#even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo

[perseruna]

Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate. 

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks. 

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill. 

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible. 

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one. 

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters. 

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc. 

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it. 

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

[yandere-fics]

Hello!! I recently found your blog and 🥰 ive only gone through the kingdom masterlist so far but ive already turned into a blushing maiden whos giggling and twirling my hair

Anywho i was wondering how your kingdom ocs would be with a dragon darling maybe one that secretly lives amongst humans because while they do hoard a small amount of treasure what they love to hoard most is knowledge, anything from fairytales to academic papers to even outright blacksmithing

But feel free to change the request as you want i will love it regardless ❤️

(omg thank you so much!)

♡ How They React To A Secret Dragon Darling ♡

♡ Theanna knows everything mystical that occurs within her kingdom so of course she would notice a dragon living amongst her maids. She's too curious to drive you off when you first arrive, to be honest she assumes you must be after the power under the garden but you don't even seem to go near it. Sure you sneak the books in the imperial archives to learn more but you do nothing with that power. It's really such a waste you've only decided to be a maid, a queen would grant you much more access to knowledge don't you think? Just accept the proposal, okay, she'll give you everything you want darling. ♡

♡ She's an actual dragon hunter, she is obviously going to notice and she's actually a little bit pissed off when she first sees you blending in and she suspects your intentions are bad mostly because every dragon who has come close to the humans or tried to blend in so far has had bad intentions. She stops having any issues the moment you declare yourself a huge fan of the travel guides she writes. The praise does go to her head a bit, sure she receives praise constantly for the dragon slaying guides and being the chosen one but no one ever pays attention to the travel guides she writes. She's already decided you can be her permanent travel companion, she will not take no for an answer. ♡

♡ Yeah everyone at the academy already knows you're a dragon they just pretend to not be aware of it. Pauline is the only one who doesn't know because her power is curses so she doesn't have actual real magic in order to sense that. When she approaches you, you obviously say yes to the fake dating scheme because her parents own the academy so being in the family gives you the opportunity to learn things that would be illegal to learn otherwise. They are shocked when she brings you home though because they are completely aware of what you are but they don't mention it since they're pretty sure she must already know everything about you. ♡

♡ Abigail doesn't realize you're secretly a dragon, she just assumed you're an insanely strong scholar who just is very interested in the art of sword fighting and well she's spent her whole life perfecting it so there's no one better to ask about it. She's pretty upset when you declare you are moving on from the training grounds because you've learned all you needed to, luckily the Parley Duchess gets access all sorts of hidden knowledge so you can just marry her and learn new things instead, she won't accept any other answer. ♡

♡ Veronia is confused why her mate would be hiding amongst the humans, there's literally nothing interesting about them, she knows way more than them and it's all knowledge about other dragons so surely her knowledge must be far more interesting than anything they can do for you. She can bring you any books you want but you are not allowed to wander off her territory, sorry dearest mate but she cannot allow you to mingle with those who are below you. At most she may allow you to interact with the merchant who passes through and brings her things. ♡

♡ Ainsley has all the knowledge a dragon could ever want since she's constantly adding to that wealth of knowledge. She doesn't notice you're a dragon at first since she's just so focused on the whole love at first sight thing, it isn't until Theanna points it out that she's like "Oh that makes sense, well I don't really care about that stuff babygirl, you're mine anyways." She's also not going to allow you to learn from anyone else now, she has to bring you all your knowledge directly and she uses a collar to bind your powers and keep you bound to her tower so your pesky instincts don't disturb your love. ♡

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere asks #yandere scenarios #my oc theanna #my oc elisha #my oc pauline #my oc abigail #my oc veronia #my oc ainsley

[garne--tt]

x japan iceberg explained;

before i start, i probably didnt explain something right and if u want to correct me or add something, feel free and even dm me about it! + i will add trigger warnings for possible triggering content in this post

1.

formed in 1982 - x was formed in 1982 after toshis and yoshikis previous band disbanded

X --> X JAPAN - they changed their name from X to X JAPAN in 1992 in order to distinguish themselves from the american punk rock band X 

Saw IV - a horror movie from 2007, x japan did a theme song I.V. for the movie, it was their first song released since 1998

new album - an new x japan album that was supposed to be released lots of times over the 10+years but still (to this day) wasnt released

coachella 2018 - x japan performed at coachella 2018, many fans are saying how the sound was bad (usually blaming it on the sound production team?? or whatever its called) and apparently sugizo and yoshiki were seen arguing with the sound production team

we are x - a 2016 documentary about x japan (or rather yoshiki, because apparently it was mainly focusing on him)

psychidelic violence crime of visual shock - a slogan, mainly seen on the blue blood album cover, the term visual kei was derived from the slogan yoshiki, toshi, hide, pata, taiji - the most known lineup, from 1987 to 1992

2. tw// suicide mention

violet uk - one of unfinished yoshikis projects, started in 2002, didnt even debut but was supposed to in 2012

V2 - unit of yoshiki and tetsuya komuro, was active in 1992, they released one single and did one concert

ra:in - patas band, active since 2002, members are - pata, michiaki, die (also former member of spread beaver), ryu

noise/dynamite - toshis and yoshikis first band, formed in 1977 as dynamite, then they changed the name to noise, noise disbanded in 1982

s.k.i.n. - superband (group) of yoshiki, gackt, miyavi and sugizo, their only activity was in 2007 and it was live, they announced more activities but they were stopped

xfreaks - an international xjapan fan forum created in 2006

dope headz - band that had heath and pata as members, active from 2000 to 2003

hide with spread beaver - hides live band, other members were kiyoshi, k.a.z, hiroshi watanabe, satoshi miyawaki, d.i.e, i.n.a

zilch - supergroup formed by hide in 1996, other members were ray mcveigh,paul raven, joey castillo and i.n.a

lynx - one of heaths band, active from 2004-?, the vocalist for this band was issay from der zibet

yokosuka saver tiger - hides former band, he was member from 1981 to 1986 sugizo - luna sea guitarist, he joined x japan in 2008

hides death - hide committed suicide in 1998 (he hanged himself) update: this is what authorities said and what is official

3. tw// suicide

taijis death - in 2011 taiji was flying from japan to saipan, on the flight he got into fight with his manager (or flight attendant?), he was arrested after they landed in saipan and then he hanged himself with bedsheet in his cell

x japan translations - an site that had xjapan translations (like toshis book etc...), the site was active and up until 2018

taijis departure from X - taiji left X in 1992, but we dont know the exact reason why he left

toshi was in cult - toshi was member of cult known as home of heart from the late 90s (1998?)

1997 - the year x japan disbanded

yoshiki and queen elizabeth incident - in 2019 during royal windsor cup yoshikis scarf accidentally landed on queen elizabeth

yoshiki knows everyone - (not everyone ofc) but he met a lot of celebrities, politicians (barrack obama, johnny depp, prince phillip, bts etc,,)

art of life - a 29 minute song released released in 1993, it was was recorded only in english, the theme of the song are yoshikis suicidal tendencies, art of life was meant to be released in the jealousy album (1991)

yoshikis father - yoshikis father committed suicide when yoshiki was 10 years old

taijis cut off joint on finger - taiji when he was kid, showed his hand into a factory machine (his family owned factory) and cut off his first joint on his finger

yoshikis health problems - yoshiki has tons of health problem since he was child (asthma, he was always sick and spent most of the time in hospitals etc,,) and suffers from many of health problems even now

4.

toshis healing music - toshis music he made during the home of heart era

kaori moritani & masaya - kaori moritani is toshis ex wife, they met in around 1993 when they played in rock opera hamlet, they got married in 1997 and divorced in 2010, she introduced him to masaya (and got him, or rather manipulated him, into home of heart) 

masaya -  real name tōru kurabuchi - musician and leader of home of heart

-more about home of heart and the whole situation here: https://bloodydesertrose.tumblr.com/post/96662764536/support-toshi-dont-buy-or-listen-to-any-of-his-songs

debut in usa - x japan was supposed to debut in usa in the 90s (and even changed their name because of it, x-->xjapan)

extasy record - label formed by yoshiki in 1986, the first release under extasy records was x orgasm ep, the label had bands like xjapan, luna sea, glay, zi:kill tokyo yankees and more

yoshiki paid for taijis new teeth - after hides funeral yoshiki noticed that taijis some teeth were missing or chipped, so he handed him around 2 million yen (around 18 497 usd) to get his teeth fixed

l.o.x. - punk rock supergroup, yoshiki was drummer in this band, they also used to be named masami & l.o.x (masami was their vocalist), masami collapsed and fell into coma in 1989 and died in 1992 due to pneumonia in coma, l.o.x released one album with different vocalist (one of them which was toshi and yoshiki went by the alias shiratori rei here on the album) in 1990, l.o.x. released one song in 2002 in memory of masami

standing sex promotional shot & single cover - the promotional shot & single cover basically shows yoshiki nude (with his intimate parts covered of course + this wasnt the only time yoshiki has done something like this) 

rose & blood -indies of x- - an unofficial album with demos and unreleased x songs

unreleased & old songs - there are a lot unreleased songs + unreleased old songs or just old songs that dont get played anymore

5.

rosenfeld - crows in black - blue blood has similar guitar riff (i dont know how to say it) to this song (crows in black / b was firstly recorded on demo in 1986)

former members - x japan has big amount of former members - 11 former members (excluding taiji and hide from this)

terry - a former member of x, he was one of the original members (being a member from 1982 to 1985), terry died in 2002 in car accident

yoshiki got sued by hides brother - yoshiki got sued by headwax (hides company which hides brother owns) for using hides photos, apparently they had a contract but it expired and yoshiki still used hides photos even though the contract expired

x japan condoms - they were released in 1993 with the intent to help increase awareness and prevent the spread of AIDS. the reason why they probably did this is that toshis fan died at the age of 19 due to AIDS (toshi even dedicated a song to him - passion of love and became a active member and sponsor of association of struggle against AIDS)

heath cow story - when heath joined xjapan they celebrated it by drinking and then driving 2 hours to cow farm, then they drove to aquarium but it was already closed

heath leaving x japan - in 2009 there was a rumor that heath would leave x japan, apparently this was caused due to heaths contract problems (?) dementia - taijis former band, he was member from 1984 to 1985 and went under the name ray

pata was roadie for x - before joining x in 1987, he was roadie for x (or the member hally) around the time in 1986 (1985?)

6.

pink spider was a suicide note - this one is a rumor/theory that is circulating around, fans analysed the lyrics and came to conclusion that its suicide note

x stayed at different hotels than other bands - when x was on tour with other bands they were staying at different hotels than other bands, because one time (on tour with other bands and in hotel) hide got into drunk fight with juichi morishige (lead vocalist of ziggy) and sprayed the entire hotel lounge with fire extinguisher

taiji was homeless - taiji was homeless for around 2 years (1996-1998), due to financial issues + he got divorced at this time

heaths myspace account - there was heath myspace account, but it wasnt him, it was someone pretending to be him

weekend pv theory - (i dont know if i should have put this here to be honest) a theory that x members chose what their death would be in weekend pv (yoshiki - suicide, hide - suicide in drunken rage??, taiji - murder, pata - alcohol poisoning, toshi doesnt die in the pv)

7.

hide vocaloid - hides unreleased song co gal got finished via vocaloid (using his voice samples from various songs of his)

yoshiki lead singer - before toshi was chosen to be the lead vocalist for x, yoshiki was the vocalist (there is also a recording of stab me in the back with mostly yoshiki on vocals!)

hide and marilyn manson meet up story - im gonna just attach a screenshot of the story

taiji was murdered - taiji committed suicide in 2011 in his cell on saipan, but there are some things that point to the possibility that he was murdered (his manager insisted on cremating his body and got cremated without autopsy, money got transfered on his account, information missing from the internet?? etc,,) 

juns tape - demo tape recorded in 1986 by at the time X guitarist jun, tape contains instrumental recordings of unreleased songs right now, only way, tune up and one unnamed song.

ill kill you single cover - cover of 1985 X single ill kill you, it contains photos of victims of the vietnam war

feel me tonight - demo tape from 1985/1986, it contains songs feel me tonight and stab me in the back (all of them are under one minute here) sung by their at the time guitarist hally (apparently there aslo should be yoshiki version of it, but i dont know how much we can trust metal archives)

8. tw// eating disorder mention

yoshiki hired someone to kill taiji - this one is a rumor!!!, yoshiki was supposed to get/hire yakuza to kill taiji hide had an eating disorder - this one is unconfirmed!!! hide  suffered from bulimia (yoshiki walked on him purging - and this story was also apparently told by yoshiki???)

#long post #xjapan #x japan #iceberg #this was supposed to be posted on twitter #but when i was in the half i couldnt add more things to the thread anymore #tw eating disorder mention #tw suicide mention #jrock #visual kei #vkei

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 3 - Information

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

Wordcount: ± 3913

TW: Graphic Depiction of Violence, Threat of Sexual Assault (noncon), Choking, Beating, Starvation, Gory Description of Death

Even if they are angry with their unwilling informant, there must be a line still on how to go about it. And Mark crosses it.

Whumptober 2021 Tropes:

Day 2 — Talking Is Overrated | Choking

Day Alt. 4 — Losing Control

Day 6 — Touch and Go | Bruises + Hunger

Day 9 — Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated | (Blind) rage + Tears

Day 12 — It’ll Be Fun, They Said | Torture

Day Alt. 13 — Threats

Day 14 — Under Pressure | Beaten

Day Alt. 19 — Head Injury

Day 20 — Lost & Found | Solitary Confinement

Day 25 — Hide & Seek | Hiding

Day 31 — Hurt & Comfort | Trauma + Prisoner

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

------

It has been almost a week since they caught Nick in his cowardice safe room. Marcus doesn’t know why that each time they ask about that secret compartment, the young man keeps referring to it as his “pen”.

More like, Mark doesn’t care, really. It’s strange, but he just chalks it up to another attempt at appealing to their kinder and merciful side.

Ha.

After all this time getting fooled by either late or misleading intel on top of several lost members, good luck finding that side in any of them. In Lena maybe, but definitely not in Mark.

Which is why Mark is gripping Nick’s collar again as the only thing keeping him up while his legs are sprained. Or maybe broken, who knows.

There is raw open skin on his left wrist, not because Nick himself tries to break the handcuff or get it off his arm—he has never once attempted to, weirdly enough. It’s actually because various agents of Mark’s team have been taking turns in pulling him up to the point of snatching and scratching Nick’s left wrist.

Most of them are, obviously, Mark, and also Anna or Luke or Don. And if they are frustrated enough by nonexistent lead, even Horace and Anderson would come in to rough Nick up once in a while. Angie prefers to just taunt him from outside the room on the other side of the bars, teasing him with freedom he’s never going to taste.

George and Mary mostly keep to themselves as they are cleaning their guns and other weapons, only staring in their seats as their teammates have the time of their lives venting out their frustration and vengeance on their newest captive.

Lena is the only respite the heterochromatic-eyed young man has. Even if the androgynous agent sounds harsh and pushes him for information, Lena is never physical with him. All the others are obviously aware of Nick’s apparent relief every time it’s the long-haired brunette that comes in, and they exploit that, including Mark.

“You want Lena to come in with your food this time, don’t you? Don’t wanna skip another day’s meal?” Mark taunts him as Nick’s bruised eyes close in exhaustion while blood starts flowing lightly again from his nostrils.

Mark has lost his patience two days ago and decided that he no longer cares about his self-imposed limitation to not hit Nick in the head.

Well, he only hits his face anyway. It’s not like he punches him on the back of his head. He’s probably still not going to get concussion.

“So why don’t you pay up with information, huh? We’re not asking too much, are we?”

There is tear stain on his purple inflamed cheek that just disgusts Mark to no end. Other than being a sniveling, degenerate cowards, Helga people are also apparently so fucking weak.

Despite that, Nick never makes any sound when he cries, only quietly letting out fat rolls of tears on his cheeks when it’s apparent that his body is on its limit. He, at least, never throws out his dignity and begs any of them to stop.

He just lets them all beat the shit out of him while continuously saying he really doesn’t know anything.

If anything, Nick just keeps telling them to kill him because he “can’t do this anymore.”

Mark’s not going to lie, it’s starting to feel a little disconcerting.

It's making him both angry and unsure.

Why is he so hellbent on covering for them? They brainwash their new members to swear allegiance to them no matter what, or something?

Mark searches his eyes for anything, any sign, any explanation, but he just limply stands there on his hurt legs, breathing laboredly and wincing slightly every once in a while.

Shit, there it is again, the familiar feeling in the back of his mind. He’s completely convinced that he met Nick before. He still doesn’t know when and where.

Nick’s eyes are half-lidded as he weakly holds Mark’s wrist that’s gripping and pulling up his collar.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Nick says for the millionth time, this time much weaker that it almost doesn’t make a sound.

“Marcus, team room.”

He finally hears Lena calls him from the doorway.

Marks stares firmly at Nick’s face for a few seconds before letting go of his hold on Nick. Their black-haired bloody captive immediately drops down hard to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

As he leaves, Nick curls up into himself again with his free hand covering his face.

Mark almost doesn’t hear the little sobs Nick lets out.

***

Mark has an inkling as to what Lena wants to talk about, as shown by his almost bored face that are similarly sported by several teammates.

And, of course, he’s right.

"Look, I'm just saying that maybe we're being too harsh."

As expected, everyone rolls their eyes, including Marcus. Of course, Lena would have a soft spot for their target.

He doesn't know how they were chosen as a member of D.E.A.N, an institution clearly named NEUTRALIZATION, with a bleeding heart like that.

They, apparently oblivious or intentionally ignoring everyone's reaction, continue, "I know we're eager to bring down Helga. We've lost a lot to them and we're itching to make them meet the same fate, but our informant is pretty hopeless and defenseless here. There is no need to be so...." they contemplate a little bit, "um, uncouth."

"So what do you propose to get him to talk?" Anna asks, obviously rhetorical.

"I...I don't know exactly. Just, y'know, many research say torture isn't effective in making the recipient be honest and informative," they tentatively answer, again seemingly ignoring Anna's sarcasm.

Luke then interjects almost angrily.

"Jesus, Lena. He is part of Helga. You want to give him donuts? Hmm? The sprinkled ones, maybe? Some smoothie so he'll be nice enough to tell us important intel?"

"No, that's not—"

"He is, I reiterate, part of Helga, do you understand? They killed several of our members. Or did you forget?"

"I'm pretty sure he was involved in Jackson's death, but sure, let's be nice to him," Mark can't help quipping bitterly.

Lena immediately straightens up, their face transforms into a face so bitter and furious, something so rare coming from them.

"All you lost is some vague father figure who used nepotism to get you here in D.E.A.N, so fuck you, Mark, specifically."

He bristles, his own face starting to contort in anger, but Lena apparently isn't done yet.

"And y'all. Who did you fucking lose? Huh? Your colleagues that you barely knew just in the few months we're made a team? Fucking bullshit, that is. But you know who I lost? I lost my fucking twin sister, Adrianne, out best fucking sniper to date—no offense Mary."

Their long strawberry-blonde haired sniper squirms uncomfortably.

Lena still continues, "She was exploded so bad I didn't even have any body to send to my parents to bury. I'm not stupid. All I'm saying is what we're doing is not fucking effective, and I don't want us to stoop as low as Helga who pretty much has no humanity left inside their groups. Is that so fucking wrong to bring up?"

By the end of it, Lena is breathing hard, their face red with anger that not one of the team has ever seen before. Some look offended, but the others look down in shame, including Luke. Mark doesn't know where he belongs, but he has tornado of emotions inside him, from guilt, shame, fury, to humiliation.

Lena softens a bit after they see that everyone is starting to look and feel uncomfortable.

"I mean," they sigh, "how old is he, 21? 22? He probably isn't that deep into Helga yet. Maybe he got in due to monetary problem and Helga lured him in. Maybe he stays out of fear because everyone who gets out of Helga gets killed. Why are we treating him like he's the leader of the entire international syndicate? The way he is treated, we might as well just kill him."

"So what do you propose? And I'm being genuine this time," Horace says almost gently like he is treading on a mine field, "He is our biggest lead so far, but he hasn't given us significant information."

"Just... I don't know, treat him like a human being. Talk. Don't just use your fist until he breaks every bone in his body."

Lena sighs again.

“We don’t even know what his position was in Helga. For all we know,” they take in deep breath, “he might not be who we think he is.”

That’s… that’s not something he has considered, if he’s going to be honest. He just keeps playing that scene three months ago over and over again every time he looks at Nick, and it’s not like it’s something he can control.

The fire, the explosion, the feeling of his naivete draining out his body, the desperation…

His body freezing in the eye of danger when their commanding officer—the man who had been going in and out of his life sporadically for around the last 10 years—was screaming at him to go while he was stuck in the bear trap and immediately getting rained on by bullets…

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, enduring the guilt and grief that routinely wash over him in the most unexpected times.

Each time he looks at Nick with that inexplicable sense of familiarity, he just keeps getting gripped by the same juxtaposing anger and guilt that he almost lost control each time they were in the same room.

He will admit that there is no logical reason why he keeps filling the blank of that unknown sense of familiarity with ‘Nick must have caused Jackson’s death’. Still, he holds on to that explanation every time his fist connects with Nick’s flesh, as if it will bring Jackson back.

He reminds himself that if losing someone who wasn’t continuously in his life like Jackson could hurt this much, then what Lena feels must be much worse.

Lena and Adrianne were together since they were in the womb, then throughout grade school, then college, then police academy—both state level and federal level—and eventually in D.E.A.N where the only difference is that Lena is more suited for close-contact combat while Adrianne in sniper position.

“So… we just talk?” Anna retorts, breaking their somber musing, seemingly with no change of tone or emotion even despite Lena’s outburst.

Lena sighs.

“All right. We have all the time in the world. You know, if we’re ignoring more and more victims piling up in Helga’s hand,” she continues sarcastically, “I mean, like Jackson said—before he was killed, if you forgot—we’re D.E.A.N, not D.E.A.R. Rescuing anyone isn’t our fucking responsibility, so fuck them, right?”

