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val-aquenta · 3 years

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Here for the prompt: Crossover for Mace Windu appreciation

On a side note, can you guys tell I don’t know anything about the MCU....

Here on ao3

“Leaving hyperspace in 3… 2… 1… exited.” Obi-Wan reads out, gritting his teeth as they exit hyperspace, the ominous rattling of the ship increasing in real space. “Earth, Master Windu. Inhabited, but with low tech.” He notes quickly as gravity begins pulling them to the green and blue planet. “No communications established between the Republic and its inhabitants.”

Mace sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back at his screens. The alarms screech a bit louder. “No other alternatives?” He asks futilely.

“No, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says, flicking a switch and getting the emergency brakes working. They kick in, jolting the ship back even more. They hurtle closer, dipping past satellites and into the atmosphere. The air burns in front of them as they enter the atmosphere. “Outer shields heating fast… managing,” Obi-Wan says.

At least, Mace thinks, they won’t also have to deal with a melting ship. “Steering still down?” He asks, leaning over to flick on back thrusters as they approach the white clouds.

Obi-Wan tries the wheel before saying, “Still down…” There is little else they can do as they hurtle down towards a large green expanse in the middle of a large continent. The map has almost no information except for the basic knowledge gleaned from fly-by’s in space. They descend past the cloud layer, shooting through the white fluff. Underneath it, the green ground opens around them. The ship slows and slows, back thrusters doing their work. The alarms blare still, and Mace wishes he could turn them off. “We’ll make it. Brakes and back thrust still functional.” Still, Mace stretches out a hand, feeling in the currents of Force for the threads that could pull the ship to a stop. Of course, such a feat would tire him, so he only wishes to use it as a last result.

“How much altitude, Obi-Wan?” He asks from behind gritted teeth.

“Over 10 klicks.” Obi-Wan’s voice strains past the rumbling. “We’ll slow before then,” he assures, hands rushing over the controls fast. Mace finds himself often forgetting Obi-Wan’s prowess with technology as it pales in comparison to his Padawan’s. He supposes Qui-Gon’s lack of training in that area had meant Obi-wan had to be the pilot and the mechanic of that duo. “Nine klicks…” Obi-Wan says, reaching up to reroute some energy to the thrusters. “Eight… seven,” he counts down. Mace grimaces. The green expanse, a flat seemingly uninhabited plane stretches from horizon to horizon.

“The landing will be controlled?”

Obi-Wan eyes the steering wheel critically, “With the steering down it is hard, but not impossible. If the thrusters are rerouted fast enough, and with some help from the Force, I should be able to land it well.”

Mace sighs in relief, “That’s good. We want minimal damage in order to signal the Republic or end up fixing the ship.”

Obi-Wan nods before saying, “Five klicks.” He checks the speed, “On target for a controlled landing. Four klicks… three.” The details of the plane are not entirely visible. Other than a few trees, it seems mostly uninhabited. “Two klicks… thrusters fired at full, angled up…” There’s a tug in the Force that Mace recognises as Obi-Wan manipulating the Force just a hint to push the ship into position. “Switching power to vertical… one klick.” He reads out dutifully, and Mace finds himself wondering if he ever did the same with Qui-Gon ‘I only ever interact with plants and animals’ Jinn. “Landing extensions out… touching down…” There’s another jolt in the Force this time directly upwards as Obi-Wan hovers the ship for a moment before letting it down gently.

Mace is impressed. Most Masters are decently good pilots, but many would have drawn on the Force a lot more to land the ship. Obi-Wan, despite his claims of hating piloting, sees somewhat proud of his landing, judging by the small spark of joy in the Force. “Good job, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan looks at him from where he slumps in his seat, eyes blinking tiredly.

“Oh, uh… thank you, Master Windu.” He says face pressed into a strange mix of embarrassment and happiness. Obi-Wan lets out a mild groan, pressing his hands to his face before unbuckling his belt and standing up. “Well, out of the ship and onto the planet?”

Mace leans over his controls, observing the various flashing lights before standing as well. “Some kind of issue in the hyperdrive, perhaps one of the valves fueling the engines?”

Obi-Wan nods. It does make sense. “An easy fix.” They wrap themselves in their cloaks. “Hopefully we’ll be able to make it off-planet soon enough before they notice.”

Mace feels something like laughter from the Force and groans inwardly, “I had hoped you would not say that…” He takes a moment to observe Obi-Wan and, mainly out of habit, reaches out to straighten the tabards just a bit before folding the robe over. His hands smooth over the brown fabric. “There… perfect.” His brain catches up after a moment. Depa and he had always done that, and he feels almost embarrassed having done the same to Obi-Wan if not for the happiness floating in the Force around Obi-Wan.

Embarrassment, however, soon flares up in time with a red flush on Obi-Wan’s face, “Umm… sorry, Master. I did not know my robes were askew.” He hesitated with his hand in the air between them before hastily darting forwards and tugging the robe tighter around Mace, folding it so the green embroidery on the front collar, courtesy of Depa, was visible. If possible, his face turns even more red. Mace finds it endearing, though he hopes sometime in the future that Obi-Wan will get used to his presence and that they will be equals in his eyes.

“Thank you,” He says, nodding gratefully. Obi-Wan just blinks before coughing into his sleeve and following Mace off the ship. Mace takes a moment to breathe out of the ship, the cool air around them refreshing after the stressful landing on Earth. “Alright… repairs?” He’s not exactly certain where to begin, unfamiliar with the schematics of ships nowadays. As a Padawan, he had learnt the mechanics of older models of ships.

Obi-Wan raises a brow and, with a shrug, moves over to some panelling. He pats the metal to test the heat, finding the cooling system still intact and keeping the outer shell cool. He summons one of the screws from the bag he’s carried outside and starts undoing the intricate closing system. Mace watches, intrigued but mostly keeping an eye out for anyone else in the Force. He’s not exactly certain whether their entry has been caught, but if someone does come for them, he’d rather be prepared than caught off guard. Obi-Wan hums as he works, unconsciously it seems. He goes from old lullabies in the creche to some kind of instrumental from a famous holo. It’s rather soothing to listen to, and Mace finds himself almost meditating to it while keeping an eye out.

Soon enough there’s a whirring whine in the air and the approaching tell of a person. Mace jerks and pokes Obi-Wan a bit in the Force, alerting him to an incoming person. Obi-Wan jerks away from the panelling as it slides free with a hiss. Their heads snap up in synchronisation as they realise the sound is coming from up above them. Obi-Wan’s hand twitches to his lightsaber, but Mace’s hand resting on his shoulder stops the movement. “We’re not looking for a fight.”

“Sorry…” Obi-Wan sighs, tracking the movement of the golden-red blur.

“No worries,” Mace says before also tensing as a second, lower hum joins the first. In the distance, a large blob makes itself known, possibly a ship. It’s rather loud and not exactly stealthy. It makes him uncomfortable, the idea that whoever they are have enough confidence to announce their arrival. The discomfort is quickly pushed aside, miscommunication here could lead to some kind of violence.

Obi-Wan is younger and, despite his maturity for his age, is startled too. He stands behind Mace in the position of a Padawan, two steps backwards and to the right. His head tilts towards Mace, waiting for his action. “Master Windu…? Should I continue repairs, or…?” He trails off, hands fiddling nervously within the confines of his robe.

“We’ll greet them together,” Mace decides after a moment of deliberation, though he does move closer to this ship, going beneath the shade. There’s a dull thud paired with a heavy clunk as the red and gold humanoid hits the dirt, kneeling dramatically before standing and looking at them. The helmet’s eyes stare ominously. Mace hears and feels the other ship land behind them, and feels another group of people spread out behind them. Obi-Wan tenses, he can feel it in the Force, swirling with the hostility from the others. It clouds the Force, making it difficult to think. He takes a deep breath, centring himself before stepping forwards and bowing respectfully. Obi-Wan follows suit. “Greetings.”

The machine man steps forwards, little hisses and clunks following the step. “Who are you?” The voice is low, obviously going through some kind of filter that slightly changes the sound. The mouth on the man does not move. “What are your intentions here?”

“We crashed,” Mace begins to explain, his voice somewhat dry, “our hyperdrive valve disconnected due to tampering and we were forced out of hyperspace.” He blinks a bit at the silence before filling it again, “My name is Jedi Master Mace Windu, this is Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Obi-Wan shoots a small smile at being introduced, shuffling a bit closer to Mace.

The machine’s head tilts sideways a bit, “Hyperwhat?” Mace blinks in surprise, oh right, they aren’t as advanced in tech yet.

“It’s… difficult to explain. Think of it as an advanced form of transport,” Obi-Wan says, clearly remembering the small bit of information, “Suffice to say, we’ll be off-planet after the ship is repaired.” He raises his screw with a smile, “It should take perhaps a cycle at most. It is an easy fix, as well as an easy way to tamper with a ship. You see, the probabilities of actually crashing onto a planet with breathab-” He cuts himself off before grimacing and adding, “sorry…”

The man stands for a moment in silence before a staticky sigh fills the air and the face peels back to reveal a human’s face. “Well, team, we all suited up for nothing it seems.” Without the helmet interfering with the sound, his voice is a bit easier to understand. The strange accent is more noticeable. A man, blonde with arms about as big as Obi-Wan’s torso and a large circular shield sighs, though it appears to be aimed at the metal man, not Mace and Obi-Wan. “So… tell me about this hyperspace you got going on.” The man asks before blinking and letting out a chuckle, “Ah, sorry, my name’s Tony.” He introduces himself. The other man sighs again, his hand reaching up to rest against his forehead. The redhead woman next to him looks between the two with an annoyed expression.

“Well…” Obi-Wan trails off looking to Mace, and when Mace says nothing, continues, “It’s hard to understand without the basics of dimensional physics… But I can try. Just… let me get back to work fixing the ship.” He moves to the ship again. Tony completely steps out of the suit, wearing an immaculate looking suit, not wrinkled by the journey here. Mace watches them leave with a somewhat surprised face before turning as the other members of this… welcoming party appear. There’s the blonde man, the redhead woman, another blonde man this time with long hair, and a skittish looking black-haired man.

“So… you guys been chased or something?” The woman asks, “Oh, I’m Black Widow, but call me Natasha.” Mace wrinkles his brow, testing out the two names with no little amount of confusion.

“Not exactly. The last planet we were on had a civil war brewing, so Obi-Wan and myself were dispatched to prevent it.” Mace pinches the bridge of his knows, the cracks around the group here are giving him a headache. The black-haired man looks at him with… sympathy? “One extremist must have thought our death would hasten a civil war, but it would not change anything.” She nods, before leaning back with a sigh. “And you are… protectors of this planet, Earth?”

“We’re the Avengers, well… some of them.” The long blonde haired man says, “I’m Thor.” Mace blinks a bit, swearing he’s heard that name.

“Thor… you wouldn’t be from…”

“Asgard.” He finishes, bouncing the hammer from hand to hand.

Mace blinks before bowing hastily again, “Apologies. I knew the name was familiar. You must be the god of… was it thunder?” Thor nods, seemingly pleased and rather smug that someone’s recognised him. His attention turns to the skittish man at his side, “So… you must be Loki? His… cousin? No… brother.” He settles on. A dry smile stretches across Loki’s face as Thor pats his back, pounds it considering the amount of strength on those arms.

“In the flesh.” He says softly. Mace blinks, something tickling the edges of his feeling in the Force. “You would be the warrior monks.

Mace winces a bit at the description. It’s not the truth, but it is what most of the galaxy at large considers the truth. Jedi are a lot more than just warriors or monks, but few seem to understand it. “I… not exactly, but yes.”

“Warriors? These two?” Thor looks incredulously between Loki and Mace, “Did you see the other, he was practically the size of my finger?!” Loki looks pleadingly at Mace, as though asking him for forgiveness on Thor’s behalf. “Not to mention the lack of weapons. Man of iron has all those guns across his suit, but these two? They’re dressed in mother’s curtains.” Mace blinks. That’s a first.

“They’re touched by what they call the Force.” Mace nods at Loki’s words. Gifted, cursed, there’s a multitude of ways people have referred to their Force sensitivity. “And a blade of… light.”

“Indeed,” Mace confirms, pulling out his hilt. “A lightsaber.” He does not ignite it, only clipping it back to his belt.

“You fight with… swords? Out in space?!” The man with a shield says.

“You fight with what appears to be a shield…” Obi-Wan says, materialising quietly behind Mace. He has quiet steps, like most Jedi, cushioned ever so slightly with the Force. “I don’t think you’re in the position to judge.”

The man chuckles, chagrined but still in good humour, “I suppose not…”

“Master Windu. The repairs are done. Whoever tried sabotaging the ship did a truly awful job. I did not even have to replace it, simply jolt it into place.” Obi-Wan reports dutifully, idly floating the instrument towards the open bag. The team follow the movement.

“Well, it appears we should be going,” Mace said to the group, bowing lowly. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise,” The man with the shield says. Loki only stares at them, eyes unnervingly fixed on them. The rest of the team offers farewells. Tony, it seems, was rather impressed by the machinery if the glint in his eyes is anything to go by. Loki, Thor, Natasha, and the shield man all pile onto the ship after a while, lifting off and hovering some distance away. Tony results and similarly goes to the ship, floating beside it as Obi-Wan begins to pilot out of the planet.

“An interesting planet,” Mace says once they’re comfortably in hyperspace, hurtling down back to Coruscant.

“I suppose we’ll be hearing more from them soon enough. It seems that the man, Tony, might be able to create something similar to hyperdrives. At least… he was confident he could.” Obi-Wan says before flicking the autopilot on and slumping in his seat.

“Go take a break. I’ll keep an eye on the controls.” Mace says upon feeling the fatigue in the Force. Obi-Wan lights up with embarrassment but complies, standing up and walking to his quarters. Indeed, Mace muses in the quiet cockpit, what an intriguing planet.

