!"

Tsunade and Sakura were quick to rush to the unconscious Uchiha.

-----------

"Hello Shisui Uchiha." Harry greeted the boy.

"Hello" Shisui greeted back but his hands were on his short sword. "Is this the pure world?"

"You have unique circumstances Shisui," Harry informed the Uchiha. "Someone made the choice to resurrect you as a reward for a job well done."

"Resurrect me?" Shisui raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry but shouldn't that be impossible?"

"Not entirely in your world," Harry shrugged. "Chiyo of the Hidden Sand was able to resurrect their Kazekage, Gaara, after he was killed hours prior, Nagato used the Rinnegan's ability to resurrect the hidden leaf's casualties during his attack on the village, Madara forcefully used the same ability with the Rinnegan in Obito's possession to resurrect himself," He explained. "All of them at the cost of the user's life."

Would you really sacrifice your life for me, whoever you are?"

"Call me Harry," Harry smiled. "And what makes you think I'm a living person?"

"I mean we are talking aren't we?"

"Where exactly do you think we are?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, I was about to ask you the same question." Shisui fired back.

"Humor me." Harry urged.

Shisui looked around his surroundings.

"This… this is the top of the Hokage's Tower." Shisui declared. "That's the Hokage Mountain." He pointed at mountain with the faces of the Hokage carved on it.

"Looks like Mount Rushmore." Harry muttered to himself.

"But it's silent and cleaner." Shisui observed.

"The Hokage Tower below the Hokage Mountain huh?" Harry hummed. "It make sense." He nodded.

"So this is the boy Itachi Uchiha wanted to resurrect." The sage of six paths observed. "Rather curious that he didn't choose his parents."

"I don't think it's quite that interesting Hagoromo." Harry shook his head. "One of Itachi's few regrets was Shisui Uchiha's death."

"Also one of the very few Uchihas who didn't inherit Indra's curse of hatred," The sage of six paths nodded. "He also loved his village that he essentially gave his life for her survival."

"Shouldn't Itachi be the one resurrected?" Shisui offered his input.

"That can't be done Shisui," Harry shook his head. "It has to be you."

"Why me?" Shisui questioned. "Don't you think it'd be unfair for everyone who lost someone in the war but somehow I'm the one who gets resurrected?" He reasoned.

Harry and the sage looked at each other and smiled.

"Don't you want to go back Shisui?" Harry asked.

"I'm not saying I don't want to…" Shisui trailed off.

"Cedric…" Harry whispered to himself

Harry shook his head as he focused on his current circumstance.

"Ultimately Shisui, you have a choice," Harry looked at Shisui's eyes. "You can choose to go back to the pure world or be resurrected."

"Can I have some time to think over everything?" Shisui asked.

"Take your time." Harry nodded.

Shisui took his time to decide and Harry could understand. Unlike his circumstances, Shisui didn't have anyone left to protect when Harry still had more he cherished.

Harry may have accepted the fact that he may die but when a choice was given to him, he didn't hesitate to grab it.

One thing was sure, things were different for one Shisui Uchiha.

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

"How is he alive?"

Were the words Shisui heard as soon as he regained consciousness, it immediately clued him on his current state: a living person.

"Unlike Madara, he didn't perform the hand seals necessary to keep himself in this world."

"No, only the Rinnegan has the ability to resurrect people from the dead."

"No, Chiyo-sama of the Hidden Sand used a medical jutsu to resurrect Gaara when his tailed beast was stolen from him at the cost of her own life."

"That still leaves the Rinnegan as the viable answer."

"Do you think Sasuke…"

"Why use the ability on Shisui and not on Itachi or his parents?"

"Then how?"

"Putting Shisui's resurrection on the sides for now, how're the people reacting?"

"The only people aware are the people present in the front lines, and the majority of them are indifferent on the matter."

"He's regained consciousness."

"Shisui Uchiha." Shisui was immediately aware that Tsunade was one of the people who was talking about him outside his room as he watched her appear through the door. "It appears that you have been resurrected." The fifth Hokage stood beside his bed and gave him an assessing stare.

"I don't really know lady Hokage," Shisui shook his head. "All I know that the Uchiha clan were reanimated at the place where I killed myself," He admitted. "Alongside the other casualties of the fourth shinobi world war."

"It appears someone used the Rinne Rebirth jutsu on you," Tsunade relayed. "That is the ability exclusive to the Rinnegan that resurrects the dead." She looked at the clip board she was holding." However, there's only one living person who has the Rinnegan, the others who have this bloodline are dead when you were resurrected."

"Grandma."

Naruto barged into the room.

"You're supposed to be resting Naruto," The fifth Hokage admonished. "You wanted a new hand attached to your arm."

"I know that but Grandpa Sage said that I needed to tell you something."

"The Sage of Six Paths?" Shisui raised an eyebrow, remembering the events of the war.

"Well?" Tsunade prompted impatiently.

"He said that Shisui was revived un…kon…" Naruto struggled. "Gaah! Why'd he have to use complicated words?!" He whined.

"You're saying that Shisui was resurrected using unconventional standards?" Tsunade finished Naruto's train of thought.

"Yes! Yes that!" Naruto eagerly nodded.

"Lady Tsunade, Shisui shouldn't even have his eyes." Sakura reported. "According to Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei, Madara's eyes disappeared when he used the Rinne Rebirth jutsu on himself."

"And According to Ibiki's report, the way the Reanimation jutsu works was what their body was what like when they died, if they died without their eyes, they shouldn't even have eyes." The fifth Hokage hummed. "Madara was the exception."

"According to Grandpa Sage, the reaper was the one who reanimated him." Naruto supplied.

"The reaper?" Sakura questioned.

"I'm guessing that's the being that appears when the Yondaime and Sandaime used the Reaper Sealing jutsu." Tsunade speculated. "In that case, I suppose this is one mystery that will never be solved." Tsunade announced. "I'm declaring that the circumstances of Shisui Uchiha's resurrection an S-class secret."

"Isn't that a bit overkill Lady Hokage?" Shisui asked. "It's not like we found something out, and wouldn't declaring my circumstance pose more danger?"

"You are right Uchiha." Tsunade nodded. "However, by declaring your circumstances an S-rank secret, we can avoid people asking questions." She offered.

-----------

"Are you sure you're okay about this?" Harry questioned Death as they watched what was happening in the Hidden Leaf's hospital. "Getting the credit for something that we know is a lie."

"No harm done," Death shrugged. "No one in this world knows of your circumstances, aside from the sage," They pointed out. "Even then I don't think he's sure of what you represent master."

"You and I both know that I'm not your master." Harry rolled his eyes. "You also know how I feel about garnering a title that I did not earn."

"But you did, uniting all three hallows." Death rebutted.

"Yeah if we're talking about technicalities, and you know we're not," Harry argued. "Why'd you even create them anyway?"

"Just like with Shisui, it was a reward," Death answered. "But unlike Shisui, it was a test of morals and values."

"Morals and values?" Harry snorted. "You do know that the wizards and witches are the worst kind of sort, especially the pure blooded ones."

"That's why it was a test," Death shrugged. "I was testing on how they would use my gifts. The first brother was ego centric and a bit of a narcissist, so he immediately boasted his new wand.

The second brother was a lover, but he let his love consume his being.

The third brother was a lot like you, he just wanted a quiet life and didn't want to be in the spotlight like his first brother, he let his love define but never consume him."

"So it wasn't a trick like some books had surmised?"

"It never was a trick Harry." Death shook their head. "I was never angry at them for escaping their supposed demise in the first place."

"So you mean to say that you never searched for the third brother?"

"Why would I search? The effects of the invisibility cloak never affected me." Death offered. "I suppose you could say that the cloak was a timer of sorts and I would only collect any soul in possession of the cloak when the timer passes."