Anna then rises from her chair and stomps away, slamming the door to the room they’re in behind her.

***

It’s clear from the talk Lena had yesterday with the team, the group are now divided into two. Either they took it to heart (which is where Horace, Mary, George, Angie, and surprisingly, Luke are), or they just took it as a meaningless chatter and that they were never planning to change how they treat their captive informant (which is where Anderson, Don, Anna, and Mark are because as empathetic as Mark is with Lena’s loss, he really can’t give less shit about how their captive feels.)

Still, Lena is right to point out that all of their attempts up until now might not actually be working. Even starved, beaten, let filthy for over a week, Nick doesn’t break anyway. He still hasn’t volunteered any other information other than “they keep me in my pen until they have use of me”, whatever that means (probably some hierarchal language used by Helga higherups to brainwash their underlings), and “I don’t know anything, I swear.”

He doesn’t like the thought that maybe their captive really does not know anything, that the Helga group they are currently after has decided that they have used up all of Nick’s helpfulness and isolated him before leaving him to die or make his own way out from his hidey hole.

To be honest, from the intel and all description he has heard, Helga really isn’t above doing that to their own even most loyal member.

So, he walks to their almost-daily routine destination, though languidly, with purpose.

He'll try something new today, if he can hold his temper in check. He’ll try not doing anything physical.

In a bit, Mark has finally arrived at their holding room which houses 3 holding cells that is separated from the rest of the room by their metal bars gates. There are surveillance cameras, of course, in case any of their occupants (for now only one) try anything funny and not one of the agents is there to watch them over.

He sighs.

It’s another thing that is strange about their should-be informant. He’s never once done anything suspicious, or even anything at all. He knows because every two days, as decided by all of the team agents, everyone will have a rotation turn in watching the live feed and the past footage.

Nick has never once moved from his resting position, which is either sitting against the wall with his knees hugged and his face hidden away behind them or laying down in fetal position facing the back wall with his right arm bent in front of his face, almost like he was hiding himself away by making his body as small as possible even with his tall stature. And it was for hours and hours on end.

The only time he moved is when he went to relieve himself on the toilet that’s covered by a small wall from outside view (but not completely closed off). He would get to it with great difficulty, shakily kneeling and standing up while pushing hard on the porcelain bowl.

Which, of course, he would, because Mark’s sure all of his limbs are at least sprained at this point. He could hardly move throughout the width of the cell either, even if the hoop of the handcuff can be dragged along the length of the metal bar he is handcuffed to, one that is drilled firmly into the back wall for that exact reason.

Or when he weakly tried to reach for the plate and bottle of water that Lena left at least 3 feet away from him (for safety precaution), usually every two days (they’ve argued once a day and the rest of the team argued either not at all until he talks or every three days).

The other strange times he moved is when he was sleeping, as he usually moved and jerked around with pinched face. Inevitably, he would jerk awake with racing breath and terrified eyes before taking a minute or two to calm down, then he would try to lay back down again while fighting sleep. Eventually, he fell back asleep anyway, and the cycle continued.

So, Nick is either biding his time until a moment of weakness from any of the team’s agents by appearing as unassuming as possible, or he really just… gave up. Since he was caught, on top of that.

Because he has always been like that even since the first day.

So, what is going on with their captive, Mark wonders.

This time, Nick has chosen his sitting position with his knees hugged by his right arm as his left hand is dangling from the handcuff.

Mark doesn’t make himself soundless, so it’s no question that once he steps right in front of the metal bars, Nick slowly lifts his head up to look.

“You look horrible,” Mark starts.

“Thanks. It’s the torture,” Nick answers with small and gravelly voice.

Mark can’t help the small chuckle coming out of him.

“Still a smartass, huh?”

Nick doesn’t reply and chooses to lay his head back down behind his knees.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight since coming here,” he remarks absently, noticing how even when Nick arrived already thin and gangly, he’s now pretty much a skeleton wrapped in thin layer of skin.

“Diet’s must be working. You should try getting starved and beaten sometimes,” their captive replies sarcastically again, although this time muffled by his knees.

All right, fair enough.

“You know you can stop this, right?” he says finally, not indulging him in his sarcasm.

Nick stays silent.

“All you need to do is tell us where they are now, and maybe sprinkle in some information about what they’re planning next, while you’re at it,” he tells Nick, his fingers absently tapping one of the metal bar.

“Jesus, you guys are fucking stupid. Can’t believe they were afraid of you all,” Nick finally says scathingly with burning fury in his eyes this time.

That’s new. He never talked about any Helga member before, not to this extent.

Guess Lena is right.

“They were feeling threatened by us?”

Nick stares with still the same anger.

“They said you guys are like even more specialized SWAT team or something, and this is the closest anyone’s been on their trail. They’re so fucking wrong,”

Mark doesn’t reply, letting him spill his anger and his gut, since it seems to be working.

“Clearly you guys are too fucking dumb to know which is the right trail to follow. Look at you all, locking your attention on me all this time when you could have tried to find other information somewhere else and chase the right target.”

So, in a way, it’s true. He was abandoned as distraction. And Mark’s team fell right into it.

Fuck.

Still, it’s more information than what he could have hoped today.

“So, pray tell, my genius one, which is the right trail to follow?” Mark bites back with the same level of sarcasm to hide his irritation and disappointment.

“Fuck if I know,” Nick replies again, finally back to laying his face down behind his knees.

Mark looks to his left, a few meters away where the key to the metal bar gate is located. He finally decides to walk to it and grab it then walks back to open the gate.

Even through the unlocking and loud rolling sound of the gate, Nick doesn’t react at all, so Mark settles with sliding his palm between Nick’s face and knees and yanking the head up himself.

“No, no, no. You don’t get to hide after telling us all of that,” he throws in a little look at where the surveillance camera is, “Where are they?”

Nick looks more exhausted and half-dead this close. His gaunt and bony face is littered with various bruises with molting color of purple, yellow, and green all around. There are also smears of dried blood on his temple, nose, lips, and the side of his head. Mark can also see darker patches on the black shirt, knowing that those are also blood, along with other traces of blood on the boy’s uncovered skin.

But still, there is no fear in his swirly blue and brown eyes.

“I don’t know,” he simply says.

“Liar.”

“Don’t you think I would have told you if I knew?”

“Don’t think so. Maybe you still hold allegiance over them.”

Nick chuckles darkly and rolls his heterochromatic eyes.

“They’re not worth any of this at all. I’m not that cheap,”

So, past allegiance, but now cracking. Good.

“So, if they’re not worth it, then why are you covering for them?”

Nick sighs irritably. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t know anything, and I would have given them up immediately if I did?”

“Yeah, no. I’m not convinced at all.”

Nick chuckles sarcastically again, even with his chin being held by Mark’s much more powerful limb and can be easily cracked to break his neck.

“So what are you guys gonna do next, since I’m still ‘covering for them’, hmm? Clearly beating me and starving me aren’t working. Maybe gangraping me next, you fucking animal?”

Something in Mark just snaps at the insinuation. Maybe because the many, many times people called him predator just because he is gay. Or the suggestion that he is as low as the people he is after. He really doesn’t know.

All he knows is before even realizing it, his face is contorted in a snarl and Nick is already hanging in the air with his legs dangling and kicking wildly as his neck is tightly squeezed by Mark’s right hand.

“Or maybe I’ll do something else, have you ever thought about that?” he spits out to Nick’s quickly reddening face as his airway is cut off.

Nick clearly is taken aback as his bicolored eyes are finally filled with shock and fear. His free right hand is weakly but frantically clawing at Mark’s wrist. He then keeps choking and struggling to get air in his lungs, only to fail repeatedly.

If he weren’t angry and focused on squeezing the life out of Nick, he would have been impressed by his own strength that he has probably never shown before.

With Nick’s height close to his own 6'4"—probably only an inch or two shorter—it would have taken an incredible amount of power to one-handedly hang him just by his neck up to a foot off the ground.

Blood is rushing through his ears, ringing white noise almost fully encompassing him and all of his senses. He is only focused on Nick’s choking and purpling face as the younger man keeps struggling to take a breath. He can feel Nick's bony arms continuing to harshly claw at his wrist and the back of his palm with decreasing strength as less and less oxygen is flowing through his body. His kicking feet are also going slower and weaker with each passing second.

His heterochromatic eyes are starting to look less bicolored and more red instead, as the blood vessels in his eyes are popping out.

Mark doesn’t hear the soundless, choking pleadings from Nick to please let him go and stop, or even the pain from the numerous scratches on the back of his palm.

He also doesn’t hear the others’ steps rushing into the cell.

He doesn’t notice Nick’s left shoulder looking strange and unmoving after he was yanked up, his body now so high from the metal bar he is handcuffed to. He doesn’t notice Nick’s eyes starting to close and rolling back into his skull.

“Marcus, you’re gonna fucking kill him, stop!”

He finally vaguely hears his new commanding officer’s voice, and slowly he also hears others yelling at him to let Nick go while pulling his arm back.

When he finally sobers up, Nick is already quiet and completely still, his head lolling to the side and his eyes closed. Almost like he just hit a hot pan, Mark yanks back his own arm to let Nick fall to the ground haphazardly like a doll.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Anna snarls at him in an uncharacteristic look of concern towards the unconscious body on the ground. She then looks back at him angrily.

“Jesus fucking christ, Mark, we don’t have other informant! We can’t kill him!”

Luke finally yells at him, crouching down in concern too for their captive that has no sign of life anymore.

Oh fuck, did he really kill him? Did he really stoop so low as to attacking someone so defenseless like this?

What has happened to him?

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

#Whump #whumptober2021 #whump community #whumper turned caretaker #multiple whumpers #oc whump #no.5 #i've got red in my ledger #misunderstanding #OC #D.E.A.N #whump prompt #prompt fill #writing #english #repost for whump sideblog #me #completionist #whumptober #me write

[moontrait]

announcement?

ok so ive been thinking how to put this into words for the last couple of weeks so um here it goes

the sims has been a game i’ve been playing for years now and i tried to make things better for myself and for others by sharing cc i’ve been learning how to make for the last couple of years but it came to a point it doesn’t bring me joy anymore. 

Not only thinking about making cc brings me anxiety but i’ve been feeling the contant feel like EA doesn’t care for the players anymore and it honestly made me lose interest for that game at all. 

I thought my last straw was Eco Lifestyle but when i saw the trailer for the new knitting SP i was really disappointed and honestly i felt disrespected as a player in so many ways i dont care to explain honestly. Im fully aware im not a consumer of this company because i play a cracked game. (i HONESTLY dont need to give explanations for this,,,,, but i live in a 3rd word country that buying the sims as i have it cracked it costs me more than 30k pesos) but i still have rights as a player and a custom content creator to demand a better game not only for my experience but for everyone’s too.

So anyways, i’ve never thought i would archive almost 15k followers in such a short amount of time and im grateful for every one of you, for sticking up with me while i was still learning how to make cc and textures, for reblogging, liking and using my stuff and interacting with me in any way.

I honestly will be forever grateful.

Im not deletig my blog because i still hold on to a little bit of hope that the sims franchise would spark that excitement i had for it before, and for you to have the platform open if you want to keep downloading my cc.  I have rebooted my pc and uninstalled the sims, my mods, my cc, my tray files and my saves. I have deleted every wip, every edit, every done piece of cc. I honestly don’t want nothing to do with the sims anymore and its probably for the best of my mental health right now.

Honestly thank you so much for letting me be a part of this wonderful community even in its ups and downs. I hope you can still enjoy the game as much as i used to.

Feel free to use my cc and my meshes for anything honestly (not reuploading tho, thats not nice) i wont be using them anymore.

I might come back, i might be still posting ocassionally shitposting, who knows. This blog and my cc blog will still be open as well as my ask box.

i love yall and i will miss you

#v #its a goodbye but hopefully not forever #at least i hope so #i just wanted to say this bc i dont want yall to expect something from me #like im not going to do cc in a while #probably never again #idk #honestly idk #stay safe #wear masks #acab #and eat the rich #also BLACK LIVES MATTER #BLUE LIVES DONT MATTER #bye #love yall #with love. valentina.

[queenfredegund]

Female households and political agency

Reginae’s households

As royal members, reginae possessed households fulfilled with various members, either male or female, servile or noble, who served them in their life, but also supported them all along.

Puellae and ancillae

Obviously, reginae were surrounded by an important number of female servants, such as puellae and ancillae, both probably servile ones, though not so sure for the sole case of the puellae: indeed, as the term “puella” is often used to speak about slave girls, the exact nature of the puellae is questioned as some of them seem to have been from wealthy families, such as Nantechildis Regina, consort of Dagobert, a puella, but whose brother, Landegiselus, was a rich landowner. Their tasks are not fully known, but can consist on the same as usual, such as cleaning the rooms, preparing their mistresses, keeping them company, and perhaps also weaving clothes. Several ancillae and puellae are known, such as:

Marcovefa Regina, consort of Charibert I Rex (DLH, IV, 26).

Merofledis Regina, consort of Charibert I Rex (DLH, IV, 26).

Nantechildis Regina, consort of Dagobert I Rex (Chron, IV, 58).

The unnamed puellae trying to cheer up Radegund Regina (Vita Radeg, I, 9).

The unnamed ancilla of Fredegund Regina (DLH, V, 39).

The unnamed slave-girl favoured by Chlodovech Rex, son of Chilperich I Rex (DLH, V, 39).

Several male officials were also known, even it is sometimes difficult to fully understand in what their roles consisted, due to a lack of sources, and even the names of all of them:

The referendarius 

High-ranking officer, he was apparently the superior of the chancellor. Depositary of the royal seal, he directed the chancellery where the royal acts were written (diplomas, precepts, etc.), kept the royal archives, and sealed official acts with wax. We know two referendarii, such as:

Ursicinus, to Ultrogotho Regina, consort of Childebert I Rex (DLH, V, 42).

Bobolenus, to Fredegund Regina, consort of Chilperich I Rex (DLH, VIII, 32).

The maior domus 

A high-ranking officer who managed the household for the regina, such as commanding the whole pool of servants and high-ranking officers, managing the wealth and probably acting as a private councelor for the regina. Their influence will later grow in importance, but for the majority of the period, they were only palatine officers and were probably one per important household. We know at least two maior domus specically attache to a regina:

Florentianus, to Brunehilde Regina, consort of Sigebert I Rex (DLH, IX, 30).

Waddo, to Rigund Regina, daughter of Chilperich I Rex (DLH, VI, 45).

The camerarius

An officer close to a chamberlain, i. e. a high-ranking officer who received tributes and welcomed embassies. On an other hand, based on the papal administration, he could also have had financial duties, mostly managing the regina’s charity. We do not have a specific name in the sources.

The comes stabuli

An officer in charge of the royal stables and horses, and whose role originally derived from the late-roman office in charge of the pack animals in use for the army and the imperial court. He had under his lead the marescalci and during military campains, he was responsible of the whole logistic. As a member of the regina’s household, they were probably responsible of her horses and the security of her travels. We know at least one:

Leudastes, to Marcovefa Regina, consort of Charibert I Rex (DLH, V, 48).

Cuppa, to Fredegund Regina after the death of Chilperich I Rex (DLH, VII, 39.)

The cubicularii

A palatial officer, he was in the strict intimacy of the rex and his family. While in the late antiquity, they were emancipated slaves, it is possible that they were noble personages during the Merovingian period. They fulfilled specific duties at court, like palatial ones (i.e ostiarios), or administrative ones (i.e saccellarius).

Contrary to the Byzantine Empire, it is unknown if the Frankish cubicularii were actual eunuchs, as the Frankish records never speak clearly of an usage of eunuchs in palatial administration. Yet as the Byzantines had also forbidden the castration and still made use of eunuchs, the question pursues for the Merovingian dynasty. A cubicularius is known around a regina:

Eberulf, to Fredegund Regina, consort of Chilperich I Rex (DLH, VII, 21).

The cancellarii

A royal officer, the cancellarius was basically the chief of the chancellery, where he led the whole of the scribes, the notarii, in charge of redacting and preserving officials acts (diploma or decretio), under the lead of the referendarius, the only one to dispose of the regal seal. Their numbers, as well as the name of at least one of them is unknown, but as reginae had refendarii like reges, they could be present in their households.

Some high-ranking members were also known around reginae, like bishops, but also men in charge of military or diplomatic matters, such as Claudius and Protadius for Brunehilde Regina, or Ansoaldus for Fredegund Regina.

A “gynecocracy”?: women’s influence in the Merovingian court

Back on Fredegar’s mention about the royal women around Chlothacar II Rex, the chronicler had made it obvious that the rex was more than prone to take councels from his female relatives. As I have shown it before, royal women were a fully distinct social group inside the Merovingian court, so it would a mistake to think that they just can not enhance political influence over a reign, or take part in some political factions, especially for women from the elite, as they can count on their relatives to support them and their sons.

Acoustic dimension of the reginae

An interesting thing to work on with royal palaces, and especially with royal women, is the potential of acoustic dimension they have on their own, i.e. the way they can hear of events or be heard by people, as we then will be able to determine how they can influence things or act for themselves. For example:

Beretrudis Regina, consort of Chlothacar II Rex, receives in audience Bishop Leudemund, come to ask her to take part in a future conspiration led by the patricius Alethius against her husband, a thing she promptly refused, and after his leaving, she locks up in her appartments while crying (Chron, IV, 44). This means that Beretrudis is not only fully aware about the situation as she can receive audience in her own appartments, but that she is also considered as a respectable speaker by a bishop, and most of all, that she can express herself and be heard of, as it is because she was crying in her room that the rex finally learns about the matter.

Bilichildis I Regina, consort of Theodebert II Rex, c. 609, maintains a regular correspondence with Brunehilde Regina, living at that moment at the court of Theodorich II Rex, and the two of them discuss about diplomatic matters and even the holding of a plaid in order to maintain peace between the two regna; however, as the austrasians nobiles are afraid that Brunehilde could eventually lash out against their popular young regina, they dissuade her to take part on that project (Chron, IV, 35). Which means that Bilichildis was fully known as the corresponding partner of Brunehilde, that she was supported in her business by the nobiles and that they were aware of the progression of the situation, probably because she had made statments about it to have their opinions.

Rigund Regina, daughter of Chilperich I Rex, who in 580, in the last part of the council of Brennacum, announces that she is practicing a fasting with her household in support of Bishop Gregorius, who is waiting for his sentence (DLH, V, 49). Which means that a young girl between 11 and 14 years old was absolutely not segregated, and that she can hear of events outside her own appartment, and even she can hold a specific position at the court.

Women were therefore pivotal figures of the royal court and can interact fully with other members of the entourage of the rex, as well as holding audiences or writing correspondences for their own goods, and their own ambitions. Brunehilde Regina for example, maintained correspondences with Pope Gregorius and Byzantine emperors and empresses, letters we have kept through ages, in which she defended her politics and manages diplomatic matters.

Women and factions

As members of the inner-court and principal entourage of the rex, royal women were also researched in order to take sides in political factions, such in the previous example of Beretrudis Regina and Bishop Leudemund, but we can also speak of:

Radegund Regina, consort of Chlothacar I Rex and above all, Thuringian royal daughter, lived at court with some of her fellows, including one of her brother, unnamed in our sources, and probably acted in order to protect them. When her brother was finally killed on Chlothacar’s orders, she decided to end their marital life and quitted the royal court for the monastery (DLH, III, 7).

Audovera Regina, consort of Chilperich I Rex, supported her sons even after she was dismissed from the royal court and far from them, and perhaps supported Merovech (I) Rex when he married Brunehilde Regina against his father’s will (DLH, V, 2).

Brunehilde Regina, as grandmother of Theodorich II Rex, sided with high-ranking officials in order to control political affairs, took revenge in their name when they were wronged, and also took an important part in inner-court by establishing herself at the head of the feminine hierarchy.

Sichildis Regina, consort of Chlothacar II Rex, grew in importance after the death of Beretrudis Regina and sided with both her brother Brodulf, a military leader and her sister Gomatrudis, a fellow regina, probably in order to secure the position of her son, the young Charibert II Rex. Together they managed to establish him as a rex after the death of Chlothacar II, alongside his stepbrother Dagobert I Rex (Chron, IV, 53-55).

However, if they can take part in political factions, they can also be controlled. Indeed, if Sichildis managed to create around her an efficient faction, her circle was quickly dismantled after the murder of her brother and the repudiation of her sister, leaving her alone and probably in retirement.

Royal women and queenship

In lack of more sources on the exact running of the inner-court, it is difficult to say how powerful consorts and royal daughters could have been and how exactly they used their queenship, however some extracts tend to show they were ruling their households and managed their estates on their own, even for the unmarried royal daughters.

Some examples:

Fredegund Regina, consort of Chilperich I Rex, was let alone by him for deciding about the forgiveness of Leudastes (DLH, VI, 32).

Wisigardis Regina, consort of Theodebert I Rex, had intervened for the protection of Asteriolus against Secundinus (DLH, III, 33).

Theodechildis I Regina, daughter of Theodorich I Rex, was still receiving tributes from her civitates despite being a probably childless and repudiated woman (Lib. Confe., 40).

Chlodechildis IV Regina, daughter of Guntchramn Rex, and Chlodosuinda III Regina, daughter of Sigebert I Rex, were both assured to keep their whole estates even after the death of their father and brother by the Treaty of Andelao (DLH, IX, 20).

Chlodechildis III Regina, daughter of Charibert I Rex, and Basina II Regina, daughter of Chilperich I Rex, started the revolt of the nuns for they were of royal birth and did no want to be led by a person from a lower rank than themselves (DLH, IX, 39 and X, 15).

[Intro] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

#women in history #merovingian part 3 #merovingian reginae #merovingian period #5th century #6th century #7th century #8th century

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 5

AO3

Beta reader was @thesnadger!

Some thoughts on where to go next.

Martin is as helpful as he can be.

Their business finished, Jon and Martin exchanged a friendly “See you tomorrow” and went their separate ways. Jon turned on his heel and took the first turn out of sight. Martin, still holding his groceries, pressed his head against a nearby building and said under his breath, “God, you’re predictable. Smiles at you once and you’re done for. Must be a record.”

