#like even in canon if a TIME LORD threw a punch hard enough to feel it

[clanoffelidae]

As much as I totally get that the Master was being shown as a domestic abuser as much as they were allowed to for a family program in ‘The Last Of The Time Lords’, I choose to instead believe that he was just extremely reactive due to, you know, having just run away from a war that scared and traumatized him so severely that he disguised himself as a human at the END OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE in order to hide from it, and Lucy just tried to hug him from behind or something when he didn’t know she was there and so he immediately threw a punch on reflex; because it is infinitely funnier to me that way.

Lucy: -walking up behind the master- good morning hone- :)

The Master, an extremely anxiety-ridden and traumatized war veteran who just escaped said war: AH- -throws a punch on instinct-

Lucy:

The Master: DON’T FUCKING DO THAT

Lucy:

The Master: -clutching at his hearts as he tries to calm down-

Lucy: that’s it i’m shooting him

Like it’s just so much funnier to me that way. Free my man he did everything wrong but I don’t care.

#doctor who #the master #lucy saxon #like oh i get what canon was trying to imply #but they never said it directly so i get to play in the wiggle room and have fun #simm!master #this is also why he was shaking his hand afterwards #cause he was hurling a punch on panicked reflex so hurt himself too lol #cause considering how much stronger time lords are than humans you would think he wouldn’t be hurting #after punching one #unless he was just going for it on fear #the real miracle here is that lucy survived with only a bruise to show for it tbh #like even in canon if a TIME LORD threw a punch hard enough to feel it #it’s a miracle lucy walked out with only a bruise #send her to unit she’s got something going on fr #this headcanon features prominently in my celestial dimensions au as well #and leads to a funny exchange of #martha: i mean. you know how he treated lucy… #the doctor: oh no- that wasn’t- (knows this is about to hurt) here i’ll show you #and then takes a punch by spooking the master for the bit #and they say man has commitment issues #pshaw

[sheepfulsheepyardinspace]

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway. 

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...” 

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

#also if anybody knows these authors' tumblr accounts pls lmk so i can link them #guys remember piett? #i miss piett #firmus piett #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fic #three two one boom #jerseydevious #luke skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker #star wars rebels #late-in-the-day #idk if any of these r new at all to anyone #but they r my faves :)

[cafeinthemoon]

Madara meeting his Uzumaki granddaughter during the War - Part III

So, this story ended up longer than I expected even in my craziest dreams, and the text that should be the third and last part had to be divided in two. So I’m posting two parts today and finishing it 😜

Again, thank you @itsao-mine for my biggest challenge ever lmao I hope you like it and have fun with this mess fic!

Title: Title? What is a title?

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x Uzumaki!reader (family; no romantic)

Rating: teen | up

Word count: 1919

Chapter (s): 3/4

Warnings: canon divergences and a big ass long chapter. Enter here only if you have some free time lmao

Symbols: 🌙 | ➕ | ▶▶

Read the previous parts here: Part I, Part II

The Shodai was finally managing to move back and lead his opponent to your group’s reach: the branches of his Wood Release were spreading away from Madara’s Susanoo, and the gigantic blue armor were chasing after them, its steps overcoming the distance between them and you as if it was nothing. Their sound, blended with the deep noise of the wood branches coming in and out of the ground, were deafening. The collisions between the chakra of the two warriors was overwhelming.

And you and your allies were running toward them.

You didn’t know how long those two have been fighting, but now that they were coming closer, it didn’t matter: all that time you’ve spent running to meet Kakashi and the others, as well as the minutes you’ve been talking to them, during which you were informed of the plan, felt like seconds.

You were divided in two groups: Kakashi and the three teenagers were going to work together against the Susanoo itself, while you and the two Hokages were going to meet Hashirama Senju, who was responsible for distracting the enemy.

Your lungs were burning and your feet were about to fail you when The First Hokage looked and saw his brother approaching. Only then you recognized him as the owner of that chakra imbued with courage that made you feel safe before.

Even with all the noise, you were able to hear him scream:

- Tobirama!

It happened too fast. In a moment, he was at least thirty meters than you; in the next, the first thing you saw before you was his red armor and his long hair floating around him. So, that was the power of the Nidaime’s teleportation jutsu.

The ground was shaking around your spot, but the Hokages seemed to have little difficulty to stand; you couldn’t be left behind, you thought while trying not to fall. The Shodai had his palms united and was the only one comfortable with the circumstances. You passed to his side and he looked around to acknowledge you three, but his attention lingered on you for a little longer.

- So, you are the Uzumaki girl they told me! Y/n-san, right? – he asked; you noticed that even in that situation, he had a soft smile on his lips – Ah, look at this red hair… Reminds me of my wife! She was an Uzumaki too, and you are beautiful just like her!

You opened your mouth but no word left it. After everything that happened to you during that night, the last thing you expected was to have the First Hokage flirting with you.

While Minato smiled, Tobirama became impatient.

- Behave, brother! It is not the time for being flirtatious! Besides, y/n-san could be your granddaughter. Now look, Kakashi and the others are already on their positions.

While Tobirama was still speaking, you noticed the other group surrounding the Susanoo, that was now so close that Hashirama’s Mokuton was the only thing separating it from you. It was when you sensed that courage his chakra first inspired in you growing again. Maybe it was his voice or the mere vision of his power in action, but for a moment you felt hope.

The First, you noticed, didn’t seem bothered by his brother’s tone; he just did his part and changed the moves of the branches, and they stretched to wrap the Susanoo’s legs and arms. Then you saw Kakashi using his Doton to create high levels of stone at the giant’s back.

- Sakura!

He screamed as the pink haired girl used the levels as a flight of stairs. You noticed she had black marks on her face: the marks of Tsunade’s Byakugou technique. With a yell, she jumped toward the Susanoo and punched its side. Kakashi and her repeated their moves in collaboration. At the same time, Naruto and Sasuke, who were attacking the Susanoo’s front, were using a technique that combined Fuuton and Raiton against it. And to your surprise, some scratches started to appear on the blue surface.

It was indeed incredible to see Kakashi’s team working together. But it didn’t take long until you noticed that something was not right there. When you understood what it was, you looked at the Hokages, waiting for an explanation.

It came from Tobirama.

- No. Madara will not attack. In fact, he is testing Kakashi’s team. He wants to see how far they can get. He is playing with them, as a grown man would play with children.

You didn’t reply. These words were enough for you to understand that your father was not exaggerating when he told you all those things about your grandfather, about what kind of man he was. And because of that, you couldn’t bow to his will and let him do everything as he wished.

You had your hair tied up in two buns, each of them being held by two hair pins – maybe they were the reason why Hashirama saw a resemblance between you and his wife. You took the four pins off and your hair fell in thick, red waves on your back. You had your eyes fixed on the Susanoo’s high forehead, where there was a shadow with a vaguely human shape. That was his exact spot within this armor, then. Still, through the corner of your eyes you noticed the Hokages had their attention on you.

- Let him enjoy this moment – you stated – For he will find no diversion while dealing with me.

***

You were looking at the Susanoo all the time, barely blinking, while Kakashi and his team did their job. On your hands, you were squeezing the two pairs of black hair pins until your palms started to sweat, patiently waiting for your turn.

As you stared at the battle, you thought f your father, banned from his clan for choosing love above all. He lived what he preached, and you learned everything you could from him. Being the child of an Uzumaki woman, you were educated on the finest sealing techniques known by her family, but it was your father who created the hardest part of the jutsu you were about to use, the dojutsu sealing property. You’ve trained for years until you mastered the technique, and it finally came the day when your hard work was going to be proved. You could not fail. For the world you live in, your father and yourself.

Your heart started to beat faster when the blue light diminished and vanished in the night, and Kakashi and the kids moved away from it. Hashirama moved his hands, and the Mokuton released the giant, disappearing under the soil. The Susanoo finally disappeared, and Madara Uchiha fell back to the floor, under your sight’s reach.

You grinned your teeth and waited to see what was going to happen.

The moon was full and there were no artificial lights around, so that your vision was clear despite being night. That was how you were able to see all the details you kept in your memory long after the battle ended.

As the Susanoo was undoing, Madara floated into the bluish residues until his feet reached the ground, where he stood still, his arms crossed, his hair touched by the wind, doing nothing, just staring at you all as if he was trying to understand what happened to a fight that was supposed to be only between him and Hashirama.

It was not an easy task to describe what you felt when you saw your grandfather for the first time. Maybe you felt the same apprehension that grew in your guts when you first saw the monument at the Valley of the End, but deeper, because you were not looking at a lifeless statue: that time you had a real, revived man before you. There was some sort of resemblance between him and your father, something slight and unexplainable, because nor your father nor any other person would be like this man.

Somehow you felt that there was a difference between him and the Hokages’: there was some part of him that seemed to transcend the Edo Tensei and turned him into something else, something you’d call a real living ghost. The scratches on his reddish armor and around his tanned face were no longer the sign of an imperfect resurrection and were barely noticed; all the attentions were dragged to his eyes, glowing with the scarlet shade of his Sharingan.

He was the first to speak.

- So, Hashirama… You decided to bring the children to play with us.

The Shodai didn’t reply. He was staring at him just like all the others.

- I cannot say I appreciate their interference – Madara continued – But if you want things to be this way, I will respect it.

You didn’t know how or why, but you felt it was the time. You didn’t wait for Hashirama or anyone else to reply to your grandfather, whether with words or jutsu. You just jumped between the First and him, your hair pins on your hands, your eyes fixed on his, not afraid of the Sharingan or whatever trap he might have kept hidden with him.

- Do not be so excited, Madara Uchiha – you warned – The children are not here to play.

Madara didn’t reply. He just stared at you. If he was waiting to see what you got for him or trying to understand of kind of person you were for just stand between him and Hashirama  like that, you couldn’t tell: it wasn’t easy to read him.

You glanced over your shoulder.

- Lord First, I’m going to need four columns! Can you help me with this?

- Right! – he yelled while uniting his hands again.

Four high columns of wood grew out of the ground around you three. Once they stabilized, you threw your hair pins on their upper sides, one pin for each column, and they turned into black stakes. You did the necessary hand seals and then united your palms just like Hashirama. Reddish glowing chains came out from the stakes and reached to the center, turning into one as Madara was surrounded by them. You did an extra seal and stretched your right arm, showing your palm to him. A paper seal appeared upon his eyes, and from it came out thin chains; soon, the seal and the chains turned into a golden accessory that surrounded his head and obstructed his vision.

Against your legs’ protest of fear, you approached him and made the final hand seal. While your left hand stood in front of you, with its two fingers stretched to control your chakra’s stream, you turned your right palm to his covered eyes.

- You are a dead man, Madara Uchiha. You are out of your time. I will send you back to where you belong, and you are not to disturb this world’s people again.

Silence. There were no curses or struggles as a response to your words. Not a single groan. The only thing you had from him was a smile. And that made you freeze. Your hands started trembling, though you didn’t understand why. What did that smile mean? Why was he smiling when he was about to be sent back to the other side, having all his plans frustrated at once? He should be afraid.

It was when you thought the sealing process was taking too long to be completed, and your heart started beating fast.

- Well done.

#naruto fanfiction #naruto request #madara fanfiction #madara #madara x reader #hashirama #tobirama #minato #naruto #kakashi #sakura #sasuke

[rafecameron]

“I’d punch you, but that’d ruin that pretty little face of yours.” for topper pls bc we all know he’s a pretty boy :)

WARNING: A little more canon like Rafe than I usually write

You felt guilty every time you looked at Topper. You hated him, you knew you hated him and you knew all your friends did too. But you had no control over the butterflies that would stir up at the sight of him, nor could you stop the intrusive thoughts about what it would feel like to have his lips against yours. Your eyes would rake over his body, imagining his chest pressed against yours, his hands wandering your body and his lips pressing against your neck. He was handsome, you could at least admit that. He stirred up so many different feelings within yourself that you never knew how to act around him. If you saw him walking over to you you’d get fidgety with nerves, wanting nothing more than for him to grab you and kiss you right then and there. But then he’d make a comment to one of your friends and the butterflies would turn to lava in your stomach and you’d boil up with anger. He could get under your skin in all the right and wrong ways and you hated it.

You’d gotten into your fair share of fights with the kooks, admittedly not physical, Topper didn’t seem the type to hit a girl no matter how much he disliked them. Rafe on the other hand you were sure wouldn’t mind taking a swing at you if he could. But Topper always held him back, from you if at least not anybody else.

So it came as no surprise when you looked up from your book and noticed the trio sauntering over to you and your friends. The feeling of JJ stirring beside you was what pulled you out of your trance with the pages. He stood up, the rest of you not far behind him, meeting the kooks in the middle like some sort of battle was taking place - you were sure it would do.

“How many times do we have to tell you to stay off the cut?” JJ sneers doing his best to get in Rafes face but no one could match the tall boys stature.

Rafe simply looks down at him amused, “We wouldn’t have to keep coming down here if you’d dare to show your face in figure eight.”

“Have you been missing us, Rafe?” John B asks with a smirk.

Rafe snorts, “I’ve been missing pounding your faces in. Gets a little boring with no one to beat up.”

“I feel sorry for you if the only fun you can find is in beating people up. Must be a pretty boring existence on figure eight.” You comment crossing your arms over your chest.

“No one was talking to you, pogue.” Rafe snaps out, his eyes shooting a glare in your direction before turning back to the blonde in front of him.

You tune out to the rest of the confrontation, your eyes meeting that of Toppers who looked nothing if not amused with his friends antics.

“Don’t worry, we missed seeing your little face too.” He teases with a smirk.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “Well we didn’t miss yours, feel free to leave at any time.”

Topper laughs at this, “You mean you didn’t miss undressing me with your eyes, y/n?”

If you weren’t so annoyed with the boy you’re sure you would have blushed furiously, “You know, it’s a sign of madness, imagining things that aren’t there.”

Topper just smirks and takes a step closer, his face the closest to yours it’s ever been and despite the anger you could feel the butterflies returning.

“Please, I know you want me.” He states in a teasing manner.

You furrow your brows together, trying your best to look unfazed by his close proximity, “As if. I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours. Couldn’t have you running off crying.”

“So you do think I’m pretty,” Topper smirks ignoring the weightless threat, “I can see right through you.”

Topper stumbles back at the hard shove to his shoulders, JJ appearing beside you red faced with blood on his upper lip, “Back off kook, don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

Topper laughs and holds his hands up in surrender, “Wouldn’t dream of hurting that pretty little face of yours.” He grins, finding himself a lot funnier than he was.

JJ glares at the kook as he backs off, joining his cronies as they disappear off down the beach again.

“What was all that about?” JJ asks, taking your shoulders and looking over your face to check Topper hadn’t done anything.

You simply shrug, half in answer half to get his hands off of you, “Just idiot kooks being idiot kooks.” You state then offer him a smile to show you’re truly okay, “Nothing to worry about.”

——

You didn’t usually attend parties on figure either. Preferring to stay as far away from that side of the island as you could - you much preferred the keggers your friends threw on the beach. But Sarah had convinced John B to go, who in turn had convinced Pope who begged the rest of you to go with them. You couldn’t say no to anything Pope asked no matter how much you’d like to.

So you found yourself in the Cameron house, surrounded by drunk kooks who all offered you looks of disdain as you walked around the house. You ignored them like you usually did, if one of them wanted to start a fight you’d be more than happy to entertain them.

You drank too much and danced like crazy, no different to the parties you usually attended. If you were going to be in kook territory you may as well drink their alcohol, and lord knows you have to be drunk to be around them all for this long. You thought the night was goi pretty well, you had managed to avoid Rafe and more importantly Topper pretty well so far. Being small enough to duck behind someone anytime you spotted them and slink away before they noticed you.

It wasn’t until you were exiting the bathroom upstairs that you were cornered. Rafes chest pressing against yours as he backed you into a corner, his arms resting either side of you to stop you escaping.

“Would you look at that, Sarah brought her little pets to the party.” He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes, pushing on his arm to escape but he was too strong, his arm like a stone wall which you couldn’t budge.

“Back off, Rafe.” You sigh, you were in no mood to deal with him and honestly, Rafe frightened the hell out of you.

He was built, and he towered over everyone. You saw what he did to your friends every week and didn’t want to be on the end of the rage you knew lived inside of him at all times. You’d never been alone with him before and instantly decided you never wanted to again.