"So if the third brother was the same as the first and second brothers, what could've happened?"

"There are a lot of possibilities, had he used the cloak, like how a certain toad sage would, he could be a case of dying of 'I did not know he was standing in front of me while I was practicing for the curse.'"

"Have you seen that happen?"

"Interestingly enough, the third brother has always acted the same way, despite the different circumstances of how the brothers acquired the hallows."

"So the existence of the hallows are also consistent in other realities."

"Of course." Death nodded. "Let me change the topic for a bit."

"Go on."

"Why'd you mention your fellow Triwizard Champion when you talked with Shisui?" Death asked, curious.

"Shisui reminded me of Cedric," Harry admitted. "I think, if he had survived the tournament, he'd do what Shisui had done."

"You do realize that there are realities whe-"

"Where he's a death eater, I know." Harry finished Death's train of thought. "We both know the circumstances behind such a radical change in character."

"Like with Shisui and Itachi, Cedric was a double agent, using the circumstances of his loss to gain audience with the Dark Lord and the one of the things that your son and Scorpius didn't know was that Cedric was never the cause for Neville's death."

"Cedric was a huge loss to the Wizarding World, judging by the circumstances that happened after the tournament in the world where he supported Riddle." Harry sighed.

----------

"So who's going to be the clan head?" Naruto found himself asking the question to Iruka. "Should it be Sasuke because of his present age or Shisui who was born years before Sasuke."

"What brought this question Naruto?" Iruka raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno," Naruto shrugged. "It just came to me."

"Technically speaking, you're the clan head of the Uzumaki clan Naruto, as its only known living member." Iruka stated.

"What use is being a leader if you're not leading anyone? What use is being a kage in an empty village?" Naruto pointed out.

"That's the same situation for both Uchihas." Iruka answered. "Shisui and Sasuke are the only Uchihas left and there is no need for a leader with only two members, one of which is the leader."

"What about the Shinobi council?" Naruto questioned.

"I'm afraid that the Uchihas have little to no power on the matters of the council for the same reasons why the clan has no head, the things that would be decided in the council would have little to no effect on them."

"What if Sasuke or Shisui were to revive the Uchiha Police Corps?"

"Then they have a seat on the Shinobi Council." Iruka smiled. "I'm really happy that you're taking this lessons seriously Naruto."

"I can see why these are important to become Hokage and being a ninja does not only revolve around flashy jutsus and overpowering the enemy," Naruto grumbled. "Does not mean I like it."

"I know how frustrating it is for you." Iruka offered a comforting pat on the boy's shoulder. "You've always been someone who learned things through physical activities instead of just listening and reading." He smiled. "I know that you can pull through this."

"I will definitely finish this and become Hokage! Believe it!" Naruto declared.

"I definitely believe."

#harry potter #naruto #shisui uchiha #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #itachi uchiha #iruka umino #third hokage #fourth hokage #minato namikaze #kushina uzumaki #first hokage #second hokage #story #the reaper and the master of death

[coffeebased]

Hey! Wikathon na! I’ve started reading Relocations by Karen Tongson, about a third through now, but I had to take a little detour through Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir like I said I would. I’ve finished reading HtN but I’m not quite done experiencing it, so I’ll probably pick Relocations back up tomorrow.

But here’s what I read in July! What’s a segue?

1. Haikyu!! Volume 44 and 45 by Haruichi Furudate

A chance event triggered Shouyou Hinata’s love for volleyball. His club had no members, but somehow persevered and finally made it into its very first and final regular match of middle school, where it was steamrolled by Tobio Kageyama, a superstar player known as “King of the Court.”

Vowing revenge, Hinata applied to the Karasuno High School volleyball club… only to come face-to-face with his hated rival, Kageyama!

And with those two volumes, Haikyū has ended. I’m really glad that my cousin got me to catch up to the series because being a part of the sheer joy and love that’s poured out the fandom these past few months has been refreshing to my spirit. I enjoyed the way Furudate brought the series to its conclusion, by giving all the characters a future and room to grow. I hope to hear more from him in the upcoming years.

  2. Looking for Group by Alexis Hall

I read Looking for Group because I was reading up on Alexis Hall in anticipation of Boyfriend Material, which I will talk about later, and saw the synopsis:

So, yeah, I play Heroes of Legend, y’know, the MMO. I’m not like obsessed or addicted or anything. It’s just a game. Anyway, there was this girl in my guild who I really liked because she was funny and nerdy and a great healer. Of course, my mates thought it was hilarious I was into someone I’d met online. And they thought it was even more hilarious when she turned out to be a boy IRL. But the joke’s on them because I still really like him.

And now that we’re together, it’s going pretty well. Except sometimes I think Kit—that’s his name, sorry I didn’t mention that—spends way too much time in HoL. I know he has friends in the guild, but he has me now, and my friends, and everyone knows people you meet online aren’t real. I mean. Not Kit. Kit’s real. Obviously.

Oh, I’m Drew, by the way. This is sort of my story. About how I messed up some stuff and figured out some stuff. And fell in love and stuff.

And I knew that I had to read it. Immediately.

I enjoyed it way too much. The characters were adorable, the conflict was done well, the geeky gamer wrapper was AMAZING and the author never dropped the ball on integrating the online game into the narrative. It was very readable and I enjoyed the atmosphere of the book immensely. I also may have spent a heady week or so thinking of playing WoW, but I avoided that temptation. Made me miss uni too, and the way my friends and I would spend countless hours with each other.

  3. Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

Wanted: One (fake) boyfriend Practically perfect in every way

Luc O’Donnell is tangentially–and reluctantly–famous. His rock star parents split when he was young, and the father he’s never met spent the next twenty years cruising in and out of rehab. Now that his dad’s making a comeback, Luc’s back in the public eye, and one compromising photo is enough to ruin everything.

To clean up his image, Luc has to find a nice, normal relationship…and Oliver Blackwood is as nice and normal as they come. He’s a barrister, an ethical vegetarian, and he’s never inspired a moment of scandal in his life. In other words: perfect boyfriend material. Unfortunately apart from being gay, single, and really, really in need of a date for a big event, Luc and Oliver have nothing in common. So they strike a deal to be publicity-friendly (fake) boyfriends until the dust has settled. Then they can go their separate ways and pretend it never happened.

But the thing about fake-dating is that it can feel a lot like real-dating. And that’s when you get used to someone. Start falling for them. Don’t ever want to let them go.

I came into this book with high expectations after Looking for Group, and my expectations were mostly met. The few issues I had were ultimately negligible, probably cultural differences or conventions of a genre that I’m not familiar with. The characters were strong, and I found the book funny. I know it sounds as though I’m damning it with faint praise, so I’ll say it plainly: it was an enjoyable read and I was totally invested in the romance. I think it’ll make a really good film as well.

4. The Subtweet by Vivek Shraya

Everyone talks about falling in love, but falling in friendship can be just as captivating. When Neela Devaki’s song is covered by internet-famous artist Rukmini, the two musicians meet and a transformative friendship begins. But as Rukmini’s star rises and Neela’s stagnates, jealousy and self-doubt creep in. With a single tweet, their friendship implodes, one career is destroyed, and the two women find themselves at the center of an internet firestorm.

Celebrated multidisciplinary artist Vivek Shraya’s second novel is a stirring examination of making art in the modern era, a love letter to brown women, an authentic glimpse into the music industry, and a nuanced exploration of the promise and peril of being seen.

If you’re a millennial and if you’ve ever had complicated friendships, this book will ring really true for most of it, I think. I kept wincing at the characters’ actions and “mistakes”, recognising them as things I or my friends have done, but there are portions of the story that I found inaccessible because Neela, the main character, just seems really opaque even when they’re the ones speaking. The music Shraya made as a companion to the book slaps and can be found here.