It had been a nice smile, though. Maybe at some point he would get to see a non-nervous one, the kind where the person’s face seems to open up like- No, he was not going to fall into poetic daydreaming, not this soon. Good lord.

He stood up straight, fixing his hair and checking for any witnesses. With the coast clear, he started the long walk home. It was fine. Martin wasn’t a complete idiot. He would accept the good news that Jon didn’t despise him and would roll with it, trying his best not to muck it up with more stupid mistakes. Then, with either their time used up or the investigation completed, all three of them would be gone.

The thought struck him hard, and Martin almost stumbled from the emotional whiplash. It had been, what, a day and a half? Surely not long enough to miss them that much, especially the person who had only just started being nice to him ten minutes ago. But Martin knew himself better than that.

Jon had been nice, just as Tim and Sasha had been nice, and he was going to miss the company when they had to leave. It was natural to feel sad about it, he told himself, but eventually their leaving would be a relief. The one-sided affection would have no room for hoping or growing otherwise. At the same time, he might as well enjoy the company of interesting people. Interesting people who wanted to help him, even! Jon had said he’d wanted to work together to figure things out, so that’s what Martin would try to do.

As long as it didn’t get him fired. As long as nothing they did fucked over any chance of employment. As long as his place of work didn’t eat him out of a hunger for vengeance.

Pushing those sour thoughts deep into the back of his consciousness, Martin focused on the morning’s events the rest of the way home. Plans of action formed in his mind, most of them related to the task at hand, a few needing to be waved away as wishful thinking. There was work to be done.

It took quite a bit of digging through crumpled and disorganized paperwork he’d saved from many unsuccessful attempts at employment, but after lunch, Martin sat on his bed with his original work contract. At the bottom was the signature of Peter Lukas, and in the bottom left corner was the stamped Lukas family crest, which Martin had seen every day on a small plaque adorning the lighthouse interior, right over his desk.

It was a simple and rather generic image of a black and white shield, framed by an albatross and a laughably inaccurate seal that Martin couldn’t help but gawk at years after he’d first seen it. He wondered if the artist responsible had had to work with someone telling them what a seal looked like from memory or if the family just hadn’t cared too much for accuracy. Based on the strange ideas Peter would spout at times of how the ocean worked, Martin would bet on the latter. Maybe the whole family was just like that?

Either way, it was equal parts ridiculous and unnerving as it lurked over Martin’s shoulder during the work day but didn’t have much use to him otherwise. He was no expert on symbolism and there was nothing he could see that would relate the crest to the task at hand.

Martin leafed through the work contract, glazing over benefits and salary before stopping on the section labeled “Employee Assignments and Other Expected Duties”.

“Sec. III. The employee agrees to the following non-exhaustive list of duties:

-Be present at the premises between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, Monday through Friday, including lunch break. -Complete bookkeeping for the employer, Mr. Peter Lukas, using materials delivered to the premises on Monday morning. Delivery will always be completed by the employee's set arrival time at 6am. If nothing is delivered, contact the main house for further instruction to procure materials. -Clean the interior of the premises at regular intervals, including the main entrance, bathroom, kitchen, and upper floors. -Between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, complete the maintenance list of the top floor (see Sec. IV). This must be completed once every day of the week, including Saturday and Sunday, between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm. There is a zero-tolerance policy for lack of completion. -Inform unexpected visitors of the proper procedure for scheduling a paid tour of the premises (See Sec. V) -Accept packages and sign for if necessary.

Martin looked over the list, biting his cheek. He’d grown lax on staying until 4pm, but with Peter’s general lack of awareness, it had never come up. Otherwise, the duties seemed in line with what he remembered. He looked down to Section IV.

“As referred to in Sec. III, the employee will complete the following tasks during the hours of 6 am and 4 pm every day, including Saturday and Sunday:”

Following this was the list he had long ago written down and taped to his desk. There were no details relating to the purpose of each task, just procedure. He’d kept to the instructions consistently, every switch flipped and seemingly-pointless button pressed, though he’d been very close to missing the 4pm mark on several occasions because of the dreaded walk to the top. This list, again, wasn’t much help. He went over the document a few times then set it aside and flopped onto his back, scattering some loose papers to the floor.

He’d need to find some other angle. Research was a non-starter for him without experience, and as far as his town knowledge was concerned, it wasn’t wrong to call him forgetful in that area as well. It was likely he’d have to accept his part as an amateur tour guide. It didn’t feel like enough, but starting Monday, he’d be back to working and have no time to help anyway, unless their work somehow kept them late into the night.

Jon had been nice with all the working-together talk, but Martin knew he wouldn’t be of much use at all. If he wanted to be helpful, he should begin prepping for dinner.

-

As evening turned to night, Martin and his mother sat at the dining room table in silence, interrupted only by the light clinking of plates and utensils as they finished the pan-fried chicken and vegetables in front of them. Weekends were always better meal days, always leaving Martin feeling more satisfied with his cooking with all the time he had to focus on it. His mother showed no greater signs of enjoyment than eating without complaint.

“Mum, can I ask you something?” Martin ran his thumb against the smooth metal of his fork. “It’s about work.”

Martin’s mother paused from eating another bite of her meal. “What is it?” she asked, frowning.

Swallowing hard, Martin said, “How much have you had to deal with the Lukas family? There’s this research project being completed and it’s involving a lot of history, so I thought since you’ve lived here so long-”

“Long enough, yes.” Martin could see her nostril twitch. “They came in long before I did and will most likely stay until the fish run out. Otherwise, I kept to my business and they kept to theirs. No reason to get involved with people who wouldn’t bother walking down the hills on foot.”

“Right, it’s just-”

“I don’t feel like talking, Martin,” she said, her voice cracking slightly at his name. “My throat is too sore.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll get you some more water.” He picked up her glass to refill and bit back any other questions. Next to the sink was his mother’s pill case with the current day’s compartment still full. “We’ll get your meds done now, then. Should help a bit.” His mother didn’t respond, having already returned to her dinner.

Afterwards, she requested to step outside. “The night air is good for my lungs,” she argued as a matter of fact, and with no way to dissuade her, Martin completed their little ritual of walking out the door and standing in the fog-filled night in silence, his own face covered in an old scarf. His eyes watered in the dry, salty gale, and he wondered how much time it had taken for his mother to withstand the sting without any tears.

-

By mid-morning the next day, Martin had finished his duties upstairs. Sitting at the table, he listened to the group’s progress from after he had left them the day before. Spread across the table were photocopies of what looked like legal documents, some of the bare spots between them filled with used mugs of varying sizes.

“We weren’t able to stay there for long before it closed, but we were able to look up some records at the library yesterday,” Sasha explained, sifting through the papers. “Not a terrible archive, all things considered. We’re going to head there again tomorrow morning for a more in-depth look. We didn’t even get to looking for details on the construction of this place.”

“But!” Tim waved one of the copies above his head. “We did get some info on the Lukases themselves. Current residents in town, major stakeholders, that kind of stuff. And-” He pressed the sheet close to Martin’s face. It was a copy (of a copy) of a newspaper article featuring the lighthouse, with some figures standing at the entrance, including one Peter Lukas. “Martin, d’you know anything about the person who worked here before you? He’s one of the younger ones in the family, standing on the left.”

Martin scratched the back of his neck, squinting at the photo. “A bit? Evan Lukas, he was really nice from what I’d heard.”

Tim frowned, lowering his arm. “‘Was’?”

“Yeah, he passed away before I started working here. Peter said it was some heart thing. Runs in the family.” Tim slumped. “Sorry! I’m surprised the records didn’t say so. It was a pretty big deal, really shook people. It made the front page, though I never read the details.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Jon asked, tapping on the rim of his empty mug.

“Sort of? We went to school around the same time and were only a few years apart, which was weird since you wouldn’t expect him to go to a state school with a family like that? Anyway, that was years ago, but even after that you’d hear about him. He was gone for a while, actually, but somehow he ended up in this old place a few years back and, well, y’know.” Martin rubbed his hands.

“Hmmm.” Tim leaned back in his chair, flipping a pencil between his fingers. “Okay, well, that’s one person we probably can’t talk to outside of spookier means. Is there anyone who knew him well?”

Pausing for a moment, Martin said, “I think… no, yeah, he was engaged, but his fiancée left town pretty soon after he died. Don’t know anything about her except she wasn’t a local.” Silence stretched over them as Tim sat in his disappointment

“Well, shit,” Tim let out in an overblown sigh. Sasha patted Tim’s shoulder in sympathy. He grinned at her. “That’s all I’ve got, then. Time to call it a day?” he asked, earning himself a pinch on the ear.

“We’ll just have to go over the items we have until tomorrow,” Jon said, his sigh brimming with exhaustion. “Who knows, we might’ve missed something the first time. Before that, Martin, who was the person we missed yesterday? Would they be worth talking to?”

Hesitating, Martin responded, “Maybe? But if you’ve already got a way to look up historical stuff, it might be better to skip this one.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him and his stomach dropped at the attention.

“It’s just, he’s an eccentric person, difficult to track down, and while he knows the Lukas family pretty well, it’s only because their families do business. His family, the Fairchilds, they’re not a huge family in this town, but this guy, Simon, he’s, well. He’s this small, old man, right?” Martin tapped his foot, looking for something to say to end his babbling. “And you know the cliff behind the lighthouse? It’s got at least 150 meters straight down to sea?” The three nodded, and Martin smiled, his brows furrowed.

“Years ago, he dove right off the damned thing.”

-

Tim gaped over the railing, his breath floating over the edge. Sasha and Jon gaped slightly less, and from a safer distance, though that didn’t seem to save Jon from the effects of the harsh, cold wind that sent him shivering through a nothing of a windbreaker. Far below the cliff’s edge, down past the wind-worn rock and smattering of trees, through a thin layer of fog that cradled the seaside, there waited an incredibly harsh landing of sea and stone.

“But there’s a fuckload of rocks down there?” Tim sputtered.

Martin kept his gaze straight forward. “Yeah.”

“And even if he just hit water, I mean-”

“Made it out just fine.”

“And you were thinking of just skipping this guy? I don’t care if he’s unhelpful, I want to see if he can fly or something.” Tim stepped from the safety rails, giving one a good pat.

Sasha crossed her arms, eyeing the drop. “Do you know where we can find him?”

Martin scratched his face. “Most of the time he comes here to see Peter for business. Peter absolutely hates it since it’s usually out of nowhere, and Simon always claims he does it because he likes surprises, but I think he just likes to be irritating. Otherwise…” Turning to look at the lighthouse, Martin said, “I do know where Simon lives, and while I can’t guarantee he’ll want to speak to you about anything specific, he definitely loves to talk.”

“Is there anything he’s said to you about the Lukas family? Or the building?” Jon looked at Martin intently, clearly doing his best to not shiver.. “Anything that might’ve seemed like nothing more than gossip or reminiscing?”

With Jon staring at him, Martin’s brain sputtered to a stop. “I-I don’t think so? Like I said, he’s eccentric, so it’s hard to pick apart anything he says as being sincere or as a joke. He told me he was once a firebreather, and I still don’t know if I believe him. Sorry, I know that’s not super helpful.” Martin rubbed the back of his neck.

Jon relaxed his gaze, his corner of his mouth quirking down just a little. “It’s all right. If we can get a hold of him, we’ll ask him some simple questions and hopefully sift through any confusion. Right now, we can all stop giving ourselves vertigo and get back inside. It’s freezing out here.” Jon made a show of shoving his hands under his arms and walked back to the lighthouse.

“Poor guy’s circulation is shot, honestly. Could get hypothermia walking into a basement,” Tim teased behind his hand, not bothering to lower his voice as he leaned toward Sasha and Martin.

“Ha. Very funny.” Jon sent a withering glare over his shoulder and slipped indoors. They followed him back inside, and while the other three sat to discuss possible interview questions, Martin got another round of tea going. He had to have some of those to-go paper coffee cups somewhere in these cupboards, but no amount of looking revealed them. Instead, he managed to find one lonely travel mug and contemplated his options.

Would it be too obvious? Would Jon consider it him joining in on the teasing? At the thought of Jon stubbornly standing outside in a too-thin jacket, Martin resigned himself to whatever reaction he would receive. Either way, he'd get something warm in Jon’s hands so the little pang in his chest would go away.

When Martin brought him the mug, Jon looked suspicious but didn’t complain.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

[hibibun]

Moonlight Shadow

Series: Persona 3 Pairing: Minato Arisato/Ryoji Mochizuki Summary: Ryoji sees the blood and butterflies leading him to Minato knowing he can't do a thing. It doesn't stop him from going, up until he can't. Warnings: Allusions to suicide ideation, major character death Notes: ive fell into the hole that is the magnus archives and couldn't help applying end avatar imagery to ryoji because it fits so nicely. it's alright if you don't know anything about the series going into this it isn't really necessary. as usual, i simply like to think about ryoji being drawn to minato despite the circumstances of their existence.

thank you very much to ash who read it over and also suggested a title! it's apparently from a song called moonlight shadow by mike oldfield AO3

The night they meet is the first of many times Ryoji has attempted to stop Minato from reaching his end.

He’s been following the messy, complicated thread that ties them together, and gets as far as Iwatodai’s train station before he spots him. Over and over in his dreams, Ryoji has seen that dorm bathed in blood and surrounded by stark shadows. And as he gets closer, every time there is a trail of bright, blue butterflies leading him up the staircase and to Minato’s door.

His hand reaches for the knob, but just like all the times before, he opens the door and finds a corpse waiting for him. The second his foot breaches the threshold, butterflies burst from the figure on the bed and he wakes.

Ryoji doesn’t really know the person he’s been dreaming about, and yet, he does down to his very core.

So when he feels that same tug and sees the butterflies leading him to the station, it isn’t surprising to see Minato there. He doesn’t know where he’s trying to go this late, but Ryoji knows it can’t be anywhere else other than the dorm, however much Minato may want otherwise.

In the end, they talk and Minato goes home. The butterflies follow him inside the train terminal, and Ryoji knows he’s only put off the inevitable. It’s not his time yet though. And for that, he is grateful.

There is nothing he can do for the others he sees, and he knows as he closes his eyes, in hours they will be coffins, submerged in those inky shadows.

It’s futile to resist, and often times, he doesn’t try to intervene anymore. Something about Minato is elusively special though, so he becomes an exception. He doesn’t try to warn the business man who has a trail of growing shadows follow him, nor the woman in the white dress with long, red hair whose clothes have phantom blood on them.

Instead, he makes himself into Minato’s shadow. A harbinger, unwittingly putting off what he knows can’t really be avoided. He’ll hold onto him as long as he can, convince him to hang in there just a little longer. To see what’s in front of him and just how little time he really has left—how little time they all have left.

Every night, he still dreams of that boy surrounded by butterflies, and watches with a small, helpless smile because he knows he can’t save him.

As the leaves fall from the trees for good, there are no games or solution he has to offer for what is to come. Only a choice. He could never change things, but with his new awareness, perhaps he can provide brief solace.

“You won’t feel any pain. You can forget about it until the end.”

“I can’t.”

Ryoji wants to beg more for the one thing he feels he can finally give Minato. Every other thing he has given has also been temporary, but this kind of peace could be enough. He sees it now. The resolve to live even in the face of death. The acceptance of their coming fate. He’s done what he can, and merely grieves everything else he cannot change.

“When we meet next, it will be for the last time like this.”

“I know.”

Minato doesn’t say anything else, but as Ryoji leaves, he feels forgiven. They are the wings of the same butterfly, and it isn’t until their last meeting does he realize what choice Minato really made.

He may not be able to save Minato, but in the end he is able to give him enough mercy to help his friends. They will die here together—and in return, they will be spared.

#writing #writing: persona 3 #pairing: ryomina #character: ryoji mochizuki #character: minato arisato #ryomina #persona 3 #p3

[autoclavesarchived]

dead sea | the magnus archives (ao3)

a character study of martin & depression

Martin wakes up, and doesn’t want to. This is always how it starts—the creeping fog, the wretched emptiness, the realization that he can no longer find a single reason to go through the motions of living again. It’s a slow descent. He can feel himself slipping back into that bad place again, and he is both aggressor and spectator in his passivity. On these days, he doesn’t think he can be a person even if he wants to.

(It had started the previous evening when the sun sank down. It’s so lonely out at nightfall. To look outside and see nothing else, only pinpricks of solitary light in the distance, to be the only known quantity in a sea of darkened glass. It was like the slow fade into night had bled something loose inside him.)

That had been a different kind of void, though. Less illness, more sadness, a sheet of blunt-edged melancholia. This raw, record-scratch morning is far less quantifiable and infinitely worse.

Radio static in his head. He is in so many pieces. It’s hard to keep himself together when the sun has fallen right off the edge of the world and his body now feels like the unwanted inhabitant of a car crash; no, nothing quite so violent and screaming as that. A haunted house, maybe. A muffled crime scene before its investigation.

Somewhere in the middle of this glitching mindscape, a person that Martin would like to believe is his real self cries for it to stop. This self is still alive, just—inaccessible. Quietly pigeonholed into the attic, quarantined under floorboards like a bad secret. Is there a way back home? Is there a way back to you? he thinks, blindly. There is no answer, or at least, none that he can hear. Depression, in its slow and imperceptible way, continues to take up residence inside of him.

It seems so unreasonable, but he can’t bear to even lift his head. He’s just so tired.

Outside is a riotous spring, green and pink and yellow. Last fall, when the cold set in and winter rusted shut its grip around them, he’d wanted it to be spring so badly that he would have given up anything to see it happen. A hand, an eye. A lung, even. The nights had been so long and aching then. Now, the days are, too. Outside is spring and Martin is acutely aware that it is passing him by.

Time distorts strangely when he’s like this. He wakes from the blink of a sleep-sick nap to find the sun burning too high above him, and the door creaking open; a rattle of keys being set down, plastic grocery bags rustling onto the kitchen counter, and Jon’s quick footsteps walking down the hallway.

“Martin?” he hears Jon call. “Martin? I’ve got the shopping but we should really see if—”

Their bedroom door opens, the noise of it interrupting whatever he had been about to say. It’s a little darker in here with the blinds half-turned, but not dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see Martin lying curled on the bed.

“Martin?” he repeats, more quizzically this time.

“Jon,” Martin says. His voice is raspy from disuse, so he tries again. “Jon. Hello.”

Jon draws nearer. “Is this a bad day?” He is windswept and smells like sunlight, like the springtime he’d just been outside in, and Martin can hardly bear to look at him for envy of what he wants to be. What he couldn’t be if he tried because he is barely a person right now. But that isn’t Jon’s fault, he reminds himself very carefully. Jon is trying to take care of him. (His expression has not changed in the slightest after seeing Martin motionless on the bed, all the blankets pulled up despite how mild the day is, and he is silently thankful for it. He knows what a miserable picture this must make.)

“Yeah,” he manages. “Do you—can you… come here? Please.”

“Of course.” There’s a sweep of air, and the bed dips; Jon sliding in between the sheets unquestioningly at his appeal even though the day is in its prime and it’s only Martin’s brain being irrational and happiness-deprived.

It takes a minute, but they shift so that they’re facing each other, bodies only a few inches apart on the mattress. Martin can feel the difference of a second presence and the warmth it exudes. He can feel himself reaching for it, too, with his half-starved self. A puzzle piece, or a stray bracket looped inwards.

“Can I touch you?”

Martin nods. He desperately wants Jon to touch him. He needs to be reminded that he’s real, and that he hasn’t just made this up in his mind as a respite from the echoing wasteland of the sadness. Jon is real, and that means Martin is more than a single lonely blot on the horizon.

“Okay,” Jon whispers, and doesn’t ask anything more of him. Soon enough, Martin feels hands skim the backs of his wrists, glide up his forearms and across his shoulders. They trace the pattern of freckles on his chest, forwards and backwards. Light, undemanding touches, so quintessentially Jon in their repetitive familiarity. Eventually, he pulls him closer so that their bodies are pressed against each other in a sort of half-hug: Martin’s head tucked into the bend of Jon’s chin, one of Jon’s legs draped over his hip, their torsos a single warm line from collarbone to stomach. Jon is normally so much smaller than him, and all rangy and bird-boned to boot, but when he gets like this, his presence is expansive, comforting. Martin feels lazily enveloped in it. The whole bed smells like Jon now, aftershave and rooibos tea and something citrusy—oranges, maybe.

He lies carefully still in familiar arms, and he thinks he should feel something more about this. He thinks he should feel happier, or more grateful. It’s not that he’s not, exactly, more that he’s just… temporarily divorced from it. As if he’s looking at the feeling, or the implication of it, from a point very distant at the edge of the sky. There’s something in the way that makes it hard to directly feel anything. He is looking at the happiness of someone else’s body, and then back down at the happiness-shaped imprint on his own. The place where happiness is supposed to be, but isn’t, right now.

He tells Jon this. “I think I should feel something about this. I think I should feel something about you right now. It isn’t right that I don’t.”

(He just feels so hollow. He didn’t know absence could take up so much space inside a person. Right now, he is a tenant in his own head.)

“You don’t owe me anything, Martin,” Jon says, the steady vibration of words in his throat humming through the top of Martin’s skull. That sensation, the intimacy of it, is the closest Martin thinks he has gotten to feeling something today.

“I love you. You don’t have to answer that right now, but I just wanted you to know. When you come back, I’ll tell you again. As many times as you want.” The light stretches and slants as Jon speaks.

Martin is sometimes afraid that there is no back. There is no returning. It really does seem like this is all there is, this static on a broken loop and his mind slowing like the drip of a hospital IV. If that is true, then it’s not Jon, or even the feeling of happiness that is unreal; Martin is the imposter here. The magic trick, the illusion, the Eurydice caught between person and not. There is nowhere to go back to, because the emptiness is the only part of him that means anything.

(“I love you,” Jon had tried, over and over, achingly, the first time it happened, and finally Martin had screamed at him, “I love you can’t solve this, Jon!” They’d had a long conversation that night about love and illness and how sometimes he was so numb he could die from it. Since then, Jon only says the words because they are true, not as if they could save Martin. It might seem uncaring to anyone else, but it works for the both of them.)