#star wars fanfic #fanfic #mcu #mace windu #mace windu appreciation #mace windu appreciation week #obi wan #tony stark #loki #thor #natasha #stave rogers #y'all #I don't know shit about the mcu #so have this ...

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 24

First

People were starting to settle down as the night stretched on.

Chat felt kind of weird about the sleepover, if he was being honest. He was technically the host, but he hadn’t planned any of the activities. They also hadn’t let him help out at all. Sure, it seemed they were throwing the sleepover for him, but it felt weird to not be involved at all when it was being held in his own room.

(He also wasn’t stupid enough to think that they had decided to do the sleepover for purely innocent reasons. Rena and Ladybug were paying just a little bit too much attention for it to be mere curiosity. He had nothing to hide except for the trash and clothes he’d stuffed in his closet to make his room look cleaner, though, so he was fine with it.)

Still, it was kind of nice.

He looked at the other four.

Carapace was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, his back facing away from everyone as he worked on his bracelets. He was singing random showtunes to himself, but his singing was getting cut off at random due to his giggles at whatever he was doing. Chat tried to peek over his shoulder and Carapace gave an overexaggerated gasp and flung himself across the floor to keep the bracelets out of his sight.

“No peeking!”

“Alright! Alright!” Said Chat, shaking his head exasperatedly even as a smile threatened to make its way across his face.

Carapace narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously for a moment before slowly returning to his spot.

Ladybug was apparently only half awake, though it was hard to tell if this was the effect of the wine or the lack of coffee. Carapace had given her his hoodie when he’d seen her shivering and now she was swamped in the fabric. This didn’t seem to bother her, though, as she barely swayed in time with his singing.

Rena had finished all her bracelets for everyone already, opting to just make braids of each of their costume colors. Now she was weaving thread into Chloe’s hair.

Chloe was putting the finishing touches on her fifth bracelet. They were all the same, alternating black and yellow threads. Still, it took a while to make all the knots necessary for hers.

He looked down at the friendship bracelet attempts in his hands and bit his lip. The strings he’d chosen were knotted and bent awkwardly and, really, it was beyond repair --.

He gave up, tossing down the attempts and grabbing new strings. He started just spelling out everyone’s hero names on strings that were the colors of everyone’s eyes.

“Done,” he said, his ears burning with shame. He didn’t know anything about friendship bracelets or friendships and general and if it wasn’t clear to everyone before they’d definitely have figured it out now --.

“Wow. Amazing job, Chat. You’re a master craftsman,” said Chloe, sarcasm dripping from every letter she spoke.

“You… you don’t have to wear it.”

Chloe scoffed. “Shut up. I’m never taking it off.”

“Oh… but you don’t have to, really --.”

“I’m. Wearing. It. Screw. Off.”

“... okay,” he said, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

He gave everyone else theirs and, though he noticed they were all putting them on their ankles where they’d be harder for people to see, he couldn’t help but be happy that they were accepting them at all.

Carapace held up his five completed bracelets with a bright smile. “Tada!”

He walked around and started tying them to everyone’s wrists.

Chat saw both of the bugs look confused as they read over the block letters on theirs, Rena gave a short puff of laughter when she saw hers, and then he finally got to see his...

FURRY.

He rolled his eyes at Carapace but let him tie the bracelet to his ankle.

“What’s a ‘buggie’?” Said Chloe in a voice that said she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

“It’s a furry, but for bugs.”

“... how do you know that?” Asked Ladybug, sinking back into Carapace’s/her hoodie with a yawn.

“A few years back I joked that I was a furry and someone told me I was technically a ‘scaley’. Obviously, I had to know if everyone else was a furry after that or something else.”

Rena snickered. “Likely story.”

“It’s true!”

“Hm. Sure. Chloe, I’m done with you. Ladybug --.”

“I have an important meeting for work tomorrow, sorry.”

“Fine. Chat, c’mere.”

He hesitated before he made his way over and allowed her to start messing with his hair obediently.

Chloe shuffled over to Ladybug. There was a beat before Ladybug lifted the bottom of the hoodie and allowed Chloe to climb inside.

Carapace groaned. “Why are you stretching out my hoodie?”

Ladybug smiled and brought a hand up to stretch the neck so Chloe could pop her head out the top. “Forgot it was yours, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Guess I won’t fix this, then.”

“Wait -- Ladybug -- listen -- I didn’t mean it --.”

Ladybug and Chloe laid back and stuck their tongues out at him in unison. Carapace glared halfheartedly at them for a little while before walking over and laying on top of them.

“Ughhhh get off you’re heavy,” complained Ladybug. “You’re going to crush me.”

“Good. I’m squashing two annoying bugs.”

“Renaaaaa,” tried Chloe.

“Can’t help right now, I’m doing Chat’s hair.”

“Rena,” tried Carapace.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Rena gently tugged Chat over so she could help Carapace smother the two and still add colors to his hair.

“Nooooooo…”

“Chat help,” Ladybug squeaked, reaching out a hand in an attempt to pull him closer for help.

He considered the hand for a minute before pointedly looking away, a smile pulling at his lips.

Ladybug mumbled a curse and resigned herself to the fate of being crushed under three of her housemates.

Rena eventually finished with his hair and she took a picture to show him the results. He’d always wanted to do stuff with his hair, and since his haircolor was so light it wouldn’t have been hard, but his dad had never allowed it…

He smiled brightly and sent it to himself.

Rena shielded her eyes and he looked up at her, his smile dropping into a confused frown.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re, like… sunshine incarnate. Can’t look at you dead on, it’s too bright.”

“Right? He could give Adrien Agreste a run for his money,” joked Carapace.

He wasn’t sure if he was blushing because his housemates thought of him like that or because his civilian identity was apparently that popular. Still, he brought a hand up to cover his mouth as a new smile stretched across his face.

Rena slipped off of the pile of miraculous holders easily and took a seat about a meter away with her phone, leaning back in a pile of pillows. “Carapace, Ladybug, both of you should get to sleep. You both have stuff in the morning.”

“But --,” tried Carapace.

“I WILL knock you out if I have to. And there’s no coffee to keep you awake.”

The two groaned quietly and Carapace fell beside the two bugs. Instead of leaving, though, he just grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around the three of them.

Chloe scoffed and started shifting around in the blanket/hoodie prison she was currently trapped in. “Hey, let me out, I’m not tired yet.”

Ladybug and Carapace wrapped an arm around her and held her still before she could get up. “We have to sleep, you have to sleep.”

“I don’t --.”

“Pillows don’t talk,” said Ladybug, nuzzling her face into Chloe’s neck with a yawn.

Chloe didn’t look particularly happy about it, but she did quiet herself.

Carapace reached his free hand towards Chat without looking over and he stared at it before taking it. He was pulled down to join the cuddle pile so fast that they knocked heads. There was a mumbled ‘ow’ and a hiss of pain, but otherwise it was hard to tell that it had happened.

Rena tossed a pillow at the lightswitch, which was… odd, but it did turn off the lights, so… yay?

He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Carapace’s stomach. He could hear the others’ steady breathing as they drifted off one by one.

But, for once, Chat wasn’t finding it easy to sleep.

Some things are easy to ignore.

For example, Chat could, for the most part, ignore the knowledge that he was likely the only person in the house who was genuinely interested in being friends. Everyone else was perfectly happy being friendly (because who wants to fight people in their own house?), but that’s not nearly the same thing.

But, since Chat was starved for affection, he opted to ignore what he knew to be the truth. Did it really matter if Carapace was only allowing him to hang off of him for the sake of preventing a strong akuma if he was getting the physical touch he hadn’t received since his mother had died? Did it really matter if Ladybug was only playing nicer for the sake of convenience if it meant he could get compliments from her instead of insults?

Kinda. But he was willing to push those thoughts aside.

And, while he wanted to ignore this problem too, he really shouldn’t. Their safety was much too important for that.

There should be very few people that knew where they were. There were the people who Chloe had hired to help her move in, Master Fu, each other...

But that didn’t explain why Chat’s room was left untouched.

The only thing that made sense for that was his dad… He tried to brush the thought aside like he had been doing for the entire night, but it was far more difficult when the others were asleep and weren’t serving as a distraction.

Would his dad sell him out? Sure, their relationship wasn’t near ‘close’, but that didn’t mean that his father hated him, right? His dad had known for a while, though, almost since the beginning. Why would he sell out now? The information was slightly more valuable now that they were living together, yes, but was that enough to make him betray his son for a super terrorist?

Worse yet, could his father be Hawkmoth? He didn’t think so, because his father had been akumatized multiple times, but there was nothing saying Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize himself. Then again, he’d been pretty interested in Chat’s ring when he realized who he was… or was that just innocent curiosity? He also lived in the center of the area that Ladybug had mentioned she’d traced the akumas to, but so did every rich person --.

Carapace pulled him closer, his hand sliding up his back to work at a knot in his back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Chat teased, even as he pressed his face against his shoulder.

“You’re too tense.”

He let himself relax a bit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault you’re the worst pillow ever.”

“Even worse than Chloe?”

“Somehow,” said Carapace, and Chat could almost hear the smile in his voice.

And, because it’s really hard to have bad thoughts when you’re cuddling a friend and getting a massage, Chat fell asleep in minutes.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic

#a miraculous tiktok account #chat noir #adrien agreste #carapace #nino lahiffe #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #rena rouge #alya cesaire #queen bee #chloe bourgeois #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #mlb #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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dewitty1 · 4 years

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Fic Recs Wrap Up - September 2020 (੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along. As Draco reckons with his ex-wife's infidelity and questions about his own sexuality, he finds himself going to an openly gay Potter for guidance. As their friendship deepens, Draco realizes that there is quite a lot that Potter can teach him. And that he is surprisingly ready to learn. Rec Post

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Harry Potter was convinced he had an ordinary, if inconvenient, life. Then Ron and Hermione vanished in the Department of Mysteries. And the only person who may know where they are is a mute Draco Malfoy. Rec Post

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Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on. Rec Post, Art post by @kuroostatic Art Post by @creeeee

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It should be careful, deliberate, but it isn't. Like every other part of their relationship, it happens gradually and then all at once, before they even realize it. And when the little blue threads bind them together, there's no going back. Rec Post

He's got fire for a heart, and I'm scared of burning by Samcgrath

Harry returns to England to help solve a particularly tricky case but nobody bothered to mention that he'd be working with Malfoy, who seems just as happy about it as Harry. In his absence, the wizarding world has changed in ways Harry's having some trouble adjusting to while Malfoy struts around in his elegant robes and effortlessly charms everyone he lays eyes on. Months of grappling with his own feelings, trying to understand Draco's, pining day in and day out - it can get a little tiring especially when Draco Malfoy is as infuriating as ever. Rec Post

The Nobility of Ascent by Lomonaaeren

Not even his own fame and power are enough to get the Wizengamot to pass laws protecting Muggleborn and orphaned children, so Harry swallows his pride and goes to Draco Malfoy, who can teach him how to convince the prejudiced old bastards to listen to him. And Malfoy hasn’t even named a price. Which…concerns Harry, but he’s found a cause worth living for. And maybe someone, too. Rec Post

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Harry’s ready to banish the Golden Boy image and take charge of his life. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately, there are surprises in store for him. Rec Post

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Though their new relationship is going well, both Harry and Draco have trouble communicating and are holding back from taking things to the next level--emotionally and sexually. When Harry decides he is ready for more, he stumbles over how to start the conversation, but figures out a plan with the help of his friends. He comes up with the perfect Valentine's Day gift to show Draco trust, commitment, and desire: sexy pictures of his naked arse. Thankfully, Pansy Parkinson has a camera and is willing to help... Rec Post 1, 2

Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco @slytherco

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates.

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato

In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago. Fic Claim

The Ferret's Nest by loveglowsinthedark @l0vegl0wsinthedark

Harry has a ferret and a whole lot of tattoos. Unfortunately, it's only one of these things Draco approves of. Art post by @rainsoakedhello

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Lubido Mendax by Anonymous (for @hd-hurtfest)

When Harry is hit by an old and alarming sex curse while on a job with Malfoy, he’s faced with an agonising decision. But it turns out that curing the curse was easy compared to everything that came next.

The Four Doors by fluxweed @fluxweeed

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

I hope you enjoy these as much as I have!

As always, thank you so much for following, reading, and reblogging! Your support means so much to me!

I’ve already started posting October recs!

xoxo Carey ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

#fic recs #Drarry fic recs #drarry #drarry squad #drarry fanfiction #fic recs wrap ups #Harry potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry smut #Drarry angst #Drarry eighth Year #Carey's bookmarkfic recs #Carey's Personal Bookmarks

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disneydreamlights · 4 years

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Anidala Fic Recs

I got asked for fic recs for these. NSFW will be in a private post (that I’ll make later GOING THROUGH YOUR AO3 HISTORY IS TEDIOUS) for easy DMing purposes. All recs under a read more.

So first for authors:

Just about anything by SkywalkersAmidala and Gemma’s Writing (@gemmaswriting)

Everything I’ve read by them is absolutely fantastic, and believe me, I’ve read pretty much everything from them. Multiple times in some cases. They’re just very good. SkywalkersAmidala in most cases writes more silly lighthearted AUs and Gemma’s Writing does a bit of everything, all of which are good.

Padme Lives/Anakin Doesn’t Fall:

(Anything on my Vaderdala fic recs list, you need Padme alive for Vaderdala)

Precipice by Shadowsong26

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

(Padme returns to the Senate with Luke, Anakin to lead the Rebels with Leia. Things get better is the absolute best way to summary this one.)