  5. Empowered 11 by Adam Warren

Costumed crimefighter Empowered finds herself the desperate prey of a maniacal supervillain whose godlike powers have turned an entire city of suprahumans against her.

Not good! Outnumbered and under siege, aided only by a hero’s ghost, can Emp survive the relentless onslaught long enough to free her enslaved teammates and loved ones, or is this–*gulp*–The End?

From comics overlord Adam Warren comes Empowered, the acclaimed sexy superhero comedy–except when it isn’t, as in this volume’s no-nonsense, wall-to-wall brawl guaranteed to bring tears to the eye and fists to the face!

Warren’s tying up a lot of loose ends and answering a lot of questions and I’m wondering if that means Empowered‘s ending soon. I haven’t seen any info regarding this, even though the words “The End” are right there in the summary, because comic books always lean on the whole the hero could die! thing, and more often than not they never do. But Emp has come so far in the past 11 volumes, and I think that she’s ready to confront a lot of the stuff that Warren’s only hinted at in the past. Most of Empowered is about how Emp deals with failure and how she rises above it, and recently it’s become about how other people have failed her, rather than how she has failed, and how she deserves better. I’m worried about her, but at least we are another volume’s worth of evidence for the Emp/Thugboy/Ninjette OT3.

  6. Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan

The iconic author of the bestselling phenomenon Crazy Rich Asians returns with a glittering tale of love and longing as a young woman finds herself torn between two worlds–the WASP establishment of her father’s family and George Zao, a man she is desperately trying to avoid falling in love with.

On her very first morning on the jewel-like island of Capri, Lucie Churchill sets eyes on George Zao and she instantly can’t stand him. She can’t stand it when he gallantly offers to trade hotel rooms with her so that she can have the view of the Tyrrhenian Sea, she can’t stand that he knows more about Curzio Malaparte than she does, and she really can’t stand it when he kisses her in the darkness of the ancient ruins of a Roman villa and they are caught by her snobbish, disapproving cousin, Charlotte. “Your mother is Chinese so it’s no surprise you’d be attracted to someone like him,” Charlotte teases. Daughter of an American-born-Chinese mother and blue-blooded New York father, Lucie has always sublimated the Asian side of herself in favor of the white side, and she adamantly denies having feelings for George. But several years later, when George unexpectedly appears in East Hampton where Lucie is weekending with her new fiancé, Lucie finds herself drawn to George again. Soon, Lucy is spinning a web of deceit that involves her family, her fiancé, the co-op board of her Fifth Avenue apartment, and ultimately herself as she tries mightily to deny George entry into her world–and her heart. Moving between summer playgrounds of privilege, peppered with decadent food and extravagant fashion, Sex and Vanity is a truly modern love story, a daring homage to A Room with a View, and a brilliantly funny comedy of manners set between two cultures.

This was the third romance novel I read in July, and that’s honestly the highest concentration of romance novel I’ve ever had in my life. I know that I’m supposed to find romance novels like super kilig and stuff, but so far I am just very anxious for romance novel protagonists all the time. I think that the whole thing about the romance novels I have read is that they’re mostly about how deeply anxious people learn how to allow themselves to be loved and that is tough! I wanted to protect Lucie all the time! I was Invested in her Welfare, and I don’t think I cared about Rachel Chu from Crazy Rich Asians half as much, even if you condensed all my attachment from the entire trilogy. Also, small spoiler, there is a hint that Sex and Vanity is in the same universe as Crazy Rich Asians, which I think is awesome.

  6. Trust Exercise by Susan Choi

Pulitzer Finalist Susan Choi’s narrative-upending novel about what happens when a first love between high school students is interrupted by the attentions of a charismatic teacher

In an American suburb in the early 1980s, students at a highly competitive performing arts high school struggle and thrive in a rarified bubble, ambitiously pursuing music, movement, Shakespeare, and, particularly, their acting classes. When within this striving “Brotherhood of the Arts,” two freshmen, David and Sarah, fall headlong into love, their passion does not go unnoticed—or untoyed with—by anyone, especially not by their charismatic acting teacher, Mr. Kingsley.

The outside world of family life and economic status, of academic pressure and of their future adult lives, fails to penetrate this school’s walls—until it does, in a shocking spiral of events that catapults the action forward in time and flips the premise upside-down. What the reader believes to have happened to David and Sarah and their friends is not entirely true—though it’s not false, either. It takes until the book’s stunning coda for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place—revealing truths that will resonate long after the final sentence.

As captivating and tender as it is surprising, Trust Exercise will incite heated conversations about fiction and truth, friendships and loyalties, and will leave readers with wiser understandings of the true capacities of adolescents and of the powers and responsibilities of adults.

This is a book I could not stop reading and I felt gross after I finished it. I think that I enjoyed it and that the narrative flips were well-done and it was engaging, but Choi writes teenage trauma in 3D, and you can smell her scumbag characters. Very good will never read again unless looking to feel bad.

  Re-read:

Temeraire: His Majesty’s Dragon, Throne of Jade, Black Powder War, andEmpire of Ivory by Naomi Novik

Aerial combat brings a thrilling new dimension to the Napoleonic Wars as valiant warriors ride mighty fighting dragons, bred for size or speed. When HMS Reliant captures a French frigate and seizes the precious cargo, an unhatched dragon egg, fate sweeps Captain Will Laurence from his seafaring life into an uncertain future – and an unexpected kinship with a most extraordinary creature. Thrust into the rarified world of the Aerial Corps as master of the dragon Temeraire, he will face a crash course in the daring tactics of airborne battle. For as France’s own dragon-borne forces rally to breach British soil in Bonaparte’s boldest gambit, Laurence and Temeraire must soar into their own baptism of fire.

I started re-reading it because I wanted to introduce it to my girlfriend, and I outpaced her very quickly, and selfishly. She’s still at the beginning fourth of Throne of Jade, and I feel like I blinked and gulped down four of the books in quick succession. I had to stop myself after Empire, in a very belated effort to sync up to my gf’s progress. The series is amazing, and I don’t know if I’ll ever read one like Temeraire again. Being able to revisit it should be enough, really, because every time I do it’s as though I’m caught up in a strong and wonderful wind that fills me up with delight and awe. Novik’s starting a new series this September, and I hope it’s just as good.

    That’s it for July! I’m probably going to do two books at a time for my Wikathon posts, just to keep things fresh and current, so keep a weather eye out for those posts!

  July, next verse, same as the first Hey! Wikathon na! I've started reading Relocations by Karen Tongson, about a third through now, but I had to take a little detour through…

#books #books 2 #reading #reading 2

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 2: Do Not Open

Oh, we're just charging right into the statement this time. Cool. I suppose we did get the setup, uh, set up in the first episode, so nothing more's needed. Onward to a whole ton of horror stories!

I wonder how they'll connect or overlap? ...I might be assuming too much, but being as they're all set in the same universe....

All right, so this one's about a man named Joshua Gillespie.

It's from 1998? Huh. Going back in time a bit, aren't we? I was only nine in 1998, and I was twenty-two when the last statement was given, so.... These archives really are out of order, aren't they. I wonder how he's picking them?

Okay, so Joshua's in his early twenties and he's taking a weeks-long vacation with some friends. In... Holland? I didn't know that was a vacation destination.

But then what do I know about vacation destinations? I can't go above ground while the sun's up, so I never really go anywhere, do I—and frankly I don't really want to. I like being underground, in the dark, surrounded by books, and I don't like being rushed around here and there and everywhere anyway, which seems to be par for the course for away-from-home-vacations so far as I can tell.