I love you, Jon says now, like a fact, and Martin wants to say it back, he really does.

The figure in his head, the one that he has to believe he can go back to, tries to say it. But even in the isolation of his own mind, it only comes out as a faint I really loved you, you know. He doesn’t mean for it to mangle like that, the past tense of it softly mocking. He still loves Jon—that much is not an illusion. That much is also a fact. It’s the apathy again, leaching the feeling out of his actions and his speech. There is an I love you- shaped wound on his self and it is one he cannot quite reconcile with the love he knows he has for Jon. I really loved you, you know. And the version of me that loves you, that can love you, is still out there. Just not here. There’s all this untethered, inaccessible love here, Jon. I want to be able to feel it for you.

Jon falls asleep for a while after that. He’s still clutching at Martin, the weight and anchor of his body a welcome warmth. Martin stays awake, so he looks at Jon to fill the time.

Jon is rendered looser when he drowses. He’s more inexact somehow, edges less sharply defined and face slack, unreserved. It isn’t that he withholds on purpose, and especially not from Martin, but his defense mechanisms forget to reset themselves in sleep. It’s part of why sleeping next to him is an almost unbearable closeness all by itself—a reminder that he is trusted enough to see this. Martin reaches out with a hand, and is nearly startled when it brushes Jon’s face. He’d expected it to go right through him, for some reason. He isn’t sure whether he’d imagined himself or Jon to be the insubstantial one in this scenario, but in any case, his hand finds solid skin.

He touches his fill of Jon’s angular cheeks and cradled shoulders and pinned dark hair. He’s so beautiful, all of him. Aftershave and rooibos and oranges; it feels like a foreign landscape, but Martin is determined. He is relearning the things that make up Jon the way a man deprived of senses does.

When Jon wakes up—in fits and starts, squinting at the sun that is now slouching golden across the room—Martin embraces him and very quietly says that he’ll start putting the groceries away.

So they get out of bed together, even though Martin feels like he hasn’t walked in weeks. He lifts the bags off the counter to sit down and sort through them on the floor. It is the most human thing he’s done today.

Sorting is a quiet, menial sort of task that doesn’t require much thought, which is good, because his head is still weighted down with buzzing. He sits in the sunlight and lets the rice and orzo and tinned olives and fruit pass through his hands as he puts them on the shelves, thinking, our food, our sunlit kitchen, this is the home we have made. (I really loved you, you know. He can’t change the tense of it yet so he just repeats that word, love, until he can pretend to forget the context of it. No past, no future, just love, said like it would replace the emptiness.)

Afterwards, Jon makes them baked pasta with three different kinds of cheese. Evening paints the length of him glorious and blue. As Martin watches, he shreds thyme and basil and mixes breadcrumbs to cover the top layer the way Martin likes best; Jon, who is reasonably talented at yet notoriously opposed to the idea of cooking, does all this without batting an eye. Martin is sure he will feel something about this, too, later.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #magpod #my fic #depression /

[thecomicsnexus]

HOUSE OF X / POWERS OF X (TEN) #1-3 SEPTEMBER - OCTOBER 2019 BY JONATHAN HICKMAN, PEPE LARRAZ, R. B. SILVA, ADRIANO DI BENEDETTO AND MARTE GRACIA

SYNOPSIS (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

Part 1: "The House that Xavier Built" Somewhere, X (Professor X's mind is in Fantomex's body and wearing a different type of Cerebro helmet) watches over several beings emerging from cocoons. "To me, my X-Men" he says as they crawl towards him.

Starting five months ago, members of the X-Men began taking flowers from the island of Krakoa to various locations, notably Westchester County, New York, the Blue Area of the Moon, the Green Area on Mars, the Savage Land, Washington D.C., and the Jerusalem Habitat. Since then, they have grown into large bio-masses of plant life.

Now at the Jerusalem Habitat, several ambassadors arrive to the area, responding to a telepathic message sent by Charles Xavier to recognize a new sovereign nation of Mutants Krakoa. The ambassadors are met by the newly appointed Krakoan ambassador Magneto.

As Jean Grey leads the mutant residents of the X-Mansion to Krakoa, information is given through diagrams on the layout of Krakoa as well the main items of trade it produces: flowers designed for various purposes such as extending the human lifespan or creating portals directly to Krakoa.

Near the sun, spacecrafts approach the station known as "The Forge," home base of a human group called Orchis. Orchis is the self-proclaimed "last hope" for humanity, made up of various members of human organizations such as A.I.M., S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, Alpha Flight, and others, allied to prevent the extinction of homo sapiens to mutants. The Forge is based on the remnants of Sol's Hammer (a planet killer designed by The Illuminati during the lead-up to Secret Wars) and a Mother Mold (a Sentient machine designed to create "Master Molds" which in turn create Sentinels). Orchis was activated when Xavier's message went out to the world, seemingly a "trigger" for the eventual extinction of humanity.

Meanwhile, a team made up of Mystique, Sabretooth, and Toad infiltrate the base of Damage Control searching for information in the databases. While they get what they searched for, Sabertooth maims several guards in the chaos and is eventually captured by the Fantastic Four.

At the same time, Magneto leads the ambassadors through several worldwide Krakoan habitats, connected through portals. The ambassadors question the war-like capabilities of the instantaneous travel, which Magneto declares is instead of an "instrument of war" an "unassailable refuge." He also reveals that the ambassadors will not be going to the island of Krakoa, for "Man is not welcome there."

While the Fantastic Four are about to take away Sabretooth, Cyclops arrives to bring him back to Krakoa due to diplomatic immunity. While tensions arise between him and Mister Fantastic, Cyclops decides to leave Sabretooth to them to avoid a situation. While leaving, Invisible Woman asks if Cyclops and X are sure about what they are doing. Cyclops states that he believes in X and offers Invisible Woman's mutant son Franklin Richards a place to stay with his "family" on Krakoa before leaving.

Back with the Ambassadors, Magneto reveals to the Stepford Cuckoos that he is aware of the true nature of the ambassadors as potential plants within Krakoa (while hinting that one member has a true alliance to Orchid). While he claims he is not threatening them, Magneto declares that he wants humanity to understand that they "have new gods now."

Part 2: "The Last Dream of Professor X" Year One (The Dream): At a fair in Oxford, Charles Xavier meets Moira Kinross (eventually MacTaggert) who asks why he is smiling. Charles explains that recently, he has had the "most wonderful dream," of his place in a better world referring to the eventual creation of Xavier's School and the X-Men. Moira stops for a second, before stating "Well, here's the thing Charles... It's not a dream if it's real." Charles questions whether they have met before, which Moira responds to by asking him to read her mind. Charles reads Moira's mind, and his eyes go wide.

Year Ten (The World): In present day, Mystique and Toad arrive on Krakoa after the infiltration of Damage Control. Mystique takes the flash drive with their findings on it to X and Magneto, who enter it into a computer to view the contents.

Year One Hundred (The War): In a dark future Earth ruled by a man-machine called Nimrod the Lesser and his Sentinels, the remaining mutants on Earth are either those from before the current war or "Chimeras," mutants genetically-engineered by Mister Sinister to have multiple abilities at once. A small team of mutants led by a Chimera named Rasputin IV (who has the powers of Shadowcat and Colossus) escape from a group of Sentinels, but lose two of their own in the process, Percival is killed and Cylobel is captured. Cylobel is taken to Nimrod, who charismaticly apologizes to her for everything he has done, before trapping her within a experimental hive-mind creator, killing her. Rasputin and the remaining mutant Cardinal escape to arrive at their base through a Krakoan flower, where they are met by the only remaining mutant resistance, five others (four of which we see), including Wolverine and Xorn. Rasputin and Cardinal confirm their mission was not in vain, for they got what they were looking for, and Wolverine begins to lead them to "the old man."

Year One Thousand (Ascension): In the archive of Nimrod the Greater, a blue-skinned being known as the Librarian converses with Nimrod on the final fate of his hive-mind experiment, which proved pointless due to the 'surprising' final fate of the war. He then looks at a nature preserve where two nude human figures reside, reflecting that it is important to keep a record of "the great sins of history" so that "they never have Dominion again"

Part 3: "The Uncanny Life of Moira X" Moira I: Moira Kinross (later Cowan) lives an unassuming life as a teacher, with a husband and three children. Moira later passes away at 74 of natural causes peacefully.

Moira II: After her death, Moira suddenly finds herself back in her mother's womb with all memories of her previous life. Moira is actually a mutant and this resurrection ability is her power. While she conceals her nature as best she can, she is nevertheless considered a prodigy and decides to become an academic in biology and psychology at Oxford to understand what she is. After two decades of research, she spots her former classmate Charles Xavier revealing himself as a mutant on television. Realizing this is the key to her nature, she takes a flight to America that ends up crashing in the ocean, killing her.

Moira III: In this life, Moira instead decides to focus on anthropology and genetics and seeks out Xavier while at Oxford. However, Xavier's arrogance and Moira's distaste for her own nature leads her to decide to devote her life to creating a cure for mutation. She succeeds only for her lab to be destroyed and her colleagues killed by Mystique, Pyro and Destiny. Destiny's precognitive powers allow her to realize Moira is actually a mutant invisible by standard mutant detection methods. She warns Moira that if she ever decides to act against mutants again, Destiny will kill her before her X-gene activates at thirteen, which would kill her permanently. She also tells Moira that her powers are not infinite and that she will only have ten lives, or eleven "if [she makes] the right choice in the end". Destiny then orders Pyro to burn Moira alive slowly so that she will never forget this encounter.

Moira IV: Moira decides to throw herself headfirst into the cause of mutant-human co-existence and once again pursues Xavier at Oxford, with the two becoming lovers. They go through what is implied to be the pre-House of X history of the X-Men before finally being killed by Sentinels in a Days of Future Past-like future.

Moira V: Having become radicalized by the experience, Moira decides to meet Xavier even earlier and convince him to create an isolated haven for mutants. Nevertheless, the Sentinels eventually attack and exterminate Moira.

Moira VI: Not revealed at the time.

Moira VII: Moira forgoes science entirely and instead becomes an assassin dedicating her life to exterminating the entire Trask family so that the Sentinels are never invented. The Sentinels turn out to be an inevitable consequence of technological development and humanity's fear of mutants and thus once again exterminate mutantkind.

Moira VIII: Further radicalized, Moira decides to ally with Magneto instead of Xavier. They are both defeated by the combined forces of the Avengers and the X-Men and Moira dies during a failed prison escape.

Moira IX: Even further radicalized, Moira decides to ally with Apocalypse and go to war with humankind.

Moira X: Facing her last life and looking back at all her experiences, Moira decides that in this timeline, she and Xavier will "break all the rules." She meets Xavier in Oxford and tells him to read her mind showing him all she has done.

Part 4: "We Are Together Now, You and I" Year One: Professor X and Moira McTaggert visit Magneto on his island base in Bermuda. Professor X has come to mend the fences with Magneto and despite initially mistrusting him, Magneto agrees to open his mind to them. Moira reveals her true nature to him, giving Magneto a glimpse into her previous lives. Seeing the many ways in which he has failed, Magneto agrees to Professor X and Moira's proposal; a long-term plan to guarantee the future of mutantkind.

Year Ten: Magneto and Xavier show Cyclops the plans of a Mother Mold. They believe that it will usher in a new generation of Sentinels and that this is when Nimrod emerges. They order a strike on the Mother Mold, which is on a station orbiting the sun and Cyclops leaves to assemble a team.

Year One Hundred: Cardinal and Rasputin IV return successful from their mission, having retrieved an indexing machine which will allow them to know the location of key machine intel. Krakoa manages to successfully de-crypt the index, revealing the location. Wolverine's War form points out that the information is useless since they would have to hold off the Sentinels in order to access the information which would in turn be a suicide mission, but Apocalypse assures them that they will succeed as he will personally lead them.

Year One Thousand: The Librarian and Nimrod have been successful in their plan. In order to prove their value to the higher civilizations in the universe, they create a replica Worldmind which is found by the Phalanx who successfully consume it and come to Earth to find its creators.

Part 5: "This Is What You Do" Year One Hundred: As the Church of Ascendancy, an organization that is dedicated to the worship of the machines, is giving a sermon at the Temple of Concordance, the X-Men arrive and attack. Omega Sentinel watches from the Human-Machine Monolith and tries to convince Nimrod the Lesser of the need to investigate, but he refuses and dismissing the attack. Omega heads off alone to confront the X-Men where she and her squadron of Sentinels gain the upper head, prompting Rasputin IV to remove the mask of Xorn's Death form unleashing the black hole contained within his head, killing both the remaining X-Men and the Sentinels.

Meanwhile, Apocalypse leads Wolverine's War form and Cypher's Famine form into an old machine databank in order to retrieve an information crystal. They are successful in finding it, but are intercepted by Nimrod. Famine opens a portal for them to retreat through and Apocalypse stays behind to buy them time. War and Famine escape with Apocalypse seemingly succumbing to Nimrod. Back in the safety of Asteroid K, War releases Mother Akkaba, also known as Moira, from her stasis. He presents her with the information crystal, force-feeding the information into her mind. As per Apocalypse's request and with Moira's consent, War then kills Moira in order for her to start over again, now armed with the knowledge of exactly when in time Nimrod emerges.

Part 6: "Once More unto the Breach" Cyclops informs X and Magneto that he has assembled a team in order to attack the Mother Mold facility orbiting the Sun. Cyclops briefs the team, composed of Wolverine, Husk, Archangel, M, Jean Grey, Nightcrawler, and Mystique on their mission and they take off.

In the superhuman prison known as Project Achilles, a trial is being held for Sabretooth. The trial is interrupted by Emma Frost who presents the judge with a pardon from the U.S. Supreme Court along with all requisite paperwork as the U.S. government has agreed to a general amnesty for all mutants on American soil in anticipation of Krakoa becoming a sovereign nation. Despite the protests of the human officials at the court, Emma and Sabretooth are allowed to walk free and return to Krakoa.

On the Orchis Forge where the Mother Mold is being constructed, the human scientists detect that the X-Men are inbound. Nightcrawler is sent in for recon and encounters the chief scientist and Omega Sentinel. Omega Sentinel deduces that the X-Men plan to attack the control collars in order to send the Mother Mold hurtling into the Sun. The X-Men dock onto the station and begin drilling their way in. Realizing that their only hope of defeating the X-Men is an asymmetrical response, Chief of Security Erasmus sets off a bomb, killing himself and destroying the X-Men's vessel.

REVIEW

I am halfway through this story and I have to admit that is very intriguing and very inviting considering how unappealing the X-Men have been in the past decade (for me).

Hickman did an amazing job in world-building and I am assuming at the moment, retconing the X-Men in a very efficient way. With a script so tight, I shouldn’t make any judgements on the story yet (the review is split in two just because of Tumblr’s limitations), but Moira being a mutant that reincarnates in the same womb at the same date makes her a very important character (in case she wasn’t already). My theory right now, is that what we are seeing at the moment could be either her tenth or eleventh life. It is confusing to me, because the year one seems to be the present, but I was under the impression it was the past (it is the past as the present is year ten). Because the alliance between Magneto, Xavier and Moira seems to happen in year one, then that looks like her eleventh life (technically rebooting the X-Men inside the Marvel Universe). I will be probably proved wrong in my next post. But it is my running theory.

I am also glad I waited to read all this in one sitting. While the issues take a longer reading (due to world-building texts and infographics), it keeps you engaged all along, and surprises you a lot. Also, it doesn’t make much sense on the first and second chapters.

To be concluded...

#r b silva #marte gracia #pepe larraz #x-men #marvel comics #comics #review #2019 #post modern age #house of x #powers of x #powers of ten #moira mactaggert

[ohdeputy]

100 Letters PART V

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,513

Read on Archive

Part IV

-

“John, John!”

John’s heart dropped when he heard his name being called and squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself. After letting out a deep sigh, he opened them again and turned around to see Uncle approaching him.

“What do you want, Uncle.”

It had been another week or so without John leaving camp and he was slowly going crazy. He didn’t know if it was from feeling better and itching to leave or if his current company had finally made him crack.

“Oh, now don’t be like that! I actually had some information you might want to hear, considering you’ve just been sitting around since we got here!”

John couldn’t bear to listen to the old drunk. “Don’t talk to me about sitting around, old man. I know someone who’s quite good at that.”

“Hey, I do my fair share, like getting this information! So do you want it or not?”

John sighed, flatly responding, “what is it.”

“Well, see, Mary-Beth told me about this train,” Uncle shoved a map he seemed to materialize out of thin air into John’s hands. He carefully unfolded it, not sure where exactly Uncle had been storing it.

“I told Arthur about it but I’m not sure he was listenin’, you might convince him though. You two always did make a great team! It would be a good score, I’m tellin’ ya!”

John narrowed his eyes, “you just want the credit for it.”

“I just want to help out, is all!”

John sighed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so sour! Just think about it at least, jeez.”

“Fine.” John put the map away in his pocket, “I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything.”

Uncle wandered off while John thought for a moment longer. As much as he hated to admit it, it did seem like a good job. And with his lack of doing pretty much anything, he wasn’t in much of a position to be picky

So in the days that followed, John continued going over the map that Uncle gave him and trying to turn it into something feasible. Eventually, he started to believe that the idea had some potential. With something solid in mind, John was left with deciding who would accompany him to do the job.

His initial thought was Arthur, but he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need him, seeing as it probably wasn’t a good idea to get him involved.

He knew the job needed at least three people, so naturally Charles was his first choice. But as for a third, John had no idea who else he could bring. Javier would have suited the role, but when John asked him about it, the other man informed him that he was already preoccupied with a job of his own. Something about a farm robbery not far from where they stayed.

“Sorry compadre, you know I would run with you anytime.”

John assured Javier that it wasn’t a problem, though he was running out of options for other people he trusted well enough to partake in the heist. His mind wandered back to the one person he knew would be perfect. He cursed to himself, Arthur was the best suited to aid them. John knew it, and he couldn’t fool himself otherwise. Slowly accepting that, he concluded that he might just have to ask him.

John paced around the small area inside his tent, going back and forth in both his movements and his thoughts. If he was being honest with himself, he would prefer Arthur to take the lead for the train robbery, anyhow. He trusted the man could pull it off better than anyone else, including John, and would rather leave it in his hands.

Outside his tent, multiple voices could be heard, with Arthur’s mixed in between them. Thinking he might catch Arthur before he was absent from camp once more, he moved toward the opening of his tent. He didn’t want to give himself more time to think about the situation or back out of asking Arthur, so John quickly exited in search of where their conversation was taking place.

Upon leaving, he heard a commotion going on where the O’Driscoll boy they'd held captive was kept. Peering over toward the source of all the noise, John could make out Dutch, Bill, and Arthur surrounding the tied up man. John hadn’t really paid any attention to him until now, not even knowing his name. He avoided going near the O’Driscoll boy for the most part. Abigail had mentioned him a couple of times, saying she almost felt a little sorry for him. She had even admitted to giving him water when the weather had been particularly hot.

All John knew about him was that he was an O’Driscoll, a bit pathetic, and someone Dutch took pleasure in torturing. And as much as John didn’t want to admit it, the fellow kind of reminded him of himself. He thought of how Abigail seemed to have a soft spot for types like them, goddamn fools.

He watched the group as they harassed the O’Driscoll, John thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the best time to make himself known. Dutch motioned to Bill, who seemed all too pleased to oblige to whatever Dutch had proposed. Beside them, Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. It was clear he did not share the same enthusiasm as the others for whatever it was they were doing.

Only a moment later did Bill return with a pair of gelding tongs and a look in his eyes that showed he was enjoying this all a bit too much. Dutch proceeded to yank down the O’Driscoll’s trousers in humiliation then waved for Bill to come closer.

“You sick bastards!” The O’Driscoll yelled while struggling against his restraints.

Dutch paid his pleading no mind as Bill took his time inching ever so agonizingly slow toward him, snipping the tongs with every step he took. The O’Driscoll flinched each time, and even John could see him begin to tremble.

“Dutch,” Arthur rasped, wearing a frown, “do we really have to?”

Dutch didn’t even look as he responded, “patience, Arthur.” He had a glint in his eyes that made John shudder.

“Fine-FINE!” the O’Driscoll stammered out, his eyes tearing up. “I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Dutch laughed triumphantly, catching John’s eye as he did. Without breaking the stare he put a hand on the tongs Bill held out, lowering them.

“Awh, can’t we do it anyways, boss?”

“No,” Dutch spoke, a menacing smile pulling at his lips. “He has no sins to hide.”

John finally broke their eye contact, turning away from the group. He was aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest as he tried to walk away from the scene, suddenly finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. He could feel the sweat on his palms and rubbed them against his pants.

He retracted back to his tent in fear of meeting Dutch’s gaze again. The safety inside the canvas walls was short-lived when he heard a voice behind him.

“Enjoy the view, did you?”

John jumped, looking back to see Dutch standing at the entrance. Even though John was terrified of the man, he felt his cheeks grow hot from anger, angling himself away to avoid his stare.

When he didn’t answer, Dutch continued, “hmmm, I’m sure you loved to see that. Someone like you, that is.”

Still, John stayed silent. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an argument but also scared of what might happen if he did respond.

Dutch gave his lack of response little mind, only continuing to prod at John further. “It’s a shame Nico isn’t here to protect you any longer.”

John flinched when he said her name, clenching his jaw.

“No worries though, the O’Driscoll can be your new best friend. His name’s Kieran, by the way. I’m sure you’ll get along jusssst fine.”

Dutch dropped his smile, “anyways, I want you to go with Arthur, Bill, and that O’Driscoll boy to Six Point cabin. There is word Colm could be close.” He paused for a moment, “oh, and I want you to be the one taking Kieran on the back of your horse.”

John whipped his head to Dutch, not able to stop himself. He thought about protesting before he met Dutch’s icy stare. It bore into him, yet he swore he could see an underlying amusement there, too. It was as if he were purposely trying to rouse John into disagreeing with him. So instead John stood up, grabbing his gun belt and coat in compliance.

Reaching the tent's entrance, Dutch’s voice made him falter for a moment longer. “Birds of a feather, John. Who knows? Perhaps the two of you will run away together.” His voice lowered to that of a sneered whisper, “though, this time maybe it would be best if you didn’t return.”