To These Memories by KatieRoseFun

After Darth Sidious is defeated, everything changes. Some for the better, others not so much. Mostly better though. (Or: Anakin becomes a dad. Rex rehabilitates clone troopers who no longer want to be a part of the army. Ahsoka gets a call from an old friend. And maybe Obi-Wan finds out it’s not just his enemies who don’t stay dead. Basically, everyone gets the happy ending they deserve.)

Pocket Full of Sand Verse by Philthestone

Anakin goes missing, Padme is captured, and this causes Leia Skywalker and Luke Amidala to meet.

Clash of Fates by AliceBDS (In Progress)

Sometimes, the course of life is changed with one decision.

When Ahsoka Tano requests the help of her former master in liberating Mandalore, a twist of destiny sends them to Coruscant to rescue Chancellor Palpatine instead, altering the course of galactic history forever.

When Dead Men Walk by Ellapromachos

Anakin hesitates just a few minutes longer, and the entire galaxy is better for it.

or; Anakin is at the Temple for Order 66, but not as Darth Vader. And when Palpatine comes for him, he plays his cards just a little bit better. He digs his heels in, and prepares for the long con.

My Loyalties Lie by Stranestelle (In Progress)

When Anakin initially rejects Palpatine's offer to 'help' him, the Sith Lord, in a rare moment of hastiness, ships him off to Kamino to have a control chip implanted.

Nobody Needs to Know by Elizaham8957

The twins are born in the middle of the Clone Wars, and Anakin and Padmé try to continue hiding the fact that they're married and now have two children.

Nobody buys it. Like, seriously, nobody.

Hunter by Zinoviev

Leia is offered a chance to escape Bespin when Boba Fett enlists her help to prevent Luke from falling into Vader's clutches. She has plenty of questions, however. Who is this mysterious bounty hunter, and what does he want with her friend?

The Bantha in the Room by Estrangedlestrange

concept: anakin sitting in the council room bouncing baby luke on his knees as he adamantly denies having children or attachments

Time Travel:

Stand the Hazard of the Die by KeelieThompson1

Baby Luke is sent back in time by Obi-Wan to the prequel era. Needless to say, things change.

Just One Wish by LadyVader23

On a trip to Dathomir, Anakin Skywalker finds a spell that will grant him one wish. Anxious to return home, he wishes for a way to end the war. As a result, he ends up accidentally kidnapping his future children...moments after they've escaped Bespin. Luke is quite done dealing with his mess of a father, and Leia is convinced telling the future Darth Vader about the future will only make it worse. Desperate, Anakin calls in the only person they might listen to: Padme Amidala. Too bad Padme has a surprise of her own...

Temper With the Stars by Pipionem

After being pulled through the World between Worlds, Ahsoka finds herself in the final days of the Clone Wars, on a Separatist ship holding the recently kidnapped Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Saving the galaxy from the horrors to come is a lot to get done in a week, but Ahsoka has lost everything before - this time, she won't let that happen. Of course, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy.

Skywalker Family Fics:

Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

Mild AU:

Desideratum by Sithanakin (In Progress)

As a young Initiate in the midst of a childish crush, Padmé had always dreamt of Anakin Skywalker becoming her Master. But she was to turn thirteen too early for that to be possible.

Then, at sixteen, she loses her Master in the battle of Geonosis. In the confusion of all her grief, she does not expect newly-knighted Anakin Skywalker to offer to take her on as his Padawan.

The Wise Thing by Stranestelle

Warning: Very dark, not happy ending.

Padmé Amidala may not be all she seems. Anakin Skywalker wears his heart on his sleeve. People have crushes every day, it’s not the end of the world. Is it?

or, if you will, a sith!Padmé AU

Bonded by Betts

(Okay I’ll out myself slightly with smut but just one on my mostly SFW recs.)

Padmé had always been better at the mental half of the Jedi code—coercion, manipulation, meditation. Anakin had always been better at the physical half—beating shit up with his lightsaber.

Heirs to the Empire by Aldojlc

Alternate Universe. En route to Endor, Luke, Leia, and Han during the events of ROTJ find themselves transported into a different universe and a different Empire, with a different Vader.

Heavy AUs:

(it’s not so bad) being dead like me by Estrangedlestrange

Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love.

Skyborn by Silverdaye

Senator Padmé Amidala enjoys spending her time in a bookstore, one made of real flimsi books where each one costs a small fortune. It is there she meets a strange man, Anakin Skywalker, who is searching for long forgotten planet, Kesh. 4,500 years ago a ship crashed on Kesh. The survivors told the natives they were their gods, the Skyborn. Anakin is one of them.

For Even the Very Wise Cannot See All Ends by UncorrectGrammar

When people think of Anakin Skywalker, they think of the Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear. They think of an accomplished duelist, of the best flyer in Hogwarts, of the prophesized savior of the wizarding world.

They don’t think of gardens diligently kept or dirt under fingernails.

Or: Anakin Skywalker and his legacy. Hogwarts AU.

General Prequel Era (Non Anidala Centric, but still contain Anidala)

Like Fire In Our Bones by AcuteNeurosis

With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

Well It Goes Like This by Corde_and_Dorme

At the end of it all, the thing is: Palpatine breaks his heart.

(or the one where Anakin makes the hard choice, the right choice, the other choice. Then he keeps making it.)

Vode An by Epsiloneridani

There are millions of lives on the line, clone and Jedi alike. Every second brings them one step closer to the chip's activation - one step closer to the endgame. The truth is shrouded in secrecy and clouded by doubt. The clock's ticking down.

It's a race against time.

Fives is gone. Echo finds the courage to ask why.

Bonus: ObiAnidala

For We Are A Woven Thread; Find the Strand by Shadowsong26

The night before Obi-Wan was to leave for Utapau, he and Anakin and Padme agreed that, regardless of the Council's orders, Anakin should go as well. They split up over the course of the battle--and when Order 66 is given, they cannot find one another in the chaos; Padme, on Coruscant, is left with the knowledge that neither of them is coming back.

This story covers the next four years in their lives; how they survived and coped with the loss; how they began to fight back--and how they found their way home.

#Star Wars #Anakin #Padme #Anidala

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

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Chapter 12

of the wwx emperor au that’s now more like the terrible horrible time the Lan Sect is having ugh

The “small event” is anything but small.

Almost the entire court has gathered outside the Immortal Mountain City gates, spilling across the rolling meadows. Lan XiChen would call it a picnic, but on a much grander scale, and lacking some of the restraint and dignity of the picnics usually held in the Imperial Gardens. The tables for each Sect and clan are set properly, silk canopies provided to shade the guests from the sun. In between the tables, rugs cover the ground, so no Sect Leader would dampen their soles on the grass still drenched with the morning dew. The tea and nourishment is to be served on the delicate Imperial porcelain. It all gives the appearance of a formal and proper gathering.

However, some distance beyond the canopies, groups of young disciples are scattered across the meadow, their excited shouts and laughter rolling down the mountain. A number of kites are hovering in the air, being tugged back and forth by a mild breeze. Even from a distance, XiChen can see a dozen arrows flying through the air, majority of them hitting their mark. It is a game originally designed for children, but many of the young masters will take any opportunity to display their skills. With so many disciples participating in the game, the canopied areas are mostly occupied by the Sect Leaders and Ladies, and those too proud to be seen having fun.

The Emperor’s dais and seat are notably absent. Instead, the Jiang Sect table has been set in their place, and Jiang FengMian appears to be the one presiding over the event, his wife and children by his side.

The Lan Sect is not given a chance to find their way to their designated seats. The moment uncle has stepped foot under the canopies, Lady Jiang is rising from her seat, moving to intercept them.

She bows gracefully, delicate lotus ornaments in her hair twinkling with the movement. Her greeting is made more polite by her unrestrained smile, as if she is genuinely delighted to renew her acquaintance with the Lan Sect.

“Sect Leader Lan,” she says, “This very morning, my father happened to remind me that this is Second Young Master Lan’s first visit to the Immortal Mountain. Forgive us for being so careless in welcoming you properly. Two years ago, during the annual Sect Leader Conference, my brother was very pleased to give the Young Master a tour of the City. I had hoped you would allow me to do the same for the Second Young Master. I have taken the liberty of arranging a small escort, and General Nie has graciously provided his second in command, so you may be assured of your nephew’s safety.”

XiChen distinctly remembers touring the Immortal Mountain City with Jiang WanYin, but the boy had seemed far from pleased at having to play a guide. However, XiChen does not know Jiang WanYin very well. Despite having spent hours together, they had barely spoken a dozen full sentences to each other during the tour, or in the years since. Perhaps Jiang WanYin had been pleased.

Regardless, he thinks that a tour given by Jiang YanLi is bound to be infinitely more pleasurable. His brother does not seem to think so, judging by the faint expression of panic in his eyes. The expression is quickly hidden, WangJi’s shoulders growing stiff, as if he is being asked to venture forth into battle.

XiChen is sure that uncle would very much prefer to keep WangJi by his side, but he can voice no reasonable objection. Lady Jiang had come prepared. The small escort includes two maids from the Jiang household, four men from the Emperor’s personal guard, and Nie ZongHui, the Lieutenant General of the Emperor’s army. Aside from Nie MingJue himself joining, WangJi could not have possibly had a more dignified escort, or one better equipped to keep him out of harm’s way, especially for such a harmless excursion.

Unable to find any reason for opposition, uncle agrees, and thanks Lady Jiang for her attention. XiChen watches his brother walk away with Jiang YanLi by his side, and feels a cautious thread of hope, that despite his reserved nature, WangJi may form a new friendship today.

The Lan Sect table is set quite a distance away from the seat of power. As such, the tables around them are mostly unoccupied, and they are provided with an unobstructed view of the disciples and their game. XiChen is glad; the pretense of politeness in those he must socialize with can be exhausting to navigate. It is a pleasure to simply sit and watch the disciples, competing with no malice, a sea of different Sect uniforms mingling together.

Their elders rarely quarrel the way they did during the Empress’ rule. The Emperor might be young, and judging by WangJi’s experience, a little bit wild, but he clearly knows how to steer them away from the old divisions. As a result, these young generations are already forming lasting bonds, and XiChen is only sorry to remember the dozen Lan Sect disciples they had brought along, forced to remain outside of YiLing, and unable to participate.

After a few moments of resting in comfortable silence, they are approached by the HeJian Fan Sect Leader. Judging by uncle’s reception of the man, they are already acquainted, although nothing about their greeting suggest that they are on friendly terms.

Therefore, XiChen is very much surprised to hear that the Sect Leader has come to seek uncle’s advice. The man begins by asking about the irrigation techniques used in LianYi during the last drought; apparently, a similar but unsuccessful attempt was made by the Fan Sect in JiaXin. Uncle, who had become an expert in drought management in a single, terrible, three month period, quickly zeroes in on the reason the attempt had failed. He also has a solution to the issue, and soon, the Fan Sect Leader is seated where WangJi should have been, requesting ink and parchment from the servants, so uncle can draw him detailed instructions.

XiChen sits quietly, alternating between watching his uncle, and watching the children, feeling a deep contentment bordering on happiness. He had been anxious that the Emperor’s insistence they remain in the Immortal Mountain would turn out to be unpleasant for everyone involved. But at this moment, he feels nothing but gratitude for these peaceful hours, when nothing seems amiss.

Not long after the Fan Sect Leader’s arrival, the tea is served. XiChen pours, as his uncle and the Sect Leader are too preoccupied to notice. He has barely had a chance to taste his own cup, when he sees the Nie Sect Leader arrive, pause to speak with Jiang FengMian, then turn his attention to the Lan Sect table.

Their eyes meet for a single breath. Instead of acknowledging it, XiChen reacts by getting flustered, burying his face in the teacup, and scalding his tongue in process. The calm serenity that had enveloped him only moments ago is completely gone. There is an odd dryness in his throat, despite the tea, and he is not sure if the heat in his chest is due to his nerves, or the burning hot liquid.

Nie MingJue greets uncle and the Fan Sect Leader first. By then, XiChen had already risen to his feet and is bowing deeply, anxious that the heat he feels might be reflecting on his face.

“Young Master Lan,” Nie MingJue says, “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Very much,” XiChen says, “the Nie Sect disciples are quite skilled with the bow.”

“You are being too generous,” Nie MingJue says, a ghost of a smile hovering around his mouth, “the Jiang Sect is far superior.”

“The game originated in YunMeng, I believe,” XiChen says, “it stands to reason the Jiang Sect would excel.”

Still flustered, he is unsure why the Sect Leader has approached them, but suddenly, he does not want the man to leave.

“Sect Leader Nie, would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. I was going to take a small tour of the mountain, as I do every year at this time. Would Young Master Lan like to join me?”

“Oh,” XiChen says, immediately glancing to his uncle for approval.

Uncle is not paying attention. He is insisting that there is only one correct way to construct a cistern. Apparently, the man that the Fan Sect Leader has hired, had done it incorrectly. The Fan Sect Leader looks as if he may enjoy personally beheading the man in question.

XiChen turns back to Nie MingJue, “I-- it would be my pleasure. To accompany you.”

He had not realized that he means to accept until the words have already left his mouth, and then it is too late to consider the consequences.