This Joshua certainly seems to have done a lot of rushing around here and there. "There were very few points where I'd say that I was entirely sober and even fewer where I acted like it"? Sounds exhausting.

Anyway, he wakes up earlier than his friends one day and leaves them to sleep off their hangovers while he goes to look at buildings.

Apparently Joshua Gillespie is an aspiring architect.

He's wandering around Amsterdam, and he can't speak Dutch, and he gets so lost that he only makes it back to familiar ground after it's started to get dark, at which point he decides to pop into a cafe for some reason. Oh, and apparently he's on drugs.

I predict that Mr. Sims will discount everything Joshua says just on the basis of that.

Well, I would.

Oho, and a strange man turns up at Joshua's cafe table!

From the description, he sounds Unremarkable. With a capital U, because he's just so Ordinary that there's nothing about him to notice, really. And apparently Joshua didn't notice him walking in or sitting down or anything like that, so he's clearly very Unnoticeable.

Mr. Unremarkable calls himself "John." That's interesting. What do you want to bet his last name's "Smith"?

Ooh, and he wants Joshua to look after a package for him. And he pays him a ton of money! Up front! That doesn't seem particularly wise, Mr. Probably-Smith!

...And then he just walks off?

I'm lost. Where's the package, then?

Looks like he just vanishes. Joshua's got all this money for looking after a package, but he hasn't actually got any package to look after. That's very odd. Can't say it's the way I'd do it, if I wanted someone to look after a package for me. I'd say Mr. Unremarkable has something else in mind, but the statement was introduced as being about "an apparently empty wooden casket," so....

O..kay. So Joshua just hangs onto the money for a whole year without spending any of it.

He must be a weirdly rich student.

But then again, what do I know about money? I make just enough for rent every month (most months, anyway), and get my food from people who, for some reason or other, seem to want me to not die. Which is nice of them, I suppose, but a bit baffling.

Anyway, Joshua Gillespie finally spends John Probably-Smith's money on a nice apartment, and a week later the package finally turns up.

The delivery men don't sound normal. "Weren't wearing any uniforms"? "Well over six feet tall"? At least they're very task-oriented: confirm you're delivering to the right address, make the delivery, leave. No wasted time chatting or answering questions or making friends or anything, which strikes me as exactly what one wants in mail delivery—competence and efficiency! In and out, no hanging about. I think I like these two just fine, whatever they are.

So it's a huge cardboard box, and when Joshua cuts it open there's a coffin inside. And the coffin is sealed with a chain and a padlock.

Okay, if you're not thinking "vampire" at this point I don't know what stories you've been reading, watching, or listening to, because clearly you've missed all the ones I grew up with. This is just so amazingly obviously vampiric that—well, I don't know. Is this that kind of show? I suppose it might be....

Ah, and carved into the wood of the coffin are the words "Do Not Open."

There's the title-drop, then.

Joshua doesn't know what's up, but fortunately there's a note from "J" who is almost definitely John Probably-Smith from Amsterdam, which jogs his memory.

He's weirdly affected by the coffin. He calls in sick to work, for Pete's sake. That seems like a really strange thing to do! Suppose someone paid me a great deal of money to look after a package, and then one day a package showed up—well, all right, then. All's well. Right?

Oh, and the coffin is warm. That's....

Gotta say, I'd probably spend a lot of time around it. I like warmth. My average body temperature is a couple degrees below what's normal for humans, so I like hanging out around warm things.

That probably wouldn't be healthy in this case, though, would it?

Joshua is obviously nothing like me. He's so freaked out by the oddly warm coffin in his new apartment that he's got to go make himself some tea to calm down, and then when he's sufficiently calm he goes and drags the coffin into his living room and pushes it up against a wall. Oh, and he pulls the key out of the padlock (yup, the padlock came with a key, very tidy) and just leaves it on a table by the front door, which strikes me as untidy.

The chains around the coffin aren't warm. That's interesting.

And it takes him a full week to get comfortable enough with the idea of a coffin in his living room for him to start using the living room again!

Joshua Gillespie is a wuss.

...Then he puts a glass of orange juice on top of it. Why would you do that? It's warm, clearly it's going to make your juice all warm and gross, don't use a spookily heated coffin as a cupholder for a cold drink, that's idiotic.

Also, it's wood. Use a coaster, you oaf.

Apparently the coffin also objects to his lack of consideration—or maybe it's just interested in the orange juice, who knows.

Anyway, it seems like something inside is scratching on the underside of the lid. He picks up his cup and the scratching stops. He puts it back down and it starts again (after four seconds). He picks his cup up again and the scratching goes on for another five minutes, which is... a lot longer than the immediate stopping it did last time, you know?

So he decides to leave it alone, which is probably the sanest choice to make under the circumstances. Frankly I think I'd probably do the same thing, although the temptation to run more experiments would be really strong. Opening it, though? Nooo, I don't think that idea would even occur to me. I mean, it's not my package to open, is it?

Oh hey, it's the kind of coffin that moans when it rains. That's interesting.

Also interesting is that Joshua Gillespie is apparently the kind of person who would usually have people over.

I mean that he's the type of person who'll actually let other people into the place where he lives. On purpose! He doesn't say so straight out, but it's heavily implied. Can you imagine? What sort of mentally unbalanced nutjob would do a thing like that?

All right: I admit I've done it a few times myself, but that was different. I only invited one person at a time, it was a one-time-only thing for each of them, and I was doing it in order to, you know, observe humanity close up under controlled circumstances—not to make friends or encourage visits or anything like that! It isn't as though I actually wanted them in my home the way Joshua apparently does, that was just the best way of getting the information I wanted.

Joshua Gillespie kind of freaks me out.

Returning to the story: it's raining so hard that it's turned dark outside (which is some of the best weather, I think), and Joshua's reading The Lost World.

I haven't read that book in a while. Despite all the books I own, I don't actually have a copy of that one (though I do own Jurassic Park), and the last time I read my dad's copy the last few pages were missing. Anyway, it's a good book and I approve Joshua Gillespie's taste in this case, weird social freak though he may be. Also his eyes are clearly terrible, because he has to get up and turn on a light in order to keep reading, which I've never had to do in that kind of weather.

The way he describes the moaning sounds really pleasant, actually. "Almost like singing, if it was muffled by twenty feet of hard-packed soil." Not only could I live with that, I think I'd be tempted to sit up against the cozy warm coffin and read with that and the rain for background.

Sounds nice.

This guy, of course, doesn't know how to appreciate what he's got. He doesn't just leave the room, no, he puts on music so he can't hear the coffin 'singing'!

Then he starts getting bad dreams. He doesn't remember them, but it sounds like he's dreaming about suffocating? When you wake up clutching at your throat and struggling to breathe... yeah, he's being choked or something. My first thought (because of the coffin) is "buried alive." I've never dreamed about that, but it doesn't strike me as fun.

Also he's sleepwalking, which is interesting.

So this coffin (or whatever's inside it) is getting inside his head? That seems really dangerous! What good are the chains doing? Can't we get some magical seals or something?

Looks like the coffin wants him to open it, because he keeps waking up with the key in his hand. I guess he can't just throw it out or anything—I mean, it's not his, so throwing it away would be... I dunno... wrong? And also it's untidy. The key clearly goes with the padlock, you can't just chuck the key, then they'd be unmatched and that's just not right.

What would I do in that situation? Hmm.

I suppose I might tape the key to my back. Getting it off would definitely wake me up, I think. And I'd probably also tape a plastic bag around the padlock.

Oh, he freezes it in a bowl of water! That's clever. I don't think I'd've thought of that.