Figuring he’d heard about enough, John pushed through the tent’s opening and hurriedly made his way to where Arthur and Bill waited. He was interrupted when Abigail came out of nowhere and practically jumped in front of him.

“John-where are you going?”

“Out.” He tried to move past her, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought maybe you could take Jack fishing, the boy wants to see you, John.”

He shrugged her off, “no-just-leave it be, woman.”

She didn’t try to stop him the second time as he walked away from her. He didn’t look up as he mounted his horse, his movements a little stiff as he did so. He was more than ready to get out of there.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Wasting no time, John helped Kieran onto his horse and spurred Old Boy toward the direction he was told to go. The others followed closely behind as the O’Driscoll led them along the path toward Valentine.

“Take a left up here,” Kieran pointed at an overgrown path exiting into a densely wooded area. John slowed his horse as the terrain became less regular. He could make out Arthur riding up beside him, who looked over at John.

“You alright, Marston?”

“Fine,” he answered while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The more distance John put between him and camp, the better he started to feel. It was nice to ride out together with the others and do something other than sitting around. He tried his best to push away his short interaction with Dutch. The things he’d said… John only just started to relax once his hands stopped shaking. He wanted to tell himself it was from anger but knew it was more than that.

Soon they made it to a clearing littered with tents and supplies, with a cabin at the far end. There was a smoldering fire with food and drink left out like it was only recently abandoned. Clothes hung on wires left to dry but even with everything going on there wasn’t a single person in sight. John sent Arthur a questioning look, to which the other man only shrugged.

“Whatchu expect, that we’d actually find Colm here?”

John squinted, suspicious as he scanned the clearing, “no, but I thought we’d at least run into some of his men.”

Arthur dismounted, everyone else following suit. “We should look around, maybe we can find some idea as to where he ran off to.” When Kieran didn’t move from his spot, Arthur gave him a stern look, “that includes you, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin before scampering after Bill to search the site. John only shook his head and pulled his rifle out from Old Boy’s saddle, slinging it across his shoulder.

“Nice new horse, by the way.”

John turned around to see Arthur still stood there. “Thanks.”

The two of them walked together toward the clearing in awkward silence. John thought back to the train heist and asking Arthur about it. Now was the best time to say something. He fidgeted with the strap of his rifle.

“There’s this train-”

“About the other day-”

They both cut off what they were about to say, waiting for the other to continue until a bullet whizzed by their heads and the conversation became an afterthought, their heads snapping to the source.

Bill ran to where Arthur and John stood, throwing himself behind a tree for cover, “get behind something, it’s a damn ambush!”

John ducked behind a log, clenching his rifle in his hands. He looked up just in time to see Arthur find cover behind another tree and immediately start firing his revolver. O’Driscolls appeared out of the woods, surrounding them. They were outnumbered but John was quite confident in their odds seeing as the rival gang was up against at least two adept gunslingers.

John peered over the edge of the log, locking onto one of the men and quickly releasing his breath as he pulled the trigger. He moved onto his next target before the first even dropped to the floor.

“Cover me, I’m gunna get closer!” Arthur called out before moving from his tree to a couple of crates not far from where John knelt. As he did, John quickly reloaded and stood to shoot an O’Driscoll who had the same idea of advancing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another appear from behind an old tent to aim at Arthur. The man’s intention was short-lived as he dropped to the ground a moment later and John reloaded a couple of bullets.

Steadily, they picked off the opposition until a few stragglers were left, who chose to leave with their lives rather than face the same fate as the others.

“Whoooie! Look at ‘em run off!” Kieran called out as the last few just made it out of sight.

“You’re quick to change loyalties from the men you once fought alongside, O’Driscoll.” Arthur searched the pockets of a fallen enemy, shooting Kieran a look of judgment.

“I keep tellin’ y’all, I ain’t no O’Driscoll.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, but John could see he wasn’t convinced.

“Nice shooting there, Marston.”

John only nodded his head as he scanned the ground. He turned over a container in search of anything worth taking.

“You had mentioned something about a train before, uh, you know.”

John looked up, “oh, yeah. Well, Uncle told me something ‘bout a train that’s gunna be heading through Scarlet Meadows real soon. It’ll be at night, not too heavily guarded from what I hear. It’ll be good, plus-” John cut himself off. Plus it would give me a chance to start doing something, he thought to himself.

“Hmmm,” Arthur scratched his beard, looking doubtful.

John got up from where he knelt, “we’ve done it plenty of times, it’ll be good money.”

Arthur squinted in thought “Yeah but… stopping a train? Pain in the ass.”

John was prepared for Arthur’s hesitation, having spent a while going over the plan in his mind. He continued excitedly, “sure, but what if we could force a train to stop.”

Arthur gave a chuckle, sarcastically responding, “well, of course.”

Arthur knelt beside another body to loot, assuming the conversation to be over. But John persisted, moving closer to keep his attention. “I’m serious, look, we get a wagon, a wagon full of something flammable-say oil. Put it on the tracks,” Arthur stood, nodding his head slightly as he listened to John.

“Only two choices, they know they’ll either have to stop or die.” When John finished Arthur looked at him, unblinking.

“So?” John continued, “you in?”

Arthur gave a breath of laughter to which John furrowed his brow in confusion, “that is… kinda brilliant.”

Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t that. He quickly avoided Arthur’s gaze, looking to the ground.

“Uh, for you that is.” Arthur cleared his throat, “you know, for someone who’s brain is half-eaten by wolves. But I think that’s the first time you came up with a decent plan!”

John rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, I’m serious! How did you manage to end up MORE intelligent!?”

John waited for Arthur’s chuckling to die down, “so we doin’ it then?”

“Sure, sure. But were gunna need ammunition, guns, and probably some dynamite to crack open that train.” He listed the items off with his fingers. John nodded along, “I can get those from town if you focus on getting us an oil wagon, I can go there now assuming I’m not needed here anymore?”

“Sounds like a good plan, Marston,” Arthur smiled. “You sure you don’t want to head back with us?”

“Nah, I only just got out of camp. I’d like to enjoy the serenity of being away from it a little longer.”

Arthur gave a nod of understanding, “sure, I get it.”

“Alright then, I’ll catch up with you later.” John started walking back to his horse as Arthur tipped his hat in farewell. When John knew he was at a safe enough distance, he let himself smile. As much as he knew he shouldn’t let it mean anything, a little bubble of excitement swelled inside his chest.

He rode Old Boy into town and straight to the gunsmith, picking up the necessary equipment to get the job done. He made sure not to forget the dynamite before leaving, too, as it would be crucial to their plan. After thanking the owner and heading back outside, he noticed that it had started to rain.

By the time John made it to the end of the street the rain turned from a light drizzle to what looked like buckets coming down. He made it to the hotel and ducked inside, shaking himself off a bit. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making John reconsider travelling back to camp.

“Can I help you, sir?”

John turned around to see a young woman stood behind the front desk of the hotel. He gave her a smile and a nod, “as a matter of fact, do you have any rooms available? I’ll take anything you got!”

The woman returned the smile, “why, of course! I’ll show you to your room, it’s just upstairs.”

John entered the room, making sure to thank the lady as he did. He looked around the room, it was quaint and small and not at all what he was used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in a proper bed, waking the next day with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He spared no time in making the trek out to the train tracks near Dewberry Creek. It was located some ways past camp, but John thought it was worth scouting out the area, so he headed southeast out of Valentine. He passed the opposite side of Citadel Rock into the open plains. The sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight, the rain from the day prior long gone. He breathed in, thankful for the warmth of the sun with the cool wind in the air. It was perfect.

By the time he arrived and studied the spot, the sun was hanging considerably lower. John aimed to find the best spot to ambush the train, eventually finding a dense cluster of trees just beside the tracks. When John was satisfied that this location was suitable enough, he began riding for camp. He was eager to return, wondering if he might go over more details with Arthur.

Upon his arrival back, John could smell the scent of stew being passed around for dinner. He quickly hitched Old Boy, not realizing until that moment how hungry he was. The usual bustle surrounded the stew pot as people grabbed a bowl and sat together around tables and tents. John strained to see if Arthur was amongst any of them, disappointed when he thought he spotted his blonde hair only to reveal Micah. He couldn’t help his face from twisting in disgust, disappointed to know of his arrival back.

“Looking for someone, brother?”

Charles approached John with two bowls of stew in hand, offering one to John. He took it gratefully.

“Yeah, have you seen Arthur around?”

Charles shook his head, moving to sit near one of the campfires. John followed, sitting across from him. He was thankful it was just the two of them.

“He left early this morning. Did you need help with something?”

John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Arthur was gone once again. He tried not to let it get to him, pushing it deep in his mind.

“Actually, Arthur and I are doing a train heist and I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll join us, too. We could use someone like you, Charles.”

“Sure, anytime.”

John smiled down at his stew, taking another bite.

“You seem surprised.”

John looked back up at Charles, “I suppose I am. You never hesitate to offer your help.”

“Only with those I find worth offering that help to. For you, it’s an honor. As honourable as you can be amongst thieves, that is.”

John raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting such high praise from someone like Charles, who he thought was better than any man he knew combined.

Charles continued, “it’s hard to find good people, and I mean wholeheartedly good people, John. I see it in Arthur, even though he doesn’t see it in himself… I saw it in Nico.” Charles looked up at John, “she always did try to look out for those she cared about.”

He paused, then gave a slight chuckle, “I see it in you, too. Though I have to admit it took me a little while to fully understand you.”

John let out a snort of laughter at Charles’ words. A moment later, the smile faded from his lips. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

When Charles nodded, he continued. “Why did you join us? Why did you follow Dutch?”

Charles steadily set his bowl down on the ground, then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I ran on my own for a long time. I did fine, too, but it makes life more difficult. The world is a lot crueler when you’re alone in it. I spent most nights worrying that someone might kill me in my sleep. Running with Dutch, well. Dutch is different. He treats me fair, he doesn’t see me for what others hold against me. Most of you don’t, so here I am.”

John nodded, swallowing dryly, “I see.”

He sat with Charles a while longer before departing for the night. He lay staring at his tent ceiling for what felt like hours. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Charles had said about Dutch. It was disconcerting. To be reminded of how deeply rooted people's faith in Dutch was. He wondered how someone like Charles could see such morality in John. And Arthur and Nico. Yet, he also trusted in Dutch. It made John feel sick, knowing the deceit that lay there instead.

He’d spent so much of his childhood seeking Dutch’s approval, to be praised by him. And what for? So he could fall in line with the others to be blindly shepherded along like lambs to the slaughter? Still, a part of him yearned for that validation. It was twisted, and cruel to subject himself to the thought, but it was present nonetheless. No matter how much he might deny it.

The following day there was no sign of Arthur. John didn’t expect to see him return so soon, but he had held onto the slightest hope that he might’ve been proved wrong. When one day turned into two, and two days turned into a week, John became anxious that Arthur wouldn’t come back soon enough.

John mostly preoccupied himself by going over the plan. He talked with Charles, too, which helped ease his mind slightly. After a few more days passed and there was still no word from their third party member, John started to grow a little annoyed considering the train was due in three days' time.

On the morning of the heist, John was pissed. The previous day, he ended up taking matters in his own hands by securing an oil wagon by himself as he felt he couldn’t trust Arthur in appearing out of thin air to say he found one.

John sat at his usual spot under the oak tree. He held a cigarette in one hand and the map Uncle gave him in the other. He looked over the marked X where the train tracks crossed over the road like he had countless times before. He had gone over the plan again and again in his mind, determined to do it right when the time came.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, thinking of how little his efforts were met by Arthur. He blamed himself for thinking they could do this. It was too good to be true, John knew that now. He just wished he didn’t try to trick himself into believing otherwise so that he would’ve saved himself the trouble of trying. That, and the sinking feeling he had since coming back from Valentine.

He folded the map up and stuffed it in his pocket, not paying attention to it anyways. He was angry with himself that he was so upset over the whole situation. He didn’t know what he expected to get out of it all. To try to be closer to Arthur? Physically, since emotionally was never an option. In all the past eight years that idea had never gone well. So John didn’t understand why he thought that could change.

John could hear indistinct conversation coming from the edge of camp, which he paid little mind in his deep thought. That was until he heard what he thought was Arthur’s voice reply. John’s head snapped up, thinking his ears may have deceived him. To his bewilderment, there Arthur stood in the flesh.

John took a long drag from his cigarette while he watched Arthur hitch his horse. As if he felt his eyes on him, Arthur turned his head toward him. John quickly looked away, scowling as he did. He heard his footsteps approach but still refused to look up when they stopped in front of him.

“Hey-”

“You never got us that oil wagon, did you.” John finally did look up at him, flicking the cigarette away after blowing out his last breath.

It took a second for Arthur to register what he said, “Ah, I’m sorry,” he gave a little chuckle. “I clean forgot.”

“Are you? Sorry?” John shook his head, “nevermind.” He stood, “it’s taken care of, anyways.”

He moved to walk past Arthur, “otherwise we’d miss that train.”

Arthur took the few steps with him, opening his mouth like he was going to say something then closing it. John stopped to turn to him again, “are you still interested in the job? Cause if not I’m sure I can-”

“I am.”

John nodded, “okay then. Well, good.”

When neither of them said anything further, John continued on his way.

“Er, Marston-”

John faced him again but didn’t say anything. Arthur continued, “thanks… for getting it, by the way.”

John stared at him without saying anything, he blinked and without thinking blurted, “maybe we shouldn’t do this job together.”

It was a joke to have thought he could work jobs with Arthur again. He thought perhaps things were good enough between them that they might be civil. But the tension was there already, and it would only continue to build. The two didn’t work well together anymore. John’s heart dropped at its realization and from the look of surprise on Arthur’s face.

“You take it. Get Charles and Sean or someone to go with you. You don’t have to give me a cut, either.”

“What, why? Is this because I didn’t get the damn oil wagon?”

John winced at that, “No. It wasn’t. But it was your job to get it.” He felt his frustration rise, like a fuse that had been waiting to be lit upon Arthur’s arrival.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy running all over the damn state. Perhaps you should’ve gotten it in the first place, seeing as you’re not preoccupied by much these days.”

John scoffed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Since when does John Marston finish anything he’s started. Maybe I will take Sean with me, seeing as he’ll be a good replacement for your incompetence to see things through!”

John raised his hands in frustration, “I’m not talking to you like this, Morgan.”

Arthur laughed dryly, “go on then, run away like you always do when you can’t handle it.”

John gave a look of disbelief, “are you joking? Can’t handle it? You’re the one who didn’t bother getting the damn oil wagon! I actually want this job, believe it or not!”

“Yeah? Well what’s it like being disappointed?”

Their yelling immediately ceased, the air growing quiet like the silence that follows the crack of a whip.

John blinked, “what?”

Arthur hesitated for a second before his features hardened, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t work together on this.”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur turned and walked away, leaving John behind in the quiet aftermath of their argument. Alone and with nothing but a boiling anger that grew inside him, John turned too, stomping off toward the direction of his tent.

Without stopping, he grabbed his coat and left again. He found Old Boy and mounted the horse, steering him out of camp. Spurring to go faster, he flew through the countryside. John didn’t know where he was going but knew he just needed to get away for a while. He didn’t slow his pace until he came up to the river. He didn’t recognize this part of the winding waters, making him realize just how far he’d gone. But he didn’t care.

He slowed Old Boy and launched himself off and paced on the sands of the river a moment. He wanted to scream from frustration, yell at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he picked up a rock and threw it into the water. Then he picked up another and did the same, repeating himself again and again. When he got tired of throwing rocks, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused for a moment, feeling the map. His fingers curled around it, then yanked it out. Without hesitating he ripped it apart and hurled it with all his might.

For all his force, the pieces merely fluttered around him, getting caught in the wind. They lingered briefly before a breeze swept by and took them away. John watched them go, and suddenly he was on the ground with tears streaming down his face. He didn’t know where it came from, but he couldn’t stop now that he started crying. The sand was cold and damp yet he continued to sit there, unable to move.

He wished he didn’t rip up the map, he wished he could put the pieces back together.

No. that wasn’t it. He wished Nico wasn’t dead. He wished what he and Arthur had wasn’t dead. He wished he didn’t fuck up every relationship he ever had. He treated Abigail poorly, and could barely look at Jack. John didn’t know how they all deserved to have someone as flawed as him. He thought he could move on, but it seemed he would be dealing with the repercussions of his actions for the rest of his life.

John held his head in his hands, gazing into the churning rapids of the river. He wondered when things got so out of control. It felt like just yesterday when he and Arthur were still kids doing nothing but spending their days never apart. Now John was so much older and alone, growing into someone he never wanted to be.

Night fell over the sky making the crickets song come to life and the stars flicker up above. John didn’t realize how long he had sat there until the evening had come and went. Wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat, he eventually stood. His bones ached once he got up, stiff from sitting for so long.

Old Boy grazed not far from the river, looking up when John walked over. He gave the horse a few pats, “sorry, boy. Let’s get you home.”

John retraced his way back to camp, this time much slower than before. He tried to collect himself along the way, finding it to be pointless as his heart was still heavy. He waved to Bill as he crossed over the border into camp, quietly hitching his horse and retreating to his tent. He took off his coat and crawled into bed, his last thought wishing the day had never happened.

#red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfic #john marston x arthur morgan #Arthur/John #arthur morgan/john marston #i know like nobody reads it here on tumblr but i thought i'd post it here anyways... #its even worse because tumblr took away the option to add the 'keep reading' break so thats great #nevertheless here ya go #if you're reading this and enjoying the story consider dropping by my archive and giving the fic a kudos! it would mean a lot :) #morston

[laughingpinecone]

Press Start letter

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

It’s a long list of character combos so the specific requests aren’t overly detailed, please draw at will from my general likes and general fandom likes in addition or as an alternative to any of those!

All requests are art or fic - for art, the stuff I like is the kind that depicts the characters doing something. I’ll always be happier with a very simple drawing of two characters walking together or sharing a cup of coffee than with an ambitious composition that looks like an Avengers poster. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s).

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships)

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, nerdy canon references, unrequested characters popping up

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay), canon retellings, consent issues

Dark Souls

I’m only familiar with the first game+DLC! It’s probably relevant to mention that I think that linking the fire is kind of a dumbass move and Gwyn is an ass, but on the other hand Kaathe has his own agenda and there’s no winning move in this world, or at least no obvious one. Feel free to deviate from anyone’s canon endings, to make things happen that’ll stave off their hollowing. I am interested in any of these people meeting and possibly striking up a friendship, and also in exploring Lordran’s temporal/dimensional fuckery, where it’s possible to meet people who have been gone for ages…

Group: Solaire of Astora & Siegmeyer of Catarina: so much fanart of Sun Bro & Onion Bro being bros, so little fic. And yet, the potential! How’d they bounce off each other, what about the fact that Siegmeyer is apparently a proper Catarina knight after all while Solaire just painted his self-made insignia and left, what would Sieg think of Solaire’s quest?

Group: Alvina the Cat & Sieglinde of Catarina: dunno, kitty. I love them both and I want everyone cool to go on adventure with each other. What’s left for Alvina now that Sif is gone, Artorias’ grave desecrated? For her part, did Sieglinde, you know, (mimics Ash Lake)?

Ghost Trick

I am very interested in various characters finding about the erased timeline, but not getting their memories back, and having to live with being told about what they did but never remembering it. Exploring the ghost lore is great. All what-ifs welcome (what if they managed an acceptable happy ending but didn’t reset the timeline, what if a different party went back to the past and kept their memories, what if Alma’s ghost stuck around…) Also open to AUs here, especially for generic fantasy or sci-fi settings or the Final Fantasy ones I prompted last Yuletide.

For the non-canon sides of Jowd/Alma/Cabanela, please no infidelity? I’d be good with either setting the fic during the game timeline or some what-if thereof when the other spouse is dead or unavailable, or simply keeping them offscreen and not mentioning them (eg Alma/Cabanela beach day, Jowd/Cabanela precinct shenanigans)

For Jowd in general, I do love my big boy and enjoy milking that size difference for all it’s worth. In gen contexts too, it’s neat. him big.

Group: Jowd & Yomiel: I’d love to read about the intimate understanding that comes from their shared memories and the horrors they’ve mutually forgiven (and a penchant for morbidity they’ve gained from such horrors probably). Cat dads things welcome.

Group: Alma/Jowd/Cabanela: maybe once Alma and Jowd have figured out he’s smitten and that they do in fact reciprocate... they tease him to death, slowly and deliberately? Is it even a Jowd romance if there’s not an exhausting amount of teasing involved, I ask?

Group: Alma/Jowd & Cabanela: Cabs’ life is wild; his best friends’ home is a safe haven...

Group: Emma & Pigeon Man: Emma’s unsuspected beta reader...

Group: Alma/Cabanela: (taps mic) legs. And fashion!

Group: Cabanela/Jowd: a recent tumblr post made a convincing argument for Cabs liking to be in charge (the argument is just pointing at Cabanela, honestly). Jowd is... agreeable, by his own admission. But is it that simple?

Kentucky Route Zero

I love the ending and I’d love to see its themes and setting explored. I’m all for exploration of any of the game’s themes and for including any staples from adjacent genres - wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I love AUs so that’s an option too. Or of course there’s Xanadu at the height of its glory, an infinite what-ifs generator. Were the requested characters part of it, what were their digital counterparts up to? A Xanadu narrative would be great! I’d also love to hear about any new spot along the Zero or the Echo river, or an expansion of some place that’s only mentioned by Will in HATATE or only gets a few paragraphs of text. Mostly, I just love all these characters so much and I’m going through the tagset’s options like a hyperactive cat. Any fragment of their lives will make me happy.

Group: Shannon Márquez & Conway & Conway's Dog: does Shannon get to see them after the ending? Even for a moment?

Group: Lula Chamberlain/Joseph Wheattree/Donald: so Lula went back to Mexico. Joseph is pensive. Did the events of the night shake up Donald, or what will it take?

Group: Junebug & Lula Chamberlain: artists! Outspoken... artists... with a complicated personality. Put them in the same room and...?