He tells himself that there is nothing improper about a stroll in the fresh air. Nie MingJue looks pleased with his answer, and if his smile causes an odd, trembling sensation in XiChen’s chest, no one else needs to know.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #nielan #one trick pony strikes again #two ships per fic are a max i can handle i think #wwx emperor au #m #here i go taking liberties again #2 hours of research into imperial garden picnics #i've got nothing i can really use #the cultivation world doesn't seem to wanna mix with accurate historical depictions of anything #anyway #some shit is about to start happening soon #i'm starting chapter 18 where more shit is about to go down #so we're moving right along #ily guys

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Listed: His Name Is Alive

While Warren Defever’s name is perhaps less recognizable than that of his band His Name Is Alive, he’s also been connected with a seemingly endless array of other projects: Princess Dragon-Mom, Elvis Hitler, ESP Beetles, Control Panel, and far more. This doesn’t get into his recording and production credits for the likes of Michael Hurley, Iggy and the Stooges, and Mdou Moctar. Forever associated with Michigan’s weirdo-underground music scene, Defever has recently been issuing a series of long-buried recordings as His Name Is Alive. In February, the Disciples label released Hope Is a Candle, the third and final volume in the "Home Recordings" trilogy exploring Defever's teenage tape experimentation as well as A Silver Thread (Home Recordings 1979 - 1990), a four-volume collection of many of Defever’s solo home recordings prior to His Name Is Alive releasing their debut album Livonia on 4AD in 1990. In his review of A Silver Thread, Tim Clarke writes “For a collection of home recordings, what’s most striking about this music is how fully realized and carefully executed it sounds, comparable at times to contemporary artists such as Grouper, Benoît Pioulard and Tim Hecker. This is not the 1980s that I remember.”

Defever gives us his “What Else Is New” list, a set of personal snapshots, memories of a life spent in music, warning the reader that “the descriptions don’t always have an obvious correlation to the video, but welcome to my nightmare brain.”

In The Line of Fire

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I started performing when I was five. My grandfather was a self-taught musician from Saskatchewan in Western Canada and he showed me and my brothers how to play banjo, guitar and fiddle. One of my earliest memories is having a full size 127 lb. accordion placed onto my lap and my grandmother voicing her disappointment when I refused to play. I did learn slide guitar from her later though. I have many, often terrible, memories of performing at square dances with his band and we would play old timey country music, folk songs, polkas and waltzes. There were also gigs at the trailer park, old folks homes and a convent. Although my grandfather believed that popular music died with Hank Williams in 1953, he still found room in his heart for Lawrence Welk and Slim Whitman.

Meet Me By The Water

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By age ten I had a tape recorder and was using it to capture the sounds of nearby lakes, thunderstorms, and my older brothers LP collection played at the wrong speeds. I recently found the cassette, Echo Lake (1983) which features waves crashing onto the beach on the Canadian side of Lake St. Clair but it was recorded right after I got an echo pedal so it’s got a heavy dose of dreamy delay. Tape loops of the next door neighbor raking leaves and shoveling the driveway would be repurposed a few years later as rhythm tracks on the first His Name Is Alive LP, Livonia (4AD, 1990). Detroit in the late 70s and early 80s had totally insane radio and one of the highlights was Met-Ezzthetics, a late night show on WDET hosted by Faruq Z. Bey who also played saxophone in Griot Galaxy. Shortly before his death he played with His Name is Alive and we had a chance to formalize our student-teacher relationship.

Search For Higher Energies

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In high school I was studying Bach Chorale harmonization and counterpoint during the day but recording and touring with the band Elvis Hitler at night. The other guys in band were older but at 16 I was a familiar sight at shitty Detroit punk clubs and Hamtramck dive bars, the nerdy teenager reading a book or doing homework sitting at the bar waiting ’til midnight or 1am for our slot to play our hellbilly hits, “It’s A Long Way From Berlin To Memphis,” and “Hot Rod To Hell.” I was still trying to make sense of the post 1953 music scene and when I met the guy with a giant afro and shiny super hero outfit complete with shiny cape I had no idea he was Rob Tyner of the MC5. We released three records before I was twenty one and played shows and toured with Devo, the Dwarves, the Dead Milkmen, Reverend Horton Heat, the Beat Farmers, Helios Creed, Babes In Toyland, the Cro-Mags, Corrosion of Conformity, the Frogs, the Gories, Pussy Galore, the Unsane and way more I can’t remember I was just a kid. It was some kind of education.

You Don’t Have To Go Home But You Can’t Stay Here

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When I signed with 4AD I thought I was a composer and they let me write my own bio, so I called His Name Is Alive the work of a “fucked up, irresponsible teenage composer.” I had only been writing music for three years. When I heard “Tom Violence” by Sonic Youth I thought for the first time in my life, “I think I could do that.” In 1988 I made a mixtape with Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car, Leadbelly and some of Big Star’s third album and I tried to arrange it like it was an album, then I made my own album in that same shape, it was called I Had Sex With God and I sent it to 4AD. Our first album contained three of the first five pieces of music I had ever written. Within a few years I was playing festivals for contemporary classical composers and new age artists who were thirty or forty years older than me. His Name Is Alive played the Musicas Visuales Festival in Mexico with Harold Budd, Paul Horn and Jorge Reyes. The mayor of the city presented me with a guitar but then dramatically walked out of the theater during our performance realizing he had made a terrible mistake. I remember the surreal moment when from across the room Harold Budd walked in and greeted me as “Mr. Defever.” He had a cold and was sniffling during his set, the audience thought he was crying. I recorded his show and when I got back home to Livonia I added my own guitar to some of his songs and then edited the tapes, looping my favorite parts and editing out the parts I didn’t like, also adding additional layers of reverb and echo. More recently I did a concert in a five hundred year old temple in Japan where the unamplified meditation music never rose above a whisper and the monk had to turn off the furnace because the heat molecules were too loud. The show was recorded and released under the name Mountain Ocean Sun and features Ian Masters and Hitoko Sakai.

Energy Dealer

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Both my parents were born in Canada, my mother in Saskatchewan, my father in Ontario. I have dual citizenship as my father was American and my mother had Canadian citizenship. I spent summers, holidays and weekends in a tiny cottage on Lake St. Clair that did not have a telephone and had curtains instead of doors separating the two rooms. Myrt Fortin who lived next door would receive phone calls for my mom, walk over to our place and yell into the window, “Hey wake up your ma, your dad’s on the phone.” My mom took a lot of naps, so she was always asleep when something important was happening. I remember always getting cut on broken glass while swimming in the lake or getting stabbed by one of the neighbors and having to go wake up my mom to take me to the hospital.

Lord I Don’t Believe You Exist

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When I was ten my parents sat me down and told me it was time that I got a summer job. There were only two businesses in town, a gas station and a hardware store so I walked up to the hardware store and asked the owner for a job and immediately fell to the ground crying. Completely fell apart. He asked me why I wanted to work in hardware. I didn’t know what to say, I was only ten but I knew not to tell the owner that his store was stupid and I didn’t think he could handle the truth. It turned out he also owned the gas station so that didn’t really work out. Later that summer, I began working for the Pickseed Corporation as corn de-tasseling season was just beginning. All the moms would drop off their kids in the church parking lot in Tecumseh, just outside of Windsor, around 4:30am where an unmarked windowless cargo van was waiting that had cinderblocks and 2'x4' boards instead of benches so they could squeeze in the maximum amount of children. There were three job requirements to work in a cornfield, the child (it was only children, no adults) needed to show up with a baseball hat, a thermos with water and a large black plastic garbage bag. I think this was before sunglasses were invented. Upon arriving at the cornfield, we were separated into pickers and checkers, younger kids each taking a row of corn (a row could extend a mile or more) and a slightly older kid would organize and manage several of the younger kids. In the morning we were instructed to poke two arm holes and a head hole into our garbage bags and put it on like a raincoat because the corn was covered in dew and kids wearing wet clothes would walk slower than dry kids. So almost every day there was a point, usually around 11am when the dew would dry and we would be roasted alive from the summer sun coming down on our ridiculous shiny black plastic outfits. We worked from sun up until sun down. I received three dollars and thirty five cents an hour. For all you city folks, corn is planted in alternating rows of types of corn so that when the top part of the plant is removed, or “de-tasseled,” it can seed or cross-pollinate easily. It’s a terrible job with a high turnover rate and every day I would hear the sound of kids in nearby rows that had given up hope, sat down in the middle of the field and crying for hours. The following year, at age 11, I was promoted from picker to checker, and was put in charge of a group of about ten sixteen year old’s.

Sleep It Off

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Mostly I like to record – His Name is Alive has over a hundred releases and I’ve done another fifty records under various names, Control Panel, Warren Michael Defever, ESP BEETLES, ESP SUMMER, Forest People, Infinity People, Jeepers Creepers, Layla al-Akhyaliyya, Mirror Dream, Princess Dragon-Mom, the Dirt Eaters, the Fishcats, the Whales, plus way more I can’t remember probably because the names were so dumb. I’ve recorded about four hundred records for other bands at my house or other studios. I’ve worked on records with Danny Kroha, Ida, Fred Thomas, Elizabeth Mitchell, Wild Belle, Michael Hurley, and when I was a teenager I helped record the first Gories album which was especially unique as I was the junior assistant engineer who helped move their equipment into the dirt floor garage next to the studio where it was decided the acoustics would be way worse. Also, I helped collage about a hundred Destroy All Monsters tapes from the 70s for a couple of their releases which led to remastering a bunch of tapes from the John Sinclair White Panther Party archives. I’ve done remixes for Thurston Moore and Yoko Ono and when Iggy and The Stooges started touring again I got a phone call from Ron Asheton seeing if I would help them record demos for their reunion album with Mike Watt on bass. They wrote the songs together while they were recording in Niagara’s basement sort of simultaneously. Iggy didn’t have a notebook with all his lyric ideas, instead he just sang about whatever happened that day – one song was about the airline losing his luggage, one about ATM machines and another was about reading in a newspaper that Ray Davies of the Kinks had been shot in New Orleans. In the end they weren’t terribly excited by my suggested song titles including “No Shirt” (you know because it’s like “No Fun” plus you know Iggy never wears a shirt) and they didn’t seem to love the mixes that I did that sounded kind of like those crappy Raw Power bootlegs.

Cost Of Living

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Two summers ago I recorded an incredible concert by Mdou Moctar live at Third Man Records in Detroit. They’re wild hypnotic Hendrix style jammers who live in the desert. The band didn’t speak much english but I think I was able to communicate to them how excited I was about their amazing fingerpicking and hot guitar solos after the show by screaming and replaying the best solos over and over again and then screaming the word fuzz and pointing at their fingers. It’s insane and having seen them a few times since then with a different drummer and the addition of a bass player, I’m convinced it’s their best album. It’s wild but it’s still not Tchin-tabaraden wedding wild.

Licked By Lions

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Jonathan Richman walks into Ethan and Gretchen's studio and asks if I can remove all the rugs, take the acoustic treatments off the walls and strike the baffles which normally separate the instruments, drums and amps, so the room will have the most echo possible, he has also invited about ten friends including Johnny Bee Badanjek the drummer from Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels and Mary Cobra from the Detroit Cobras to dance, sing and play percussion in the studio while he records. He has two vocal microphones set up at either end of the room and has brought his own microphones for the drums along with his own desired placement for them. He notices a tamboura near the control room and asks if I know how to play it or if I know how to tune it. Within seconds he’s tuned it and proceeds to sing Indian classical music accompanying himself on tamboura drone for about thirty five minutes. It’s beautiful and very surprising. He asks me if I recorded it, I lie and say no. Later he asks me not to play it for anyone. We record for hours. Some songs are quite long – ten and fifteen minutes, some are medleys of oldies or soft rock hits from the seventies segueing into new songs of his. It’s a confusing session as it’s not clear when songs are starting and ending and he often plays guitar and sings nowhere near a microphone. The distance between him and the microphone seems to have some meaning, there’s some formula to when he chooses to walk away in the middle of a verse but I am unable to determine the secret code. At the end of the session three or four songs are deemed usable, edited and mixed, although, sadly, an attempt at a completely insane and unexpected fuzz guitar solo is left unreleased. (The Harold Budd piece is at the opposite end of this spectrum.)

Calling All Believers

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Shortly after Tecuciztecatl was released, I received an email from Dr. James Beacham at CERN inviting us to perform at a series of concerts that would combine experimental music with experimental science at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland. He didn’t contact our booking agent, which would be how we generally receive offers for gigs, instead he sent an email to me, which would be how we generally receive crazy messages from our completely insane fans (murderous, delusional, poetic, threatening messages usually). I assumed the invitation was fake or a prank and replied that we would prefer to wait until they had successfully opened a pathway to interspatial dimensions and we’d play on the other side or that if that was unlikely to happen at a convenient time then perhaps we could set up our equipment right on the edge of a mini-black hole and perform as the Earth is being destroyed so we could release the concert film “Live At The End Of The World.” After a few messages back and forth, it was clear that he was legit and I apologized for being such a jerk. Soon I discovered poetry within the language of particle physics as well as a certain beauty in the idea that these scientists have devoted their lives to dreaming, searching and discovering basic principles that connect all things in existence. The song “Calling All Believers” refers to this devotion. “Energy Acceleration” compares the scientists to monastic life in medieval times and mystics trying to find and define the line between this world and the next and at the same time invoking the incredible amounts of energy needed to create the collisions experiments. The Patterns of Light LP was released in 2016 on London London Records and is about interpreting visions of light, trying to find universal truth with whatever tools available, it’s about the search for how everything works, why it works and how it got that way but also about being inspired on a basic level by the way a thing looks and how all your senses take in a thing. A thousand years ago Hildegard Von Bingen was writing about this same thing in letters, songs, medical texts, and had even developed her own language to use in her mystical writings, similar to Magma drummer Christian Vander using his own language for their concept albums or French black metalists Brenoritvrezorkre and Moëvöt.