“Please, just leave me alone.” You say when he doesn’t budge, your eyes focusing on his chest not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Not so feisty when you’re alone are you, pogue.” He smirks, “Look at me.” But you don’t, your eyes stay glued to his chest.

You feel his hand around your jaw and your face is fired up, your eyes landing on Rafes which were wild with something other than alcohol, “Do I scare you, princess?” He laughs but it’s humourless and dark.

You don’t answer him, not sure what to say even if you could form words. Your heart was beating rapidly, your mind running rampant with all kinds of thoughts about what Rafe was going to do. You wished more than anything that one of your friends would turn up to save you but you’d left them all outside.

“I asked you a question.” Rafe speaks through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening on your jaw.

You open your mouth to speak but Rafes grip on you disappears as hands on his shoulders pull him back. He shoots a glare at the person behind him.

“Kelce’s looking for you man.” Topper states, starring Rafe down until the taller boy finally disappears down the hallway. “Did he hurt you?” Topper asks turning to face you now.

You stare him over for a moment, wondering why he cares at all but deciding the polite thing to do was answer.

You shake your head, your jaw a little bruised from his grip but you could live with that, “Thank you.” You say quietly, your terror soon turning to nervousness as the boys blue eyes study your face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “He shouldn’t do stuff like that. It’s not right.”

You shrug simply, “it’s Rafe.” You reply with a soft laugh, pretending not to be as affected by it as you were.

“That’s not an excuse.” Topper sighs, he places his red cup down on the side next to you, his hand reaching up to tilt your chin eyes examining where Rafes fingers had been.

“I’m fine, Topper.” You try to get away from his grasp but you were already backed up to the wall and had nowhere to escape from, but you weren’t scared of Topper.

His fingers linger on your jaw, his thumb rough as it ran against your cheek and you felt yourself subconsciously lean into his touch. He moves forward, his chest against yours as he looks down at you. The setting much like the one with Rafe but instead of the fright you had felt you were consumed with fluttering nerves. Your breath caught in your throat leaving you unable to speak for a completely different reason this time.

Topper could sense your nervousness, he could see the way you looked at him and knew he was right with what he’d said the day previously, it caused him to smirk.

“I knew you thought I was pretty.” He comments, you frown and open your mouth to deny it but his lips cover yours before you get the chance. You melt into him, not willing to fight him away even if you had the energy. You let his tongue slide past yours lips, tangling with your own as your hands moved up his chest and around your neck.

You had imagined kissing Topper before, but this was nothing like that you thought it would be. You imagined him to be rough and dominating but instead this was soft and tender. His hand held your jaw gently as his other cane to rest on your hip, his lips moving slowly against yours trying to savour the moment and burn it to his memory.

When he finally pulled away you were both left breathless, eyes staring into one another’s as if you’re the only two people in the world right now.

“I guess I find you pretty too.” Topper murmurs, his thumb running over your lower lip before his own are back on them.

@rafej-cambanks @joshy-obx @topperthornton @starlightstarkey

#topper thornton fic #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks x reader #my writing

[forbiddenfantasies1]

J/B Smut Swap Fic Recs, Take 2

Well my plan to have all my @jb-smut-swap fic recs on one post was an epic fail so like Whitesnake once said, here I go again. Maybe this one will be shorter and I can wrap it up in one post. I make no promises. The last time I promised to keep something short, it didn't go well. I'll demonstrate my self-awareness and put them under the cut. Shocker...there will be a Part 3.

Binary Explosive for jencat, rated E. This was one of the first fics I read in the exchange, and this thing has stuck with me. It has all the tropes I love...established relationship, battle couple, Brienne being competent AF, and Jaime wanting to fuck her even more because of it. The tension in this, both between them and between them and the literal bomb strapped to them, is so damn good. The knife scene made me want to buy my husband one so I could make him strap it to his inner thigh. The whole time I was reading it, I kept thinking "I need yall to stop being so horny so you don't die but also maybe shift on his thigh a bit more, Brienne." The banter, the history, and the smoking hot sex scene make this one a must-read.

Lines that will live in my head forever: This was a hard choice because honestly the whole thing is so damn tense and horny I could quote the entire thing to you, but I'm going with: “Nearly there,” he rasps and she tries not to think of any other time he's moaned that against her skin. Not that it's any less intoxicating to feel his cock jutting heavy between her legs--the thin cotton khakis Samwell had had them both wear to make them look slightly less threatening leave little to the imagination when they're so close together. And her imagination doesn't need much help when she knows so well how Jaime feels buried deep inside her cunt.

“Is this enough?” It's more a plea than a question, but instead of answering Jaime moves between the arch of her legs in response. Brienne has to press her lips tightly together to hold back an inappropriate noise. His hand slides between them, his wrist pressing against her cunt, and she's certain he can feel how wet and ready she is for him through the fabric.

The beeping picks up.

And author, if you see this, what do you want for the boat fic? Tell me.

Good Long Line of Praises for KayJayTeal, rated E. One of the very best things this fandom has done is to fully adopt the idea that Jaime is always putting his mouth to work, whether it's by talking shit, being charming, or going down on Brienne (as she deserves!). In this fic, Brienne tries to flip it on him by talking to him throughout sex, and they realize that Jaime has a praise kink. It just gets hotter and hotter, and eventually they reach what turns out to be the words that really push his buttons (I'm not gonna tell you, go read it). If you like dirty talk, then this is the fic for you, but be prepared to also be slapped in the face with some deeply authentic intimacy and heart. Another one in the Smut Swap that manages to be stupidly hot and still so tender all at once.

Words that will live in my head forever: Look this entire story is full of words, spoken and unspoken, that made me want to smush my face into a pillow. But I'm gonna go with: Sometimes they are so caught up in the moment, desperate and needy for each other, they only catch glimpses of each other, an encouraging smile here, hooded eyes there. Often Brienne is so consumed by the way he kisses her, touches her, that she curls her body towards him and buries her face in his shoulder as her thighs clutch him, but tonight, she makes a conscious effort to watch him as they move together. It surprises her how intently he looks at her, how much it moves her to catalogue all of his grunts, his hums of pleasure.

“I like seeing you like this,” her voice fades a little on the last part, momentarily overwhelmed at how responsive he is to her, how he looks at her with such awe. “You’re doing so well for me.”

This wasn't my gift but it felt like one for me.

Diplomatic Relations for wildlingoftarth, rated E. You know how you can go to Epcot and Eat Around the World? This is that but the world is the Seven Kingdoms, and Jaime is snacking on Brienne. Okay not each kingdom is noted by the presence of Jaime Lannister, Oral Enthusiast, but you won't ever convince me that's not happening amidst all the fucking. They're ripping pillows, alarming Sweetrobin, and generally trying not to scandalize the entire population of Westeros as they fuck all over it during their diplomacy trip. This story is just fun from start to finish and even with all the non-stop fucking, what really shone through for me is just how much they like each other.

Lines that will live in my head forever: Again, the options are endless, but let's go with: Jaime threw his head back and his moan was once again muffled. Now she understood what Jaime so enjoyed in teasing her. But she would go about driving him crazy a different way. Her way.

She shifted her legs, knees and hips until she was comfortable, reveling in the way his throat moved with every swallow he took as they moved against one another. Then, Brienne leaned down and whispered low into his ear, “Remember to practice your discretion, my lord.”

She grabbed a pillow to muffle her own cries of pleasure, then began riding him at a punishing pace and nearly preened in satisfaction when she felt the vibration of his choked moans against her palm.

If you're looking for lots of sex mixed in with laughter, this is the fic for you.

Trust Me With You for LadyRhiyana, rated E. This is another one that I read super early but it has stuck with me. Was it the mention of the Elliot Ness suit? Was it canon adapted to a more modern setting? Was it Jaime misunderstanding why Brienne wanted to meet him in the library? It was probably all of the above, plus the lines I'll share below. I don't know if a memo went out about fingers being used to fuck my entire world up, but if so let's keep it going. I've thought about that scene more than once since reading it and will undoubtedly keep thinking about it for quite some time.

Lines that will live in my head forever: I mean it's clearly the finger part. CLEARLY. Here read it with me and then go read the entire fic because it's all that good: “In just a little bit, my cock is going to be in here.” He pressed one of her fingers inside, and while she wasn’t a complete innocent—she’d heard plenty of talk among men and occasionally between women to know what the act itself involved—she was still shocked at the intrusion.

Shocked that it was her hand there, doing this, with Jaime beside her, and then one of his fingers slid inside, joining hers, and she gasped again.

“I’m going to make this good for you,” he promised as his finger slid out only to press back in. She caught onto this and her finger moved in time with his as she spread her legs wider. “Touch yourself, Brienne.”

Jesus, I got pissed off all over again. Fuck this scene so much.

Apart, Together, Together Apart for potato_writes, rated E. This story. Holy shit. Excuse me author I signed up to read dirty smut, not be left with a flood of emotions. This story punched me right in the heart, but in the good way if that makes sense. Jaime is King Tommen's Lord Commander and Brienne is the Evenstar, and when he comes to Tarth or she ventures into Kings Landing, they are lovers. In this fic, they have a week together and it is both so, so hot and so, so poignant.

Lines that will live in my heart forever: God I almost picked one of the soft lines because some of them really fucked me up, but since it's a Smut Swap, I'm sticking to the smut: He’s sprawled on her bed, naked as his nameday, waiting. She stops dead in the entrance and then hastily slams the door. His legs are spread. He smiles lazily, his hand moving slowly up and down on his cock, not chasing release but keeping himself hard for her. She is instantly flushed red. Jaime is here, in my bed waiting for me. Wanting me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice soft and deep. “Do you like what you see?”

She nods, her eyes wide. She tries to regain some of her composure. “The last time I unexpectedly found a man in my chamber he was cleaning the chimney. That was very useful.”

“But not nearly as decorative, I’d imagine.”

Read this one but be prepared to have feelings when you do.

#jaime x brienne #jaime x brienne fic recs #jaime x brienne smut swap

[fallenhero-rebirth]

OUT OF CANON BACKGROUND SNIPPETS.

Since people were asking in the discord, some old Ortega/Steel snippets from before they got yanked into the Fallen Hero universe. Not canon, just inspiration. From the same universe as the JUMP one before, back when Los Diablos was still in ruins, before it became Fallen Hero. Also, this is TEN YEARS OLD so my writing was fuuucked.

One:

The wind howled murder in Ortega's dreams, tonight like every night.

"Come on Ortega, move your feet, the day ain't getting any younger." Marek was all smile and camera, and there was no turning back now. He had to make the jump.

There was a feel of crumbling rocks beneath his feet as he threw himself off the edge of the cliff, the ruins far below greeting him with concrete teeth. Base jumping was a thrill, the first moment of freefall a kiss snatched from death's cold lips. He knew he should have prayed, but he'd left all faith behind him long ago. These days, his gods were ones of preparation and caring for your equipment.

Behind him, rocks cascaded down the uneven cliff face, a stampede of debris racing him towards the ground below.

Falling.

Weightless.

The wind roaring in his ears and his heartbeat so loud it hurt.

And then the chute snapped open, tearing him sideways, away from the cliff, away from the falling rocks, away to safety and a glorious descent and a rush of adrenaline that nearly dampened the pain as the wind slapped him in the face and smashed him into the rocks.

That day death hadn't been satisfied with just a kiss, she had wanted to go second base. And Ortega had ended up broken and trapped in a bed, surrounded by wheezing machines, waking from dreams recapturing his last moment of freedom.

...

"Move your left toe, please." Dr Burton said the words blandly, like she had a dozen times before, leaning over the man on the table.

He was lying limp, like a filleted fish, the healing flesh on his back parted to reveal the grafts all along his back. Titanium fused with plasteel, faintly glowing cords and connections burrowing into the bone to make up for neural connections lost in the accident that had smashed so much of his spine. It was a work of art and wonder, military cybernetic technology adapted to a less lethal use. If only she could make it work.

"Still nothing," Ortega said, watching the floor.

Not dirty.

Nothing here was dirty.

He hadn't seen a speck of dust since he had woken up here, no doubt thanks to his father pulling strings. Again. Patching up his wayward son. Trying to make him walk once more. They had an awkward reunion after he had regained consciousness, his father looming in the background, impassive in his uniform. Such a shield it was to hide behind. His mother had been on her knees by the bed, praying, thanking the Lord for saving her son's life.

In his opinion, the Lord had little to do with it. It was his friends that had managed to get him down and keep him alive until help got there. He'd asked what become of them, but they had been found in a restricted area. Los Angeles was in ruins after the Big One and anybody who came there without permission were trespassers. Possible looters. Maybe his friends were let go. Maybe they were doing jail time. He had no way of knowing. Nobody would even answer his questions. His friends were as lost as his own mobility.

...

His spine whirred, and that was a sound a body was not supposed to make. Standing up hurt, every muscle ached as Ortega leaned on the handrails, forcing himself to stand.

"Move your feet," Sammy said, his physical therapist refusing any other form of addressing him. "It's not that hard."

"Says the man without the metal eel pretending to be a spine." No, Ortega thought to himself. An eel was the wrong word. His first thought when he had seen the spine all rolled up on the table before him was that it had been a snake, ready to strike. And now it had, inserting itself into his flesh, bonding with his bones, theoretically making him all that he had been and a lot more.

Freak.

Experiment.

Military property.

"You're only going to tire yourself out if you keep standing there." Sammy placed a hand on his shoulder, making Ortega flinch a little. "I know it hurts. I know things need time to heal. But you need to start moving for that to happen."

"Bit too valuable to be left in the bed now, am I?" There was a hint of bitterness to his voice as he moved his left foot forward, letting his weight come down on it.

Blinding pain shot through his body, but his knees didn't buckle. The whirring shifted in tone, and his body held. The next step was easier, the spine adjusting, microscopic chipbrains memorizing stance and weight. It hurt, but he could walk. He actually could put one foot in front of the other again.

Right then and there, that moment that felt like a bigger achievement than any of his many jumps.

Two:

"We're going back, you know." Chen held up the pads so Ortega could throw another punch.

"Going back where? Panama?" Ortega punched and shifted his balance, the soft whirr of his implants nearly imperceptible. Or perhaps he was simply getting used to them. The scars had faded to an angry red by now, and his body was adapting. Good as new. No, better than new.

"Hell no, I hope not. Los Angeles." Captain Wei Chen was a veteran of Panama, and in the military hospital for much the same reason as Ortega. A broken body fixed by state of the art technology, the difference being that Chen was military through and through, and Ortega was here because his father had pulled some favors.

"Don't you mean Los Diablos? That's what everybody calls it these days."

Whoever chose to rename Los Angeles after the Big One was not far off. The quakes had ripped the entire west coast to shreds. Cities burned, millions died, and when the smoke had cleared the name had stuck. Los Diablos. At first the government had tried to rebuild what had been lost, but as the aftershocks continued and the years passed, a crashing economy forced the politicians to focus on salvaging the heartland and the east.

How the west was lost. Not a catchy title for a movie in a country used to winning.

"Yeah, whatever smartass, hit me harder. I know you can." Chen clapped the pads together, then held them up again.

"Quit giving me orders, I'm not in the army." Ortega hit the pads despite his complaints, because it felt good. It felt good to move, to be able to sweat and train and not be looking forward to a lifetime in bed.

"Might as well be, I know how these contracts work. The military own your sorry ass now. Unless you want back in that chair."

"No way." Hard punches, sweat stinging his eyes.

"Then you play ball." Pads removed, a towel tossed instead.

"I never was much for playing ball." Ortega wiped his face with a grimace.

"So I've been told. They're gonna offer you a shot at joining the team anyway."

"What team?" Ortega asked, by now actually curious to what the other man was angling for. "Not football I hope."

"I wish," Chen said with a laugh. "No chance to join the league for us Mods."

"Ugh, I hate that nickname. Modified humans. Makes me feel like a car or something, and you still haven't told me what you're angling for." He dropped the towel, popping his neck a little. The cybernetic joints still felt slightly off, but he was moving smoother by the day.

"Not me. Them. The Government. They've dropped the quarantine, and are renaming the areas affected by the quake the 'Free Territories'."

"A catchy name is not going to make people move back there. Last I saw, there was not much left standing." Last thing he had seen had been a fabulous sunset from the Hollywood Cliffs, the ruined skyscrapers leaning drunkenly against the encroaching sea.