Group: Junebug & Johnny: where’s the strangest place they played in, and what did Johnny find there?

Group: Conway & Johnny & Junebug (Kentucky Route Zero): their story is about finding individuality, his is about succumbing and losing it. Would any of them pick up on this mid-Act IV? Or just... talking about limbs and stuff?

Group: Cate & Will & Shannon Márquez (Kentucky Route Zero): a few months later, Shannon finds herself on the Mucky Mammoth again...

Group: Carrington & Weaver Márquez & Shannon Márquez (Kentucky Route Zero): maybe the cousins were trying to bond or reminisce or whatever and Carrington dive-bombed into the conversation, but in the end it was an enriching experience... of sorts?

Group: Carrington & Lula Chamberlain (Kentucky Route Zero): I don’t usually look for college shenanigans but this may be the exception? Or Art Opinions?

Group: Carrington & Clara (Kentucky Route Zero): would she even... get a word in? Maybe with the right topic?

Group: Carrington & Cate & Will (Kentucky Route Zero): Mammoth life! ...what does theater have to say about mushrooms again?

Group: Shannon Marquez & Weaver Marquez (Kentucky Route Zero): at the end of it all, Weaver was waiting. After this end, they can stand side by side again...

Group: Emily & Ben & Bob (Kentucky Route Zero): so what does it mean, like, poetically, that they were temporally displaced and Act I is in their future from Act V? Is it possible they were not aware of it?

Mutazione

The island, the sense of community, newcomers joining the community, gardens and music... I love the mood of this little game. Got ideas for some part of the island we haven’t seen? What stories do they tell each other about Moon Dragon and the first days of the new life it brought? The plants encyclopaedia was great - do Yoké’s archives hide some other cool tome? Please, if Graubert is mentioned, I would much prefer a sympathetic portrayal - he’s got his issues but I felt that the game was much harder on him than anyone else.

Group: Yoké & Karoo: I love the friendship between Yoké and Nonno and filtering it through Karoo feels even cooler to me. When did the big spooky bird first visit, did Yoké know or perceive what was going on?

Group: Yoké & Claire: book club book club book club!

Group: Spike/Claire: they’re so cute! Dinner at Mori’s? Swimming together?

Group: Nonno & Spike: I love Nonno’s role in the community and Spike’s role in the community, and they’re the two people who landed there and decided to stay. Could they bond over this?

Group: Dennis & Nonno: Important Tree Health Business!

Group: Bopek & Jell-A: Jell-A is the absolute coolest and Bopek grew on me a lot. Their friendship is adorable! What could they do together? As a side note, Jell-A’s place has the tightest interior decor in the whole game. How’d that happen, and does Bopek get a flair for vintage shapes and volumes in his weaving?

Group: Mori & Nonno & Yoké: FRIENDS. Friends for a long time, through so much pain. An evening together while The Youths (tm) are at Spike’s bar?

Yoké: catch-all Yoké request because he’s my fave! Doing Yoké things, being a big nerd, caring for books and plants and stuff

Pyre

The burning found family feelings, the revolutionary passion, the tension between topside social constraints and the kind of freedom allowed by the Downside! Thoughts about finding oneself at  the end of an age, as everything crumbles down to form something new. I love all the themes, the solemnity, the heart of this game. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure. Out of the other triumvirates, I’m “love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. My main interest usually lies in post-canon exploration when applicable, but I’m also into various adventures during canon. Pick a location or a place outside the map and see what happens? As for the ending variables, I’d ask for a peaceful revolution and Oralech alive, but no preferences for who’s up and who’s down, pick whatever works best for any given plot bunny.

Group: Tariq & Soliam: what were Tariq and Celeste like in their earliest days? Were they made or summoned from some sort of preexisting star consciousness? They’re wildly different scenarios! I’m good with either. Does Soliam then see Tariq as a child of sorts, someone he made, or something greater than himself? Did he mean to do that, to have these two immortals around? What does Tariq learn from the First Scribe?

Group: Tariq & Dalbert Oldheart: Any excuse for Tariq to hang out with the Fates for a little while, and treasure and be treasured by dear Dalbert...

Group: Oralech & Vagabond Girl: after all is said and done, Oralech’s view of the Scribes is probably... understandably... dire. So of course I want to see him talk it out with ae!

Group: Celeste & Ignarius: look, listen, if the various triumvirates just camped out near their respective Scribe’s place during the Nightwings’ years-long absence (not the only possible explanation for how you find them all neatly lined up before the first lib rite, but an explanation nonetheless, I think. just let me have my crack), that means Iggy was Celeste’s neighbor for a long time. Neighborly hijinks please?

Group: Bertrude/Pamitha: Pam returning from her travels, again and again, and finding a home in Bertrude’s lab, finding an understanding there... Bertrude’s attitude being thorny in a way that’s just what Pam needs to allow herself to open up... also: snake kisses.

Group: Volfred Sandalwood/Oralech: waking up and remembering that the mourning that’s set deep in your roots is for someone who never died, waking up and remembering that the bitterness that consumed you had made up a betrayal that never was, finding each other through these crumbling walls... 

Molten Milithe: that’s the pov for a love letter to the Downside, right? And/or which Scribe did she bond with the most? Or the least for that matter?

Volfred Sandalwood: catch-all Volf’n’anyone request. I want to see our tree interact with any friend and foe you might fancy! Arguing for his beliefs, being a history professor through and through, finding himself in a tight spot and getting unexpected help, verbally tearing Brighton a new one if they ever cross each other’s path again...

group: Volfred Sandalwood/Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: Volfred’s zodiac sign is Cancer and Cancer is ruled by the Moon, so there’s that.    I love how they both hold the other in the highest esteem, especially on Tariq’s part since he’s the immortal Herald of the Scribes and Volfred is, all in all, a history teacher, but listen to him and you’d think the roles were inverted. I love my nonviolent canon but could anything happen to either of them that may require a rescue, and/or some good old-fashioned h/c? What’s something that could make Tariq of all people lose it? How’s life 100 years on?

Shenmue

This game cares for the little things. I’d love to see fanworks that try to out-slice-of-life canon...

Group: Qiu Hsu & Xianzi Bei: cormorant kung fu adventure! Do they hang out sometimes?

Group: Hazuki Ryo & Shenhua Ling: any moment, discussion, small adventure from their travels together! I love their bond! For all its waifufication of Shenhua, S3 really sold me on their friendship and a shared brand of dorkiness. Alternatively, sometimes I remember that they’d be 50ish in the present day - how and where do you picture them?

The Silver Case

I‘m all for the surrealism, big things being introduced and never picked up again, Rashomon’ing it up with six explanations for the same thing where no single one can be true, people dying and then popping up again like nbd...  maybe the thing I like the most is characters transcending their humanity and looming over the dystopian world like ominous avatars. Correctness’ first ending had me swooning, that kind of mood is unparalleled. I have played TSC, FSR and 25W so far and have vague memories of K7. I’m aware of the “everything’s connected” readings but that’s not my main interest in these games. For FSR-focused requests, I see Lospass as a real island but also a metaphysical  place of transformation first and foremost, where strange things happen that don’t make sense elsewhere.

Group: Toriko Kusabi & Remy Fawzil: What’s Toriko up to when she’s not chasing Chris? I think it could be fun to throw her at Remy and see the island from their point of view!

Group: Tokio Morishima & Edo Macalister: since Tokio stayed at the Flower Sun and Rain... I’m interested in peculiar happenings on Lospass that are not centered on Sumio...

Group: Tetsugorou Kusabi/Sumio Kodai: Tetsu picked one hell of a crush, huh! What’s it like in the aftermath of the games, when Sumio is Like That? How does Tetsu grapple with Parade? Is Tetsu an anchor of sorts for Correctness Sumio, who seems (at best) to be existing on a slightly different plane of existence at any given time and could disappear if you blink too hard?

Group: Tetsugorou Kusabi & Shinko Kuroyanagi: I’m joining the “let these two be foulmouthed friends” masses - who’d be more fed up with the other’s nonsense, and in which ways would they be an unstoppable team?

Group: Shinkai Tsuki & Tetsugorou Kusabi: Both of them end their stories in the shadows one way or another, and defending their protégé may have had a hand in their misfortune one way or another. What kind of understanding could they reach? What IS Tsuki up to anyway?

Group: Christina & Catherine: anthro Catherine, as per the Placebo bonus chapter Yami, was unexpectedly charming. What was Chris before reaching Lospass, and did he also have a chat with her on the plane or on the island?

#letter

[daturanerium]

i just finished season one of the magnus archives (here’s my livetweet thread) so here’s my discordant thoughts on the characters

jon

annoyingly stubborn

dramatic!!!!

was definitely That One Emo Theatre Kid in whatever britain's version of high school is

wants to know. everything.

fatal flaw: pursuit of knowledge. he can’t let a mystery go unsolved

please get some sleep baby you can solve the mystery in the morning

he’s so serious and awkward i adore him and i hope he remembers to take care of himself

martin

baby boy.....baby

consistently underestimated and underappreciated. give him a raise please elias he’s gone through hell

so full of love, even for people who don’t seem to love him back

i want to hug him

so intelligent, so thoughtful! always coming up with answers that no one else can think of

fatal flaw: self/preservation or fear. altho in his line of work i’m giving him a break

he’s got some big things ahead of him, i can tell. i hope that he gets some bomb ass magical powers or something because he really deserves it

sasha

ive known sasha for a week and a half but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself

speaking of........what the hell happened during the finale i’m Worried

she’s so caring and protective. i feel like she’s the “hold my flower” member of the archive (jon or tim is the “kick his ass baby i got your flower”)

fatal flaw: curiosity. at least she’s aware of it?

i literally love her

looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll (but will also kill you)

so strong. so smart. 

im love her and i hope she’s okay

elias

okay shifty capitalist motherfucker i see you

i don’t actually think he’s gulity of anything tbh, just a victim of circumstance trying to do his job and keep it

fatal flaw: submissive towards authority. spill the secrets buddy we gotta know

“but the funding”

i think his heart’s in the right place. i just hope he realizes there are bigger things than rich people and even the archive.

tim

pure of heart, dumb of ass

frat bro!!!!!

super friendly

EDIT: i made a joke about tim having cishet energy but i’ve since been informed that he’s canon bi which is awesome! 

just doing his job, man

hey jon the boys and i are gonna go crack open a cold one later, wanna join? you’ve been stuck recording in that office for hours mate you need to get out and do something

he really genuinely cares about his friends and he’s so sweet

fatal flaw: inability to read the room. bro i love u no romo but u gotta learn to Read The Signs

such a dork

definitely going to get possessed at some point

jane prentiss

it is every sapphic’s duty to fall in love with an eldrich horror and jane is mine

her monologue/statement was so good that i’m doing it for speech this year. thank you irl jonathan sims for being a fantastic writer

so spooky......so curious........so dark.........so endearing

please tell me about the song and the nest and the itch. i’m so genuinely interested in her story and i hope we hear more from/about her because i still have Questions

every time i picture her it’s in the style of the scary stories to tell in the dark illustrations

ugh god such a good antagonist.....this is so good

mary and gerard key

during the first description of mary i was so impressed with her lifestyle and general presentation.....she was really living her best life. until it was revealed that she was not actually alive. but still

gerard you little shit, planting all these things for the archivists to find. who are you

side note but i thought his name was “jared”. i’m trying to not picture another famous gerard but i’m seventeen. what can you do.

they’re definitely working for some outside force, or maybe they Are the outside force? either way i’m intrigued

(predictions for season two and beyond under the cut)

general predictions for season two and beyond:

i’ve managed to avoid spoilers a lot better than i usually do, but i think there may be something to do with avatars for gods or something? anyway jon’s god is knowledge-based and sasha’s is strength-based. elias may be conman/trickery-based? martin is his own seperate being entity thing, i can’t see him fitting into any typical categories yet. 

oh actually it would be really cool if martin was tied in with the god of death? it kind of fits him, idk how tho. he’s just so sweet and kind and that matches the casual comforting neutrality of death.

actually maybe not because we’ve already met death and it’s just a bunch of reapers that were dumbasses in life, oh well (i’m still gonna keep it in on the off chance something happens with it)

jon takes a nap (unlikely, but i can dream) 

that shipping company that keeps popping up definitely delivered that lighter to jon. don’t know what the lighter means but i’m excited to figure it out

jonmartin endgame

sasha is either possessed or has been completely erased by a copy. my guess is that she’s stuck in a time loop that was created when she touched the hypnotizing table, although how that happened is just about anyone’s guess.

gertrude was killed by gerard key, who, in his Infinite Knowledge of Plot and How The World Works, knew that jon needed to be the head archivist for things to work out the way he and his mother want it to. the keys are beyond time.

martin lives in the archive because he actually kind of likes it there??? even tho he had a traumatic event with worms and jane and finding the dead body of his old boss in the basement

i’m really interested to know what jon was up to before he worked as the head archivist. i feel like that’s kind of important and relevant? if it’s not now it will be in the future

elias has to pick a side: jon and the truth or the “funds” and the government. i hope he makes the right one, but plot and conflict is also important and i can totally see him becoming the Imposing But Apologetic Lawful Antagonist

idk what the gods thing is (if it even is something?) but i’m pretty sure one of them has to do with eyes/watching, and my guess is that it’s the one having to do with knowledge. and while i’m here i’m also going to go out on a crazy limb and say that gerard and mary work for it, whatever the watching thing is. that’s how they know where to be at the right time.

there’s another group of people that work on things like the archive does--they’re just a little more....casual. idk if you all are/were supernatural fans but i’m thinking that the magus archive is the men of letters to this other faction being hunters. they split off after elias’s rules became too stifling, and they sometimes get there before the archive knows about the situation (like in ep 36, taken ill, or episode 8, burned out. altho ep 8 was with gerard, so maybe he works with them sometimes? idk)

sasha gets better but a sacrifice has to be made to save her. martin, to everyone’s surprise, offers. 

i’m so excited to listen to season two oh my god this show is fantastic

#the magnus archives #tma #tma season 1 #jonathan sims #i've managed to keep myself from the tumblr tag but god.....it's tempting #feel free to reblog with cryptic laughter but please don't actually spoil anything!

[raendown]

My piece for a private ShikaSaku exchange, prompt from @chinarai. I had a small panic a few days ago when I realized I had finished this and then promptly forgotten it for about a month. xD That’s what happens when you work on too many things at once!

Pairing: ShikamaruSakura Word count: 5582 Rated: T+ Summary: A retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth in which tales depicting the beauty of Spring have spread even to the underworld where they catch the attention of one who rules in the shadows.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Equinox Absconding

i.

He’s hiding up in the branches of an apple tree covered in reluctant blossoms when they meet for the first time. Sakura isn’t sure what it is about the blossoms on the tree that put her in mind of reluctance, perhaps the way most of the petals have only half opened with many trying to curl back in to slumber, but it seems appropriate considering the sulking expression on the young god looking down at her. The shadows at her feet twist and snap with the desire to reach for the trunk but she holds them back for fear of withering even such a sleepy tree.

“Abed at noon,” she notes. “Except you appear to have misplaced your bed.”

“It’s my garden, I can sleep wherever I want.” The young god watches her from one eye, allowing the other to fall shut as though he intends to take half a nap.

Sakura whispers to her shadows to soothe them as she tilts her chin up to get a better look at this young man’s face. The God of Spring if she isn’t mistaken. Rumors rarely make their way to her in the underworld where she reigns but this man, this young god with his beautiful face and lazy flowers growing in his hair, she has heard of him more than once. They say he is divine to behold and that much is true, she thinks. But they also say that he is lazy and Sakura thinks with no small amount of amusement that rumors are always grounded in at least some truth. Nothing she has heard of this man has proved unfounded.

Under the looseness of his muscles where he lays draped between the branches, however, the one half-lidded eye that watches her is sharp with an intelligence that doesn’t just pique her interest – it holds her captive in the most wonderful of ways. She’s always appreciated a man with a proper head on his shoulders.

Mortal men are always such predictable disappointments in that area, feeble minds saturated with undeserved pride and always falling prey to one vice or another.

“Have I your permission to enter this garden?” Sakura asks. Being polite is as foreign and awkward as any other social interaction after the long seasons of being sequestered away with only the dead for company but even she knows that manners will get her farther than demands or flexing her muscles. It’s a disappointment to see one of his eyebrows quirk ever so slightly in a forbidding manner.

“No. Entertaining company is bothersome and all I want to do right now is take a nice long nap. The gardens are closed today.” With that he closes his second eye with a deliberateness that speaks to dismissal and Sakura is left gaping up at him.

“As you wish,” she murmurs.

It’s more shock than anything else that he could deny her so easily and for such a flimsy reason that has her bowing and turning away. To disrespect a fellow god in their own territory where their powers are strongest would not be the wisest course of action. Sakura isn’t stupid by half and she knows the tactical advantages in a well-timed retreat, how to use that time given to regroup and make new plans.

 ii.

Only a month passes before Sakura finds herself once more standing at the entrance to the gardens brought forth by Yoshino, the Goddess of the Harvest and Fertility, to keep her son pleased and encourage him never to leave her side. Such strong maternal love isn’t something Sakura experienced for herself but she can imagine from the way the God of Spring gazes longingly in to the distance that it must be a heavy and suffocating burden to bear. Oh the things she would do to lift the burden from those drooping shoulders.

And the many more things she would do to keep those piercing eyes fixed on her and nothing else.

“I see that today is not a day for idling in the treetops,” she notes upon finding him spread out on a rock with his face tilted up to feel the sun’s warmth. Something in the languid lines of his body reminds her of a coiled spring. How fitting.

“Broke one of the branches,” he admits. “Mom was furious. She won’t let me back up there until the tree has healed and it’s way too troublesome to fight with her.”

“Are you often at odds with your matriarch?”

Instead of answering the young god sits up, sending a thrill down Sakura’s spine to have his full attention seemingly so easily, but then he frowns and cocks his head to one side in curiosity. “Your speech is ancient. No one talks like that anymore, you know that right? It makes you sound really stuffy.”

“You will find, I think, that I am not nearly so stuffy as you have judged me.”

Injured pride ripples through her and demands that she protest harder, prove herself to this young stripling that insults her so easily, but Sakura only breathes deeply and holds her temper with great effort. She can tell he’s aware of the blow he struck by the quirk of his lips. Anger aside, it is a triumph to have made him smile even if doing so was at her own expense. With his dark hair and all the secrets hiding behind that shadowed smile Sakura cannot help but think that he was born to follow her in to the underworld. Born or molded; it’s hard to tell with all the shenanigans that go on when the other members of the pantheon start mucking about with each other, a madness she prefers to stay well away from.

“Who said I was judging you? All I said was that it makes you sound stuffy. It was advice, just in case you make a regular habit of going around and chatting up whatever men you find stuck in trees.” He arches one eyebrow and Sakura can feel the still heart in her chest crash painfully against her ribs. His face is all angles and each one of them is more beautiful than the last.

“Have I your permission to enter this garden?” she asks, feeling much more confident of his good will this time. Which is what makes it such a shock to once more see him closing his eyes and laying back down with a shake of his head.

“Nope. I really do just want to nap. This place is so boring.”

Sakura thinks she could make any plane of any world less boring for him if only he would let her try but she is the queen of the dead; despite her temper she is well aware the benefits to be found in patience.

“As you wish,” is all she says as her shadows twist and reach – and she is gone from the gardens a moment later.

 iii.

They meet.

 iv.

And they meet.

 v.

And they meet again, always in the garden where he denies her entrance. By the third time she suspects that it is for no reason but his own amusement and by the fifth time she knows from the smile in his eyes as he catches sight of her yet again. Sakura thinks to herself that she would act all kinds of a fool to have that smile catch her in its light.

Today she is asked for no foolery but instead is greeted with a bit of laughter as the young god leans back against the branch he has settled himself on.

“You don’t give up, do you?” he calls down.

“I have been called tenacious by many,” she admits. Then with a teasing smile she adds, “Hardheaded by many others.”

“Troublesome.”

Laughter in his voice tells her that, although he may declare her troublesome, that does not mean he finds her unworthy of his company. As evidenced by the way he seems to pause and wait for the question she has asked him several times before. Sakura wonders why he appears eager to send her away so quickly this time but it is not for her to ask such things, only for her to say the words he so clearly expects.

“Have I your permissions to enter this garden?”

“Sure.”

Sakura blinks, a momentary pause that she recovers from quite nicely, in her opinion. Within seconds she is at his side as he heaves himself up like the effort will cost him a millennia of his life span and then they are walking. Each footstep touching upon the earth deliberate and slow. Sakura thrills to be so close to the one who has captured her interest so thoroughly.

“My name is Shikamaru,” he offers and it isn’t until he does that she first realizes she’s been avoiding using his name even in her thoughts.

“And mine is Sakura, queen of the damned, keeper of the gates to Tartarus and goddess of the underworld, tasked with guiding dead souls who have crossed the river Styx. It is my infinite pleasure to make your acquaintance.” For a moment she considers bowing but there is only one to whom she has ever bowed and, despite being the ruler of Olympus, Kakashi mostly doesn’t care for that sort of thing anyway.

“I already knew all that,” Shikamaru points out.

“Permit me this one chance to brag,” Sakura jests. “I so rarely meet any of the living that I haven’t before.”

For whatever reason her companion seems to find this incredibly amusing, poking gentle fun at her for being boring and a shut-in as they wander through the trees and the flowers that make up the garden where he spends his time. Sakura gives in after several minutes and points out that he counts as the same, no matter that his domain is infinitely prettier than her own. The brief wrinkling of his nose is enough to tell her that his stationary habits are less of his own desire and more due to outside restrictions.

She doesn’t think she is very far off the mark for guessing his mother as the cause.

Together they wander among the gardens, talking as easily as though they have known each other for eons, and Sakura makes careful note of every reaction to every mention of Yoshino. It wouldn’t do to act before she is sure – but by the time she leaves the garden she is more than sure.

And she is already making plans. It simply won’t do to allow Shikamaru to continue on in this stifled existence.

 vi.