A year and a half, he's got to hold on to this thing. That's a really long time. No wonder he got paid so much! I mean, I could do it no problem, but you've got to admit keeping something that big in your living space for that long is a bit of a bother. Especially when it keeps messing with your sleep.

And they come to pick it up on a rainy day... when it isn't moaning. That's odd. I wonder why it isn't moan-singing?

Oh, don't tell me they wanted someone who didn't know what it was to starve it.

That's it, isn't it? The vampire or whatever is dead now, so they've come for the body and they'll haul it away and... oh, and apparently they're surprised that Joshua is still alive. So maybe they were expecting him to feed it (unintentionally) and will be upset that it's dead?

It's all three of them: John Probably-Smith and the two efficient deliverymen. They don't seem too bothered, though....

Joshua breaks the bowl of ice, John gets the key, and Joshua doesn't follow them into the living room. Apparently he's not curious, which—well, frankly, I would be! Which might get me killed, since it looks like there was screaming and then John Probably-Smith didn't come back out of the living room.

So I guess whatever it was, it was hungry.

The deliverymen carry the coffin out, their van says "Breekon and Hope" on the side, and Joshua considers himself well out of the whole thing.

Sure enough, Mr. Sims pounced on the drug use. Haha, I thought he would! Also on the lack of witnesses, but honestly I think that's just normal, don't you? Who would normally have witnesses in their home? You don't, in general, have other people in your home! Though I suppose he could've talked to somebody online. There was internet when I was nine, you know. I used it.

Looks like Mr. Sims tells his assistants which written statements he's transferring to audio as a regular thing, because another one of them (Tim this time) did some research.

Breekon and Hope were a real courier service until 2009 (I was 20!) and then the business was liquidated—and apparently they didn't bother to keep records of their deliveries (or at least they didn't bother to keep them safe), which is very untidy and I disapprove.

So are those two deliverymen "Breekon" and "Hope," or are they just employed by "Breekon and Hope"?

Not that I s'pose it matters, really....

Wait, what? The apartment building Joshua lived in was totally vacant except for him? For the whole two years he lived there? That seems really improbable and I'm incredibly envious!

So in this story a man gets a vampire coffin, starves the vampire while it reaches into his mind and tries to draw him to it, then the bland fellow who gave it to him turns up to take it back and gets eaten by the vampire, whereupon the coffin-keepers just walk off with the thing and all is well.

...I guess?

I have so many questions.

This is really good! I'm really liking this podcast so far. It's definitely weird. Two episodes in and I've already noticed that the monsters aren't particularly good at luring people.

That's part of what makes me doubt that the 'vampire' is actually a vampire—vampires are good at luring people! Joshua would get alluring, sexy dreams tempting him to open the coffin, not nightmares, and the thing in the alley would not look like a corpse on a stick!

...At least, not at first. Not if these things were good at their jobs.

#The Magnus Archives #episode 2 #commentary #late to the party

[amandaoftherosemire]

Lightning Strikes -- Part Fifteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader (Series)

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,102

Format: Series WIP

Warning: Angst, language, more Loki.

Summary: You try to get a straight answer out of Loki about what is happening to you. Loki doesn’t totally lie his ass off, for once.

A/N: Loki strikes again and derails my plans for this story. The human tendency for dual-mindedness is an amazing thing. Knowing that I’m in control of all of this does not in any way lessen the feeling that Loki is an active participant in the writing process with his own agenda. He’s such a pain in my ass. The point is that I was planning to move on from Loki, and back to Thor (finally) but Loki’s not having it, apparently. Ugh. Prima donna.

<Lightning Strikes -- Part Fourteen here

 Caustic

When you awoke a couple hours later, you found yourself laying along Loki's side, your head pillowed on the once again pale skin of his chest. With one arm, he cradled you easily against his still cold body, but in his other hand he held a book. Propped up against the mound of pillows at the head of his bed, he looked so serene in this moment, you found yourself reluctant to disturb him.

Loki was feeling serene, content in a way he couldn't ever remember feeling before. Such things weren't generally in his nature, but the sensation of your body resting against his in sleep was both sweet and satisfying. Regardless of your exhaustion, he knew you would never allow yourself this vulnerability unless you trusted him, at least, to not harm you. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He'd been more honest with you today than he had been with anyone in a long time. When you'd lost your temper the moment you'd laid eyes on him, it had taken everything he had to keep silent and still. He'd felt oddly obligated, however, to let you vent your anger; he couldn't deny you had a right to far more than merely a few slaps. Keeping that in the forefront of his mind had made it easier to bear the brunt of your hatred.

What made it most difficult was that he'd wanted you the moment he'd opened the door to see you, all of you, standing on the other side. With the real, whole you looking out at him, all he could imagine was placing his lips on yours, breathing your breath. Holding himself back from snatching you up into his arms, stopping himself from using the cold to seduce you into moaning mindlessness, had been excruciating. Loki was not used to denying himself what he wanted. Only the way he felt about you, the twinge of remorse he felt at the things he had done to you, restrained him.

He had been utterly sincere when he'd expressed both empathy and remorse for your heartbreak. He had no interest seeing you hurt, had genuinely not cared how you amused yourself with your boyfriends. Even should you choose to extend that amusement out for the length of their lifetimes, the prospect didn't give him pause. Loki had plans for the two of you that would take decades to come to fruition. He had plenty of time. 

He felt the change in your body signaling the end of your nap and his reprieve. He wondered how you'd surprise him now.

"Oh. Boo." You murmured it, the dismay ripe in your voice, when his gaze flicked from his book to you, emerald green caressing your face. "The Pretty Lying Bastard is back."

"What does that mean, my love?" He couldn't stop himself from smiling at the acerbic tone to your voice. He’d always liked you best when you were strong and sarcastic.

The smile fell from his lips when you pushed yourself to a sitting position, bringing yourself closer to eye level with him. You turned to fix him with a bleary-eyed, yet still suspicious glare. "I like Loki better blue and honest," you replied, your voice rough from sleep, but utterly serious in tone.

"The two are not related." As often happened, Loki's mood flipped, and his voice turned dark and cold. You ignored it, merely lifting a brow in response, unafraid of his moods or whims. You had seen the bottom of the well of grief. Loki had no more power to harm you mentally or emotionally and he was entirely too concerned with your well-being to be willing to harm you physically. You wondered if you were building an immunity to his poison.

Even if you were, it didn’t change all of the other things tearing at your heart. You sighed, still heartsick at the loss of your boys, certain you still would be in those thousand years. You knew now why you'd been so certain you couldn't resist Loki. Not because you lacked the willpower, or the inclination, but the incentive.

Part of you had known you couldn't keep them, had acknowledged it even as you'd ignored that the potion had destroyed that chance; you'd wanted that life badly enough to lie to yourself. You couldn't blame Loki when you'd known better from the beginning but had ignored what you didn’t want to see.

"I never thought for a moment that they were." Your lips curved slightly, and your tone remained mild, though the melancholy was an undercurrent to every word. You were calm and cool once more. Whether that was the cold, the purge of emotion, the nap, or a combination of all three you weren't sure and didn't care. All that mattered was that you were back in control.

"Get off your high horse,” you sneered as you rolled your eyes and snagged one of the fifteen or so blankets tossed across the bed. Reclining against the pillows next to him, you went on airily, "The only two times I've seen your blue form was when I was about to die. It's not my fault that makes you feel guilty enough to stop lying for five damn minutes." As you spoke, you covered up and got comfortable, intending to get as much information as possible out of Loki while he still had that guilt nipping at his memory.

"What is this?" You tilted your head when Loki tossed his book aside as he turned to his side to face you, propping his head on one hand. The nonchalant way you reacted to his true form made him tremble deep inside. He ignored the feeling, telling himself he’d think about it later. He’d much rather focus on the casual demeanor you’d adopted now.