"Oh it's more than a catchy name. It's free of government control. Free of taxes. Free of police. Free of pesky environmental regulations. The new west, like the old west if you believe the slogans. I hear companies are already moving into the less destroyed areas. And with companies come roads, electricity and jobs."

"Jesus," Ortega said, looking at Chen as if he couldn't quite believe his words. "It's gonna be dog eat dog out there."

"It sure will be. But with the economy crashing and unemployment being what it is, there's enough people willing to take a chance that they can build a future for themselves. It's the American dream after all. And with Asia finally regulating things, there's few places left where anything goes."

"They sure got you drinking the Kool Aid. And what were you talking about before? About the government and joining teams?"

"Companies ain't gonna bother with things like police or firemen, there's going to be private security forces for their facilities and to hell with the rest. The military's been asked to help put together a special task force of people charged with keeping the peace."

"Because military rule has always been such a grand idea." Ortega walked over to the treadmill, striking up a steady pace. He was still getting used to the new weight of his body and the way his implants handled. Maybe he was more like a sports car than he liked to admit.

"I said the military's been asked to help." Chen leaned against the wall, settling for watching. "It's gonna be an autonomous organization, deputized directly by the president. More like the Marshals of old than navy seals."

"And they want me in? Forgive me if I sound a bit disbelieving."

"Oh trust me, if the military had a choice, this would all be staffed by trusted officers, but the President is keen on making this an independent organization. He wants civilians too. And you're already sort of famous after your daredevil exploits. You're a perfect candidate."

"Yeah, right," Ortega said with the deepest of cynical looks.

"I'm serious. It will be a team consisting only of Enhanced, don't tell me you'll back away from a shot at being a legit hero? And it will get you out of here."

Ortega stopped jogging, catching his breath. He was covered in sweat and far too out of shape, but he knew that would change in time. He wanted out of here any way possible, and if this was a way out without living in crippling debt for the rest of his life… could he afford to refuse? He'd never really considered any real career in life if you didn't count crazy stunts, but living on the edge meant you had an expiration date, and this… he hated to admit it, but it spoke to the twelve year old in him. The part of him that thought it was fun to fling oneself off tall buildings for sport. What did he have to lose anyway? Except his life, and he was already prepared to risk that on a daily basis. Had nearly gotten killed more than once. And this? A shot at respectability? At fame? At a limelight far shinier than he could ever have hoped for before?

"What the hell," he begun, shrugging a little. "I am in."

Three little words. Changing his future.

Three:

The hangar was flooded with lights, the air filled with the sharp, acrid stench of spray paint. In the middle of the floor loomed a massive suit of armor, a decommissioned military model with the weaponry removed and replaced with non-lethal varieties. It still towered over the head of the two people eying their handiwork, facemasks pushed up now that the worst chemicals had dissipated.

"Looking good," the tall woman said, hair tightly tied down by a shawl to protect it from the paint.

"A work of art," Ortega agreed, pulling his gloves off.

The armor said nothing. Without a pilot to bring its cybernetic systems to life it was looped in standby mode, ready for action at a moment's notice. A small light started to blink on the helmet, reacting to the presence of said pilot.

"Uh oh," Ortega said, just a moment before Chen barged past, pushing them both aside so he could get a look at his baby.

"I can't believe you did this!" the former soldier complained, about to touch the armor before he realized that the paint was still wet. "How could you?"

"It wasn't easy. Luckily Ayesha rigged us up a sandblaster so we could get down to the plasteel." Ortega gestured to the tall woman and tried to continue to explain, because it had been a lot harder than he had anticipated. But Jake interrupted.

"That's not what I meant! My armor... it's blue."

"And gold," Ayesha supplied helpfully.

"We thought about white, but decided that would get dirty right away."

"You're wearing white," Ayesha pointed out.

"That is because I am smooth," Ortega preened. "And it's mostly blue."

"You are so full of yourself. You just want to stand out the most."

She laughed and hit Ortega on the arm, something which made him wince. Unlike the men, she did not owe her status on the team to technology, but to drugs. And in that particular lottery of death or debilitation, she had hit the jackpot. Stronger than a bull, faster than a striking snake and able to take a point blank shot and be able to complain about it afterwards.

"No, I swear, it's a theme," he defended himself, rubbing his arm. "Lightning is sort of bluish white, and I run on electricity so..."

"Excuses, excuses, you're such a narcissist Ricardo."

"You painted my armor?" Chen finally managed to get out, having completed a full circle around his suit. "Why for the love of God would you do such a thing?"

"Because we're not military," Ortega said, their old arguments coming back for another round, the military man and the thrill-seeker, united for a common cause. "We have to look the part. We can't walk in like paramilitary forces and expect to be treated like proper law enforcement."

"Hence the police blue," Ayesha supplied.

"The gold is pure flash though. We can't just be cops. We have to be more." Ortega had spent a lot of time thinking about this, thinking about what impression they had to make. He had talked about it at length with Marek, and as the filmmaker had said, they couldn't allow themselves to be goons. They had to be more. They had to be heroes.

"It was a perfectly sensible camouflage." Chen kept walking around his armor, the helmeted head shifting slowly in response to his actions, close enough for the sensory weave to pick up his distress.

"We are supposed to be seen, not hiding." Ayesha stripped off the coveralls that covered her own suit, a protective nanomesh weave of the kind that had been used as the basis of space suits before earth became too much of a problem to be able to afford such flights of fancy. It was boldly blue and red, as much of a statement as the woman herself.

"Face it Wei, you're not in the military anymore." Ortega couldn't help it; the look on Chen's face was just too funny. Of all the indignities his friend had expected to endure here in their improvised base, having to deal with a repainted armor was apparently not one of them

"And you are not the leader of this merry outfit," he snapped, poking a finger in Ortega's chest. "I can't believe Marshal Burke authorized this."

"Authorized it? He thought it was a brilliant idea. Even the code names."

"Codenames?"

"You're Sergeant Steel, Ayesha is Sentinel and I am Charge." Ortega wasn't too happy, he'd spent last night tossing names back and forth with Ayesha, but none had really seemed to fit. This would have to do for now, maybe he would grow into it.

"How come I'm just a Sergeant?" Chen asked, momentarily distracted from his armor. "That's lower than my actual rank."

"Ahah!" Ayesha said, sliding up next to the man, looking like a lioness leaning in for a bite. "I told you he'd come around to the idea. And it's not about rank. It's about alliteration. Unless you want to be named something else?"

"I... don't want to be named anything at all, we could have proper codenames."

"Nobody is going to ask Bravo-6 to get a kitten down from a tree." To his credit, Ortega managed to say that with a completely straight face,

"There are no kittens in trees here anymore," Chen argued. "The city is wrecked!"

"My point still stands."

"Fine. I suppose it will have to do."

Capitulation at last, and it was all that Ortega could do not to rub his hands. Marek had been right; the lure of being something grander than what they really were was a seductive one. Why be a peacekeeping force, or government watchdogs when they could be heroes? Why have utilitarian outfits like the military when they could be larger than life? They were after all, all of them changed into something more than human. Enhanced.

It wasn't narcissism, it was just common sense.

#snippet #not canon #old source material #ortega #steel

[chaniters]

Clocked

New one is up! Awan takes matters into his own hands.

___________________________________________

It hurts.  Of course, it hurts. But you have to get up.

You can’t give up, you’re not going to end like this even if you have to crawl your way out.

You steady yourself against a wall and begin trying to stand. Your leg fails to respond at the last second and you fall again.

But you won’t stop.

You aren’t going to be Nathaniel’s slave,  doll, or whatever else his fucking mind believes you are supposed to be.

You are your own person. You always dreamed about taking your own decisions and you just happened to make the mistake of thinking Nath was on your side, giving you the space to grow. You wanted to believe him when he said he had great plans for the both of you.

But in his plans, you're not a partner or a friend. You are nothing more than his little pet.

You bottle up the anger,  sadness, betrayal, and disappointment and put a cork on it. And then you store it in the darkest corner of your mind with a large  "Unresolved" label on it. You'll deal with this later, in your own time.

Crying or depending on others never got you anywhere in the past.  

You have more important things to do right now.

Things have changed. You've tasted freedom and understood a fraction of what it's about. You aren't going to go back with him, the Farm, or anyone else knocking at your door.

Finally, you are standing again.

It’s true, you might have picked up your name Awan from that old fantasy novel one of the scientists brought in without authorization.

And perhaps you took your last name Cormac from the Cormac & Brothers Car Wash from which you stole those clothes while you were on the run…

But even if they are stolen you've made those names work as your own.

You’re no longer 412, the doll, the re-gene, the freak or the Androsynthetic life-form.

Humans. They are good at coming up with names. Placing themselves on top so they can stomp you.

You flex your arms. They are numb… He must have used a lower setting energy shock…just enough to capture you.

Good news, it will wear off soon and then…

A cold smile reaches your lips. His mistake. He should have killed you while he had the chance.

You take one step towards the door… and another… and another…

You’re never going to place your trust in humans again.

And you swear it by the…

*KLAAACK!*

The door breaks apart and is pulled off its frame…

A figure on the other side…

Your mind races.

Lord Ember? You sense another mind as well...

The larger figure takes a step inside.

No…! You won’t let him…

You turn your hand into a fist…

And you STRIKE!!!

“Ow,” The figure complains as it takes your weak punch on its cheek.

Your legs fail under your own impulse and you fall down, limp once more.

Pathetic.

Shit. You’re done for… they are going to…

"Wow! You totally got clocked Marshall!" a cheerful voice says, snorting.

You turn and look up. Marshall Charge...? And someone else you haven't met before.

“Was that really necessary kid?” Charge asks holding his cheek. “Also, what even was that? It felt like a ping-pong ball hit me” he says looking at the other figure.

Both of them step inside your cell.

“W.. what are you…”

“What are we doing here? Following you obviously”

"Hey, pleased to meet you! I'm Anathema!" the younger guy takes your hand, which right now feels like spaghetti, and shakes it. "I'll help you up... " he adds, giving you a rather strong pull.

You stumble back on your feet, but he holds you steady. You're about to complain, but you cling to him. If you let go you'll end up on the hard floor again.

"Darn... they did a number on you," he says helping you stand

It takes a moment before you feel confident enough to stay on your feet.  

Charge approaches you, and snatches your lollipop bag without warning.

"Hey! That's mine!" you complain.

"I can't believe you actually took candy from a baby Charge" Anathema chuckles "Tough he's not as young as you keep telling me!"

"He's a kid," he says without even looking at you. "And he's clearly above his head in this. I’m going to take this little one back” He says taking a small electronic shaped like a plastic lighting bolt from it, then handing the bag back to you.

“You tracked me?!” you say, indignant.

“Well yes! You were so smug announcing you knew Ember’s hideout, what did you expect me to do?!”

“I… wanted to do it alone!”

“Ohh… and how’s that working out for you? Is this all part of your plan?”

“I was about to escape!” you complain

“Oh… Oooh, I see. Maybe I should put the door back where it was, and you can have another go at it?” he says crossing his arms

“……. no……….” you simply say in the end

"Point for the Marshal I'd say" Anathema laughs.

“What’s the deal between you and The Void?” Charge asks.

“None of your business,” 

“Look I’ve seen abusive relationships, but you and him… kid that’s just special next level fucked up… So speak to me, what happened?” he insists.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say looking away.

“Come on! I heard what he said... You are trying to walk away from him, and he won’t let you?”

“I SAID IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS! FUCK YOU!” you bark at him angrily, balling your hands into fists again.. 

He’s about to say his comeback when…

"Hey Hey" Anathema stands in between "Give him some space... jeez. You told me yourself his boyfriend just shot him and threw him in here! How do you expect him to process that?"

“Oh,” he says, his expression changing

Oh. Oh … he can see the dry tear traces on your eyes and face. Fuck. His whole expression changes. You can see… concern.. pitty? Shit, why can’t you read his stupid mind!

“Sorry kid… I…  mierda, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off like that. This is just fucked up, I didn't expect you'd be involved with the Void... This just adds another layer of reasons to kick his ass... Just relax... We are here to stop Ember, and we can help you... We'll take care of The Void too” he says putting an arm on your shoulder.

Oh, now you just want to punch him again… for real.

“Leave me alone!” you say swatting his hand away. “ I don't need help from you! ... I will… I… will…”

“Yeah... what's your plan now?” Anathema asks crossing his arms.

You glare at them both

“None of my fucking business?” Ortega asks with a smirk. Ugh.

“I don’t…know … ok? I don’t fucking know what comes next!”

“Wait… Is the void the person you thought  Ember had killed?” Ricardo asks widening his gaze

Your logical mind picks up the pieces… He must have overheard a part of your conversation with Nath… that static buzz you picked up wasn’t a migraine, it was him This is a nightmare… and he thinks Nath… The Void is your boyfriend… what a clusterfuck…

“So you came here to kill Ember to get revenge on your dead boyfriend… and now you find he’s alive and working for him the whole time?!” he asks piecing together the story.

“I…” On second thought, your practical mind brings to your attention that he’s assembled a pretty good and convincing backstory all by himself, and it saves you from coming up with your own.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it. You’ve figured it out now genius. Are you satisfied?!” you say angrily. “I have no CLUE what the hell comes next because I didn’t plan for ANY of this!” pretending to be furious isn't hard, you just have to pull the cork on that bottle of emotions a little.

"Crap... I'm sorry" he apologizes again. You are hating it every time he does it. "THat's just... among the most awful things I've heard," Anathema says giving you a sympathetic look "You should get out. We'll deal with Ember now"  

"I'm... I'm Staying. The Void is MY problem to deal with. And also, you will need my help"

"What? No way. You can't even move! You are leaving right now, end of discussion" Charge objects  

" The shock's wearing off already. And also, I made a grenade, to deal with Ember. You won't defeat him without it"

"I'm Invulnerable" Anathema explains "I'm not afraid of his fire tricks"

"Well maybe if you had done your research you'd know that Medea joined them".

"WHAT?" Charge seems surprised. "Medea turned?"

"Yes. She's been working for Ember for a while now. And Na... The Void is loose too"

“That's not important. You're NOT coming with us" The Marshall scowls

“Well you just try and stop me!" you say defiantly. Your muscles are working again. You’ll show him if you have to...

You glare at each other for a few seconds until...

"Hey, you! Stop right there!!" The guards spotted you... they approach with weapons drawn.

------------------ A brief, but violent battle later------------------------

"How in the HELL did you do that?" Anathema asks as you knock down the last enemy.

"Do what?" you ask.

"You were dodging fucking bullets!"

"Oh... that. Well, it's my boost. Martial arts. THat's what they call me... The Sidestep!" you give Charge a smug smile. Now that you have a hero name too, he can't keep treating you like a kid. While you are still sore from the shock it's really easy to dodge bullets if you can aim their guns away from you by a few degrees with your telepathy each time. "Follow me," you say, leading the way to the lab once more.

"Really? You're going to use THE before your name? Because that gets tedious fast, let me tell you.

"You really think so?" you ask. Perhaps he's right... if Nathaniel wants to be THE Void, maybe you shouldn't use THE Sidestep on your name...

Charge groans, and follows the two of you.

______________________________________

My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #Awan Cormac #Fanfiction

[scoundrels-in-love]

Rainy watches Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Let me start this with saying I did spoil my self and quite thoroughly before this movie. And my initial opinion was that this movie will be absolute disappointments on all fronts I cared about.

So, when I walked in the cinema, my expectations were so low, it’d be hard to fall lower. (But as we know, I had same thoughts about year 2017 and it proved me wrong, so it’s not like it was impossible.) I came out thinking, damn, it was pretty okay movie. Maybe even good. No, it will not be my favorite Star Wars movie, it is still Rogue One and I did like The Force Awakens better, but I think the trilogy does not die with it. Especially since it’s trilogy and there is a lot to be seen in Episode 9 still.

I will not give it rating, I can’t rate these things and if I was forced to, I would not give even Rogue One a 10. That’s just how I am. But what I will do is write a long-ass recap and analysis of the movie. Having read spoilers and reactions to them, I have come conclusion a lot of the rage, in my opinion, comes from focusing on the details instead of lessons they’re trying to show. Lessons we may see us give a very satisfying conclusion in Episode 9.