With a knowing look on her face Sakura looks Shikamaru directly in the eye as she steps in to his garden without asking permission. He shakes his head and turns away but she catches sight of the smile on his face and that is all the confidence she needs to stride boldly forward where she now knows she is more than welcome. Shikamaru gives off a rather ostentatious sigh and mumbles just loud enough for her to hear about bothersome guests and all the trouble it would be to evict them.

Sakura draws her shadows in close as she bends to admire some of the flowers growing near her, wisteria of the softest purples she has ever seen, and does her best to project a casual air when she speaks.

“I have often thought that my domain could use such colors but alas, I’ve no talent for growing myself. The touch of Death affects all mortal things.” And oh how she is grateful not to have given her heart away to a mortal. Too many times she has greeted the victims of that chaos at the gates of the underworld to ever become embroiled in the same idiocies.

“Are you trying to be subtle?” Shikamaru asks. “Because it’s not working.”

“Has my lack of subtlety affected your answer in any way?”

“Well I feel a bit more like laughing at you.” He grins and reaches close to her to pluck a gardenia close to the blossoms she had been admiring. It twirls between his fingers like spring on spring, growth in the hands of growth, and Sakura admires the petals’ dance while picturing the two of them dancing the same.

How ethereal he would look with that long hair of his let down to flow around his shoulders, a crown of bones to match her own all woven through with the flowers and fruits he holds such a deep connection to. Even her own hair, an ironic pink that stands out so stark against the darkness of her domain, cannot hope to hold a candle to the delicate shades of red that splash over Shikamaru’s cheeks when he catches her watching him so closely, hanging on his every word with genuine interest. His mind is as beautiful as the solid lines of his body and his conversation is as riveting as the depths of his deep, dark eyes.

Sakura looks upon her chosen and thinks to herself that he has eyes that were made for the underworld.

“You are not happy here,” she guesses. Shikamaru huffs.

“Mother’s always on about ‘do this’ and ‘do that’ or ‘you’ll never make a proper god unless you work hard at it’. It’s all so boring.”

Daring to brush his fingers with her own, Sakura holds her palm just out of reach of the delicate flower in his grasp. “If you would allow me to, nothing would please me more than bringing you to a place where I believe you could be happy.”

“Sell me on it,” Shikamaru laughs.

“You need be nothing but what you already are – for who can improve upon perfection?” He laughs again when she winks playfully, one of her shadows coming up to tickle his chin. “A garden for your very own to make of it what you will, a palace of bone and fertile earth for you to grow and fill and call your home. A place at my side. Imagine, sweet Spring, the many eons you can spend dozing to your heart’s content in the warmth of the underworld with your head pillowed on my lap.” There are other things she has to give yet not many that she thinks might impress him. A greedy human, perhaps, might have been taken in by the endless riches she has collected over the millennia but Shikamaru is different from them – he possesses an actual brain in his head.

“Hm, is that all? I have a place to grow here, you know. Maybe not a palace but I make due.” He is only teasing, she can see that he has already been won over. Still she turns her body to face him and steps a little closer until her diminutive size demands that she tilt her chin to look up at him through her lashes.

“Books,” she whispers. “Entire civilizations that have risen only to fall, knowledge lost to all who walk the surface of the earth, tomes no mortal eyes have ever gazed upon. All of these I have read before and would be most happy to discuss with you once you have devoured them for yourself.”

No beast or creatures, no man or woman or god of any pantheon, none have ever looked at her quite like Shikamaru looks at her then, with joy in his eyes and the rapture of finding home.

Sakura finds that the feelings under her breast are so large that she cannot contain them without some form of expression. She delights in the look of wonder Shikamaru gives her as she turns and crashes her fist in to the earth, cracking it open until a great chasm stretches out before them. When she rights herself again she delicately brushes the dirt from her knuckles before turning to offer her hand to the god she is sure in the deepest reaches of her heart is meant for her and her alone.

“Come with me,” is her siren call.

His fingers slide in to hers with a mischievous smile and she is falling in love all over again.

 vii.

Shikamaru glows in the darkness of her lair. For all that his hair is as black as the earth around him Sakura cannot help but think that he brings light in to every room he wanders through, breathing life in to the afterworld in a way that leaves her desperate for more. Never in her memory has she craved the company of another quite like she does with Shikamaru.

His eyes are curious and for the first time since they met his body in anything but languorous as he wanders from one end of her palace to the other. His fingers test the soil where she has promised he may grow his garden and his pulse jumps in his throat to find the library, seemingly endless rows of priceless tomes, all of them just waiting for his eager mind. When he comes to a door that is plain and unremarkable he notes the anomaly and reaches to open it – only for Sakura to gently lay a hand over his and shake her head.

“Unless you wish to greet the souls of the dead I would advise another path.”

“Don’t want me to know every part of your life?” he asks. “And here I thought you trusted me.” The words are playful but the tone running under his voice is steel, coiled in a spring and ready to burst, ready to leave if he decides that she is not quite what he thought of her after all. The thought rankles and Sakura wrinkles her nose at him with little dignity.

“I thought only to spare you but if you are so determined to gaze in to the void then be it on your own head. Know, however, that if madness touches you it will be my head your godly mother seeks vengeance from.”

“Oh come on, she won’t hurt you. I mean she would try, obviously, but I don’t think she’d get much of a hit in on you.” Without so much as breaking expression his eyes drift down to openly admire her biceps. Sakura looks away and pretends not to be affected, hoping the warmth in her cheeks doesn’t show.

Completely contrary to what she expects, it turns out that she has worried herself over nothing. The door opens and Shikamaru steps through the door to see the truth of her rule stretching out before him, pits and towers and endless fields of eternal souls despairing and rejoicing and holding tightly to the memories of their transient lives, an intricate tableau of the mortal experience that no one but Sakura has ever truly appreciated before.

All it takes is one look at him face to know that Shikamaru appreciates it. There is a beauty to be found in such raw emotion and as his entire being lights up with wonder Sakura feels her chest swelling with pride, with joy, with so many emotions she cannot hope to name them all. Finally she is not alone. At last she is not the singular freak set apart from all the rest, the only one to see what the rest of the world refuses to even consider. So many humans have asked the question of life after death and yet the heroes that come pounding against her gates thinking themselves clever and brave look only once before recoiling and Sakura knows that they don’t see. They look upon death and think it an end.

Death is only the beginning.

Shikamaru’s fingers reach for hers as though unaware of their own movements and his flesh is warm when he gently guides her against him.

“I can say you’re not a liar,” he admits and Sakura tilts her head in question.

“While that is true I must admit that I do not see the relevance.”

“You said you would show me a place where I could be happy.” He turns to meet her eyes and the world itself falls away from her feet at the depth in those dark irises. “Well you were right. I could be very happy here.”

Daring to reach further, Sakura lifts her other hand to caress the side of his jaw. “Will you stay?”

She can see his answer in the way he bends down to meet her, the way he presses his body against her own. In his voice she finds the only nirvana she has ever thought to dream for.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I will stay.”

Happiness is having her very own dream come true press a kiss against her lips that tastes like freedom.

 viii.

“Will you be missed?” she asks him after several days have passed. Shikamaru gives a lazy shrug and buries his nose deeper within the book he’s been engrossed in for the past several hours.

“My mom’s probably looking for me.”

“Should I worry?” Sakura asks, her fingers in his hair and her mind’s eye fixed on visions of a future where she and Shikamaru languish side by side for all of eternity.

Turning another page, her companion shrugs again. “Dunno. If she never thinks to look for me here then we’ll be fine.”

“Ah. Good fortune, then, that I was careful never to visit with the threat of witnesses hanging about.”

Sakura smiles to herself with a smug air and plucks a grape from the plate at her side. After much taste-testing of her own she can vouch that they are juicy and ripe, perfect for temptingly pressing one against Shikamaru’s lips until they part with a smile to accept her gift.

The feeling of his lips lingering on her fingertips is enough of a distraction that the issue is put out of her mind then and there in favor of more interesting thoughts.

 ix.

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

Yoshino watches the god before her lift his proud chin and it takes everything in her not to snap, not to show this petty child the true meaning of rage. She needs the answers only he can give her and it simply won’t do to anger him. Not yet.

“You are the All-Seeing,” she says. “What boon you would have of me I will freely grant you in return for your wisdom. Turn your all seeing eyes to the earth, I beg you, oh God of the Sun. I seek no more than the location of my most beloved son.” Pretty words and a promise she has no intention of keeping but Yoshino will let worst pass her lips to find her missing child. Shikamaru belongs to her and her alone.

“Any favor at all?” Neji turns the offer over in his mind. His lavender eyes turn towards the earth but his expression is thoughtful still as though he has yet to decide.

“Whatever your heart desires.”

She does not expect him to snort derisively. “You have the power to grant nothing that my heart desires – but I would very much enjoy knowing that you owe me, petty Goddess of the Harvest.”

It takes almost more effort than she is capable of giving to grind her teeth and remain silent, bowing her head as though humble and willing to serve in whatever small way he asks. For Yoshino is certain that the god of the sun can think of only small things. Surely his mind cannot be anywhere near as sharp as her own and therefore must be small and dull in comparison. It truly is a shame that she, of all the gods, was graced with the most intelligence on top of the most beautiful child. What would the world be like if she weren’t so alone in all her glory?

Neji interrupts her musings with a flat look that makes her think he is more than aware of what occupies her mind.  

“Your son is not on earth.” When Yoshino protests he rolls his all-seeing eyes and interrupts her once more. “He is, by means unknown, currently deep in the underworld with the Goddess of Death at his side. And with that I have fulfilled my end of this bargain. Remember that you owe me a favor, which I will collect at my leisure.”

“How am I to remove him from the underworld!?” Yoshino demands. Anywhere on earth would have been preferable but the domain of the dead is not in her purview. Her flowers and vines and growing things cannot reach for Shikamaru there to pull him back to the place where he belongs and she knows very well that such a stubborn boy will need a good deal of pulling.

“That is not my problem,” Neji reminds her. Then the sun god turns away and snaps the reins of his chariot to continue on his journey across the sky.

Yoshino is left alone with a coldness in her chest she has never felt before and a realization. Always has she taken it for granted that her child will be with her, her perfect progeny, and always has she assumed that she knows what is best for his happiness. Shikamaru is her son. He is her flesh and blood. It has always seemed immutable to her that there can be no place where he is happier than by her side and the very thought that she may be wrong in as inconceivable as the notion that she, an immortal being, may one day see the ravages of aging.

It is with practiced ease that she dismisses such unwanted thoughts. They do not make her happy and thus she feels no need to think on them any further, not when there are many more important things to consider.

Such as how to lure her son away from that dark and dismal hole where the God of Spring can never belong.

 x.

Months have passed before the messenger of the gods appears to bring Sakura out of the haze of ecstasy that is Shikamaru. Long months filled with happiness no matter that she struggles to find a balance between attending to her duties and attending the one who captures her heart more and more with every day. Much as she is fond of Olympus’s messenger, Lee is still an unwelcome sight. He can only be here with purpose and whatever that purpose is by necessity must take her away from Shikamaru’s side.

Lee hasn’t even the grace to look ashamed of interrupting their calm revelry and so Sakura doesn’t bother to grant him the courtesy of rising from where she is lounging against her companion’s chest while he absently runs fingers through her hair, tracing the petals of a flower he invented specifically for her. The moonflower grows only in the garden she gifted to him.

“Who sent you?” she calls lazily across the room. Lee grants her a beaming smile, ever full of more energy than anyone else around him.

“Kakashi!” he cries. A favorite of all, Lee has never known formality in his life.

“And what news has the father of us all to share?”

“No news! A plea!” Clearing his throat, Lee strikes a pose. “The ruler of Olympus begs pardon for interrupting your leisure and beseeches you to please do something about the crazy goddess who set eternal winter upon the land!”

Both Sakura and Shikamaru are sitting upright in an instant with dual cries of “What!?”

“Yosh! The Goddess of the Harvest has declared eternal winter in the throes of agony at being separated from her beloved child! In his wisdom, Kakashi asks that you return Shikamaru to his rightful place!”

“His rightful place,” Sakura snarls, “is wherever he is most happy.”

Rather than argue with her, Lee strikes yet another pose and presents her with two thumbs up. “I have fulfilled my duty!”

With that he turns and races out of the building with a burst of inhuman speed. The divine couple watches him go with no small amount of exasperation and, despite her shock at the news just delivered, Sakura finds a moment to shake her head in mild disbelief.

“Gifted with winged sandals and still he insists on running everywhere.”

“I have to go back to the surface.”

Sakura’s head snaps around to stare at her companion with wide eyes. “You have to do nothing but that which pleases you!”

“And it would please me if the earth wasn’t dark with winter the whole year round.” With a sigh Shikamaru leans closer and touches his forehead to hers. “I want to stay here. You know I want nothing more than to stay here with you. But I am Spring and I can’t sit by knowing that she’s denying the purpose I was created for. I would survive but what kind of existence would it be to see my purpose fulfilled? What if you never guided another lost soul in to the afterlife?”

“Yes, I see your point,” she admits reluctantly. Her eyes close for a moment before she opens them again, greedy for one more chance to memorize his beloved features. “If you must go then know that I will think of you always.”

“Well I never said I was leaving forever.”

Shikamaru winks and Sakura realizes with weighty relief that he has a plan. Never has she been happier that she fell in love with one who carries more than two brain cells to rub together.

 ∞.

The garden is familiar yet not nearly as warm as she remembers, not with Yoshino’s eyes watching her with heavy suspicions. Sakura wonders whether her fellow goddess thinks herself unseen or if she believes her mere presence to be a deterrence against any untoward behavior. Thinking about her certainly gives Sakura a few untoward urges but this isn’t the time for that.

Shikamaru is steady and solid against her, arms wrapped about her shoulders to hold her close, a cocoon of belonging just for the two of them. His heartbeat thrums under her ear. Soft breathing ruffles the top of her hair. If she had her way in things this moment would stretch on in to eternity and they would never have to part but alas, Yoshino has outsmarted them both – surprising as that is. Perhaps Sakura needs to spend more time relearning the patterns of other living creatures if someone like Yoshino can outmaneuver her on the first try.

“It’s not forever,” Shikamaru murmurs, bending to whisper his words directly against the shell of her ear.

“Already it feels like forever has passed and you have not even left my arms.” Although Sakura is more than aware she is pouting she still does not appreciate the laughter that rumbles through her partner’s chest.

“You’ll see me again in the fall. Less than one year, that’s barely a blink for our kind.”

“Every moment without you is too long.”

Now Shikamaru is outright laughing, which she appreciates even less. “Quit being so dramatic. This is the only deal she would accept and if this is what it takes for us to be together”-he pulls away to meet her eyes-“then I will follow this agreement to the letter. Anything to go back to where I belong.”

From several feet away they can both hear the poorly hidden Yoshino grumbling to herself that this garden is where her son belongs but they ignore her easily.

“I love you,” Sakura whispers. Incredibly, Yoshino falls silent.

“I love you too. And I’ll miss you. I’d say you can visit but we should probably wait a few millennia before we ask for any concessions like that.”

Her pouting lip protrudes a little further but it does her no good. Shikamaru is still pulling away ever so gently and although she understands the necessity of it, understands the pain of having one’s very purpose suppressed across the entire world in punishment until the wayward son returns to his mother’s side, that makes it no easier to separate her from the other half of herself she has only just discovered. Shikamaru is the light she never knew she needed in her world of darkness until she saw him for the first time and her very heart itself lit up with joy. Leaning in close now she can taste a hint of that first joy on his lips.

“When the first leaves fall,” she warns him, “I will come for you.” Shikamaru does his best to look unaffected.

“Troublesome. I hate deadlines.”

“How fortuitous that I shall be the one watching the calendar go by, then.” As soon as Sakura leans forward to close the gap between them and steal a kiss they are pulled apart by insistent hands and Yoshino sends her a look filled with venom.

The Goddess of the Harvest and Fertility huffs as she draws her son against her own side instead and pretends not to see the rolling of his eyes. Entirely uncaring of her reaction Sakura blows the kiss she has been denied in Shikamaru’s direction and gathers her darkest shadows around her in preparation to leave this place. As per the agreement, she will stay in her domain until the winter comes and she may be reunited with her love once more.

“Until it is your turn to rest, oh beautiful Spring,” she calls.

And with that she is gone in a twist of darkness, to return for that which belongs to her when the time is right, and an endless cycle begins.

#rae writes #shikasaku #shikamaru #sakura #yoshino #neji #rock lee #fanfiction

[itsmalachitenow]

Magnus Archives Avatars

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO. Emetophobia warning (just one, right after Fugue)

Aria (The Eye) She came to the institute one day and swore herself to the Beholding. Very quiet. Does not talk much, unless it's to relay a message to Elias, as she's one of his personal assistants. She prefers to watch. Elias does not know much about her, if only because she herself doesn't know much about her, either. Would sacrifice her in an instant if he absolutely needed to, and she's well aware of that. But there is a fragment of a song she knows. There are other fragments out there. Should they all come together....who knows what would happen.

Capriccia (The Spiral) She can be found at festivals and communes, carrying her hurdy-gurdy with her and walking barefoot amongst the others. When she sits down to play her song, things get.....strange. The madness flows like wine and takes hold of everyone present. When it's all finished, she packs up and continues onward to the next event, or wherever her fancy might take her. Her song is incomplete. Only a fragment of what it could be. There are others.... Should they all come together....who knows what would happen. 

Lacrimosa (The Lonely) She was always afraid of being alone. But depression changed that. Self isolation became a survival instinct, and she embraced loneliness as her companion. Many of the people who fall victim to her abilities are men who refuse to take the hint and won't stop trying to engage with her. Nothing makes her happy anymore. Nothing but the fragment of the song. There are others out there... Should they all come together....who knows what would happen.

Minuet (The Stranger) A doll made to entertain and to speak. Painfully aware that she's not a real person, but she tries to be. She tries to do real people things, tries to fight her patron. It doesn't end well for her most of the time. The fear she brings others as they watch her move and interact feeds the Stranger quite nicely, even though she tries not to scare people. A capable dancer, humming the fragment of a tune that was in her head from the moment she gained consciousness. Are there others like her out there? ....do they know the song, too...?

Bolero (The Desolation) She used to be such a sweet girl. So everyone says. It's amazing how people change, isn't it? ....unless it's not nearly as big of a change as people think it is. Some people are rotten from the start and just good at hiding it. Some people just want to watch the world burn. The song fragment is more annoying than anything. An itch she can never quite scratch. If there are more bits of the song out there, she can't wait to find them.

Ballad (The Slaughter)  All over the world, there have been tales of entire regiments of soldiers wiped out by one careless action. The few survivors of these tales speak of a single soldier, masked and faceless, who suddenly ran out into the field or fired a shot that blew their cover. The soldier never spoke. The only sound audible was their breathing. ....and one mentioned something else.... .....a tune. Humming a tune. She carries nothing, except a revolver. Only one bullet. The first shot fired. The shout that begins the avalanche.

Fugue (The Vast) A bubbly, vibrant young debutante who is very big on charity and donating. Men and women alike are drawn to her charm and sincerity, and she's more than happy to share her hobbies with them! Skydiving, going to themeparks, deep sea diving.... It's just a shame that hardly any of her suitors come back. Something of a granddaughter to Simon Fairchild, even if the two aren't technically related. The two get along swimmingly. She was touched by the vast when she fell off the roof of her three story house as a little girl. She intended to jump down and float like Mary Poppins did with an umbrella, got second thoughts, but fell by accident. And it seemed to stretch on forever, and ever..... It gave her a very big fear of heights...but at the same time, it left her enthralled by them. So that's why she's got the umbrella/parasol. When she's falling, she likes to have it open. She even has a little piece of a song to sing when she does.

Dirge (The Buried) Some people are burdened with so many responsibilities. Supporting a family. Finishing education. Paying your debts. Every new obligation is another weight on your shoulders. Some people just can't handle it. Some people become buried in it. No one's really sure who Dirge was before the buried got her. It's not like she can speak properly--every time she opens her mouth, mud and dirt come pouring out. The most anyone gets is a gurgling moan. But they can hear her song through the mud.

Notturna (The Dark) ?????????? ?  ? ?  ? ? ? ? ???? ? L???????? ???I???????G????? ?? ?? ?? ?? HT??????s??? ???????? ? ? ?? ?? ???? ?? ??  O?????? ? ?? ? ?????????? ????????U???????????T 

Drone (The Corruption) Almost completely covered in clothes. Her coat is always tightly buttoned, even in a hundred degree weather. Plenty of coughing and wheezing and spitting of phlegm. She's covered in clothes because her flesh is a rotting mess. A stumbling, shambling wreck of a girl, desperate for a doctor that can cure her. But she will never find one. Music is the only thing to ease the constant pain she feels. Sometimes she likes to take the tube of her IV and slip it into her mask to sip from it. She'll offer you some, too. Don't take it.

Sister Lyric (The Web) Hey hey! Who's that pretty lady? Ha ha! Dresses as a nun, though the symbol around her neck tends to change. What can be more manipulative and controlling of people's actions than organized religion? She has quite a bit of gossip on all the other avatars. Whether she's inclined to share it, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. She likes to come in and pester Jon (The main character), if only for the sole reason of messing with his head. If she can get her little tune stuck in his head, all the better.

Medley (The Flesh) Why bother working out when you can just steal the more muscular body parts from other people? She used to work in the morgue. She got her start by making little 'experiments'--aka sewing dead bodies together in new and interesting ways. Very creative, even if she doesn't express it in a healthy way. The little snippet of song in her head annoys her. One of these days, she's going to give herself an extra pair of arms and hands. She and Jarod Hopworth like to chat.

Allegra (The Hunt) She used to hunt humans. But it got boring. Too predictable. There's only so many times you can chase a human through the woods and have it feel like a thrill. It's not like any of them stood a chance of fighting back. Ah, that was the problem. Not strong enough prey. So now she hunts monsters. If only for a greater challenge.