The Light Inside You

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We get a lot of letters from fans, mostly weirdos though. I think it started when we released Song of Schizophrenia, that sort of connected us to a certain demographic I suspect. Here’s a recent typical message we received. “Growing up in Panama City, Mouth By Mouth and Livonia were like passages to other realms. I drank a ton of cough syrup at the time but those albums helped make life more livable. I was about to go to art school for sculpture and graphic design and the textures I heard on those records had actual shapes to them. Most music I knew at that time was flat or linear. I got them on cassette via mail-order from an ad placed in a bmx magazine. Mouth By Mouth arrived just before going to work at the amusement park and I was able to listen to it twice on the way thanks to the never-ending beach traffic. As luck would have it, I worked on “The Abominable Snowman” ride, basically a tilt-a-whirl inside a dome with lots of fog machine action, blue lights, mirrors, and lots of air conditioning. It took about 10 listens that day before it wasn’t as weird as when I first put it on. Maybe it was my bubblegum flavor/robitussin combo slushie on top of no-doz that pulled it all together, but it was probably a weird ride for a lot of vacationing beach tourists and townies when all they really wanted to hear was “Naughty by Nature” by O.P.P. I had no business running those rides at the age of 17 but I really loved how disorienting that ride could be with all the mirrors, the fog, the cold and for the final 90 seconds the ride would go in reverse. I had a buddy named Kevin that did acid at work and would repeatedly run the mini-train off the tracks and all the riders had to walk back through the woods for about a half mile that summer.”

#dusted magazine #listed #his name is alive #warren defever #warren michael defever #poppy #griot galaxy #faruq z. bey #slim whitman #mdou moctar #sly stone #harold budd #steve wonder #elvis hitler #princess dragon-mom

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talietikasero · 3 years

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Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of déjà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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perfect-fourth · 4 years

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Hⁱˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵃʳʳᵃⁿᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵗᵒ ᵒʳᶜʰᵉˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉ.

A year had gone and past in conjunction with his arrival to Piltover-Zaun, his third reappearance in the twin cities and certainly not his last, had he any say in the matter. Getting out of Tuula again had been simple enough. Even without the old man commanding the Navori, they found use of him and his methods; and for the most part, left him to his own macabre devices when he completed whatever menial task they set him on. It was never anything that created conflict with his own intentions, and they knew better than to ask anything of him that did, at least without the former Eye of Twilight to tell them what to do. He didn’t much care about their cause; be it for better or worse, so long as it gave him a means to further his own.

It wasn’t that he especially enjoyed the region; the constant whirring and buzzing of machinery was a distraction rather than a calming white noise, and more often than not he found himself falling ill to the smothering smog and toxins that permeated the atmosphere, no matter how careful he was to protect himself and cleanse his numerous temporary habitats. His only solace was found in the part-time work he’d taken as a keeper for one of the many greenhouses that spotted the city, little pockets of foliage in an otherwise bleak and repugnant landscape that offered little hope to anyone who had the misfortune of living there. Truly, he couldn’t have been the only one who saw the irony in the unholy green glow of the Sunken City, a color representing life to taunt a place overwrought with death.

Of course, there was also his art, the driving force behind his motivation to return to such a technological dystopia. As uncomfortable as it was, there was no denying the grotesque beauty in this place. Twisted iron and even more twisted people, Jhin had felt for a long time now that he hadn’t realized his full artistic potential in his previous installments. His work back then had left much to be desired, especially in the case of...

No, no, no, no. Now was not the time to think about Zed, or Shen, or that wretched girl who had systematically ruined his vision. Tonight was not about them, and it was unlikely they’d heard anything of his whereabouts this time around. It had been both a blessing and a curse to operate in a place where he was only one of many to paint the streets in blood. In Ionia, no masterpiece went unnoticed, everything held a weight to it that echoed horror through legends that spun themselves into the cautionary bedtime tales of many a defiant child. But in Zaun, most of his feats were swept away with the rest of the muck that soiled the bowels of the city, no more than a small snippet of acknowledgement in the local papers. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but it seemed almost every time he performed there he was plagued by some misfortune or another. Be it a trap not going off when it was supposed to, or a composition disrupted before it’s full beauty could be realized, Jhin was half convinced by now that some sort of horrible curse had befallen him. Either way, surely nothing substantial that was likely to circulate beyond the sea. Even if it had, the last he’d heard about the Master of Shadows, Zed had his own hands full dealing with the backlash from unrelated endeavors. Something to do with the vastaya, and two in particular, though he knew little else outside of this. Served him right, really.

It was of no matter, in the end. Tonight was the night he’d force the dual cities to bear witness to his gruesome techniques. Tonight, he would make his mark on the consciousness of Piltover-Zaun. Permanently.

The hexdraulic descenders were one of many industrial splendors that helped to shape the outline of the city; so prominent a landmark that the local hooligans had taken to riding on one of them as a right of passage. The Howler, they called it -- certainly a beast of a transportation device that had initially peaked the virtuoso’s interest, but soon fallen to the wayside when he’d grown to understand the importance of the smaller, more streamlined descenders. They carried less passengers at any given time, most of whom held power in either or both of the neighborhoods. Government officials and high-profile scientists, popular entertainers and media influencers--those who would set Piltover’s Finest into a frenzy trying to uncover the cause of their untimely demise.

Working in the gardens had been a genuine form of stress relief for him; but it also carried the added benefit of camouflaging him as nothing but a faceless bystander in a place that was often frequented by the higher class. He’d overheard many an interesting conversation in his time there; but one conversation in particular had cued him in on how and where to find the schedule logs for these descenders; a knowledge he put to great use for that night’s performance.

5 minutes. It was 5 minutes until the clock struck twenty hundred hours. Not his favorite time, but a necessary one to ensure a perfect number of victims would unwittingly meet their demise inside the private descender that was set to rise back into Piltover. He’d studied the four passengers who were to be boarding that night; ever the meticulous sort, though who they were meant little to Jhin personally. Just that they were important, and that their deaths would leave a scar on the hearts and minds of not only those who bore witness to his designs, but the region as a whole.

Being there had given him the liberty of exercising his creativity; exploring alternate means to express his art and magic, and tonight was no different. Jhin had never much entertained the idea of modifying poisons before, but the abundance of toxic substances that were at his disposal were a little bit more than tempting to fool around with. After a lengthy two months of study and experimentation, he’d found the perfect substance, and the perfect disruption method via modified gas grenades. Placing them inside the descender at the appropriate time had been the most difficult part; not because of anyone taking notice of the fanciful bits of molded metal and cogwork that looked more like decoration than anything, but because the person--creature--whatever he was who he’d recruited to do the task for him with his stealthy abilities kept accidently setting the little devices off before he even got to the location. He’d had to reschedule his performance at least twice because of this; eventually coming to the conclusion that the assortment of knives the jester carried on his person were piercing the canisters. How his physiology bypassed the effects of the fumes was beyond him, but it certainly brought to mind some questions about whether or not he should be involved in any dealings with this other, so-called ‘demon’.

In 3 minutes, now, the four passengers would finish boarding what would inevitably become a chamber of death; locked away beside the inconspicuous embellishings that at just the right moment would release a concoction of horrible toxins, with a very specific effect. He could visualize it so clearly in his mind. Slowly, these unfortunate aristocrats would begin to lose their ability to breath as the chemicals bound to their cells, transformed them, their lungs splintering like tiny shards of glass. They'd gasp and choke for air, but each breath would only bring more pain as the contamination spread into veins and arteries, eventually rupturing skin and kissing away their lips and eyelids with the corrosive fluid that was once their blood eating through soft tissue.

It was a hideous and painful process that left behind a bubbling mess of flesh and bone, just barely distinguishable as human. Whoever had luck enough to stumble onto his latest masterpiece wouldn't see this, though-- at least, not at first. Where blood would boil and seep, his magic left streams of gold, and where flesh would tear and melt, delicate roots of wisteria would sprout and spread along the floor of the compartment. It would be a sight to behold when they actually managed to breach the door, but that would take them quite a fair bit of time to accomplish. Every facet of his plan had been carefully conducted, right down to the the workings of the machine itself. By his meddling, the descender would shudder to a halt at the exact spot where it was to cross up into the golden city above-- where those in both cities would be able to marvel at his display. Threads of magic would unfurl around the spherical machine into illusionary flora that gave it the appearance of a blossoming lotus-- and concealed the gnarled metal cables which would inevitably swallow the cart thanks to the nature of gravity.

Clad in attire suitable for any other faceless citizen of Zaun, Jhin sneered at the flavorless layers of drearily hued fabrics and simplistic patterns, something he tried to bolster at least a little with choice accessories and one of the numerous protective masks he’d acquired during his time in the city. By no means was it any kind of substitute for his most beloved facial wear, but he wore the device well, just as one would expect of an astute actor challenging themselves with an unfamiliar role. He had to admit, the abundance of selection when it came to facial wear in Zaun was pretty impressive.

He watched the events of the city below from beyond the panes of an abandoned alcove ascending the walls of the two cities, a delicately crafted telescope at hand. He’d set up camp there a few hours earlier, beside him a small lantern, a satchel containing extra supplies, two flasks; one water, one alcohol, and a handful of homemade snacks were he to find himself stuck there longer than intended. Naturally, he kept Whisper at hand, though with no intent of use. A precautionary instrument, and a source of comfort for the artist, he stroked metal-clad fingertips across her emblem, an invariable and timed motion. It wasn’t long, now, before the beauty of his craftsmanship would express itself in full for the whole of both cities to marvel. He could hardly contain his excitement as he heard the soft tick of the pocket watch at his breast, and for a moment, he reluctantly desisted his gun-fondling to tip the telescope up to his line of vision and peer out into the crowded city below. They were boarding now, each of them, one astutely dressed woman and three...

Two.

One, two.

Where was the third gentleman who was to board the descender? Perhaps he’d already entered? Yes, that must have been it, surely, he hadn’t been watching the entire time, after all, and--

No...

“No.”

Once, twice, again, again, he scoped across the panels of each window, he stood, he repositioned, he scanned it from every conceivable angle but... There were only three people on board. He could feel his pulse start to pound in his temples.

One would think that if the sanctity of these individuals lives were of non-importance, than it wasn’t really of any matter if one slipped away, but that sadly just wasn’t the case. He’d had a very distinct and fixed idea that he’d wanted to convey that night, and while the mechanisms that he’d implemented did indeed seem to be working without a single misstep, it was not what he had arranged. As the seeds of his creation took root, the artisan barely heard the loud echo of creaking metal beyond the ringing in his ears. He clutched the telescope he’d brought but no longer used it, so tight that the retractable brass slid out of alignment beneath the bow of his fist.

“This is wrong, this is all wrong! Where is he? Where is the Professor?! I don’t understand, why isn’t he--this can’t be happening to me again.”

Shambling to bring his now partially dismantled telescope back up to look at the scene that had unfolded, Jhin took little comfort in the suffering of the three who thrashed around in their last ditch effort to cling to life. Hands trembling, he lowered it once more and forced himself to inhale on the count of 4. Hold for 8, exhale 4-- a repetition that continued until he had managed to calm himself down enough to at least stop shaking. This did not mean he was in any way, shape, or form happy about his circumstances, but he couldn’t allow that to control him.

By the time he looked at his artwork again, everything had fallen into place, and bystanders had started to take notice. Silent, save for a deep sigh, the maestro prepared his hand canon with an impressive swiftness. He unlatched the window and rested the muzzle through the slight opening, taking aim at the first person he saw within range down below. Whisper sang her tune into the unsuspecting courier’s flesh, leaving the woman’s blood and brain matter in a scattering of petals across the cobblestone. Four. But not how he’d envisioned.

“Unacceptable.” he spat to himself, collecting his bearings from the kickback of his canon. A sneer was hidden behind the sharp contours of his gasmask.

“Uninspired. Absolute garbage!” As much as he wished to continue berating his own work and breaking things, he knew he couldn’t linger there long. His improvising had left him vulnerable to discovery, already people were looking to see where that powerful blast had come from, though more were simply trying to find shelter in case the onslaught were to continue. Collecting most of his things haphazardly, the killer stood and rolled onto his heels towards the tiny passageway he’d found his way through earlier that day. He had been planning to leave Zaun as soon as he’d accomplished his work anyway, but it’s simultaneous success and failure had ensured his departure. Once he gathered the seldom few necessities he’d left in a safe space nearby, he’d be out on the next boat. Siren began screaming in the distance.

He needed to reassess his work. He needed to get his inspiration back. It was time to go home.

#ic #drabble #introduction to my jhin #I was gonna make this longer but imma just stop right here because I've got a very busy weekend ahead of me #I'll proofread it for the 50th time tomorrow #tw gore #tw violence #tw murder #etc #zaun #piltover #jhin

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jaxsteamblog · 4 years

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Legend

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

The metal under her feet made Sokka’s nervous tapping very obvious. In the mirror, Katara watched as Sokka held his chin and nodded, going over something in his head. But as his boots continued to tattoo against the floor, Katara sighed. The woman doing her hair paused, her hands hovering above Katara’s head, and looked nervously in the mirror.

“What is it, Sokka?” Katara asked.

At her question, Sokka stopped all of his movement and looked up at her. His eyes meeting hers through the mirror, his eyes were wide and innocent.

“Nothing?” He replied curiously. “I’m just thinking.”

“But why are you nervous?” Katara asked.

“I think I’m allowed to be nervous.” Sokka retorted.

“You’ve already gotten married!” Katara snapped.

Grinning, Sokka looked down and twisted his wedding band. “Yeah, but I knew that was going to be perfect so there was nothing to worry about.”

“And this is going to be fine.” Katara said with a sigh. “Why don’t you go check the flowers?”

“Why? Because I’m the florist and it’s my job?” Sokka asked.

Katara glared at his reflection and just grinned wider, standing from the couch behind her.

“Alright. I’ll come and get you in a little bit.” He said as he walked to the door. Once he was gone, Katara nodded to the hairdresser and she continued.

There were many things in life that Katara would never have chosen for herself but still ultimately enjoyed. This overly feminine dress up was not something she, or others, would assume about her, but Katara did enjoy the process. The whole group went for a spa treatment; Toph stayed longer in the mud bath than anyone else and it was almost impossible to get Zuko out of the steam room, but they all had a good time drinking tea in overly soft bathrobes.