Obviously, spoilers below. All of the spoilers. Read at your own risk. Later, when more folks have seen the movie, I may do shorter extractions with add-ons for specific plot points or characters. Also, this will be ship stanning or hate free (and in general, I tried to keep this positive, instead of dissing anything, though there are quite a few things I dislike). I have my preferences, but those will, hopefully, remain beyond the walls of this recap. Also, it’ll be all over the place, bouncing to and from various details, etc. If you stick around, let me know what you think, I’d love that!

Let me start this with saying I am not built for war movies. I do not deal well with deaths of characters even as brief as Rose’s sister or the pilots who exchanged smile and salutes before the docking bay thingie was blown up. Each time a ship or speeder goes down, I wince and break a little bit inside. So, obviously, that sets me up for being emotionally vulnerable all through the movie.

I did not expect TLJ to start essentially immediately after TFA ended. That took me by surprise and threw me right in middle of hell. I think it was rather solid choice, though.

A lot of people disliked how disheartened and disillusioned Luke was. I think he was still wrapped in illusion, one that Rey forcefully breached. And he was weighed down by guilt. So much of it. He did not just fail Ben, or his sister and Han. He failed himself. In a moment of slip, he lost everything and was reminded that even strongest, kindest hearts can have a slip up, no matter how momentary. And it can have horrible consequences.

To be honest, when Kylo said Luke had tried to kill him I was like “no, that’s Snoke manipulating his memories”. And if it had been the case, I would be okay with it. Right now, I lean more towards the fact Luke never actually physically soul searched Darth Vader, never witnessed that darkness and the endless blood on his hand. And the dark side was so thick around young Ben, that Snoke’s influence could’ve dripped onto Luke in that moment. Just a bit of tar, lasting for few seconds, but enough to turn the tide. If only Ben could’ve slept through it, but it was not meant to be. Possibly also because of Snoke.

Something that struck me deeply was the way Luke had to watch the Tree burn down. For me, it felt like he was forced to watch his second home burn down. Like he had wanted to leave his uncle’s and aunt’s home, he wished to leave ways of Jedi behind, something that had become a home to him in spiritual sense. But in the end, the choice was never entirely given to him, someone else made it for him and he had to watch his home become embers. And as always, Luke carved his own path ahead from that moment.

Yoda’s lesson was, FOR ONCE, one thing said out-loud from the many the movie tried to get across. Failures will happen. Failing does not define us. How we get up from them is what matters. That makes us who we are.

Some say whole Finn’s and Rose’s mission was a filler, absolutely pointless. But, if we’re being really mean, pretty much every star wars episode has one of these scenes/story lines. And, I do not think it was entirely failure. Yes, it was a detour and one that failed, but it also lit another spark, in the hearts of the children on that planet. Plus, again, lesson about failures - they did not let it beat them down and returned to fight to the last breath.

In my opinion, another lesson was ‘retreating is not necessarily cowardice’. Is Finn a coward? No, my son is brave beyond reason. He may want to escape, back in TFA and at start of TLJ, but especially in latter it is to find a spot of safety which can be a beacon for Rey and Luke Skywalker, the HOPES of the galaxy. And even then, the moment he sees a chance to do more, to actively participate in saving, he’s right back in the fray.

Poe gets literal slap in the face for not realizing it. He gets punch in soul later, when Viceadmiral Holdo does what she does and Leia tells him “she was busy saving people, instead of showing she is a hero.” WHAT A GODDAMN QUOTE. Which I sadly don’t remember correctly.

I have a lot of feelings about Admiral Holdo in general. I cried and literally saluted her in cinema when she stayed behind. I felt a little bad I wished she had pulled the last move a moment sooner so more than like, 6 ships out of 30 survived the assault. But she truly went out like the Queen she was.

I think a lot of people could be pissed about how Resistance wasn’t united, how there was an uprising in itself. But we have to realize, it is made of people. Not humans or aliens differentiating here. Just, different people. And there will be disputes and issues. And it’s normal, it’s understandable. Especially in a hellish situation like this. It makes sense. Resistance isn’t flawless, the unity of it must be hard fought for. (Let us recall Rogue One.) Yes, she could’ve handled it better, but she knew Poe would oppose and try to undermine it. In the end, both she and Leia knew his heart is in the right place.

Also, yes, I tried to count how many ships might’ve reached the surface of salt planet. I was devastated it was so few and that the ones who made to Millenium Falcon were literally a handful.

I absolutely loved how Poe was like “LEIA!!!” when it turned out it was her to be breaking in the bridge, so sure she’d be so against Holdo’s decision. only for her to stun him. Like, you still have so much to learn, my boy.

Oh man, I am afraid to get started on Leia, to be honest. Carrie Fisher was my Top Shining Star in this movie. For me, she was the mirror of every loss Rebellion suffered. Her expressions, her eyes. The way she felt Luke pass away, the way she felt Kylo... Ben, nearby. Each and every time I was wrecked. I sobbed during Luke’s and Leia’s reunion, she was beautifully regal and in character and Luke was also most Luke again, reassuring there is hope for Ben. Just before he appeared, I did want to scream, are you just going to sit and take your death? Go out and fight, for one more moment. (Leia with a blaster was a vision.)

When Carrie’s daughter was watching through window at her somewhere in vast space, I teared up thinking about how prophetical this was. And in a sense, Carrie Fisher, did rise up against impossible odds to continue to live in our lives. I don’t know how they will respectfully write Leia Organa off screen, but they better do it right.

I have some issues with space physics in this movie, like would Leia and Rose’s sister for that matter, hovering over open space, like, pull off what they did? But again, this is movie where space explosions have sound, etc. So I am just going to scream: LEIA CANONICALLY USED THE FORCE.

I knew Luke was an illusion/hologram. There was no way he could make it to base, no matter how he tried. And it made me think of just how immensely powerful he is. The way Han’s little dice thing lasted even beyond his departure, the way everyone saw and felt him. I cried so hard during that forehead kiss, I still tear up.

I can’t say I dig Luke simply left, just like that. I feel like there is more he could have done. But at the same time, it seemed to me, and to Rey and Leia, as if he left with purpose. Is he going there to be a Force Ghost and influencing fate and people by popping up all over the place? I don’t know. I hope it is not actual last we see of him.

Skywalkers being drama queens continue, volume lost count a: the cape drop by Kylo Ren. Volume lost count b: the shoulder brush off Luke does after all he walks out of the smoke. I loved that sass. In fact, we saw that the moment Rey appeared, he kinda sparked back to life, with the smirk he gives her when he swings on his spear. I admit some lines felt a little out of character/the mood felt off, but overall, Mark Hamill did magic.

Which brings me to another point of this movie: downfall of pride. Luke threw that around left and right, but it goes beyond Jedi. It goes beyond essentially blind faith Light Side always prevails just because. It also is the cornerstone of Snoke’s demise. “Oh, he was so hyped up and meant to be badass, died just so simply!! HOW COME. BAD WRITING” people say. But, was it not what happened to Emperor? To essentially pretty much EVERY Sith lord and even Jedi that has graced canon, extended universe and so forth? He thought he was beyond anyone’s reach, he thought he could humiliate Kylo Ren to his heart’s content, feed the anger in him, but did not think of the backlash. Did not think that simply taking him back in fold could not be enough. Did not think of age old lesson - there is always two, no more and no less. A Lord and their apprentice. Kylo Ren thinks it is time he took apprentice, Rey. So he offs his Master. And that IS something Snoke should’ve seen, but he did not, because he thought there is no way someone as torn as Kylo could turn against him. That Kylo is thoroughly dependent on him.

Speaking of Kylo, since TFA I wanted him to be shown more as his own person instead of puppet in Snoke’s ugly hands. This movie did that. It made him, if not entirely sympathetic, then still more acceptable. I was glad he was not the one to fire missile at the bridge, he even looked shell-shocked when other tie-fighters did it. And he also never denied than Han loved him, instead he reflected it to try and get at Ray. I enjoyed his thought of that all old must end. In this, he reminds me of Revan from KOTOR and SWTOR. First, he was Jedi (in training), then fell to the Dark side and eventually, went nuts and decided he must end all there is and start over. So, in a sense, a bit of Emperor’s dogma, too?

The cinematography and symbolism of the lightsaber being torn apart, at the same time as the battleship was stunning and I still shiver thinking about it.

As Snoke said, Rey and Kylo are indeed foils to each other, darkness attracted to light and light attracted to darkness. Incredibly raw power. I would like to see this end with Gray Jedi kind of mindset, maintainers of actual balance. This movie MAY set it up for Kylo to have redemption arc at the very end and a (co) founder of Gray Jedi order. Or it may set up him as weak villain all through and through. Weak in the sense he is already blinded by rage and fight with his past, as proven by his fight with Luke. He loses the final, in a sense incredibly easy, battle just because he has to finish Luke off. Either he will clear his head or go about everything as incredibly unstable as he is. And fall because of his pride, as did every Sith before him.

I do wonder, if next movie will start after time, when literally a handful of people are rebuilding the Resistance or we will once again be thrown right into another chasing scene of Millennium Falcon.  There’s potential in both.

Lot of people are saying this movie decimates Rey’s character. I do not entirely agree. She is desperate to clutch onto hope Galaxy can be saved via returning to Ben to light because she’s been denied all other options. Luke has become less of hero in her eyes, in fact, he had considered becoming a cold blooded murderer. And even then, she offers him to come with her and he refuses. Because Rey, fundamentally, believes in best in people. Like Luke once did. What’s more, if she does indeed know her parents were nobodies who traded her for a ration of booze, these are memories, pain and betrayal stirred up by dark side. She is drawn to it. But at the end of it, she does not take Kylo’s hand, sees it can only breed more so much more pain and returns to her friends. I do not think she will ever entirely fall to Dark Side, there is not enough time to make her do that and then retrieve her from it in one movie.

Speaking of Rey’s parentage, Snoke said he created the force bond between Kylo and her, and essentially that he planted certain things in it. Lies about her parents could be one of the things he put in there, to give Kylo tools. The mirror could have been a way to show she is born from Force, much like Anakin was. When Light side was dominant, he was the one to bring more Balance, perhaps by falling to Dark side. Now, Force may have given Galaxy another hero, to turn the tides towards Light.

Now I would like to speak some of other badass lady - Rose. I felt for her, deeply. She was not afraid to stand up to her literal hero. She did not hesitate to say what she hated about the whole rich-planet. She has and always will give everything for Hope.  I have to say, her proclaiming she saved Finn was a VERY big stretch, though. They were literally going to be killed in 10 more minutes, if Kylo wasn’t so busy with focusing Luke. Like, no. You didn’t save him. You delayed the inevitable and incidentally, both of you survived. Also, you don’t have to look at him like coward about knowing where escape pods are on First Order ship. He literally was in clean up crew. Of course he did. But she matters so much in maintaining balance between foolish bravery and retreating is not cowardice message, in fact underlining the latter, by reminding that Rebellion is about saving those we love, not simply murdering the ones we hate.

This episode was SO strong with parallels. Like all the parallels all the fricking time. Finn and Poe getting slapped by their bosses/ex-bosses. Kylo and Rey both calling Millennium Falcon ‘that junk’. THE HUG BETWEEN FINN AND REY from TFA and at the end of TLJ. ‘Floating rocks’, of course. The moment I saw the rock block, I thought, well, here comes ‘Force is sometimes about floating rocks, too’. As well as ‘every thing you just said is absolutely wrong’. A classic. And, like, all the fricking glasses/containers of liquids shaking to show tremors all through the whole movie. There were at least 5 shots of that. We get it, things are getting shaken up. We get it.

Honestly, any scene on the salt planet was SUCH A LOOK. I have NO idea why the speeders had to extend the ‘leg’, apparently for balance, but I think mostly to create a stunning visual moment. After the speeders split up, and mission was essentially failed, it looked like blood on snow. Bloody ice underneath snow. It was gorgeous, heartbreaking symbolism of all the blood that has been spilled. Perhaps even of the bloodshed that rests under proclaimed purity of Jedi mindset. It made my gut clench. Just as did the moment it spills into the base, when First Order finally arrives.

Speaking of which, Hux, what did you think you’re gonna get, screaming at Kylo that First Order is leaderless? Lmao. Loved how they fought for control in walkers/ship. Like they both said “open fire” and Kylo looked at Hux, essentially “binch, really?”.

I did like the whole thing on the rich-folk planet. Amused at BB-8′s tactics of subduing people. Loved the escape of Finn and Rose, that the animals escaped. Heck, I was so worried for them, that they’d just get mowed down or recaptured. I had to remind myself, maybe even death is better than the life they had.

I think they pulled a really good (double?) bluff with their hacker. I mean, I was not convinced he was on their side, but when he gave the necklace back to Rose, I can see why Finn and Rose would think he’s truly fighting the good fight. I also really hope Finn fetched the necklace out of the wreck for Rose, it doesn’t deserve to be left behind.

It’s a small thing, but I LOVED that Finn didn’t strike Phasma down from behind. Like, of course it was still kinda underhanded, but she could’ve rose weapon in defense (if someone suddenly says hey behind you in this situation, you don’t think it’s an ally). But still. Her quick demise is one of my actual “:/” moments in the movie, I did think she should’ve gotten more time, more stories. But my original point is, my boy didn’t try to kill anyone from back.

Ships or no, I love every glimpse of Finn and Poe and Rey friendship, the way they deeply care for one another. Nothing can take away that Finn screamed for Rey and asked about her first, or that Rey’s one request to Chewie was to tell him something. And Finn wearing Poe’s jacket! Oh man, Poe’s and BB-8′s reunion had me clutching my heart mentally. And I am very glad to add Rose to this roster. I don’t know if Finn reciprocates her feelings or hers are actually more than being still kinda awe-struck for him. But no matter what, he cares about her deeply. With her, we get to see he will always go and save his friend and take care of them with all he got. We didn’t get the line ‘now I have something to fight for’, but I clearly think that’s definition of Finn - fighting for those he cares about, platonically or not.

Also, how did Rey get from Snoke’s escape ship to Millennium Falcon? And how did communication device work from Resistance Cruiser to First Order ship, without interception and all? /squints slightly

I am very glad Rey saved the books, I think it will do her good to study them and figure out her own path inbetween the lines.

And I think that’s.... That’s actually it. Or I am too tired to remember more points. Other than few, plot unrelated observations:

The porgs were a menace. I liked and hated them at the same time, I could only think how mad Han would be about this literal infestation.

The little alien-nuns of Ach-To, tho. They live in peace and suddenly comes this girl, blasts a house up, crashes their cart with cut-in-half boulder. I feel for them.

Salt foxes are AMAZING. (What the heck at the soldier dude who straight up tastes white substance on an unfamiliar planet OFF THE GROUND. You got guts.)

Did the kid at the end use the Force to make broom lean into his hand or was I just too blurry eyed?

Also someone wrote amazing thought of how we should’ve seen Anakin and Luke meet up in the Force, with Han, too, imo. And I really wish for it.

#sw: tlj #tlj spoilers #star wars: the last jedi #star wars #rey #kylo ren #finn #poe dameron #leia organa #luke skywalker #rose tico #snoke #rainy watches stuff #rainy rambles

[amidst-the-storm]

[State of Mind]

[Controlled Iblis State Theme (WARNING: LOUD/BASS-HEAVY)

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Bone, Heavy-Duty ‘Final Battle’ stuff.

Fair Warning: Controlled Iblis State (all Chaos Emeralds Present/revealing Tempest’s ultimate ability set). This is meant to be near the end of Tempest’s canonical storyline (still a WIP on Quotev), and currently non-canon to her character on the blog. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it canon since this final form of hers is meant to be INCREDIBLY powerful. Also I was listening to the Theme the whole time so the whole thing is me being in a battle-mindset.

Word Count: 1,490

Takes place near the end of Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood.]

“You can’t hope to defeat me, Sonic.” Ix’s words were measured, evened out. The entire team was battered, beaten within an inch of their lives. But she was a livewire. Tempest’s mind was echoing with wrath and rage, the month she had spent in this place... Seeing this world...

The destruction to her own....

“You never deserved the power of the Master Emerald.” Knuckles grit his teeth, his gloves torn and dirtied. Tempest’s eyes narrowed. “.... Now then....” His voice deepened. The tone shifted, from level-headed and calm to murderous in moments. Something was going wrong. The echidna stood atop the pedestal...