"This is not humor," as he spoke his eyes searched your face, seeking to understand what mood you’d come to, "nor is it hate." His hand came up, fingers whispering across your cheek as his lips curved slightly. "I hope it isn't surrender."

Your hand came up to swat his away. "Shut up." When his grin flashed, your eyes narrowed. "This is a détente, a temporary truce while I recuperate." Now that you weren't exhausted, you were having a harder time ignoring the cold beckoning from Loki's body.

The sensation of his fingers on your skin had pleasure immediately singing in your mind; you'd had to knock his hand away, too easily swayed by the cold. You could still feel it emanating from his body, even through the space between you, and the temptation to coil and curve around him was painful. "I am so angry at you, Loki." Your voice was hot and harsh with banked rage, but you didn't know if you spoke to inform him or remind yourself.

"As well you should be," Loki replied, his eyes glittering. The urge to touch you was nigh overwhelming, but you'd made your preference clear. "I have been callous with you, thoughtlessly cruel.” That glitter softened with what looked like real remorse. “I am sorry, my love. I… miscalculated.”

"And that is the reason for the détente." You sneered, thinking his choice of words was telling. That it sounded like a 'sorry you got offended' kind of apology made it easy to brush aside. "You are, at least, saying that you're sorry. Even if you don't mean it, it’s a pleasant lie.”

Loki's eyes flashed in what looked a lot like hurt and insult, and you felt guilty for being cruel. The next moment, you were swamped by a wave of resentment at the very idea that you should feel guilty for anything when it came to Loki.

The mood swings were swiftly making you tired all over again. You sighed, certain you wouldn’t get a straight answer but needing to try. “Why, Loki? Why did you do this to me? I could have been happy with my boyfriends,” you used his snotty intonation on the word, “for a normal, human lifetime and never looked back.”

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, impatient with the very idea. “I’m making you a goddess and you’re complaining about lost nights in front of the television with the soldiers.”

“Well, we do TV night a little different,” you purred smugly, testing his statement regarding jealousy even as your heart ached.

The arched brow he shot your way as he put his arms behind his head told you he knew to what you were referring. You, Steve, and Bucky hadn’t yet made it through a movie without someone’s wandering hands diverting everyone’s attention. You wondered which evening he’d peeked on; their couch had been the site of any number of deliciously debauched scenes, the fulfillment of your fantasy regarding Steve in your mouth while Bucky fucked you from behind, for instance.

“Yes," he said, amused, "I have inadvertently checked on you while you were occupied with your boyfriends." His face spread in a mischievous, appreciative grin. "You are… enthusiastic, and highly entertaining.”

“Pervert.”

Loki frowned, not at the insult, but at the mild tones and almost affectionate smile with which you softened it. You'd decided to try a more conciliatory attitude, for the moment at least, in the hopes that you could charm him into giving you more information on your current predicament.

Rather than approach your confusing mood directly, Loki opted to go along with it. “If you were in my shoes," he retorted, turning back to his side to face you, one arm under his head, one arm coming down to drape over his waist, a smile starting to play around his lips, "and you happened upon a scene such as that, tell me you would have turned and left immediately.” The mocking doubt in his tone made it clear what answer he expected.

Your lips twitched as you deliberately drug your eyes from the fascinating play of muscle in his arms and chest as he moved, turning to your side to blink at Loki, your expression innocent as a summer sky. “Of course I would.” Your voice could not have been more surprised, as though you were shocked at the very idea that you would violate someone's privacy, even for a moment.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. When you'd turned your face to his, the sweetness of having you, the whole you, in his bed rocketed through him so that he couldn't look away. You were gazing into him with such intensity, he couldn't help but wonder what you saw when you looked at him.

“Liar.”

His voice held such a wealth of offense in that one quiet word, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He was right; you probably wouldn’t have stopped watching right away, either, no matter how your conscience complained.

The sight of you dissolving into laughter made his heart flutter in his chest. He'd missed you more than he liked to admit. He wasn't entirely certain he hadn't ended the spell simply because he couldn't stand being without you another moment.

“Besides, it was more entertaining than watching Thor mope around about you, again, still." He dismissively waved the hand not under his head, but you could swear you caught a touch of censure in his gaze and wondered at it. "Are you ever going to put him out of my misery and end it, once and for all? Or are you going to keep him on a lead for the foreseeable future?"

"I'm not keeping hi--" You cut yourself off, knowing he was trying to draw you into an argument, but unwilling to oblige when you saw no reason for it, especially when you didn’t have the high ground. "That’s bait." You said it firmly, determined to not get sidetracked. You had far more important things to discuss with Loki and your relationship with his brother was not one of them, if for no other reason than it was none of his business. "Go back to the part where you’re ‘making me a goddess.’ The fuck does that mean?"

Loki was amused, but mostly with himself. He'd considered you formidable when you still somewhat trusted him. Now that he'd lost that tenuous faith, you were that much more difficult to distract. Nothing less than a measure of the truth would satisfy you in this mood. He shrugged inwardly; it wasn't as though you hadn't more than earned it.

"On Jotunheim," he sighed, reluctantly, "they have their own goddesses." You felt as though every atom of your body was focused on Loki. You could hear the ring of truth in his voice and wondered if you'd finally reached something real. You could see in his eyes the shine of genuine emotion, and you'd swear it looked like pain. "The tears of a goddess of ice, of grief, from a land of perpetual winter, are the foundation of the potion I gave you."

He continued to lay, lazily indolent, even as you lifted to a sitting position, though he rolled to his back to keep facing you. You stared at him, propped against overstuffed pillows, amongst the lush green silk and golden velvet indulgence of his bed, looking as relaxed as any pampered prince, but you could see the tension in the fine tremor almost hidden in the flutter of his eyelashes. He smiled in an attempt to mask the nerves he felt at the look on your face, irritation flaring your nostrils.

"Loki." You closed your eyes in sheer frustration. Even when Loki seemed to be telling the truth, he had to be overdramatic about it. "Will you, please," the word held an ocean of repressed aggravated rage, "stop dicking around for five fucking minutes and tell me what’s fucking happening to me?"

Loki could tell by the increase in your Fucks Per Minute that you were at the edge of your patience. His eyes unfocused as he remembered a world scoured by ice, where he'd found his own loss and betrayal. He lifted his hand to trace the line of your jaw in regret for how he'd treated you. "'A drop, and an hour is a day. My Lady's tears slow the fastest fluttering heart.'" When your jaw locked and your eyes widened in the first red flag that you were five seconds away from losing your temper again, Loki spoke quickly to head off your rage. He was concerned that another bout of either fury or tears would break you entirely.

"The truth, my love, is that I’m not entirely sure." He held up his hands in surrender, trying to keep you calm as he explained. "If I had been the first and only person to touch you after you took the potion, things would have been very different. Instead…" He shrugged and put those hands behind his head, trailing off rather than mention, yet again, your habit for unpredictability.

You ignored him, your frustration forgotten as your mind clicked into gear, making logical leaps and connecting dots of information. "Thor," you murmured as you thought of the night you took the potion, the memory of Thor's glowing eyes and the feeling of electricity dancing over the surface of your skin, your heart racing in response. Your eyes lifted and narrowed on Loki's face, still on guard against a lie. "The lightning."

Loki loved watching your mind work, adored seeing how easily you grasped what he didn't say, though the quickness of your brain caused him no end of trouble. It was abundantly clear how little you trusted him, though he could hardly blame you for it. Still, he missed the days when you’d both enjoyed the playfully adversarial tone of your friendship, hated that you now found his presence painful.