Now the hair dressing was something that Katara relished. The oil and combs worked through her thick, wavy hair till it shone. Then it was braided, coiled, and pinned. Beads of colored glass and dyed bone that matched her dress were constellations in her hair. Two large, circular beads, holding the main loops on either side of her head, were carved with different symbols. One was the matched set of Tui and La, the other was the stylized version of the sun.

After the hair came the dress.

It was blue and cut to swirl around her body. Black fish swam around the hem and a spray of sea foam leaped up the bodice and down her arms. Katara touched the fabric lightly, fearing that it would dissolve under her fingers.

“You look beautiful, Majesty.” The attendants said. Katara smiled.

“Thank you.” She said.

Sokka came to collect her, wiping away tears as they walked down the cramped metal corridor. The sounds of the metal shifting were unnerving, but Katara focused on keeping herself calm. Coming to a door, Katara took a deep breath while Sokka pushed it open. Sunlight blinded her and she walked out holding a hand above her eyes.

“Oh my baby girl.” Hakoda said as he stepped into view, blocking the sunlight enough for Katara to see. Sokka was wearing a tux, but Hakoda had chosen to wear a traditional parka. The caribou skin was richly embroidered and his own hair had the same beads threaded in. Seeing him represent their home, Katara started to sniffle and Hakoda embraced her.

A breeze came up over the deck of the ship and blew Katara’s skirts, making her shiver. Hakoda chuckled and kissed the top of her head before putting his arm around her.

“Let’s go get you married.” He said, his voice thick with emotion. Katara nodded and they walked off to the side of the ship.

They stopped at the top of the ladder, Hakoda and Sokka standing at either side of her, and Katara shook out her hands. Just as she brought her arms up, Sokka yelled.

“Wait!” He said and darted off. Katara looked at Hakoda, puzzled, and then laughed as Sokka came sprinting back.

“Forgot your bouquet.” He huffed. The flowers were pristine - the whites, reds, and blues all distinct yet blending well together - and Sokka held them gingerly. Katara shook her head and gently brought her arms up, conducting the waves to her intended score.

The iceberg was a short distance away. She and Zuko had flattened the top yesterday, alternating between melting and reforming the ice. The audience now sat in glistening blue chairs of ice, while Zuko stood waiting. He stood out, dressed in red robes, but he wasn’t the only one. Rohan, fully dressed in orange robes, stood as the officiant. Suki, having quietly bonded with the Fire Lord over the years, wore her Kyoshi Warrior outfit as she stood at Zuko’s side.

Now, in the southern arctic sea - the only international waters that belonged to all four nations - Water joined the other elements.

The sides of Katara’s gown were woven wide, so her arms were able to move freely. Among their friends and family, and the few special political guests, Katara called up the sea to carry her across. Making a sheet of ice wide enough for the three of them to sand, Katara stood patiently with her father and brother as the water ferried them to the iceberg.

When they made it, Katara dismissed it as if she were shedding a cloak. Sokkka handed her the bouquet, kissed her cheek, and then walked to the altar. Hakoda wordlessly offered his arm and Katara took it, the two sharing a very small smile.

Speakers had been embedded in the ice, giving the sound better acoustics than if played in the open air. To a bridal march, Hakoda escorted Katara down the aisle.

“You look as pretty as Kya did on our wedding day.” Hakoda whispered as they approached the altar.

“Dad.” Katara gasped, abruptly in tears.

“Oh Kat, no tears. Look, the sun is shining and the ocean is beautiful. When your mother and I got married, it rained.” Hakoda said. They reached the altar and Katara could only nod. Hakoda then turned to Zuko and held out his hand.

As Zuko placed his hand in Hakoda’s, Katara looked at her intended.

“You don’t need my approval or blessing, but understand that I am here to support you.” Hakoda then joined Katara and Zuko’s hands. “I love you both.”

Zuko started to tear up and Katara chuckled. Hakoda kissed Katara’s forehead and went to sit down, making both Katara and Zuko start to sniffle as they stood in front of Rohan.

Rohan looked at both of them and smiled. They then held out their hands and looked at the rest of the audience.

“Today, we are all watching something amazing. For the world, we are seeing the first time that two nations have chosen love over all else. For us gathered here, we are witnessing something more important; the marriage of two of our favorite people.

“I have not known Katara for very long, but there is no way I couldn’t be in awe of her. At fifteen she bound her soul to the Ocean Spirit to protect her people in a place that was not her home. At sixteen, she sank the entire Fire Nation fleet to help swiftly end the Hundred Year War. She is the Avatar’s master, she is Queen of the Three Tribes, and most amazingly, she can routinely and on demand make the Fire Lord smile.” Rohan said and various people chuckled while Zuko ironically fought down a smile.

“Zuko I’ve known for longer. As a spiritual cousin, Zuko and I have been friends since we met. He is also the kindest person, as he has faced more ugliness in his life yet not only accepted it but moved through it with genuine compassion. And as a very wise man once told me, when one is clothed in honor, filth will not stain them.

“Zuko never asked for anything. He never asked for his position, but always did what was right. I certainly know that he never asked to be rewarded for his actions but, as you can see, he has been.” Rohan smiled at Zuko, who was more openly crying. Katara, handing back the bouquet to Sokka, took both of Zuko’s hands and squeezed them.

“Now, to the serious part. Katara, do you promise to respect Zuko, to treat him with dignity, and to honor his value as a person?” Rohan asked.

Katara smiled at Zuko. “I do.”

“Zuko, do you promise to respect Katara, to treat her with dignity, and to honor her value as a person?” Rohan continued.

Zuko smiled back at Katara. “I do.”

“May we have the rings?” Rohan looked from side to side.

Katara turned to take the band from Sokka, her hands shaking as she moved slowly back.

“The bride and groom have prepared their own vows.” Rohan announced and then leaned in toward Katara. “Go ahead.”

Taking Zuko’s left hand, Katara focused on his fingers as she spoke.

“Zuko,” She paused, took a breath, and brought her face up to look at him. “I have sworn to protect my people above all else. My place as Queen transcends any other oath or bond, save for my connection to La. But I give all of my earthly self to you. Every mortal want and faulty need, every good moment and every bad day, every morning bedhead and every nightly kiss are yours. Time will wash away our human lives, but it is in that tide where you and I will exist.”

She slid the band onto his ring finger and Zuko paused to take her ring from Suki.

“Katara, you have taught me the fallacy of opposites. After all, we can’t make tea without both fire and water.” He said and Katara laughed softly.

Zuko smiled and went on. “I promise to embrace the opposites with you. I promise to push when you pull, so that we can strengthen each other. I will be with you in every dark moment and every light. I will heal your sickness so I can rejoice in your health. I will abide with you in lean times, so that we may feast together in good ones. I know that nothing will ever stay the same, so I promise to never abandon you as we wait for the tide to come in.”

Zuko slipped the wedding band onto Katara’s ring finger and Rohan clapped their hands.

“With the promises made and the rings exchanged, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your pledge with a kiss.” They said.

Katara propelled herself at Zuko, who caught her and kissed her deeply. The gathered group cheered and applauded, fadinging into the sound of waves crashing against the iceberg.

It was then that rain started to fall.

With a yelp, Katara jumped back and Zuko put his arm around her shoulder as they both looked up.

“A sunshower?” He asked.

Frigid rain splattered on her face, running into her tears even as she smiled.

“Legend says a sunshower happens at a fox wedding.” Katara said and looked over at Zuko.

He smiled and kissed her again.

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

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femmereddie · 4 years

Text

strong as the steel we carry (we rise like the sun) [3/6]

pairing: adora/catra fandom: she-ra and the princesses of power rating: general summary: A collection of drabbles from canon moments over the course of She-Ra, Catra/Adora related. This post contains all my drabbles from season four. read on ao3

S04E03 Flutterina

What did you do to me?

Why did you do it?

Catra woke up from her nightmare, startled and drenched in sweat. She didn’t even have time to process her dream before she heard a noise. She turned her head and found Emily, Entrapta’s robot, hovering over her.

Catra leaped out of bed, completely freaked out. It was almost like Emily knew what she dreamt about. “Stay away from me!” Catra screamed, scratching the robot with her claws.

Catra watched Emily hobble away. When she was finally alone, she sighed in relief and slumped back in her bed. Catra knew she would have to get up eventually, especially since she had to introduce Hordak to Double Trouble. She needed to initiate the next part of her plan, but Catra needed a few extra minutes to herself to process her dream.

Catra couldn’t unsee Entrapta and Adora’s angry faces, staring her down. Catra remembered how vulnerable and terrified she felt, and those emotions lingered once she woke up. No matter how much time passes, Catra still has trouble pushing her feelings away. They somehow come barreling back all because of a stupid dream. A dream that painfully reminded her of her reality.

First, there was Adora, and that was definitely her fault. She didn’t have to go. She could have stayed by Catra’s side, and they could have ruled Etheria together, the way that they had always planned.

It was harder to blame Entrapta, but Catra soothed herself by saying that Entrapta only made bigger messes that Catra always had to clean up. They didn’t need Entrapta. Setting off the portal was the best thing Catra ever did, even if it didn’t work in their favor. Horde Prime would arrive any day now, and Catra was now a leader of the Horde.

Catra had become a master manipulator, skilled at deceiving everyone, including herself. She was so good at it that even Catra believed that she was more vengeful than she was hurt or lonely. But she couldn’t give up now, not when things were going in her favor. So far, anyway.

God, Catra was furious. She was mad at Entrapta and even angrier at Adora. It was easier for Catra to be upset; it always has been. And truthfully, at least on the surface, Catra didn’t feel guilty. She remembered the fight she had with Adora in the alternate reality, and what she had said to her.

Don’t you get it?! I am never going to go with you.

You always have to go and ruin it. Don’t you?

I won’t let you win. I’d rather see the whole world end than let that happen.

It was all true, every last word. If Catra and Adora had to have the same argument all over again, she would just repeat everything she said. Catra would burn everything down to ensure that she got what she wanted, and Adora got nothing. That’s what Adora deserved after leaving Catra with nothing. Let Adora see the losing side for a change. It wasn’t fair that Adora was the one who betrayed Catra, and Catra was the one who stayed faithfully with the Horde. Catra was loyal, yet she was the one who always got stabbed in the back.

Why did her friends keep betraying her? They either left her or stood in her way. They screwed things up to the point of no return. Catra would have lost if she hadn’t sent Entrapta to Beast Island. Sure, everyone came back from the alternate reality, but The Rebellion was in shambles. Catra and Hordak were planning a successful takeover. The prissy princesses didn’t know what was coming, not with the tricks the Horde had up their sleeves.

Catra, look what’s happening! You’re going to destroy everything!

It infuriated Catra that Adora thought that was all she was good for. Destruction. If Adora wanted to know why Catra opened the portal, Catra wouldn’t hesitate. Catra needed everything to go well. If Hordak could successfully bring in the rest of his armies, Catra would finally taste victory. Even if she knew deep down, the only person she was fighting was herself.

Catra’s dream reminded her of one crucial thing. She remembered what it felt like to lose her balance and slip through the blazing red portal. She remembered why it happened—it was because of her so-called friends. Trusting people and putting her faith in them—that’s what always brought Catra down. Her dream was a harsh but necessary wakeup call. She couldn’t afford to have any friends, no matter how much they claimed to be loyal to her and the Horde.

So, that evening, when Scorpia came to check on her like she usually did, Catra was sure to put Scorpia in her place. After all, Catra already had everything she needed. Her plan was in motion, and she was finally going to win.

She didn’t need anybody to lean on. She had herself, and that was always enough.

—

S04E04 Pulse

“And don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep a better eye on Glimmer. Who knew she was so powerful?”

Catra scoffed at Double Trouble’s observation. “Whatever. If she hadn’t used Adora as bait—”

“Oh, yes! How devious. I’d assumed she was all glitter, no grit.”

“Yeah. That… was unexpected. And then she showed up alone. Huh.” The wheels in Catra’s mind began turning faster and faster. “Looks like that friendship might have a few cracks, huh? Would be a shame if someone were there to take advantage of them…”

Double Trouble grinned sinisterly at Catra, and they quickly left after that. Catra watched them go, the excitement of their new strategy thrumming in her veins. She knew that Adora’s friendship with Glimmer wasn’t as perfect as the girls made it out to be. Of course, you could say that Catra was just green with envy. But even when Adora was still with the Horde, she and Catra still had their fair share of problems. Nothing was ever peachy perfect, as it always seemed to be with Adora and Glimmer.

Smiling to herself, Catra walked back inside. New energies took over her body. Confidence. Sureness. Certainty. Now, Glimmer would finally learn the price of being friends with Adora. Their friendship would fall apart, proving that Catra’s failed relationship with Adora was not her fault. Adora and Glimmer would finally know what it’s like to lose trust in the one person you thought you could always count on. And little did they know that it was Flutterina, the Horde’s spy, snipping the thread that held Adora and Glimmer together.

Catra couldn’t wait to watch them fall apart.

—

S04E06 Princess Scorpia

I’m so close. If I can pull this off, everything, everything, will have been worth it.

As Catra stormed away from Scorpia, her own words played in her mind on repeat. Usually, she wouldn’t say something that revealing to anyone, but Catra was in a bigger frenzy than usual. She couldn’t help but think out loud.

It wasn’t like Scorpia would say anything about it. Once Catra made it clear that they were not friends, Scorpia didn’t question her as much. It was a massive relief to Catra, who couldn’t focus on anything but taking down The Rebellion once and for all.

But Catra couldn’t help but ponder on what “everything” meant. Now that she was alone, in a safe spot where people were unlikely to reach her, she could think about it for a few minutes.