Began to glow.

His super form shed away. Left in its place was all his life. All versions of him, from the smallest child to the most elderly adult. It all burned, yet it fit. It was him. The entire timeline of his existence, on display.

Tempest couldn’t do this any longer.

She reached her hand up, bloodied fingers slipping on her necklace.

“.... We were at your death, if memory served... How rude of me to leave you waiting...” The echidna took a step down, all his forms repeating the action like fluid. Tempest’s fingers latched.

The necklace snapped.

“Another device broken?... How pitiful.... You see, this is one of the reasons why-!” Ix was silenced by a light smashing into him.

He was slammed back to the pedestal.

She was so done.

The Chaos Emeralds glowed, lifting into the air around the two like jewel spectators.

There wasn’t time. There never was. Their hand stretched out. A million flames flickered to life. Two eyes glared, the color gone beneath a burning white. This man- this frail old maniac- was trying to destroy her home.

“You want to see power, Ix?” Her voice was many. The uncountable, the impossible, an untold number of lives destroyed once by her own blood. By her own soul.

By her own hand.

It echoed and twisted, words contorted into the infinite.

Purple wires stretched around them. Ix rushed forward. He was young and old, all at once. Stinging gray hairs intertwined with the beige-green of his youth. Tempest leaped to the left, just narrowly dodging a smack to the face. His staff cracked against the ground.

More wires sliced through reality. Ix growled. He turned, pure-white orbs full of ungodly wrath.

“I am power!” His voice was echoed, multiplied. Every form of him throughout his life, echoing the same phrase. More wires encapsulated the two, burning into time itself. He rushed forth. Another swing was made. This one caught. It slammed into Tempest’s ribcage.

She knew bones had broken.

She was slammed to the wires.

They glowed, the outside world beginning to blur and distort. Time ripped off its hinges. For a moment, she heard her friends.

Tails.

Amy.

Shade.

Knuckles.

E-123 Omega.

Shadow.

Blaze.

Cream.

Cheese.

Rouge.

Big.

Sonic.

They were screaming.

Voices raw.

Bodies bleeding.

“You want to see POWER?”

They had come so far. They had fought so hard.- They had defeated his armies, his alliances left to collect. They had severed his tie to every colony, refusing him any lenience.

He was trying to destroy their world, and he wanted to talk about power?

The wires all roared. A million voices, every word ever said or to come. All echoed into one chamber. Time itself collapsed into nothing. The land outside the wires cracked. It was not real. It was not their reality, not right now.

Ix smashed his staff into her leg. Tempest screeched. Another bone was gone. The rage in her mind was just barely under a leash, collected by the very Emeralds she could never use. She couldn’t move. She could barely think.

Flames ruptured from her back.

Her skin crackled and snapped.

Light green slashed to ribbons.

Replaced by the dark, grim shades she had known two lifetimes ago.

“I’ll show you POWER, all right.”

And in that moment.

That one moment...

They were one.

There was no more fighting, no more controlling one over the other... The three collected, their fates tying into a single entity... But now, there was a new element.

The life of a human considered.

Ix dashed forth.

His staff snapped.

They turned their eyes. White still flowed from them. Flames flashed. Wires and heat collected, turning on all within and preparing to consume. They would not be distracted by the outside, not now, not ever.

“I WILL- KILL YOU!” Ix slammed forward. Tempest rushed to meet him.

The two met in the middle.

Energy arced out from their hands as they connected. Wings flared as Tempest swung her body. Ix went to do the same. The two connected yet again, shoe and sandal meeting with an almighty-

“SMASH!”

“Power isn’t about being able to control the universe, Ix.” Ix spat in her face. Tempest didn’t even flinch. He shoved her away. Twin wings of bone flapped behind Tempest, coated in the flames she had long shunned and hid. Ix was glowing, coated in an aura of pure white malice.

“THE TIME FOR TALK IS OVER!” He slashed back again. A new staff appeared in his hands. Tempest’s hand slammed into it. The staff was white, ornate. Her hand gripped it tightly. Ix’s eyebrows narrowed. His attention was on her.

The staff went from normal to white-hot in a millisecond.

“Sadly, Lord Ix, it is far from over.”

Ix screeched. His staff was dropped. Tempest kicked it away. The purple wires narrowed in, closing the bubble until it was barely big enough to move. Tempest kept her vision on Ix the whole time.

He was shaking. Really, truly shaking. The leader of the Echidna tribe- a tribe led astray by madness and wrath- was quivering.

“... Power is more than just holding fate in your hand- you should know that.” Ix turned, ready to run. He stared in horror at the wires, ensnaring him. The bubble moved. Wires wrapped and warped around him, just barely digging into his skin. They rendered him immobile, tying up his legs and arms. He could only flail, attempting to summon one of his void strikes.

A single slash of Tempest’s wing collapsed it.

“Power is knowledge.... The knowledge that we cannot control fate, nor its lines.” Ix made a desperate move to punch her. It connected with her jaw. There was a crack. Tempest didn’t even flinch. The pain was nothing compared to this.- Nothing compared to everything she could feel, everything she could see.

She touched her cheek, right where she had been hit. Ix smirked. He went for another attack.

His fist was intercepted. Several wires held it back, mere centimeters from breaking her neck. Tempest scarcely blinked.

“I once wished I could control fate. I wanted to so badly, that I became something evil...” Tempest pulled back, her wires forcing Ix to the ground. “... And you know what?... I’m not going to be that anymore... But I accept that I was part of it.”

“What would you know of p-MMPH!” Wires covered Ix’s mouth. There were many, an entire cosmos of lines that refused his speech. Tempest glanced back to him.

“... You know what else I’ve accepted?....”

She took a step towards him. The cage of wires grew smaller, her wings snapping from reality. The glow in her eyes only got stronger, white burning all else. The purple coalesced, solidifying back into pale peach skin. Tempest stepped ever closer as Ix attempted to move back.

The aura around him cracked.

White drained from his eyes, revealing a light red-hued pupil. Tempest got down to her knees. Both white-eyes were focused on her opponent.

The one who caused so much grief these past few months.

The one who tried to kill her and her friends.

The one that claimed he could be more than Solaris.

More than Iblis.

More than Mephiles.

More than anything she had ever been.

More evil than she could ever dream.

“.... That I can’t change it....”

She glared at Ix as the wires all snapped, revealing the glowing purple bubble of time around them. Ten seconds. That was all she ever needed, wasn’t it?

“.. But I can be better than those days.... Maybe, one day, you’ll be better than today.” Ix was freed. He slammed into Tempest.

Nine.

She slashed up, hand colliding with his chest.

Eight.

Ix’s fist crashed into her temple. She saw stars.

Seven.

The flames around her roared to life.

Six.

Ix threw another punch.

Five.

Tempest caught it, the fire traveling up her arm.

Four.

The hand over Ix’s chest was now coated in flames.

Three.

Tempest threw Ix off as he screamed from the burns, the fire clinging to his fur.

Two.

She rushed forward.

One.

Reality returned, just as Tempest’s fist collided with Ix’s face. He crumpled, aura snapping into nothing. Tempest collapsed seconds after. The flames on them both flickered and faded.

“... Maybe....”

#[fate's hand: controlled Iblis State] #[burned thunder: tempest] #[soul spark: iblis] #[soul shadow: mephiles] #[outside eternity:the mun] #[pencil and paper: writings] #[writer's needs: fanfic] #LONG drabble #long post #[writing forever] #[-legit me going off the rails with Tempest's final form and my headcanons for it-] #[-you can read it if you want to see me writing a fight XD-] #[-my only defense is that the final form of any story hero/heroine-] #[-is always SO BLOODY POWERFUL-] #[-and I kinda went crazy with the tune ^_^-]

[littleshebear]

Destiny Fanfiction: ‘A Killing Thing.’

When Jolder and saladin are dispatched to intercept a Warlord’s raiding party, Saladin struggles with what it means to be Risen. 

Lord Saladin | Lady Jolder | Saladin x Jolder (implied/future) | Iron Lords | The Dark Age | Canon typical violence | cw: Assisted suicide | cw: Character death (but they’ll get better) | cw: Mentions of ‘puppy’ | 

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11793537/chapters/26598690

You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill.

-Legend: The Black Garden (Legends and Mysteries)

Jolder and Saladin lie at the crest of a hill, observing a group of soldiers pick their way through a lightly-wooded area below them. Jolder studies the group through a high-magnification scope.

“How many?”

“About a dozen.” Jolder passes her scope to Saladin. “Perun’s sources said there’d be a Lightbearer among them. Any ideas which one it is?”

Saladin studies each of the fighters in turn. They’re lightly armed, a mix of auto-rifles and pistols, nothing too heavy-hitting. Not that they need it. Their target is a small farming settlement, they mean to raid their winter stores. The presence of a Lightbearer would be more than enough to cow their victims into submission.

“Hard to tell from this distance,” he replies. “I don’t see a Ghost anywhere. Might be the one taking point?”

“Maybe.”  Jolder chuckles softly. “Kinda stupid, just strolling along the low ground for all to see, like that.”

“Or arrogant. They think they’re untouchable.” He turns to her, smirking. “I mean, who would dare take on a Warlord’s forces?”

Jolder points to Saladin and then herself. “We would.” She grins widely. “You’re talking about us, right?”

“How do you want to play this?” He  already knows what her answer will be. Charge. Rush in without a care in the world. Scare Saladin to death.

“We’ve got the element of surprise. I’ll rush them-”

Saladin sighs and doesn’t quite manage to suppress a roll of his eyes.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Jolder chides. “Don’t fuss, you’re like an old hen. I’ll be fine.” She packs away the scope into her utility belt. “As I was saying, I’ll rush them, let them think I’m lone-wolfing it. I’ll draw out the Lightbearer, then you flank him or her. Shut ‘em down. Sound like a plan?”

“It sounds like, ‘you stand back while I hurl myself headlong into danger.’ As usual.”

“Yes.” She shrugs. “What’s your point? I’m faster, you’re a heavy-hitter, it makes sense to do it this way.” She pushes herself up into a kneeling position and puts on her helmet. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll mop up the rabble, you just concentrate on that Lightbearer.”

Saladin follows suit and dons his helm. “Stay in contact, keep your Ghost linked with mine.”

“Yes, Mom.” With that, she readies her gun and sets off at speed.

He watches her run, no, gambol down the hill. She allows herself to slide on the snow, seemingly for the fun of it. There’s so much joy in her gait. If Saladin didn’t know she was hurrying to intercept a raiding party, he could be forgiven for thinking she was rushing to challenge them to a snowball fight. She makes for the footsoldier at the back of the group and she shoulder-charges into him, knocking him into another before they even realise what’s happening. The others take a moment to rally, in which time Jolder has raised her machine gun and begun firing into the group. As much as she worries him, as much as he thinks her reckless, Saladin can’t help but marvel at her. She uses the trees for cover, moving between them with a fluid grace that would give any Hunter pause. The shots she manages to get off while she’s out of cover are precise and never wasted. She keeps the group too off-balance to formulate a decent defensive formation. Not for the first time, Saladin thanks the Traveler that they’re on the same side. If he ever faced her in battle, he’d probably be too transfixed to fight her.

The rumored Light-Bearer in the group finally makes his presence known, yelling at his men to rally to him. He raises a Void shield and the soldiers that haven’t been felled by Jolder scurry towards it. Saladin picks his way along the hill, moving into a flanking position. He stays low, but he needn’t worry, they’re all far too focused on Jolder. Her plan is working. Why does she always have to be right?

Jolder unloads the bulk of her current clip on the shield and the caster stumbles backwards. He’s having trouble maintaining the shield. Saladin feels a stab of pity. This one’s Light isn’t strong; he’s inexperienced, that or his Lord has been remiss with his training. Saladin suspects it’s the latter and deliberately so. Why let your lackeys reach their full potential when you can keep them weak and use them as cannon fodder?

Saladin charges down the hill towards the shield, readying his battle-axe as he goes. He leaps from the base of the hill to within striking distance, smashing the axe on the ground, sending a gout of flame towards the shield. The Ward shatters and many of its denizens scatter to find more reliable cover. Saladin draws himself up to his full height, but doesn’t attack straight away.

“Yield,” Saladin calls out. “No one else needs to die.”

The Light-Bearer draws a gun and snarls. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And you’re outmatched. Don’t be stupid.” His opponent raises his weapon and Saladin leaps out of harm’s way. Stupid it is then, he muses to himself as he lands, making another ground attack with his axe.

“Forge!” Jolder’s voice comes through via his Ghost. “Stop being a bleeding heart, put him down! He won’t hesitate to do the same to you.”

As if to prove Jolder’s point, the Lightbearer hurls a grenade in Saladin’s direction, who rasies a Ward in response. The Light grenade batters uselessly off the shield and the Lightbearer stares in dismay. Saladin takes this unguarded moment as an opportunity to rush him, swinging his axe in a figure eight pattern, not letting his oppontent regain his compsure. The Lightbearer stumbles backwards, until he falls over a tree root and in the next moment, Saladin’s axe falls, caving in his chest.

Saladin steps backwards and steels himself for what he has to do next. This was too easy, he would have felt better if had been more of a fight. Saladin wonders how long this, poor, soon-to-be-permanently-dead lad has been a Lightbearer. Not long, probably. He was woefully unprepared. His Warlord had obviously never given him the chance to hone his Light. He was good enough to intimidate a bunch of farmers but to take on an Iron Lord? There was never any contest. He paces back and forth, warring with himself. It’s a waste. He didn’t stand a chance. But he chose this. He was being used. He’d do the same to you, Jolder’s right.

But it’s such a waste.  

He hears the tell-tale whirr of an emerging Ghost and swings his axe. The blade drives the little robot up against the tree its master fell over, before slicing through its shell. Its light fades and it drops to the ground with a sad little clinking sound.

“I’m sorry,” Saladin whispers to the dead shell at his feet. “I wish you’d chosen better.” He yanks his axe free of the tree, shoulders it and begins walking towards where he last saw Jolder. He draws his sidearm when he hears a rustling off to the side. A footsoldier stumbles out from behind the tree,cowering on his knees. He’s young, his skin is chalk-white and his trousers are wet. That could be from falling in the snow, it could be from something else.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, please don’t shoot,” he babbles with one of his hands up. “I’m not armed, I threw my gun away, I didn’t even get off a shot, please…” He scrabbles away from Saladin on his backside.

Saladin stomps towards him catching up easily. He growls wolfishly, deep in his throat. “How old are you?”

The boy just whimpers.

“Speak!”

“Nineteen.”

“Traveler’s Light…” Saladin shakes his head in disbelief. “Nineteen. This your first raiding party?”

The terrified boy nods.

“Is it going to be your last?”

He nods again, vigorously.

“You still have family nearby?”

“My parents.”

“Go home to them. Now, before I change my mind. Don’t let me see you out here again. Run!” The boy scrambles to his feet, and tears off just as soon as he can find purchase on the snow. Saladin waits until he is out of sight before turning to search for Jolder again. He thought she would have caught up with him by now. He expects to see her standing behind him, calling him a bleeing heart again, with a smile and a shake of her head. She’s nowhere to be seen.

“Jolder?” There’s no response. He casts around, listening for any sign of her. He calls after her again, his voice and the soft crunch of his feet in the snow the only sounds breaking the silence. He begins to quarter the ground, half expecting her to leap out from behind a tree any moment, she’ll find his concern amusing, no doubt. She’ll laugh, punch him on the shoulder then go through a routine of gentle admonishments; ‘You worry too much’ and ‘I told you so,’ until she’ll manage to coax a smile from him. His frown deepens. He tells himself she won’t stir him from his mood, not this time.

“Jolder! Jolder, this isn’t funny!” He lengthens his stride, anxious to find her. He glances to his left and right as he goes, checking the bodies scattered around, making sure she isn’t among them. He eventually spots a flash of silver and gold, and discerns a figure lying crumpled on the ground in the distance. He breaks into a run, nearly falling on his face as he loses his footing on the wet snow.

Panicked thoughts run through Saladin’s head as he closes the distance, She’s not moving. Why isn’t her Ghost reviving her? Where’s her Ghost? He slides to a halt next to her prone form and falls to his knees. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it unceremoniously to the side before gently turning Jolder to face him.