He could also see clearly how difficult he would find it to convince you of any of that. Thanks to that agile mind, the excuses and rationalizations he could offer for why he acted both for you, but also, admittedly, in his own self-interest, would fail to persuade, no matter how silver-tongued he was purported to be. He reminded himself that he had a very long time to worm his way back into your good graces, however, starting with a little honesty.

"You are becoming a goddess," he explained, adoring the expression of reluctant fascination moving over your face, "mostly of ice, but you may need more than cold to become everything you could be." He loved how you listened to everything he both said and didn't say and wondered when you'd come back to the part about a 'goddess of grief', worried about when you'd connect that to some of the other things he'd done.

Loki's mouth spread in a charmingly wicked grin when you shot him a suspicious look, unsure he was saying what you thought when it seemed like exactly the kind of thing he would lie about, but rather to hide the information, not reveal it. He seemed to be suggesting that you seek out Thor's lightning the way you sought his own cold. You didn't get a chance to think further about it, however, because he was suddenly surging upward to take your shoulders in his icy hands.

"My turn," he growled, emerald green piercing as his gaze searched your face. "Why didn’t you have the oaf break the spell?" He spoke quickly, while you grappled with the other things he'd confessed, in the hopes that he could catch you off guard.

You blinked at him, surprised by the question, though you'd wondered if he'd suspected you'd been planning on going to Thor as a last resort. You decided to give him the very thing he hoarded like gold, the unvarnished truth, despite how vulnerable it made you feel. "I didn’t want to have to escape. I wanted you to let me go."

Loki's hands tightened around your shoulders, an angry scowl darkening his features as he pulled your face closer to his. "Why?"

The harsh tone to his voice, hurt barely masked by confusion, softened your fury with him by an iota. It was enough that you continued to give him the truth, despite knowing it would only encourage him. You sighed, irritated with yourself for being too easily swayed where your heart was engaged. "Because I wanted to be able to forgive you someday."

The grip Loki had around your upper arms loosened in surprise. As soon as he was no longer holding you upright, you let yourself fall back onto the bed. You lay against the mound of pillows, throwing your arm over your eyes to hide, whether from Loki or yourself you weren't sure anymore.

You lay there, in silence, tired, heartbroken, and frustrated with the both of you. You didn't know who was irritating you more at the moment, Loki for being Loki or yourself for being entirely too susceptible to him. Between the love you couldn't kill and the cold you couldn't resist, you couldn't make yourself get out of the damn bed and leave already. Hell, at this point, you weren't certain whether the cold or the man held more allure for you. Either way, you couldn't find it in yourself to walk away.

The cold alone was nearly irresistible, especially after such a long time between treatments. You wondered if the potion had given you an addiction to the arctic sensations that ran over your skin every time he touched you. If so, you were afraid you were a full-blown junkie, and Loki was, unfortunately, your dealer.

Also like a drug, something about the cold made you feel better, even from a distance. You studiously ignored the voice in your mind that suggested it would feel better if you got closer.

You made yourself stay in place, refused to allow yourself to turn to Loki for comfort, to let him touch you. You knew better, knew that taking comfort from him was dangerous territory, the first step to allowing yourself to trust him. Trusting Loki, even a little, was the fastest way to ruin. You knew all of that, but the seemingly genuine remorse, seemingly genuine pain, was lowering your defenses.

That Loki seemed genuine in general made you wonder if you'd finally gotten something resembling truth for once. Attempting to distract yourself from the ache around your heart at the thought, you tried to catalogue what Loki had told you versus what you believed to be the truth beneath it.

According to Loki, and your gut that he was being honest in this one case, you needed the cold to stay alive. And, as heartbroken as you were, grieving the end of your love affair with Steve and Bucky, you wanted to stay alive.

You'd also learned that Loki's potion had not gone according to his original plan, thanks to your drunken shenanigans, though he was being annoyingly vague as to how. You couldn't be even a little sad to hear it, no matter how it complicated things. You much preferred it, and him, when he wasn’t entirely in command of a situation.

Your occasional penchant for contrariness had also given you unexpected leverage against Loki in this battle of wits and wills. He'd tried to sideline his brother at the beginning of the game, but you'd found a way put him back in, intentionally or not. If you knew Thor at all, and you did, he'd be delighted to be the stick you used to beat Loki over the head. The part that puzzled you was why Loki had admitted to it.

Almost everything Loki had said and done over the course of this strange afternoon puzzled you, actually. Though you had often suspected him of half-truths during the course of your confrontations, you didn't get the impression that he had straight-up lied at any point. You knew him to be a dangerously accomplished liar, however, so you couldn't be sure that he hadn't simply succeeded in deceiving you.

Whatever he might believe, he had not succeeded in deceiving you regarding the importance of his admission that the potion had farther reaching effects than simply extending your life. You had no doubt now that he had far more ambitious plans for you than he was willing to admit. He had no need to make a goddess of one he only wanted as a pet.

Loki's sigh of sadness broke your concentration, but you didn't move your arm from where it hid your eyes from his frustratingly impenetrable gaze. You reminded yourself that you had plenty of time now, both for self-reflection and for discovering and foiling Loki's plots and schemes.

Right now, it all sounded exhausting.

"I have a confession," Loki said, softly. He paused, unsure, until you uncovered your face and looked at him, your expression serious, but calm. "I have to admit that I lied earlier.” The sheepish grin that touched his mouth would have amused you once.

“You?" You gasped slightly, laying your hand over your heart, the sarcasm thick. "Lied? Say it ain’t so.”

He continued to smile, though the corners were touched with the same sadness that you'd heard in his sigh. You realized, as your heart hurt a little in response, that it didn't seem to matter how angry you were with him, you still didn't like to see him in pain.

Loki laid down next to you on his back, the ache in his throat making it too difficult to look at you any longer. The sight of you amongst the pillows and blankets of his bed where he'd had you over and over again, yet still as untouchable to him as ever, cut him to the quick. He didn't know how to tell you, or if he even should, that he'd do it differently, perhaps be more honest with you, if he had it to do over again.

He pushed that thought aside. He didn't believe in looking behind him, long ago accepting that there was no going back, only forward, damn the consequences.

“I am a little jealous of your boyfriends." You thought he was using his mockingly bored tone at first and considered hitting him for bringing up Steve and Bucky again. You turned your head, a sneer forming on your face until you saw he was studiously not looking at you, keeping his gaze on the ceiling above him. "I only touched the shell." Your eyes narrowed at the wistful sound to his voice. "They get all of you. I cannot help but wonder what that’s like.”

“Take your other form and I’ll show you.”

Lightning Strikes -- Part Sixteen here> (Coming soon!!)

Taglist:

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[brightstarkid]

Asks for Starkid Shows/Songs

Putting this below because OH MY GOD THIS IS MORE THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE but yeah ask away!!

A Very Potter Musical: How did you discover Starkid?

Gotta Get Back to Hogwarts (AVPM): What’s your Hogwarts house?

Different As Can Be: Sleep on your tummy or your back?

Ginny’s Song: Have you ever been to Canada?

Harry: Do you have a crush right now?

To Dance Again: Have you ever taken dance lessons?

Granger Danger: What have you been too afraid to tell someone?

Pigfarts, Pigfarts Here I Come: What’s your favorite planet?

Missing You: Have you ever lost someone close to you?

Not Alone: Have you ever been abroad?

Voldemort is Goin’ Down: What is something that is really motivating for you?

Me and My Dick: Who is your best friend?

Ready to Go: Where is one place you want to go?

I’ve Seen You Around Here Before: What’s your favorite place to go?

There Ain’t Nothing Like a Dick: What’s the sassiest comment you’ve ever made?

Listen to Your Heart: What is one thing your heart wants?

Land of the Dicks: What’s the most asshole thing anyone has ever said to you?