“Everything” started with the decisions Catra made since Adora left, starting with choosing to stay with the Horde in the first place. But soon, “everything” spiraled out of control. Catra stopped making excuses for her actions. After all, what was the point? Every time she told herself that this would be the last time she did something awful, another opportunity would come around. Next thing Catra knew, she was electrocuting Entrapta and shipping her off to Beast Island.

Not that Catra regretted that choice. She didn’t. She couldn’t, because regretting her actions meant acknowledging that they were mistakes. However, if Catra managed to succeed, then nothing would matter. Enabling Shadow Weaver’s torture of Glimmer, destroying civilian villages, abusing Scorpia, Entrapta, even Hordak, for heaven’s sake. It would have all been worth it.

Sure, Catra was emotionally reckless—she set off an entire alternate reality, and their world almost collapsed so that she could win. But no one else understood—winning was everything to Catra. It was all she had left. Everyone had left her in one form another.

Catra stopped reasoning with herself after everyone returned from the portal. She did whatever she felt was necessary to get what she wanted. No more justification, no more excuses. Catra was done being a pathetic excuse for a person. So, she secretly infiltrated The Rebellion, thanks to Double Trouble. She treated everyone worse than dirt, an incredible feat for her considering she already wasn’t treating her peers very well. Catra would cause ample destruction, and everything would blow up in The Rebellion’s face—in Adora’s face.

As usual, it all came back to Adora. Every choice Catra made since Adora left the Horde was to prove to her former best friend that she made the wrong decision when she chose the princesses over their relationship. It was the ultimate payback. Once the Horde finally succeeded in taking over Etheria, Adora would see that her fatal mistake was leaving and underestimating Catra.

Everything would be worth it, Catra reassured herself. All the pain, destruction, manipulation—everything Catra had caused would be worth it. It had to be because if it wasn’t, Catra lost everything she ever loved for nothing.

* * *

“You’re a bad friend.”

Catra stared in shock as Scorpia walked away. For the first time ever, Scorpia didn’t even hesitate to look back. She kept walking, becoming smaller and smaller until she turned the corner and disappeared completely. Catra didn’t know what to expect from Scorpia after yelling at her, but it certainly wasn’t that.

It was a few hours after Catra sent Scorpia to find Entrapta’s recordings, and while Scorpia did find them, she “accidentally” broke them. Now, Catra didn’t have a choice but to take whatever contraption Scorpia gave her and bring it to Hordak. But Catra swore to herself that no matter what his reaction would be, this wouldn’t get in the way of the plan’s execution. The Horde would conquer Etheria, the Rebellion would fall, and when Horde Prime finally showed up, Catra would be praised and placed in high rank among the Horde’s soldiers. Maybe she’ll even earn a position higher than Hordak.

So, maybe Scorpia’s words made Catra’s heart twinge just a little bit, but it was probably out of surprise, more than anything. Besides, Catra wasn’t heartbroken. She didn’t care if Scorpia thought she was a lousy friend. Scorpia would get over Catra’s outburst like she always did, and then everything would go back to normal. And how could Catra be a bad friend if she didn’t have any, to begin with?

Catra picked up the recording she threw a few minutes before. She stared at it for a few moments, collecting herself before going to meet with Hordak. Screw Scorpia. Catra never needed anyone, and certainly not some clumsy, happy-go-lucky scorpion who just sat around singing cheesy campfire songs. Catra was always better off alone; she knew that by now. Besides, Scorpia was still a princess. She would always be one, even if her parents swore loyalty to the Horde. Of course, Scorpia was useless; it was in her blood. So, Catra smoothed out her hair and went to see Hordak in his lab.

When Catra walked in, Hordak immediately perked up. “The recordings!” He desperately cried.

Catra had a split second to make a decision, and she did. She hid the tech behind her back. “Entrapta must have taken them with her before leaving.” She turned to look at Hordak. “There’s nothing.”

Hordak screamed in frustration, throwing pieces of debris in the air. “I gave you an order,” he grunted.

“Get. Over. It. You don’t need Entrapta, you never did. You don’t need a princess in your life telling you what to do. Look at what you’ve done without her! You built an army. An empire. You and me… we don’t need anyone. Forget them all! No one matters; nothing matters but this mission! You want to prove yourself? Prove your worth? Then do it. You and I are going to conquer Etheria and then, and then, they’ll all see!” Catra finished her rant, breathing heavily, rage bubbling under her skin.

“Oh, of course! Yes. We will prevail. Give me another day, and I will be ready.”

“Does that mean… I can give the command?” Catra asked, cautiously.

“It is time.”

Catra grinned at Hordak, satisfied with their conversation. They were on the brink of victory. By this time next week, Catra would be sitting on Bright Moon’s throne, ruling Etheria. Maybe even Horde Prime will have landed on their planet by then. And she’ll have done it all, without Entrapta, without Scorpia, and definitely without Adora.

So, just like every heartache before, Scorpia faded to background music in her mind.

—

S04E08 Boys Night Out

Catra needed a break from winning.

That’s something she never thought she’d say, but everything changed once the tide started turning toward the Horde. Catra knew there was only one person who she wanted to talk to at that moment.

“Force Captain Scorpia, come in. Aw man, even when he’s winning, Hordak is annoying. Now, he suddenly loves fighting, and I’m getting stuck with whatever he deems necessary. Ugh. Never thought I’d miss shut-in Hordak. Meet me at the sea gate; I wanna take a break anyway.”

Catra turned off her radio and began making her way towards the sea gate. Now that Etheria finally belonged to the Horde, maybe she’d use the sea gate as her comfort zone, a place where she could feel safe.

Once Catra reached the gate, she climbed its walls until she was reasonably close to the top and sat down. She waited a bit, but after several minutes of radio silence, Catra reached out to Scorpia again. “Hey, Scorpia, where are you? It’s not like you to be late.”

Again, a few beats of silence passed. Catra curled herself into a sitting fetal position. Maybe, for once in her life, she should try being honest. “Listen, I’ll kill you if you tell anyone this, but… I thought winning would be… different. Or at least, more… I don’t know, fun?”

Catra heard nothing but static coming through her communication piece. She was starting to get annoyed. “Come on; you’re not still mad about before, are you? Stop being so sensitive, get over it, and talk to me, Scorpia! Scorpia? Scorpia?!”

Okay, now, Catra was officially worried. It was so unlike Scorpia to ignore her, especially considering that Catra was her commander. Didn’t Scorpia have any respect?! Catra didn’t have to tell her anything she just said, but she did, anyway.

Catra leaped from the top of the sea gate and hurried back to Horde headquarters, desperately praying that Scorpia had just turned off her means of communication and was alone in her room.

Catra was out of breath by the time she made it back to Scorpia’s room in the Fright Zone. “Scorpia!” She exclaimed but was shocked to see a painstakingly neat place. Almost like… nobody was there. “Scorpia?” Catra asked, more hesitantly, afraid of what she would find.

Suddenly, she heard her own voice talking back to her. Catra looked down to find Scorpia’s ripped armor with her radio signal going off. Catra also noticed a folded piece of paper that sat on top of the machinery. She picked up the paper and unfolded it, finding a letter from Scorpia.

As Catra read, she gasped, not daring to believe Scorpia… left. It never occurred to Catra that Scorpia would ever do something like that, especially behind her back. How dare she?! Especially after Scorpia knew how much Adora’s desertion hurt Catra. It wasn’t like Scorpia to pull something like this.

Just then, it occurred to Catra that when she said that winning wasn’t what she thought it would be, she was talking to the empty air. She admitted a piece of information she refused to acknowledge—ruling Etheria meant nothing to her if she had nobody to share it with. Catra always imagined it would be Adora, and she knew that Scorpia would never be Adora, but Catra wouldn’t be alone, at least.

And that’s when it hit Catra—she always claimed she didn’t want friends, didn’t need friends, and that she was just better off without anyone. But now that Catra finally won, all she wanted was a friend. Adora was long gone, but Scorpia was always there for her, no matter how mean Catra could be.

Well, even Scorpia had her limits.

Now everyone was gone. Scorpia left, just like Adora did, just like anyone Catra ever cared about did. And as usual, Catra was alone, vulnerable, and in the hands of the Horde. Everything she held clutter to the floor as she stared at the ground, feeling utterly numb inside.

—

S04E10 Fractures

Shift screen. Shift screen.

That was all Catra has been doing for the last few days, desperately searching for Scorpia through the Horde’s camera system, hoping to spot her so Catra could bring her back. But so far, it proved to be useless.

Suddenly, she heard a laugh in the distance. Catra didn’t think and knocked down a layer of the defense walls she built around her heart. “Scorpia? I knew you’d come.”

Once she realized that she was just talking to open space, Catra groaned in frustration. She approached the window and looked down to find scattered Horde soldiers talking amongst themselves. In another lifetime, she probably would have been down there with Adora. Possibly with Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio, too. But Catra wasn’t because she was their commander, so all of these soldiers were probably just standing around and laughing at her soul chipping away, turning into debris.

Just then, the Horde trio re-entered the outpost. Catra immediately went to confront them. She hissed her way past random soldiers, determined to make her presence known.

“Okay, no. There’s no way we’re working a fourth—”

But Catra wasn’t interested. She grabbed Lonnie’s arm and yanked her away from the group, dragging her to the communications room.

Catra finally released her grip on Lonnie, throwing her against a panel. “What are they saying?!”

“What? Who?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. Are they laughing at me?!”

Lonnie gave Catra a curious look, and Catra was sure Lonnie thought that she had officially lost her mind. Well, maybe she had. “Mostly, people are just tired. I think if you let them sleep, everything will be fine.”

Catra had begun walking away from Lonnie but stopped once Lonnie suggested that things could turn around and be okay. “Everything isn’t fine! Scorpia would be here if everything was fine!”

As soon as she said that, Catra realized she had just put herself in a vulnerable position. She immediately turned back to face Lonnie and growled at her. Lonnie gasped in fear, which made Catra realize how utterly ridiculous this all was. Confessing how much she missed Scorpia to Lonnie of all people? Was Lonnie all Catra had left? Did everything come down to this? Catra couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Everything about this situation was just so bizarre, and she was so worn down and so broken that she couldn’t react in any other way. “Just leave. Like everybody else.”

Lonnie stared at Catra, bewildered by her behavior. Catra couldn’t take being around anyone else, for the time being, so she screamed. “GO!”

Once Lonnie was gone, she picked up a communication tablet and tried to reach Double Trouble. However, Catra was in an extremely volatile state, so before Double Trouble could even answer the signal, Catra accidentally crushed the communicator. She threw the tablet to the ground, watching it shatter to pieces.

Double Trouble was Catra’s absolute last resort. With them not answering, Catra was truly alone now.

* * *

Later that evening, Catra’s erratic condition hadn’t changed. She hadn’t slept in days. Scorpia was nowhere to be found. The Horde kept gaining ground in Etheria. Life continued to move, but Catra was unable to.

Eventually, it was time to check in with Hordak. Once she got on the line with him, he immediately began updating her on the newly gained territory. “I’ve taken the last of the coastal towns. What is the status in the Woods?”

Without missing a beat, Catra replied. “Our raiding parties have crushed the villages near our current outpost. Tomorrow, we move farther inland. Everything is under control.” God, she sounded so rehearsed, it was as if she had practiced for hours for some petty recital. But Catra was already used to it. Pretending wasn’t hard anymore; it was second nature for her. Truthfully, Catra died the day Adora left, and whoever was left was simply a shadow of the person she used to be.

“Excellent. Etheria will be ours yet.”

Hordak hung up, and Catra let her headpiece clatter to the ground. Any moment now, the dam inside her would break. She was alone in her surroundings. Nobody was communicating with her. If Catra needed a good cry, just to see if it would make her feel even a little better, now was the time.

So that’s what she did. Catra slid to her knees and burst into tears, opening the emotional floodgates inside of her. There was so much she was crying for by that point; it was practically a week’s worth laundry list. Adora. Scorpia. Entrapta. Adora. Shadow Weaver. Sparkles, Glimmer, whatever her name was. And Adora, Adora, Adora.

Catra had finally won; she had gotten everything she wanted. And yet, she had never felt emptier than she did at that moment. How could she feel anything inside when she was still alone, despite being at the top? Here Catra was, having reached the peak of the mountain she’s been climbing for the last couple of years, but it was nothing like she imagined it would be. Truthfully, a part of her knew that it could never measure up to what she wanted—ruling Etheria with Adora. But if she were given a chance to love Adora, and to be loved in return, could she give it all up?

Catra knew the answer to that question. And so, she continued to sob, finally letting her most vulnerable emotions slip through the cracks of her hollow soul.

—

S04E12 Destiny Part 1

Catra splashed water on her face and took a few moments to collect herself. Today was a brand new day. Scorpia was gone, and Double Trouble wasn’t around, but everything was fine. Okay, maybe she had a hysterical breakdown the other day, but so far, pretending like it never happened was working for her. Today was going to be a good day; she’d make sure of that.

Catra looked in the mirror and smoothed down her hair. She turned and began walking away from the sink, but stopped when she saw Scorpia’s abandoned locker.

Catra gasped. She forgot that almost everywhere she went, there were traces of Scorpia. Of course, Catra had stopped looking for Scorpia, but seeing her locker entirely intact, with doodles of the Super Pal Trio, just really hurt. Catra bowed her head, darkness overwhelming her once again.

Just then, Catra heard laughter, and the Horde Trio walked in the locker room. “Sorry, we didn’t know you were in here. We’ll just come back later.”

“Wait!” Catra exclaimed. Now that she had their attention, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have anything to say to people she’s known her whole life but seemed like strangers to her. So instead, she asked, “What’s the report from the field?”