“Jolder? Talk to me.” He feels carefully for the seals around her neck and eases her helmet from her head. Her eyes flicker open and she regards him with a glassy stare for a moment, before looking down her right arm. Saladin follows her gaze to see her hand clamped over a gaping wound in her abdomen.

“Y’should see th’other guy.” She draws her bloodstained lips back. It could be a smile, it could be a grimace but if anyone could smile through such an agonising injury, it’s Jolder. Saladin glances over at the nearby corpse of a footsoldier. The knife that probably caused Jolder’s wound is now embedded in the unfortunate attacker’s throat. He should never have been allowed to get that close to her. Saladin should have been with her. “We need to be more careful.” Every trace of anger has gone from his voice, only the worry remains. “From now on, we stick together.” “Oh, don’make those sad puppy eyes at me, I’ll be fine. I just need to…” She reaches awkwardly across her body with her free hand, which is on the opposite side from her sidearm holster. She doesn’t dare take away the hand on the wound to reach for the gun, Saladin suspects it’s the only thing keeping her innards from sliding out. He swallows hard, willing his gorge not to rise. This is the sort of injury that’s certainly fatal but she’d endure hours of pain before expiring, hours of agony before her Ghost could bring her back as fresh as the day the Traveller chose her.

Jolder stifles a sob. She’s twisting herself awkwardly as she tries to reach her gun. Saladin doubts she’d have the dexterity to open the holster even if she could reach it. Her fingers are curling up, her body is shutting down the blood supply to the extremities in a last-ditch survival attempt. Human nervous systems haven’t adapted to the idea of healing through Ghost-via-suicide.

Saladin catches her hand in his and lays it down. “It’s all right. I’ve got it.”

“‘m okay,” she protests in a faint voice. “I can…”

“Jolder. I can do it.” He unclips the holster, takes out the sidearm, checks the ammo and cocks it. He turns his attention back to her, brushing his thumb lightly across her lower lip to catch a drop of blood that threatens to spill onto her chin. She locks her eyes with his. He’s caressing her cheek now, softly running his knuckles back and forth over her skin. He speaks to her, comforting “shh,” sounds, barely audible whispers. The words are less important than the tone, it’s like he’s trying to lull her to sleep.

“Do you trust me?” He says this clearly, this is important. He’s asking her to allow him to oversee her resurrection, to trust him with her Ghost. He could understand if she didn’t, trust is a hard commodity to come by in Warlord territory. The sickening crunch of the Ghost he destroyed earlier is still ringing in his ears. She doesn’t say anything, she just reaches for his wrist and pulls weakly upwards until the gun is level with her head. Saladin takes a deep breath, readies one finger at the trigger and cups the stock with his other hand. He exhales slowly and presses the barrel to her forehead.

“I’ll see you soon,” he tells her earnestly. Jolder finds a smile for him but this time, it isn’t forced. There’s no bravado now, just warmth and faith. She nods once and screws her eyes shut. He pulls the trigger.

Saladin slumps backward as the sound of the shot dies away. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He replays the carnage they unleashed today in his mind and thinks on what it means to be a living weapon, on why the Traveller saw fit to bring back the dead to slaughter the living. When he opens his eyes, that soft smile is still playing on Jolder’s lifeless lips, while the snow is slowly turning into a scarlet pillow beneath her head. As he waits for her Ghost to bring her back to him, he contemplates what it means to live in a world where killing has become an act of love.

#saladin sunday #lord saladin #lady jolder #cw: assisted suicide #cw: violence #cw: puppy #destiny fanfiction #destiny

[nefastustenebris]

tell me you don’t want to fool around - p5 - canon!vers

@ vraileretif  TW: bullying

She only had a few seconds before students came back in from the supposed “fire alarm scare”.

Kobayakawa’s office was not that big and thus finding information about a recently retired teacher should not be this hard. She assumed karma was at work, considering she flicked her lighter underneath a fire alarm until it went off - ensuring the evacuation of everyone. Messing with legal forces like that must have made some deity pissed at her because she could not find any dirt on Kamoshida.

Mercy must have been bestowed on her, she found the file tucked away behind a book.

Sitting low into the ground so that no one would be able to see her, she reached for her phone and snapped pages from it.

There was one name in particular that came up - Ryuiji Sakamoto - a boy in class 2-E. He was apart of the track team that was recently disbanded for some unknown reason. He and this teacher seemed to have the most run-ins. Ryuiji was disciplined more than a dog, it seemed.

Ryuiji Sakamoto was now considered suspect #1.

Another name, Akira Kurusu appeared towards the end. He was apparently faced with expulsion, along with suspect #1. Other than that, he doesn’t appear much. Which seemed odd that he would try to expel a student who just transferred. According to the rumours floating around Shujin, Kurusu was considered to be a new transfer student with enough checkers in his past that he could have been considered a king. She hasn’t gotten the specific details about what he did that was so gut-wrenchingly nauseating. Some students mentioned that he peddled drugs, others mentioned that he had problems with aggression. She has seen Akira Kurusu and she could not believe that someone as lithe as himself could be capable of peddling drugs or even landing a well-deserved punch. She had been around criminals, hell, she considered herself one - each criminal had a look so that they would easily network with each other, Akira didn’t fit in that particular pocket of subculture. That left the other girl that hung around Akira - the blonde named Ann. Girls in bathroom frequently talked about her, in less than amorous words. According to many students, Ann was dating Kamoshida and her friend Shiho jumped off the building because of their relationship. 

“Who pulled the goddamn fire alarm?!” 

Kobayakawa was a man who had a loud voice. When she first met him, she took an instant dislike to him to save the trouble of disliking him later. He was a man with an unrelenting, and annoying, moral compass. Dressed up as a washed-up Pee Wee Herman, he managed to rule the school with both complete vigour and indifference. He did not care what happened to students, but he made sure that his school looked the best at whatever angle its’ viewed from. This Kamoshida incident took a damper on the schools’ reputation, not to mention accepting a convict that apparently managed to become school’s scapegoat in under one day.

He made sure that in under no certain terms would he make her feel welcome. He only allowed her to stay after an elaborate story made up by the man who was blackmailing her. Her blackmailer was a police officer, who immediately got on Kobayakawa’s good side.

“I bet it was that Kurusu kid.” She heard him get slightly closer. Putting the file back in its’ place, she went to the door and opened it slowly so as to not make any noise. She sprinted across the hall and hid behind some lockers. She felt guilty that her so-called elaborate ruse managed to put yet another mark on Akira’s back, but guilt dissipated quickly. She checked her person to make sure she disposed of her lighter. Students began to enter the building slowly. Some were excited at the thought of skipping an entire period and going straight to break, and some were annoyed that this even happened. Some whined about not having sunscreen, some whispered that Akira was really smart to have pulled the fire alarm. She heard some students whisper amongst themselves.

“Kurusu was with us in the class all day, I bet it was the foreign exchange student. She’s really scary, and did you see the way she disrespected that teacher? Plus the fire alarm prank sounds like something an American would do...”

 She was more annoyed that they thought she was America. She didn’t know that students thought she was disrespectful. Upon being introduced in the class, the teacher asked her where her books were and she replied that she wouldn’t be needing them as she wouldn’t be sticking around long enough.

 Her teacher was Kawakami, a woman with so many eyebags she was the personification of a bloodhound. She was exhausted, the air around her was stagnant and she frequently went on soliloquies about how crap her life was, she made it very clear that she did not appreciate being given yet another problematic student. She felt this was better handled by a male teacher and she shouldn’t have to play babysitter to kids who may or may not start their own underground fighting ring.

 Ethelinda Mallory was, as the vernacular described, a bastard.  On her first day of school, she set off the fire alarm causing an uproar, just so she could get her hands on a teachers’ file. She had decided from then on out she would blend into the background like her desk mate Yuuki Mishima, a boy so soft-spoken she swore he had a permanent halo attached to his skull. 

Blending in with the incoming students, she managed to avoid any suspicion from the staff.

It would be a free period soon, and she was hungry so she might go down to the bread store and try and connect Ryuiji, Akira and Ann to Kamoshida.

She stopped by the staircase and looked down. She was hearing pained moans and groans.

“...Please sto-hng!”

She blinked and walked down a couple of steps and craned her head to see what was happening. She saw Mishima being held by two students; they both looked older than he was - they might have been third years. There was another student, balling his hand up like a fist. He could hear chuckling as Mishima was struggling to get free. The boys’ face was red, and he was struggling to hold back tears.

“Oh fuck no,” she growled under her breath.

The boy with the balled fist raised his arm above his head. Mishima was an easy target, it was even better that the staff here didn’t care about him. Mishima got Kamoshida kicked out, that meant his volleyball scholarship was as good as dead as this bastard was going to be, he hated the way he looked like a wounded deer every god damn time something happens. He’s going to permanently fix that. He was about to swing his fist before something stopped him. He looked behind him and saw a short hair, with long black hair and midnight-coloured eyes. She had freckles on her nose, and a scratch under her eye, on the bridge of her nose and near her mouth. She also had three large marks across on her neck - deep. red - as if something was trying to rip her neck. She looked at him, with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t expecting her to be that strong, her fingers began to turn almost bone-coloured.

 “The fuck are you doing?” She whispered. She forced him to look at her. “You have a problem with Mr. Mishima here?” No one answered her. She threw the boy with the fast, hard, against some lockers. “Ya’ll supposed to be prep school boys, so fucking act like it.”

 One of the boys who was holding Mishima lunged at her, but she was faster than him and elbowed him so hard in the gut he almost vomited. She spun and kicked him in the cheek. The other boy was about to bolt before Ethelinda clutched the back of his pants and forcefully dragged him back to look at her. 

“Where are you going? Hmm?” She asked him. “Look, you and I are reasonable people. So I’m not gonna hurt you, or your little crew. I went easy on you guys because it’s my first day and I know how awful first impressions can be -” she looked at her guy currently trying to stop his cheek from pulsating “however, this dude is a classmate of mine and you were holding him down - not really a fair fight is it?” She looked at Mishima.  “So I’ll cut a deal - you touch him again, or even so much as look at him weirdly,  I’ll hurt you. I’m not talking about superficial hurt here, I’m talking like that your own mother won’t even recognize you and she’ll have to hire several plastic surgeons just to fix at least one part of you. Don’t do anything to Mishima, or any kid in this school, and I’ll walk along. Oh and..” She forced him to look at her again. “You tell a teacher about this, I’ll break your jaw.” She grinned and gently patted his face.

 “Oh and, I’m hungry so can you spot me some money for lunch, and my new friend Mishima.” She smirked. After stealing the bullies lunch money, she let them run off. She turned around and helped Mishima pick up his books. He took them from her gently. “I know I kinda disrespected the teacher back then but... I have some money and I would like to buy you lunch.” She grinned. “Remember, I saved your ass.  Not that it should matter but I really wanted to ask you some things, if that’s alright?”  Mishima blinked and nodded. “Sure, I think that’s alright. Plus I’m pretty hungry, could you believe someone pulled the fire alarm?”

 “Pfft, what a disgrace. Wasting governmental resources like that.” She hoped the Lord wouldn’t strike her down. 

“I know, right. Before I go to lunch, I needed to go say hi to my friend and give him something - you can come along if you want.” He wanted to tell Akira about a new request that he saw at the Phan-site. “I’m meeting Akira Kurusu.” 

The kid who almost got expelled, and the young little criminal around here. She nodded. “Isn’t he the uh..” 

“Oh, yes the rumours aren’t very kind to him but he’s actually very nice. Or well, to me he is. I’m sure he’ll be nice to you too. So coming?”

This was the first time someone invited her along for something. She grinned and nodded and followed him back up the stairs. She slipt her phone out the pocket and got a couple of messages from her blackmailer. She was ready to put her phone back in her pocket when she noticed something odd - a new app installed itself on her phone.  She always kept her phone plain. Devoid of pictures, music, and personal mementoes. Aside from the fact she never had friends, any information that will connect this phone to her was considered a liability. She needed to frequently change and destroy phones - putting too many memories in temporary things was a wasteful wish. She only downloaded one game in her life - Candy Crush - so this app being there made her blink. 

The app itself had a name called METANAV. It was a red icon, with a white eye looking at her. She tried to move it to delete it, but her screen froze. The app itself started to enlarge itself, taking up half her screen.

“Hey Mish-” she stopped. He was frozen, mid-walk. Everyone else was frozen too. A girl was leaning down to catch her falling pencil case. She turned around, everyone was a standstill. 

She looked towards the end of the fall and blinked. There was a fire. She wasn’t entirely sure if this was karma flipping her off again. The fire seemed strangely contained. Just burning at the end of the hall. Soon it began to take shape. She could make out long arms and legs. Horns began to form, wings began to outstretch from its’ back.

She wasn’t sure, but she swore that the fire began to even form a mouth and eyes. They were grinning at her. In the middle of the flames, there was a silhouette of a woman. Long black hair concealed her face. The fire-creature began to lift up its arms with palms outstretched, it waved at her. She looked back at the woman, whose hair slowly began to blowback, revealing her face.

It was her, manically grinning. Sickly yellow eyes open wide, her mouth fixated in a snarl position.

The fire creature bent backwards slightly before lunging forwards, sending streams of red-hot flames after her. The flames began to twist on themselves, coating the entire hallway.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked. She looked up from her fetal position and saw Mishima look at her. She blinked and looked past him. Everyone was moving again.

“Uh yeah...”

“You just suddenly dropped down - you’re not sick are you?” “No, I’m..” she kept looking behind him. Everything was normal, no fire marks on the ceiling. She saw a girl pick up her pencil case whilst silently chastising herself.

 “I’m fine... I dropped my..” she looked on the floor. “Candy wrapper.” She dragged an old wrapper from the ground and showed it to him. “Recycling, man. It’s a ..  it’s a rush..” 

“Well, Akira is right down the hall so I’ll go and speak to him - wanna join?”

 “I’m.. I’m good. I’ll hang back.” She got herself up from the cold floor. She watched Mishima walk towards the black-haired boy. He was talking enthusiastically. She checked her phone again, the app was still there. She sighed and pressed on it and dragged it over to the trash icon.

There, gone.