Finale (The End) When you're an emergency responder, so many lives are in your hands. So many poor, frightened souls, afraid of death. As they should be. She hears them praying, you know. To a god they didn't even believe in before today. They'll do better, they say. Do more. Be good people. But when the end comes for you, there's not much you can do except spend your last few hours in horrible, beautiful, delicious terror. She only has the end of the song. And it’s all she feels she needs. ...though sometimes she does wonder, how the entire song would sound together.

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #my art #fang's OCs

[chubbyooo]

Old Wounds part 2 - A Blurred Lines Spinoff

My writing brain is going crazy right now so here we go with the second part of the spinoff after this things will be back tied up. This will also be the first time I’ve told a story from an existing characters perspective so hope it’s ok

Lana tries her best to run the alliance exasperated with the advisors who are seemingly absent and hears a voice she hasn’t heard in a long time

5-7 years later…

Lana shut off the holo with a audible sigh, she put her hands on her forehead slumping in her chair

From the corner the protocol droid D3-EZ coked its head “is everything ok miss Beniko?” she looked to the droid grumpily

Lana shook her head “no Ezzy I just need a minute” Ezzy nodded staying still, Lana sighed protocal droids never got the message “that means leave Ez” Ezzy nodded leaving the room without a word.

Lana dragged her fingers down her face this was not what she needed right now, Zakuul were finally leaving the alliance saying they could ‘make it on their own’ they had been threatening to do it for months but she thought they were bluffing. It wasn’t that she was afraid they could ‘make it on their own’ they were bound to come crawling back but the alliance couldn’t afford with this war on the horizon and the alliances place in the galaxy being questioned. She clenched her fists against the desk it certainly didn’t help that the alliances two other advisors had decided to disappear now out of nowhere. She had hoped the commander would be much help but Kyradia was clearly ‘affected’ by whatever falling out she had with Kavaraa and was choosing to just sign whatever Lana put in front of her. Lana had never wanted to be in charge of the alliance but she had to do her best for the galaxy she just wished everyone else would do the same. She held her fingers on the bridge of her nose she couldn’t remember the last time she got a break and Kavaraa and Theron go off on a surprise ‘honeymoon’ sure that’s fair. Just because she was alone she didn’t get a chance to take holidays? She didn’t blame Theron though he was following her for love Lana could understand that but did all this have to happen right now it’s like the universe was cruelly mocking her.

She looked through documents for a couple minutes before she saw a holocall from Theron Shan flashing on her display. Speak of the devil she answered the holocall as Theron flashed in to view looking stressed, that certainly made two of them.

Lana folder her arms “Theron, good to hear from you is this ‘honeymoon’ nearly over I can’t handle everyones paperwork you know” Lana could hear what sounded like distant discussion with a signature excitable tone familiar to her as the Jedi Basen’thor

Theron looked away “uh well not exactly we found a kid” Lana frowned a kid? so what

she was not in the mood for excuses “and is this kid stopping you from coming back?” Theron coughed awkwardly as Lana bore down on him

Theron mumbled “he found some sort of map it leads to knowledge or some force stuff and now Kavaraa wants to find it” Lana let out a long sigh of course knowing Kavaraa they were probably already on their way

Lana frowned at Theron “you know I can’t just run this all by myself” Theron nodded clearly understanding

Theron tugged at his collar “yeah I know Lana but this could give us information to stop powerful people like maybe Malgus” Lana had to admit he had a point but he wasn’t getting out of this so easy

Lana leant forward messing with the console “ok but this is no longer a vacation for you so here’s the deal you help me with running the alliance like normal and I wont rat you out to your wife about calling me with updates sound fair” yes it was technically blackmail but she was running an alliance and Theron would have done the same to her

Theron squirmed “well you’ve got me in quite the box here Beniko fine I guess this i what I get for being friends with a sith” Lana raised her eyebrow well that helped a little with the workload “so what’s been going on with the alliance then so I’m up to date”

Lana held her forehead remembering the situation “bad news Zakuul finally went ‘independent’ today” Theron grimaced messing with a datapad

“why they don’t have the infrastructure the planet’s gonna fall apart” Lana was fully aware those people had never know a hard day in their life before the eternal empire was brought down so now they blamed the alliance how do you break down that kind of ego?

Lana sighed “believe me Theron I know but you know how people can be” Theron nodded

Theron rubbed his forehead “how long till they come crawling back” Lana had done a rough calculation and explained it to them but they were vigilant her scientific data was somehow incorrect

Lana shrugged “the bottom line is too long we could really have used Zakuul even without the fleet” Lana’s mind drifted to Koth and the gravestone she wondered if they would be in a different situation without his interference with it.

Theron sighed “of course they had to do this right now when everything is so fractured” Lana nodded the alliance should be better than squabbling but clearly some people didn’t feel the same way

Lana frowned “well that’s not exactly our fault is it Theron” Theron reluctantly nodded “we have to end this argument between them Theron it’s petty and it seems like most of the ill will is on your wifes end.” Lana knew the fight was coming but she hoped it wouldn’t do this she hoped it’d clear the air so they could move on but clearly she had overestimated the two of them.

Theron grimaced “I’ll try my best Lana but you gotta admit she has good reason to be mad” Lana nodded Jedi were always like this stubborn and set in their ways well except a few.

Lana sighed “I’m not asking for a miracle Theron but just try to point her in the right direction” she ended the call and leant back. Theron would help with paperwork that was something one less thing on the incredibly long list of things she had to do, she wasn’t very confident Theron would change Kavaraa’s mind she was stubborn and Theron was in love with her. He’d probably follow her into anything she kinda got it she had been in love before but that was a long time ago, she’d never admitted it to him either so no point getting into it.

But that was 5 years ago this was now she had work to do, she heard the comm suddenly breaking her out of her daydream as the robotic voice of Ezzy came through “Miss Nadia Grell to see you Miss Beniko” Nadia? Kavaraa’s old apprentice? what did she want?

Lana responded “send her in Ezzy” she sighed an advisors job was never finished. Nadia walked into the room shuffling to the chair awkwardly

she looked away “um hello miss Beniko I uh just came to uh tell you about a distress call from the uh Basen’thors temple” wow she was nervous she shouldn’t be that was a perfectly fair thing to tell her.

Lana nodded “thanks for bringing this to my attention Nadia I’ll have someone investigate right away” she had a great idea for who perfect way to get Kyradia feeling nostalgic

Nadia cleared her throat “I actually wanted to ask for permission to go myself actually” Lana smiled that was sweet but she had a feeling Nadia and Kyradia would not get on well

Lana shook her head “no don’t worry about it I’ll make sure to get some experienced people to deal with it, don’t want to drag you away from your work” Nadia nodded seemingly understanding Lana believed she worked in the archives.

Nadia smiled “well uh thanks for the help and I’ll uh be going” Lana nodded as Nadia left. She took a second staring at the door ok no one else to talk to? good she could take a second. After a few minutes she got up she had to tell Kyradia about the mission to Yavin.

later…

Lana entered her quarters tired after a long day, the commander had taken the mission and was on her way to Yavin IV meaning she was officially the only one left. This was gonna be a grueling couple of weeks, she opened up the fridge she still had some leftovers good she really had no time to cook today. She got herself a cup of tea and sat down on her couch, she sighed another day another problem at least she had a little time to rest. She flicked through the news and was unsurprised to see an article about Zakuul apparently they were having longer and longer power cuts since departing from the alliance and now the support was entirely gone, part of the city was blacked out for a full minute. Lana chuckled big surprise there, she sipped her tea in the silent quarters she certainly had made them her own but it still felt kinda empty it certainly was more homely than her old acolytes chambers. Between then and now she hadn’t really had any other solid homes, could be worse though she didn’t live in a ship once the leftovers were finished she used the force to pull a holobook out of her tiny bookshelf. She liked books a little escapism was always good this one was about a tribe completely unaware of the galaxy around them, she imagined that could be quite nice certainly a lot less stressful the struggles were all quite simple but still felt real and there was a lot less politics. She continued to read until her eyes fluttered closed falling asleep curled up on the couch but then sometime later she was awoken suddenly.

“LANA!” a voice wrung out in her head the voice was deep and basey but she recognised it in a second

She looked around the room “D-Dzûsa??” she could see no sign of him the man she hadn’t seen in over seven years.

The voice, his voice spoke in her head “I d-don’t h-have long come to Zakuul I’m u-und…” the voice trailed off she sat up flustered

Lana tried her best to respond “Dzûsa where are you?” she shouted into the chamber but there was no response. Lana took a deep breath was she crazy? she couldn’t have heard that right? but it was definitely him the man she hadn’t spoken too since Sullust. ‘Come to Zakuul’ was he there? how could he be they had scoured that planet for prisons they would’ve found him she certainly thought she would’ve sensed him. She had only given up hope on him once Valkorion was defeated, in every prison they went to she searched and searched but to no avail, she had tried and tried to sense him but it was like he was somehow gone. What should she do she couldn’t just leave the alliance but he was well he could be alive and he may be what the alliance needs right now hero of Tython and all that. She sighed she had to try even if it lead nowhere she could put the issue to bed for good, she quickly put on her sith robes and headed out the door.

later…

Lana brought her ship down into the Zakuul spaceport as she dialed up Senya Tirall on her holocommunicator, a tired looking Senya appeared within a minute

Senya frowned “yes Lana was this so pressing it couldn’t wait till the morning” Lana wasn’t usually the one to do crazy things it felt very strange to be the one leaving without a word

Lana tried her best to smile “uh well yes I’m not on Odessen I’m uh looking into something on Zakuul so I would very much appreciate it if you could look after the alliance” Senya gave her a curious look

she chuckled “you’ve been spending too much time with Theron and Kavaraa, why me?” Lana chuckled understanding the irony of the situation

Lana grinned “well you raised the Tiralls this’ll be a piece of cake by comparison” Senya laughed

Senya nodded “very well I can look after things” she turned off the holo phew someone she trusted was in charge, at first she thought Hylo could handle it then she realised how terrible it would be to leave the underworld in control of the alliance.

She left her ship in a hurry making her way out the spaceport and towards the spire as she walked she could she the lights flicker on and off this power situation was bad. However at the spire she saw Indo Zal waiting there with a few guards

he proceeded to shuffle up to her awkwardly “um Miss Beniko as I told you before Zakuul is now independent and you wont convince us otherwise” Lana stood still her eyes narrowing at Indo

Lana kept the scowl as Indo squirmed “don’t worry Indo I’m not here for Zakuul don’t think yourself so important to me that I’d come here myself” Indo seemed to stifle his anger aware of Lana’s power good “I just need to get into the spire I think I have missed something” she walked up to Indo standing over him “are you going to stop me?” Indo shook his head

he gestured to the lift “r-right this way miss Beniko” Lana made her way into the lift closing it before Indo could join her, she didn’t hate him but she did hate the ego of the people in charge of this planet acting like they ruled the galaxy.

The lift slowly rose up the spire soon arriving at the seat of the eternal throne, Lana made her way out the whole room was dusty it had been abandoned after everything that happened. Once the most powerful place in the galaxy now just a dusty old relic, she chuckled kinda like Valkorion. She remembered the fight for the throne protecting Kyradia from Skytroopers while Kavaraa battled the old emperors wrath they fought as one back then what had changed. That’s not what she was here for though she got a datapad out hoping to slice into the blueprints of the spires she must have missed something. She had just got them up when the room suddenly went dark, she watched as the lights on Zakuul began to flicker out nearly the whole city went out this time. She couldn’t help but smile maybe her calculations had been wrong they were in dire straights.

She stared at the datapad trying to find some inconstancy “Lana you made it” she heard the voice again she looked around as the power turned back on

Lana tried to see if Dzûsa here but she’d be able to see the huge form on the pureblood “Dzûsa are you there?” she waited but there was no response damn it she nearly had him. He was here though two times was a coincidence three times was evidence, she turned back to her data pad as the power dipped again.

she noted the points she had already checked “I’m here, I’m below” Lana heard his voice again below below where? she frowned he had spoken to her during the power cuts he had to that was no coincidence and he was below. She looked at all the power plants they had cleared she chuckled remembering Koth’s insane idea to save the power station during the rescue of Kyradia. But that wasn’t the only power they had right, she followed the power lines down there were a few transformers relatively near to the core for geothermal power. Lana frowned that would be crazy there was hardly any way to get there, but one was below the spire maybe the lift had some secret function?.

Lana went back over to the lift there had to be something she could do, she began trying her best to slice into the console by the force she wished Theron was here he’d have it open in seconds. After a few minutes the lift had locked her out, she lashed out at the wall in anger creating a small dent, huh maybe she didn’t need to slice it this was dangerous but definitely achievable. She closed her eyes reaching out with the force, she channeled all her anger for Zakuul, for Valkorion for everything that lead her to have to do this and began pulling the lift down with the force. The lift shot down reaching the bottom of the spire within minutes but now what if she went deeper, if there was nothing it’d just break the lift a bit. She pushed down and to her surprise it kept going a burst of anger flowed out making the lift descend even faster slamming down against the bottom of the shaft with a bang. Lana staggered forward feeling the force of what she had just done, so much for subtlety as she forced the doors open she sensed Dzûsa’s presence it was here nearby.

She could hear the sounds of magma close by they must be really far down, Lana crept out making her way through the chamber until she came to a large door that slid open as she got near.

She held herself steady against the wall listening in to two voices “I’m sorry sir I’m trying everything but we don’t have the network to support the power surges anymore” well that at least explained the blackouts

A deep terse voice responded “I don’t care about keeping Zakuul powered Valkorion has stated that this is more important so do as I say” the voice sounded familiar from where she had no idea

the other voice responded “that’s the problem I don’t have the power to do that anymore are you sure we should still be doing this we haven’t got an update from up top in over a year” well she knew why that was did they seriously still think Valkorion was in control

The deep voice sneered back “I said DO IT so DO IT got it” Lana crept into the room her eyes widening as she did, the room was an open walkway magma was flowing behind glass and in the middle of the room shackled to what looked like a four pronged transformer was Dzûsa. His hair was greying with a few white streaks he looked so much older and weaker, Lana saw him turn to him with a very slight smile. She felt a tear well up in her eye she couldn’t believe he was here after she had given up on him used as a god damn power source for Valkorion. She felt her sadness wash away replaced with a white hot rage, she turned to the console where the figures were arguing and her rage only deepened as she saw the face of Dûshto Zâtan shouting at a human male.

Within seconds she pulled in into her grip her hands tight around his neck his eyes widened as he noticed her face “remember me bitch” Dûshto’s face was wracked with shock as he tried to escape the grip. Lana felt every bit of the pain she’d felt over the last 5 years come back as she chocked Dûshto this man had kept Dzûsa prisoner after the Eternal empire was defeated and why for some sick vengeance.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1fl5TvpPkPjx8zo45HY0UQ?si=iXzAJ4IeQomp5RoIi-Pftg

Dûshto’s face crept into an eerie smile as he grabbed a knife stabbing her in the side “yes Blondie it’ll be a shame to have come all this way to fail how disappointing” Lana dropped Dûshto holding her side. She gritted her teeth fighting through the pain as they both ignited their lightsabers, she lunged forward with three slashes that caused Dûshto to stumble back as he parried each strike.

His unnatural grin only increased “you’ve waited all this time why not be with your precious Dzûsa” Lana felt herself thrown towards the transformer as she crashed against one of the prongs she felt the current flow through her causing her to writhe in pain. She felt her rage explode but knew she had to channel it she focussed on the electricity beginning to gain control over it as it flowed through her arms. She dropped to the ground to see Dûshto looking at her wide eyed she clicked her neck letting out a volley of crackling energy that surrounded him. He shrieked out in pain as she threw him against the glass wall, a small crack appeared in the wall as she slammed him against the wall again and again, she could feel the electricity waining as the glass broke with her next hit. Magma flowed in to the room leeching out to that side of the chamber stopping just before the console, Dûshto narrowly managed to avoid it with a roll landing across the room from her. Lana threw her saber at Dûshto as he sprinted towards her, once he was close Lana jumped over him pulling her saber back into her hand she landed behind Dûshto and went to slice at his back.

She made a laceration along his back as he cried out in pain turning around with a snarl “ok then Blondie let’s get serious” she could see him reach out with the force pulling another of the transformer prongs out of the ground then throwing at her. She wasn’t going to dodge though she could do this she reached out with the force her rage taking control of the prong throwing it back around towards him. To her disappointment he dodged as the thing speared into the glass crackling with electricity while the magma melted the metal, Dûshto looked from her to Dzûsa and then smiled he pulled the other two prongs out of the ceiling throwing them to the side.

Dzûsa began to fall towards the magma but Lana quickly reached out with the force trying to pull him away but Dûshto also had his grip on Dzûsa holding him in place, he chuckled “not so tough now Blondie your powers or my brother you choose” Lana did her best to hold Dzûsa steady but she couldn’t do it forever she could see the magma getting closer and closer. Dûshto swiped at her clumsily as she parried equally clumsily this was completely throwing off both their abilities with the force.

Lana’s eyes widened she knew what to do she smiled at Dûshto “who said anything about the force” with that she jumped into the air bringing her leg round for a vicious roundhouse kick against Dûshto’s face, he was caught completely oof guard and staggered back as Lana kicked him again he fell back into the magma with a cry. Lana felt Dûshto’s concentration on holding Dzûsa up falter and she quickly focussed her attention on catching Dzûsa holding him up just before he hit the magma. She lifted him across as she could hear Dûshto’s cries of pain from behind her, Dzûsa landed on the ground breathing heavily Lana immediately rushed to his side to see if he was ok.

She was suddenly pulled into a big hug as Dzûsa pulled her off the ground swinging her around “hahahaha I knew you’d understand” his deep voice boomed well he may look older but he still had the same energy that was good.

Her set her down immediately taking a tired knee Lana held his hand “are you ok?” seemed like a silly question he certainly didn’t look ok but she had to ask

Dzûsa smiled warmly “I’m fine that was just kinda taxing probably shouldn’t have done it” Lana had missed that smile she pulled him into a long hug “absolutely worth it”

She felt her rage melt away as tears entered her eyes “I’ve missed you so much” she felt Dzûsa move his arm in force like motion what was he doing

Dzûsa laughed “why we never even went on a date” Lana glowered at him

Lana lightly punched his arm “we both know it was more than that even if I was too embarrassed to admit it” Dzûsa smiled nodding. Lana noticed the screams had stopped she turned around to see Dûshto not burning in the magma but unconscious on the walkway burnes covered his back and lower half. She turned back to Dzûsa “you’re still letting him live” she was ready to kill him five times over how was Dzûsa ok with this.

Dzûsa nodded “I know but I’ve had a lot of time to think, that man is not my brother not anymore but if I am every to see my brother again he needs to find it himself, there is no part of me that wants vengeance on anyone not anymore” Lana leant in and kissed him, he was just the same just as kinda hearted it had been years of torture and he was still that sweet big oaf.

Lana pulled away “I’ve missed that, come on let’s get out of here” Dzûsa nodded as Lana helped him to the elevator. Lana remembered oh no would the lift still work? she pressed on the console and to her relief it whirred to life and slowly began to rise up.

Lana turned to Dzûsa “sooooo this lift is gonna take a while” Dzûsa turned to Lana colour seemed to be returning to his face as he began to be able to stand by himself

Dzûsa frowned “here right now?” Lana nodded kissing him maybe Theron wasn’t so wrong about that romance thing

later…

Lana made sure her robes were all in order as the lift finally opened, it was much slower without her force power but she hadn’t minded that. She could see Indo still waiting there looking surprised to see two figures exit the lift, she noticed the power begin to dim and go completely out now well that was awfully unfortunate at least the lift had still worked.

Lana raised her eyebrow at Indo “my my Zakuul certainly seems to be prospering without the alliance” she pushed past Indo back towards her ship

Indo stuttered “um Miss Beniko if we could just talk for a sec-” Lana was not gonna deal with this right now

Lana smiled “if you want to discuss alliance matters you know how to contact me Indo but I doubt you would want to after leaving” with that she lead Dzûsa back to her ship where they quickly took off leaving Zakuul to its problems.

After she put the ship into Hyperspace she made sure Dzûsa got some tea and a blanket, she sat down next to him. Lana shuffled awkwardly “so I don’t know how to ask this but uh what happened to you?” Dzûsa sipped his tea quietly

he cleared his throat “when I last saw you I got a lead saying a clue to Vitiates whereabouts was on Nathema and uh the clue was from my sister” Lana nodded ok that at least explained why his crew didn’t know where he was “Naturally I barrelled off into danger without a second thought and once I arrived I found the uh testing facility for Vaylin I think your familiar with her” Lana nodded “and Vaylin to put it simply completely outclassed me I quickly lost and Vaylin would have murdered me if Valkorion hadn’t stepped in” Lana nodded remembering her own encounters with Vaylin she wasn’t too surprised “instead Valkorion decided the ultimate revenge would be to make me power the very city he controlled, some kind of cruel irony” Valkorion, of course killing his enemies would never be enough “he constructed what you and Dûshto destroyed to torture my every moment and sap me of my force energy making sure I’d never be able to escape” Lana nodded she felt bad for acting like her last five years were bad by comparison they were great “and that power was turned into electricity somehow, about a few months in I got a new supervisor Dûshto I think Valkorion thought it was a cruel joke, apparently he had surrendered just to get a chance of finding me. Dûshto then made it his mission to make my life non stop pain. As I’m sure you guessed he kept me there even after the empire fell I think he would have done it forever just to satisfy his need for revenge” Lana could see the hurt in his face Dzûsa clearly still cared for Dûshto she had no idea why though.

Lana gasped “I couldn’t sense you because of the force draining right, I’m so sorry Dzûsa especially about your brotherI wish I could have done more” Dzûsa smiled back at her as he gulped down his tea

he wiped his chin “it’s ok it actually has helped me gain perspective I don’t want forgiveness anymore I’m happy just to live” Lana nodded not totally understanding but happy he wouldn’t go running off on an adventure “and I hope I can still fit into yours you seemed like you wanted that in the elevator I guess we can finally have that date” Lana chuckled of course he’d say that

Lana walked over to him giving him a long passionate kiss “of course you do Dzûsa you are exactly what I need right now it’s a date” Dzûsa smiled she really had missed that smile it seemed like she was wrong about the next few weeks they’d be the best in years…

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