“We just got back from conquering another rebel town. The third one this week! So, you’re welcome.”

“Aw, you should have seen us! I was all…” Kyle began animatedly explaining what happened, so Catra tuned out his voice. She wasn’t interested. But then, Kyle kicked Scorpia’s locker, ripping the corner from one of Scorpia’s doodles.

“Watch it!”

Kyle ran in fear behind Lonnie and Rogelio. Lonnie spoke up. “Calm down, Catra! It’s not like Scorpia needs it anymore.”

“You… don’t get to talk to me like that. I’m your commander! Got it?”

“What is wrong with you? We’re winning! Even you should be happy.”

How dare Lonnie speak to her like that! Catra may have been on the brink of insanity, but nobody had the right to imply that she wasn’t okay. “Happy?” Catra slammed Lonnie into the locker, seething with hot rage. “I’ll be happy when The Rebellion and She-Ra are gone for good. But that’s never going to happen with the three of you goofing off all the time. You are pathetic!”

In a way, Catra didn’t lie. She didn’t want Adora to die, but Adora discovering her She-Ra persona only jeopardized their friendship, effectively putting an end to it. Without She-Ra, Adora and Catra might still be best friends, taking on the world together. Like it was always meant to be.

Lonnie pushed Catra away, refusing to take any more of her bullshit. Catra only responded with the threat of her claws. She was ready to strike, but suddenly, Kyle jumped in the way.

“Stay away from her! We used to be your friends. Why are you treating us like this?”

Catra didn’t know what to say to that. Sure, they were friends once, a long time ago, but things have changed now. The last time they were friends, Adora was there. The last time they were friends, Catra undoubtedly loved Adora. But Catra didn’t have any friends for a long time. Scorpia was there, but Catra didn’t consider her a friend until it was too late.

For a moment, Catra let her guard down, as the only thing she could think of was the fact that the last time she was friends with Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio was when Adora was there, too. When Catra and Adora were on the same side. But those days were long gone, and despite what she had realized when she sobbed her guts out the other day, Catra was still desperate to pretend like it never happened.

Catra’s face hardened. “Get out!” She panted heavily, refusing to move from her spot until the Horde Trio were safely gone. Then, she turned back to Scorpia’s old locker, ripping the drawings away and leaning her head against it. After acknowledging everything she had in the last few days, and after almost blowing her cover in front of Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio, she was too exhausted to do anything else.

—

S04E13 Destiny Part 2

“You know, it took me a while, but I finally figured out your character.”

Catra was still reeling from Double Trouble pretending to be Adora. She couldn’t register what they were saying, so she remained frozen, allowing Double Trouble to continue talking.

“You try so hard to play the big, bad villain. But your heart’s never been in it, has it?”

Catra couldn’t believe what they were saying. For Double Trouble to decode Catra was one thing, but to do it while pretending to be her? Catra was pretty sure her brain had just stopped working altogether. “What…? What are you? Stop! Stop it!”

Catra tried to scratch at Double Trouble, but it was no use. Both of them were in the same body. Double Trouble ducked out of the way and grabbed Catra’s arm, forcing her to look at them. “People have hurt you, haven’t they? They didn’t believe in you. They didn’t trust you. Didn’t need you. Left you.”

Double Trouble shapeshifted into Adora and used Catra’s hand to cradle their face. Catra was so stunned by everything that was happening. It was all too much for her, and she felt so helpless in their grip.

Double Trouble pushed Catra to the ground. “But did you ever stop to think, maybe they’re not the problem? It’s you. You drive them away, wildcat.”

Double Trouble shifted into Scorpia, and Catra had never felt so small in her life. She looked up at them, wishing more than anything that she was looking at Scorpia, but Catra knew it wasn’t her. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s for your own good, darling. We both know this was never what you really wanted. But, it was also a good distraction. Your army was ambushed on their way to defenseless Bright Moon. Your face right now is almost better than applause. Almost.”

Each new reveal hit Catra more personally than the last one did. She never expected Double Trouble of all people to leave her for The Rebellion. “You… betrayed me.”

“It’s not personal, darling, you knew how this worked. The best way to survive is always choose the winning side. The Rebels have some kind of ancient superweapon. Any minute now they’re going to use it, and when they do… everything you’ve worked for will be destroyed.”

Catra stared in disbelief. Double Trouble just didn’t stop talking. They kept hitting Catra, where it hurt the most. “I’d really better be going before that happens! And… scene.”

Double Trouble finally left Catra among the wreckage of the Fright Zone. She stared at their receding figure, completely shattered. Everything was for nothing. The only thing that happened was Double Trouble betrayed her for the princesses, and they exposed the deepest, darkest parts of herself that she had barely acknowledged. Even thinking of Double Trouble’s words managed to crush her heart even more.

The worst part was, it was all true. That’s why Catra felt the way she did. Everything led up to this moment—the inevitability that she was always the problem. No wonder they all left. Double Trouble, Scorpia, Shadow Weaver. Even Adora left, and how could she not?

We both know this was never what you really wanted. Double Trouble’s words echoed in Catra’s mind as she fully accepted them. Catra knew what she really wanted, but it was always impossible. How could anybody even love Catra? Even if Adora hadn’t left, it was ridiculous of Catra to even think for a split second that her former best friend would ever love her back. And now, Catra was far beyond redemption. She was too broken to be fixed. Her plan with Hordak completely backfired, so there was nothing left for her now.

She lost. And as always, she was alone.

Catra sat there for ages, waiting for something to happen. Whether this ancient superweapon would destroy her, or maybe Adora would do it herself, Catra didn’t know. She just knew it was inevitable.

Suddenly, Glimmer teleported into the destroyed Fright Zone. Catra had been quietly crying for the last several minutes, but once Glimmer arrived, the princess immediately heard her. Glimmer turned to Catra and pointed a magical weapon. “Guess you wanted all my attention for yourself. Your troops are gone. You’re all alone, you’ve lost.”

Please, tell Catra something that she didn’t know for once. “What are you waiting for? Do it.”

Glimmer was wholly taken aback by Catra’s reaction. It was so unlike her to just give up and not fight back, but Glimmer didn’t know that Catra had already fought back as hard as possible. You could only fight for so long before you’re bruised and beaten down to the point of paralyzation. And now, Catra sat there, unable to move.

We both know this was never what you really wanted. Catra heard Double Trouble’s words once more.

“Looks like we’re both alone, Sparkles.”

#catradora #catradora fanfic #catradora fic #catradora fanfiction #spop fanfic #she ra fanfic #my writing #she ra #my drabbles

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years

Photo

Augustine and his familiar Belle; In fairy robes after going dark. The top illustration is the redraw of the bottom illustration, which is his original character concept.

Tale 13: Mattias Hwithas & Augustine Musham (chapter 2. Trapped in Time 2/6 ) part 3. Stories of True Love

harsh language,alcohol

On winter break, of their graduating year, Augustine gave a pair of hand bells and a double eyed needle the size of a sword to Mattias.

“They are for the time charms and dances; from those journals we share. They should help you control time,” Augustine said. “The infinity needle freezes time for whatever it goes through or around. If you pull it forward, time goes forward, pull back and time reveres.” he continued. Mattias examined them carefully, then gently lay them on the wrapping in front of him. Their pearly indigo luster was haunting. Augustine wilted, worried Mattias hated them after all the work he had done. But then Mattias lunged forward and hugged Augustine. Mattias was so glad that he would at last be able to control his abilities; He was sobbing in gratitude. Augustine hugged back.

“But what about your tools? You’ve proven yourself a masterful Warlock, but didn’t you start so you could learn to erase your memories?” Mattias asked.

“I’m glad you like them Mattias. But I did make tools for myself: A faceted mirror that allows someone to see all the facets of another person’s mind, a box that can store fifty years of the owner’s memories, a shiny plate that makes someone believe anything you tell them, masks that allow mages like us to share memories, and a ring that removes specific things from the mind. But these tools only work on others; I have not made anything that works on myself. Though all my tools achieve the impossible, they do me little good.” Augustine sighed.

“That’s still impressive. Maybe it’s ok if you just move past, well, the past? Instead of obsessing over it.” Mattias suggested. Augustine grabbed their chest, tearing a thread tore from the sweater Requiem knitted. That dead fey and man, flashing back in Augustine’s mind. He must have gone pale, for when Augustine return to the world, it was in Requiem’s warm embrace. Where would Augustine be without her? Requiem then gave Mattias and Augustine their gifts: computers.

“You said you liked to code, yes? I hear these are the latest technology. It may be a good alternative to dark magic. I’m happy to work for the counsel as a Witch, but you two may need better options.” Requiem said with a sparkle. Mattias was thrilled; He loved computer science, and had decided that though they registered as magic users in the spring, the magic they used was illegal. A mundane post-secondary option might be beneficial.

Four months past collage graduation, Augustine and Mattias had gotten jobs. They were fortunate that they came from wealthy families, and had no student loans. Life was handed to them up till this point. Soon, Requiem’s also got a job; Being a consult Witch for the Wizarding Administration Counsel; Representing their district. Being a witch paid comfortably for a magical specialty. They’re glorified politicians, lawyers, and diplomats for all things enchanted. Mattias and Requiem also decided to make their relationship permanent, marrying straight after graduation. Requiem and Mattias didn’t originally plan to get married right away, but they got lucky finding stability quickly. Augustine still had affections for Mattias, but knowing their love would never be requited, thought Requiem the next best thing. To Augustine, there was no better possible brother-in-law. As the years went by, and through many trials, Requiem and Mattias soon had three children: Twin girls, and a little boy.

One day, Augustine visited Mattias and Requiem’s home to help them out with their third child, a new baby boy. Augustine’s new nephew was named Orpheus, and he was in mothers house of Hawkwing; The older twins were in Mattias’s house. Alternating magic last names is a universal baby naming tradition, which is why Requiem and Augustine had different houses. People’s names were often more important than their gender or status; A name could be symbolic, elegant, signify heritage, and ones ability to learn enchantments. Certain houses were only found natively to certain countries, even with some people decided to stay where they traveled; A third of magic users had mixed heritage. Orpheus for example, was now quarter Grand West, Quarter North Central, and half Eastland. But he took most after his father. In a world were people can change, a name is the one thing that will stay the same.

After a few months, Mattias was run down. His lower-level Programming job was struggling to cover the cost of living, and three children. Augustine’s job paid a little more, as they worked for a different company. But Augustine’s financial aid was unstable, as they were supporting their dying parents back home. For now, Augustine was living in a basement apartment downtown. It was big enough for him to make legendary tools, store his computers, and to dance.

After paying bills and putting children to bed, Augustine asked Mattias if he wanted to get a drink, visit his apartment, or both. Requiem had fallen asleep in Orpheus’s room, and assuming his family safe, and desiring some simple recreation, Matthias agreed. He was beginning to crave fun and change. Mattias and Augustine snuck out to a nice pub where Mattias froze time with his bells. While time stood still, they could dance where they pleased, not pay for drinks, and make fun of the frozen people by moving around objects. When they tired of the bar, Mattias asked to see Augustine’s apartment.

“You brag about this basement like it’s a paradise.” Mattias insisted.

“Nope. Just a bachelor cave. I decked out in tech and forge equipment. A Warlock has to have a forge.” Augustine replied gleefully.

“You still do magic as a hobby?”

“And ballet. Sometimes I think I should have gone back to Francia, and got a job on stage. You should’ve seen my shows in my youth. I have many ribbons.” Augustine boasted, his accent pushing through.

“That would be a treat, I’m sure. But I do wish I had more time for magic these days. Between family and work, I barely managed this outing. Damn, I just remembered my bank balance and now I’m sad again.”

“No worries. I have a plan!” Augustine leant in unlocking a door.

“Oh? Go on.” Mattias said with intrigue.

“We are masters of the wonderous and advanced! Why are we settling to get paid coins, when our top-class skills in manipulation of mind, time, HTML and java, could give us a much-needed biannual bonus?” Augustine flaunted, showing Mattias his hardware. Printers, multiple phones, ID’s, fake statements, and so on. The place was chaos. Mattias was wondering what Augustine was really up too on his own while he changed diapers.

“You’re a bloody animal. What have you been doing these years?” Mattias said in repulsion. Mattias had caught on; Augustine was illegally acquiring funds, and doing a good job. This is not what magic was for, but it was less for the money and more for the thrill. Anything to clear his mind of witnessing death.

Mattias sighed; he could use the money. Augustine even had a way to launder the cash with Musham estate, which he would be the sole inheritor. Augustine had an air tight operation. The thought of stealing made Mattias’s heart sink a little. He could lose everything if they were caught; Yet, if he made more money and spent more time with Augustine, he might be happier and give his family a better life. A couple of times couldn’t hurt. Which is what he said every week when he came over to Augustine’s forge to plan the next hustle, and play with spells. After counting casino winnings on a steel table, Mattias asked if there were any time spells they hadn’t tried.

“I haven’t done something new for so long. What about that dance from the journal you showed me in college? The one that could stop aging.” Mattias suggested. Augustine laughed it off, and poured them both spiced rum. After the third time Mattias asked, Augustine obliged, pulling out the journal. Mattias must have held liquor well, because he performed the dance so perfectly and beautifully with Augustine, that the charm worked. But they got so intoxicated afterwards they wouldn’t remember this spell for another decade; When they would begin to wonder why they still looked like they should be ID'd at bars. The brothers, in that moment, simply laughed as if it didn’t work. If they weren’t inebriated, they would have figured out ageing takes time, and thus if one didn’t age it wouldn’t show until they were much older. Which turned out to be a curse when you are fourty going on to fifty, and look nineteen or twenty-three.

NEXT--->

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#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #Mattias and Augustine #story thirteen #fantasy #short stories #augustine #mattias #requiem #orpheus #belle

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