#persona 5 #p5 #p5 rp #persona 5 rp #akira rp #replies #long post #rp #roleplay #persona 5 roleplay #persona roleplay

[jphbk1982]

Open Window Chapter 22: Rage

Rage "Have you talked to Zack today?" Kimberly asked as she sat down on a stool in Jason's garage. "No.. not since the funeral actually." Jason replied as he placed his backpack on a work bench and fidgeted with some tools lying on it absentmindedly. "Me either." Kim responded as leaned forward and placed her face in her hands. "Billy said he doesn't really talk to him either... even with them under the same roof." Jason stated as he turned to Kim. "I can't imagine what he is going through." "Me either... I'm worried about him." Kim responded. "But.. I don't want to.. well it kind of seems like right now he just wants to be alone." "Yeah.. that's what I gathered." Jason agreed. "He knows we are all here." "I think he does, yeah." Kim stated. "So you said earlier that he is going to move in with Billy like for good.. right?" "Yeah." Jason replied. He hung his head a little bit. "Since he has no other family." "I think we should go over there.. check on him." Kim stated. Jason nodded. "Yeah.. let's go." Jason responded as he made his way over to the driver side of his truck. (****) "How are you doing?" Tommy asked as he watched Trini pull her phone out of her pocket only to quickly place it back inside. "I'm worrying." Trini replied as she looked over at Tommy as he raised up from under the hood of his car. "Zack.." "Won't text you back either?" Tommy asked as he grabbed a rag and began to wipe some oil off of his hands. "No.. not one all day..." Trini began. "Yesterday, he did a couple of times but today.. nothing." "I mean.. it's understandable.." Tommy replied. "Yeah.. I know, but I just want to be there for him and you know.." Trini said as she stepped back and Tommy slammed the hood of the car shut. "Seeing Zack so defeated.. it's um.. I hate it." Tommy stated as he walked over to stand in front of Trini. "I know." Trini agreed. "But again, I feel like he kind of has every right to be you know." Tommy continued. "If something happened to my mom, I'd pretty much be alone too." "That's the thing, I don't want him to feel like he's alone." Trini said as she turned and leaned up against the car and pushed her hands into her pockets. "I think he knows... in fact I know he knows that, but he's got a lot to work through you know." Tommy stated as he leaned on the car next to Trini and put an arm around her. She gave him a grateful look and leaned into his shoulder. "If you like we can go by Billy's and check on him?" "I'd like that." Trini said as she looked up at him. (****) Billy walked into his basement and flipped the light switch on. He glanced over in the corner to see Zack standing there with an absent look on his face. Billy smiled at him as Zack glanced in his direction. Neither moved for a couple of seconds before Billy finally approached Zack. "Mom.. wanted me to come let you know that dinner is ready." Billy said as he stopped a few feet from Zack. They had not talked a lot since Zack moved in and Billy was still unsure what to say or how to approach him. "Thanks... I'm not really hungry." Zack replied as he turned to look at some charts on the wall. "You should.. you should eat though." Billy replied as he walked a couple of steps closer. "I'm fine, Billy." Zack replied, his eyes not moving from their spot. "O..ookay, if you get hungry..." Billy reacted. Zack nodded and Billy turned to head towards the stairs. "Billy?" Zack said and Billy turned to see him looking at him. "Yeah?" Billy asked, surprised that Zack had initiated contact. Zack nodded to the corner of the basement where the crystal still waited to be used. "That thing.. it might kill Zedd, you aren't sure right?" Zack asked. "I.. I don't know, I know what it's designed to do, but it could work differently." Billy replied. Zack nodded and fixed his gaze on the crystal. "Why?" "Just.. thinking." Zack replied. "About...um.." Billy continued. "You should go on and eat.. your food will get cold." Zack dismissed his questions. Billy knew not to pry further and turned to head up the steps. He closed the basement door behind him and started to make his way towards the kitchen when he heard a knock on the front door. "I'll get it mom!" Billy called out into the dining room where his mother was sitting. Billy walked over to the front door and opened it. He smiled seeing four people on the door step. "Billy.. hey." Jason greeted him. "We um. thought we'd come over and.. "Check on Zack?" Billy asked. "Yeah.." Trini answered. Billy smiled and motioned all four of them into the house. "He is downstairs." Billy said as he led them all over to the basement door and opened it. Jason stopped him from descending. "Any change with him?" Jason asked. "He isn't really responding to any of our texts." "Not really." Billy replied a little dejectedly. Jason nodded and then Billy led the group to the basement. Billy was prepared to greet Zack once he reached the bottom but soon realized he was nowhere to be found. "That's odd." "What?" Kim asked. "He was here a moment ago." Billy answered. "Guess he teleported out." "Oh." Kim responded. The teens all looked among each other. What they failed to notice though was that Zack was not the only thing missing from the basement. (****) Zack glanced over at the object to his right. He patted the tarp covering it for a moment before he morphed and turned to the sky. He glanced around for several moments and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he was going to attempt would work but at this point he was just going to take a shot. "Zedd!" Zack shouted into the sky. His voice echoing throughout the quarry around him. He glanced around and after a few moments he sighed when he got no response. He prepared to shout once more but the sky in front of him grew a deep shade of red and soon a black hole appeared that Lord Zedd stepped out of and he floated down the ground. Zack clinched his fists and stepped back. "You called?" Zedd said as he sized up the Black Ranger. "I did." Zack responded. "I.." "I'm surprised." Zedd cut him off. "What are you surprised about?" Zack asked, suddenly losing sight of his game plan. "That you of all Rangers would call me out." Zedd replied. "Why?" Zack asked. "Well.. you know... I suppose I just assumed that you'd be using this time to mourn, not to be looking for a fight." Zedd replied. Zack felt anger building up inside of him. "Don't.." Zack said through gritted teeth. "With your mother passing away not that long ago.. you know.." Zedd continued his taunts. "Shut up!" Zack yelled. "Does it bother you that I bring that up?" Zedd asked. "Keep it up and I'll show you how I feel." Zack warned. "See... I admit I do not really understand you humans quite yet." Zedd stated. "Sometimes you do surprise me." "Listen.." Zack began. "Although maybe you just simply are looking to join your mother.." Zedd continued. These words were enough to make Zack lose sight of any plan he had coming and he and just blindly charged Zedd full of rage. Zack reached Zedd and threw a wild punch. Zedd stepped aside and let Zack stumble forward. Zedd turned to grab Zack by the back of his neck and propelled him forwards into the rock wall he was heading towards. Zack slammed hard into the rock, cracking it. He turned to see Zedd had not advanced on him and he charged once more. "Fool." Zedd said quietly as he used his staff to hit the charging Zack under the chin with a powerful blow that snapped Zack's head back and knocked him to the ground. Zack felt as if his neck had nearly been broken from the pain now radiating down his whole body. He rolled to pick himself off of the ground. For a brief moment he remembered the crystal but he found his mind so clouded by rage that he instead just blindly charged Zedd yet again. "I'll kill you.." Zack said as he called for his battle ax and swung it at Zedd who blocked it with his own staff. "Don't make me laugh." Zedd retorted as he pushed back against the ax and knocked the Black Ranger to the ground once more. "For your sake I really hope the other Ranger's are on their way." Zack got to his feet and turned the ax into a canon and cranked it up to full power. He took aim right at Zedd's head and fired. Zedd managed to duck out of the way of the blast and turned to see it blow a hole into the side of the rock wall opposite them. He turned to Zack and cocked his head. Suddenly he realized the seriousness of the attack the Ranger was attempting to unleash on him. Zack gave Zedd very little time to consider anything though as he threw a kick at Zedd that hit him in his armor covered chest. A surge of energy had emitted from Zack's boot and it radiated up and down Zedd's body. "Such anger... rage.." Zedd replied as glance down at crackling black energy going up and down his body. "I can appreciate that." "Appreciate this." Zack said as he swung his ax and Zedd and it clanged off of Zedd's chest and knocked him backwards. Zack wasted no time in swinging once more and hitting the same spot with the same result. The third time he swung however Zedd reached up and grabbed the ax. His hand glowed red and the handle of the ax became too hot for Zack to bear and he let it go. Zedd flung it aside and began to approach a retreating Zack. "Wait." Zack got out just moments before Zedd hit him with a backhand shot that knocked him away. Zack crashed to the ground and turned to see Zedd had already moved to be right over him. Zack began once again to speak to tell Zedd to wait, but he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach and he looked down to see Zedd pulling the end of his staff out of his stomach. "Goodbye ranger.. say hello to your mother for me." Zedd said as he stepped back and disappeared in a flash of red. "Wait..." Zack said even as he suddenly felt very faint. He reached down and attempted to put pressure on the wound in his stomach but felt himself losing all of his strength and soon his consciousness. (****) "Do you think maybe we could ask Zordon to check on him?" Kimberly asked the group sitting around her. "We could I suppose." Jason responded as he leaned back in his chair and turned to Trini. "I mean.. I just don't want to smother him." Trini said reluctantly. "It might drive him further away." "Yeah, but I hate feeling helpless." Jason responded. "Does he talk about anything Billy?" Tommy asked. "Not really... a little small talk here and there." Billy answered. The basement fell silent as the group wasn't sure where to take the conversation next. After several moments one of them spoke up again. "So where did you move the crystal Billy?" Kimberly asked pointing to the now empty corner in the back of the basement. Billy furrowed his brow and turned in his chair. "I.. what.. I didn.." Billy stopped as he saw the spot where the crystal should be. He turned back to the group with worry on his face. "Oh no." "What is it Billy?" Jason asked. "Before he left.." Billy began. "Zack was asking me about the crystal." "What are you talking about.. you think Zack took it?" Trini asked. "He had to have." Billy replied. "Why would he?" Trini questioned. The group fell silent for a moment as they tried to understand the motive. "He's going to try to kill Zedd." Tommy spoke up as he jumped up from his chair. His eyes locked with Jason's as the realization set in for him as well. "We got to find him, that could be suicide." Billy replied as the rest of the Rangers jumped to their feet. "Zordon.. Zordon come in." Jason spoke into his communicator. "Go ahead Jason." Zordon's voice replied. "Can you get a location on Zack, it's very important." Jason asked. After a few moments of silence there was finally a reply. "We located him... Jason it's not good." Zordon replied. "Where is he.. what's happened?" Jason asked, the panic evident in his voice. "He's in the med bay, hurry." Zordon replied simply and the group wasted no more time before they teleported out. (****) "Alpha.. please how is he?" Trini asked as she pushed past the group to see Alpha standing bedside next to Zack. "He has lost a lot of blood." Alpha replied. "A stab wound to the stomach." "Is he.. I mean he'll heal right?" Trini asked as she reached down and took Zack's hand in hers. "I.." Alpha paused prompting the group to turn to him. "I don't know." "I healed.. we all have." Jason responded. "Yes, but you did not lose the amount of blood Zack did." Alpha explained. "Your healing powers has it's limits." "He'll be fine." Trini said, as she turned back to Zack. "You hear me... crazy guy.. you will be just fine." The group gathered around Zack and took seats. Kimberly took Zack's other hand and Tommy lowered his head into his hands. Jason looked up to see Billy quietly backing out of the door. Jason saw the look on his face and he got up to follow after him. "Hey Billy.." Jason called out quietly as he watched Billy sink down to the floor and fold his knees up to his chest. "Billy..." "Jason.. it's my fault." Billy replied as a tear slid down his cheek. "No.. no.." Jason replied as he knelt down in front of Billy. "Yes.. I should have known.. the way he was asking about the crystal." Billy stated. "He asked me if it could kill Zedd." "He did?" Jason asked. "Yes." Billy answered. "I should have figured it out." "You couldn't have known Billy." Jason replied. Billy just furiously shook his head. "Zack made a choice, none of us could have prevented that." "If he dies Jason.." Billy began and then stopped as he searched the team leader's face for answers. Jason understood what Billy was looking and tried to reassure him with his expression. "He won't.. I promise." Jason replied. "Zack is the toughest sob I've ever known.. he'll pull out of it." "I..." Billy started to speak but just leaned his head back into the wall and closed his eyes. After a couple of moments he looked at Jason. "We should try to find the crystal." "I'll do that." Jason said as he stood up. "You should go back in there." "Okay.." Billy said as he stood up and glanced at the door to the medical bay. He turned back to Jason. "Thanks." Jason smiled at him before he teleported out. (****) Jason looked around at the quarry in front of him. He let out a sigh when he saw the damage from the battle that had just transpired. He took a few steps and closed his eyes when he got a look at the door pool that was on the dirt in front of him. He clinched his jaw and tried to reign in the emotions he was having. He looked around the area. He surmised that Zack would have brought the crystal with him to the battle. "Hey." Kimberly's voice from behind Jason startled him. He turned to see her approaching him. "Hey.. " Jason responded. "Billy told me what you were doing." Kim informed him. "I didn't want you to be alone... not.. after.." "Oh.. just wanted to come get the crystal." Jason replied. He offered her a smile and turned back around and began to walk. She caught up with him and the two began to walk in step with each other. "This is a big place.. he might have put it anywhere." Kim said. "Yeah I know." Jason replied as he glanced from side to side for any side of it. "Jason.." Kimberly spoke once more. He turned to her. "What if he dies?" "Um.." Jason began, but suddenly realized he had no answer to her question and found himself threatened to be overcome with emotion once more. "Well..." "I don't know either." Kim replied as she reached over and took Jason's hand. "We got to stick together." Jason said, seemingly out of place but Kim realized he was commenting on both Zack's decision to fight Zedd alone and what they might do if they lost him. The two continued on wordlessly walking until finally Jason stopped them. He pointed to some bushes nearby and the blue tarp stuck out like a sore thumb. "There it is." Kim said as the two made their way over to it. Jason knelt down and put a hand on it. "Let's get it out of here." Jason said as Kim put her hand on him and they disappeared in a flash of pink. (****) Jason leaned in to the side of the doorway and took in the sight in front of him. Trini was sitting next to Zack. She was holding his hand with one of her hands and with other she was caressing his cheek. He turned to look out into the command center to see the rest of the Rangers gathered around the crystal and going over a plan to use it. Jason made his way into the bay and over to Trini. "Hey." Jason said as he pulled up a chair next to Trini. She turned to him and nodded. "Hey Jason." Trini said, before she refocused her gaze back to Zack. She smiled for a moment. "I'm going to kick his butt once he wakes up." "Why?" Jason asked with a slight smile. "Because he's an idiot." Trini replied with a fond smile of her own. She glanced up at Jason. "Taking on Zedd on his own.. what was he thinking?" "He was angry." Jason replied as he glanced down at Zack before turning back to Trini. "Angry?" Trini inquired. "Yeah.." Jason responded. "He needed to take it out on someone... I've felt anger like that." "It was so stupid though Jason." Trini replied. "Why didn't he just come to us?" "I don't know." Jason responded. "We all deal with grief in our own way." "What I don't get is.. if he took the crystal, why not use it." Trini said as she nodded to a nearby table where the remote to activate the crystal was laying. "Maybe.. maybe Zedd said something.." Jason surmised. "In his state, if he had.. it might have clouded his judgment." "We have to make Zedd pay for this." Trini said as she and Jason locked eyes. "We will Trini." Jason assured her. "We've been working on a plan in there." "If Zack doesn't make it.." Trini began but her voice broke. Jason reached over and took her by her free hand. "Zack will be right be our side when we take Zedd down." Jason said. He noticed Trini's yawn and squeezed her hand. "You should go home and get some rest." Jason stated. "No.. I.." Trini began to protest. "I'll stay right by his side." Jason stated. Trini shook her head. "Your parents will freak out if you don't come home... I've got it covered with mine.. made up a story about staying with Billy." "I don't want to leave him." Trini said. "I know.. but I'm going to be right here.. as soon as he wakes up I'll let you know." Jason said with a smile. "What if.." Trini began. "When he wakes up.. I'll let you know." Jason repeated, not willing to entertain the thought that he might be delivering different news. Trini sighed and then stood up. She bent down and kissed Zack on the forehead before reluctantly letting go of his hand. She turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway offering her a smile. She hesitated for a moment and turned back to Jason. He mouthed the word "go" and she walked over to Tommy. Jason watched as the two disappeared out of the door. He turned back to Zack and then felt a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone has gone." Kim said as Jason turned to her. "You should go too.. I don't want your dad to flip out." Jason responded. Kim nodded. "So you are staying right?" Kim asked. "Yep.. got it covered with my parents and Billy is gonna vouch for me." Jason answered. "I'm coming back here at the break of dawn." Kim replied. Jason smiled at her words before she teleported out. Jason turned back to Zack and watched his breathing. He leaned back into his chair and got settled for the night. (****) Jason's eyes jolted open and suddenly he was very confused about his surroundings. It slowly came to him where he was and immediately he looked over to Zack. He saw that there seemed to be no change with him. He sighed and reached up to rub his eyes. He then retrieved his phone out of his pocket to not that it was three in the morning. He had fallen asleep, but had not been that way long. Jason sat up in his chair and then heard movement to his left. He turned to see Alpha standing nearby. "Hey Alpha." Jason greeted him. "Hey Jason." Alpha returned the greeting as he walked over and checked the machines hooked up to Zack. "Any change?" Jason asked. There was no immediate response. "No.." Alpha responded as he turned back to Jason. He took in Jason's appearance and the weariness that the lack of sleep and abundance of worrying had hit him with. "I can stay with him.. I don't need sleep." "No.. it's okay Alpha... I'm gonna stay." Jason dismissed the suggestion. Alpha walked over to stand next to the seated Jason. "Jason..." Alpha began. "You are a great leader.." "Thanks.. I don't.." Jason began to respond. "You are an even better friend." Alpha interjected softly. Jason paused and then nodded. He heard sincerity in Alpha's voice that was almost hard to distinguish due to his robotic nature. "Hey Alpha.. do you mind staying with me?" Jason asked. "Not at all." Alpha replied. "Thanks." Jason said as the two fell into a quietness. (****) "Jason?" A voice stirred Jason from his light sleep. He opened his eyes and glanced around. The voice rang out again to his right and turned to see Zack looking over at him. "Zack!" Jason exclaimed upon seeing his eyes open. Jason jumped up. "You are awake!" "And you are yelling." Zack quipped with a smile. Jason smiled in response. "It's just good to talk to you again buddy." Jason explained. Zack nodded. "Good to be able to talk again." Zack said. "So.. I take it um.. I.." "Yeah.. we almost lost you." Jason answered. Zack closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry." Zack said. "I was an idiot." "Well.. I'd argue.. but.." Jason said. Zack smiled a weak smile at him. "Yeah.. I was." Zack stated. "I just had so much..." "Anger." Jason finished for him. "Rage." Zack clarified. "I needed to take it out on something.. and Zedd.. well I wanted it to be him." "I understand." Jason said. "I guess I screwed that up though." Zack said as he glanced down at his bandaged midsection. "Listen.. the important thing is that you are going to be okay." Jason said. "What you did.. it doesn't matter.." "I won't.." Zack said as he hung his head a little in shame. "It's okay.. we stick together and we will be okay." Jason said. Zack nodded. "I know.." Zack responded. He turned to see Alpha making his way into the room and hurrying over to him. "Zack!" Alpha exclaimed before examining the machines that Zack was hooked up to. "Good to see you too Alpha." Zack reacted. "So what's the verdict, am I gonna be okay?" "Yes.. you should make a full recovery." Alpha replied as he walked over to stand next to Jason. "That's great news." Jason said. "I know some other people who will want to hear it too." "Well get them here." Zack said with a smile to match Jason's. "I know Trini is gonna kill me anyway." "Probably." Jason replied as the two shared a laugh. (****) Zack lifted his shirt and examined the scar on his stomach. He ran a hand across it and frowned. He knew it would not be much longer now that there would not even be a scar to show for his mistake. He did not notice that someone was approaching him. "Hey you." Trini said as she plopped down on the park bench next to Zack, prompting him to quickly let his shirt fall down and turn to her. "Hey crazy girl." Zack greeted her. "How are you?" Trini asked, noting the scar she saw briefly. "Good as new really." Zack answered. "I'm glad." Trini replied. "But... how are you.. not just physically." "Oh.. I'm.. okay." Zack answered. "Are you sure?" Trini asked. Zack turned his body to face her a bit better. He smiled at her. "I'm sure Trini." Zack said. "I uh... I was angry you know.. and lost.. but you guys... you changed all of that." "We love you Zack." Trini said. "I know." Zack responded. "I always knew... but mom... she was all I had for so long.." Trini noted the mixture of fondness and sadness in Zack's voice at the mention of his mom. Zack paused for several moments before he continued. "Before she uh... before she passed.." Zack continued. "She called me to her bedroom that morning..." Zack shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "I went in and.. she was smiling so big.." Zack's voice broke a bit. "And my mom.. she was happy, but she was so sick that to see her smile.." "Yeah.." Trini said. "So... I asked her what was up... you know.." Zack said. "She told me to sit down and I did... and she said she was happy." Zack closed his eyes for a moment and began to smile. "I asked her, what she was happy about." Zack continued. "She told me she was happy that I had found you guys.." "Zack.." Trini said as a tear slid down his cheek. She leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist. "She loved you guys, because she said.. that I wouldn't have to be alone..." Zack said before pausing. "She knew.." "She did." Trini agreed. "I didn't see it then, but... now.." Zack stated. "She was right." Trini said. "You will never be alone again." "I know." Zack said as he put his arm around Trini and pulled her close to him. He smiled as he saw the rest of the group approaching them laughing and talking about something. More than ever he knew what his mom had known, that even without her, he would not be alone. It had made her happy to know this, and now as Zack looked at his friends and felt the embrace of the girl next to him he realized that it made everything okay.