Even Though: Have you ever cried at school?

Gotta Find His Dick: What was the last thing you lost?

The Council of the Pussies: Are you a part of any secret organizations?

Flight of the Pussies: Have you been on a plane?

Big T’s Temptation: Is there something you’ve been really tempted to do?

Finale (MAMD): What Starkid show did you immediately want to watch again?

A Very Potter Sequel: Do you prefer sequels or prequels?

Not Over Yet: If you could go back in time, when would you go?

Harry Freakin’ Potter: Have you ever met a celebrity?

To Have a Home: Where are you from?

Hermione Can’t Draw: Can you draw?

Lupin Can’t Sing: Can you sing?

The Coolest Girl: What’s one cool fact about you?

Gettin’ Along: Describe your first date

Let the Games Begin: Do you play any sports?

Those Voices: What would you see in the Mirror of Erised?

Guys Like Potter: Do you have an enemy/someone you hate?

Stutter: Can you dance?

No Way: What is one thing you would say “no way” to?

Days of Summer: What’s your favorite summer activity?

Goin’ Back to Hogwarts (AVPS): What is your first reaction when you hear this song?

Starship: Do you believe in aliens?

I Wanna Be: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Get Back Up: What’s one song that always gets you hype?

Life: What is the meaning of life?

Hideous Creatures: What’s the cutest animal you’ve ever seen?

Kick It Up a Notch: Is there something you need to kick up a notch?

Status Quo: Do you say no to the status quo?

The Way I Do: What would your name be on Farm Planet (what you do and what you love)?

Beauty: What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Holy Musical B@man: Who is your favorite superhero?

Dark, Sad, Lonely, Knight: Are you allergic to anything?

Rogues Are We: Who is your favorite villain?

 Dynamic Duet: Which Starkid would you want to duet with?

Robin Sucks: What’s one thing that you think sucks?

The American Way: What is one American thing that you just don’t understand?

To Be A Man: What’s your kryptonite?

Superfriends: What’s your squad’s group chat named?

A Very Potter Senior Year: Which of the Potter trilogy is your favorite?

This Is The End: What’s been a long time coming?

Senior Year: What’s your favorite memory from/what you’re looking forward to in your senior year?

Wizard of the Year: Who is your celebrity crush?

Always Dance: Do you like to dance?

When You Have to Go All the Way Home: Do you like going home?

Get In My Mouth: Are you afraid of spiders?

Tonight This School is Mine: What were/are you known for at your school?

I Was: Do you know what you were in a past life?

Sidekick: Are you a leading man/lady or a sidekick?

Everything Ends: Who would you see with the Resurrection Stone?

Goin’ Back to Hogwarts (AVPSY): Do you know how to tie a tie?

Twisted (Musical): What’s your favorite Disney movie?

Dream a Little Harder: What’s a dream of yours?

I Steal Everything: Have you ever stolen something?

Everything and More: Are you a princess?

Sands of Time: What is something you thought you lost but later found?

Golden Rule: Do you follow the golden rule?

A Thousand and One Nights: What’s your favorite story?

If I Believed: Do you believe in magic?

Orphaned at 33: What is something tragic that happened in your past that you’ve overcome?

Happy Ending: Do you believe in happy endings?

No One Remembers Achmed: Do you remember Achmed?

Take Off Your Clothes: Favorite reference in this song?

Twisted (Song): Which villain’s story is the most forgivable?

The Power in Me: Who is your biggest mentor?

The Trail to Oregon: What’s your favorite video game?

Gone to Oregon: What’s your favorite word to rhyme Oregon with?

Independence: Where are you right now?

The Grind: Have you been on a road trip before?

Pays To Be An Animal: What’s the weirdest story a grandparent has ever told you?

When the World’s At Stake: How do you express your love?

Dysentery World: What’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?

Wagon on Fire: Have you ever accidentally caught anything on fire?

Lost Without You: What’s your favorite song to sing along to in the car?

Speedrun: How do you focus?

Caulk Your Wagon: Do you know how to float on your back?

You Gotta Go: When was the last time you pooped?

Naked In A Lake: Have you ever been skinny dipping? 

Ani: Have you ever watched Star Wars?

Long Ago and Far Away: What’s your favorite memory?

Strike Back: Have you ever fought for something you believed in?

With My Own Eyes: What is something you’ve only believed once you’ve seen it?

The Force (You Got It): Have you ever pretended to have The Force?

Haunted By The Kiss: What’s your favorite Star Wars reference in the show?

One in a Million: What makes you unique?

Back On Top: Have you ever won anything?

Firebringer: Have you ever built a fire?

Fire: Does fire scare you?

We Are People Now: What is one thing you couldn’t live without?

We Got Work To Do: What’s your favorite vine?

What If?: Have you ever done something just to shove it in someone’s face?

Welcome to the Stone Age: Favorite era in human history?

Just a Taste: What’s your favorite food?

Duck is Lord: Are you religious?

The Night Belongs to Snarl: Are you afraid of the dark?

Into the Night: What is one thing you’ve done outside of your comfort zone?

The Night Belongs to Us: Do you have a victory dance?

Climate Change: What’s one thing about climate change that makes you really sad?

Jemilla’s Lament: If you had a Lament song, what would you sing about?

Paint Me: Has anyone ever drawn you?

Ouch My Butt: What’s the biggest pain in the butt you’ve ever had?

Backfire: What’s something you’ve done that has backfired?

Together: How long can you go without taking a new breath?

Chorn: What’s your favorite obscure fact?

Finale (Make the Most of It): How do you make the most of it?

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals: Do you like musicals?

La Dee Dah Dah Day: Have you ever been in a flash mob?

What Do You Want, Paul?: What is something you want that you’ve never told anyone about?

Cup of Roasted Coffee: What’s your coffee order?

Cup of Poisoned Coffee: Have you ever found something that’s not supposed to be there in your food/drink?

Show Me Your Hands: What are your thoughts on jazz hands?

You Tied Up My Heart: What is the most romantic thing someone has done for you?

Join Us (And Die): Can you belt?

Not Your Seed: Have you ever been stuck in a school?

Show Stoppin’ Number: Who is your favorite Workin’ Boy?

America is Great Again: Where are answers to be found?

Let Him Come: Paul or Steve?

Let It Out: Have you ever let it out?

Inevitable: What is something that is inevitable?

BONUS (as if this wasn’t long enough)

Spies Are Forever: Have you ever spied on someone?

The Coldest Goodbye: What’s the worst thing you’ve done by accident?

Spy Again: How many times can you say “spy” before it loses it’s meaning?

Somebody’s Gotta Do It: What’s your dream job?

Eyes on the Prize: What do you consider the ultimate prize?

Pay Attention: Which of Barb’s inventions do you wish you had?

Barb’s Lament: If you had another Lament song, what would you sing about?

Not So Bad: What is something that people say is not so bad but is actually really bad?

Torture Tango: What’s your damage, man??

We Love the Prince!: What’s the most insincere thing you’ve ever said?

Prisoner of my Past: What is one thing from your past that you still carry with you?

Doing This: What’s your most awkward “are we doing this?” story?

One More Shot: What’s your favorite alcohol (assuming you’re of age)?

One Step Ahead: What’s one plot twist you didn’t see coming?

Spy Dance: What’s your favorite dance move?

#this took so long #but yeah ask me anything #and please reblog!! #this took so long so please make it worth it :) #team starkid #asks #starkid #starkid asks #a very potter musical #avpm #me and my dick #mamd #a very potter sequel #avps #starship #holy musical b@man #hmb #a very potter senior year #avpsy #a very potter trilogy #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #twisted #the trail to oregon #ttto #ani: a parody #ani #firebringer #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #tin can brothers