#power rangers 2017 #fanfic #jimberly #zack taylor #kimberly hart #jason scott #trini kwan #tommy oliver #billy cranston

[vanillaghost]

Leave the Body (And Leave It Cold)

Recruited as a volunteer gifter for @thelightningsoul ! I don’t think I’ve ever written anything this dark before tbh. Though I’m honestly surprised how freeing the exercise was, granted it’s in that sick and twisted kind of way lol. Hope you enjoy your gift!

Prompt fill for the @tomarrydarkspringexchange: 

Prompt #1: A scene where it starts off non-con and ends up consensual. (If you would like to include NSFW). Voldemort arrives at Malfoy Manor before the group is able to get away and separates Harry from everyone so it is just the two of them before he’s tortured for information.

Pairing: Harry/Voldemort Word Count: 5,561 Rating: Explicit Tags: Canon Divergence, Rape/Non-con, Torture, Bondage, Asphyxiation, Forced Orgasms, Biting, Graphic Depictions of Violence.

(Author note: First 500 words or so are basically lifted straight from the source material, but only as a quick refresher for those who might have forgotten what went down in Malfoy Manor, like me *sweats*. Please heed the tags before reading! For real, I ain’t playin’.) 

“The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter!” Bellatrix leered. “Your death approaches!"

Harry knew it. His scar burst with the pain of it, and he could feel Voldemort flying through the sky from far away, over a dark and stormy sea. Soon he would be close enough to Apparate to them, and Harry could see no way out.

All hope seemed lost until the ominous creak and jingle of the chandelier above precluded its crash to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains. As glittering shards flew in all directions, Harry leapt over an armchair to wrestle the three wands from Draco’s blood-smeared hands. By the three-fold strength of Harry’s Stupify, Fenrir Greyback rose toward the ceiling before he smashed to the ground in an unconscious heap of matted fur and brown claws.

Then Dobby had taken his mistress’ wand and their opponents, save for Bellatrix’s blade, were rendered magically defenceless.

Yet Harry's scar still blinded him with pain. He dimly knew they had only moments, mere seconds, before Voldemort was with them.

“Ron, catch – and GO!” Harry yelled and threw one of the wands to his friend before he bent down to tug Griphook out from under the chandelier. Hoisting the groaning goblin still clinging to the sword over one shoulder, Harry seized Dobby's hand and spun on the spot to Disapparate.

But before he turned into darkness, Harry caught one last view of the drawing room. Of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, and of the blur of flying silver as Bellatrix's knife flew across the room at the place where he was vanishing.

The pain in Harry’s forehead pierced him as the weight of the goblin bore down upon him. He could feel the blade of Gryffindor's sword bumping against his back and Dobby's hand jerked in his.

Then an icy wind gusted into the room, trailing with it ghostly black vapours and Harry was seized by a red light. With a violent jerk, he and his friends were pulled from their almost-Disapparition and brought crashing to the ground where the room felt more dim and dark all of a sudden.

Harry’s breath froze in his throat as the realisation struck him like a punch to the gut: They were too late.

He looked around to where Ron lay a few feet from him, Hermione still unconscious in his frozen hold. Then to the little elf standing beside him.

“DOBBY!”

The elf swayed slightly and together, he and Harry looked down at the silver hilt of the knife protruding from the elf's heaving chest.

"Dobby – no – !" Harry bellowed. "NO!"

A dark stain spread across Dobby's front who stretched out his arms with a look of supplication. But Harry could not move for the Stunning spell which locked him down, and Dobby teetered and fell onto his side.

“Dobby, no, don't die, don't die – ”

The elf's eyes found him, and his lips trembled with the effort to form words.

“Harry... Potter...”

And then with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great glassy orbs reflecting the shadows of people they could not see.

A low, cruel peal of laughter echoed in the drawing room and Ron and Harry were disarmed of their wands. Still unable to move, Harry’s eyes wildly searched until they could just make out his worst fear.

Voldemort stood tall and imposing at the entrance of the room, his blood coloured gaze searing Harry to the spot. “Harry Potter… I have you at last,” he said, savouring the words like he had been waiting a lifetime to say them.  

Harry swallowed around the sharp lump of despair that began to lodge itself in his throat.

A long moment stretched into what felt like an hour before Voldemort’s head snapped to the side and he hissed to his followers: “Leave Potter and take the rest as prisoners.”

As quick as if a switch had been flipped, the Malfoy family and Bellatrix all scrambled to do their master’s bidding. While Harry’s company were levitated out of the room, Voldemort’s eye caught the gleam of Gryffindor’s sword still clutched in Griphook’s hold as he floated past. The smooth, snake-like face contorted in fury and with a swish of his wand, the goblin was yanked out of line to land with a heavy thud at the Dark Lord’s feet. 

Griphook uttered a feeble whimper of pain before a foot connected with the goblin’s head and he fell into unconsciousness. A baleful, crimson-coloured gaze turned on Bella who cowered underneath it.

“My lord – ” she began but was cut off by Voldemort’s scream of “SILENCE!” Her mouth shut like a steel trap before she dutifully awaited her punishment.

“If I’m not mistaken, this item should have been locked away in your vault.”

There was no response.

“Well, am I wrong?”

“No, my lord, it’s a fake – the goblin – he said so! I swear it!” Bellatrix pleaded in a high, whinging voice. “Oh please, my lord, you must believe me.”

Voldemort’s thin lip curled into a sneer. “Is that an order? You dare order the Dark Lord what to do?”

“No, no, no, of course not,” she wheedled.  “Please forgive me, my lord, I – ”

“Enough!”

Again her mouth closed like it had been made to do so by magic. When she did not move or say anything else, Voldemort snapped, “Get out of my sight.”

She began to leave when he called after her: “And take THIS with you!” The compact and hefty body of Griphook flew through the air so that she scrambled to catch him in her arms while he still clutched the ‘fake’ sword of Gryffindor.

“Make sure we’re not disturbed for the evening,” Voldemort said, and with that final order, the door was slammed shut on the both of them.

Nothing but the sound of Harry’s panicked breaths could be heard in the room until the soft rustle of Voldemort’s robes sounded against the floor as he finally turned back to Harry. That calm, euphoric smile had once more returned to his face.

“Now, where were we?” he said, and pointed his wand straight at Harry. “Ah, yes. I remember now. Why don’t you tell me a little about what you’ve been up to, hm? What secrets did that old fool Dumbledore tell you about me? Speak!”

Harry hardened his gaze and it must have shown that he wasn’t going to say a word, because in the next second Voldemort had brandished his wand and bellowed, “Crucio!”

White hot pain, much like the one from his scar but ten-fold, ripped through Harry and he screamed.

“HARRY! HARRY!”

Faintly, he could hear Ron’s voice yell from below but all thought and sensation had been obliterated from his mind. The torture seemed to go on for what felt like years until, all at once, it finally stopped and Harry found his face was crushed against the floor. His glasses were skewed on his face and his body felt taut and frayed like the end of a singed tightrope.

“I can go on like this for days, Harry, I’d advise you not to test me.”

Harry tried to move but quickly regretted the decision when his body thrummed with the aftershocks of pain. So instead he panted his response into the floorboards.

“Go… fuck… yourself.”

There was a split second of fury-filled silence before the agony of another Crucio roared to life in his aching body like a thousand burning suns. Again, Harry screamed and again he heard the desperate, muffled cries from his friend in the dungeon below.

And only after another century passed did it stop again.

It was difficult to hear anything when Harry’s ears rang. But he could have sworn he heard a self-satisfied chuckle from somewhere far away. It was hard to focus when each breath felt like a shard of glass slicing into his lungs. When each movement felt like he was being crushed beneath a boulder. His head could have been on fire for all he knew. His vision was blurred and spotted with little white pinpricks of light.

Eventually the unmistakable pale grey fabric of Voldemort’s robes drifted closer until the man stood only an inch away from Harry’s face. A foot abruptly shot out to knock him in the ribs and Harry jolted, letting out a feeble cry of pain.

“Now’s not the time for rest, I’m afraid,” Came the cold voice. “In fact, it’s time to get up and tell me what I want to know.”

And just like that, Harry’s whole body was jerked into the air and left to hover there as Voldemort stepped closer toward him. At that distance Harry could see the bright red of those snake-like eyes and the sickly pallor of that grey-tinged skin. It reminded Harry much of a living corpse.

“One way or another, Potter, I will get that information out of you.”

Harry took a sliver of dark satisfaction by the clear frustration written across his nemesis’ expression. Then a cold finger reached out like it had once done in a graveyard so long ago, and slowly slid down Harry’s cheek. There was an answering shiver at such a gentle touch when Harry’s skin remained so sensitive from its recent ordeal. The reaction did not go unheeded by Voldemort, and a fascinated look crept its way into his gaze by the unexpected reaction. After a moment, a sickly idea seemed to have formed in his mind and his thin mouth twisted into another horrible smile.

“Harry Potter… I think I know just what to do with you after all.”

A fear like no other slashed its way into Harry’s heart when Voldemort started to tug at his clothing. Harry tried to struggle against the hands but they were too strong and eventually he was stripped naked, still floating in mid-air like he were on display at a museum. The red-eyed gaze took it’s time sweeping down the length of his body as the stirrings of nausea and horror began to turn in Harry’s stomach. But all he could do was continue to resist against the Stunning spell that froze him in place

“I think you might just end up liking this method of… persuasion a lot more in the end, Harry,” Voldemort mused aloud. An evil smirk still played at the corners his mouth.

“No… No! No, get off me!! I SAID GET OFF!”

Harry’s heated protests fell on deaf ears though he was sure his friends could hear it from below. Cold hands roamed his chest and hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Voldemort made a thoughtful noise before grabbing hold of the length between Harry’s legs and roughly tugging on it. Harry winced and screamed in helpless outrage but the hand did not stop.

Voldemort tutted in mock sympathy. “Now, Harry, are you sure you don’t recall what an old wizard might have mentioned to you once? I know you know, and as I mentioned before; I can do this for days.”

Harry’s heart seized at the mere idea of this becoming more; of the possibility of it going on for days. But then a twitch in one of his fingers saved him from pursuing that line of thought. He could feel the effects of the stunning spell starting to wear off and as soon as he was able to move his arms, he lashed out and struck Voldemort across his face. The levitation spell ceased from the distraction and Harry fell to the ground as Voldemort let out a roar of anger.

But Harry was still wandless, and he did not manage to get very far. Voldemort was still much physically stronger, and within seconds, he had overpowered Harry and threw him against the nearest wall. Long, cold fingers wrapped around his throat and squeezed, fingernails stabbing into his skin. Harry gasped for breath as Voldemort leaned in with a half grimace, half smile, while his free hand moved aside his robes. Harry’s own hands scrambled to pry the fingers from around his throat. He coughed and choked, dread filling him with the knowledge of what was about to happen.

Voldemort’s robes were parted and Harry dared not let his eyes travel down to witness what awaited him. His scar still burned, but with a different sort of heat now; it was angry, consuming, but anticipatory and triumphant.

Light-headed and beginning to lose the battle for breath, Harry struck out with his legs and they collided with flesh and bone. Another snarl and this time the pressure around his throat disappeared to be replaced by the sensation of being bodily thrown across the room to land in what could only be the chaise lounge.

Harry groaned and tried to get up when the hissed words of an ‘Incarcerous’ were heard and his hands and feet were instantly wrapped in thick cords of rope before being secured to every corner of the chaise lounge. Again Harry attempted to free himself but the ropes held firm. He could only move his torso, knees, and head which turned to watch Voldemort stalk toward him like a snake hunting its prey. 

The glimpse of the other man’s own manhood was an unavoidable sight now. It protruded from the slit in his robes; thick, long and as pale as the rest of him – but red and angry at the tip. It bobbed heavily with each step taken closer and Harry’s breath became shallow with trepidation.

“That’s enough playing, Harry, I think it’s time you learned a lesson or two.”

He disappeared behind Harry who struggled even more fiercely until two hands wrapped around his hips, nails digging into the flesh of his pelvis before tugging him into a kneeling position.

There came another hum, this one more considering and pleased. “I shall enjoy ruining you, I think.”

“LET GO! GET OFF! GET OFF OF ME!!”

Harry’s protest died on a sharp inhalation of breath when a sharp stinging slap resounded against his arse. 

“Silence! You can speak only when I tell you to.”

A disgusted shudder ran through Harry at the sound and feel of spit hitting his skin to slide down into the crack of his arse. He tried again to jerk forward and away from the sensation but the hold on his hips kept him still. A helpless noise left his mouth and he shut his eyes tight, muscles tensing for what was about to come.

One of the hands left his hips to slide a finger into the crack of his arse and prod at his hole. Harry drew himself up from the touch and wished for anything to take him away from this. That he could at least be rendered unconscious beforehand, or pray to be Obliviated afterward. Anything, anything…

The feel of the finger was unable to be ignored as it wormed its way inside him before sliding back out. This movement was repeated again and again, each time with another finger added until Harry was letting out a despaired whimper of breath. The noise was answered by a low rumbling laugh.

“There’s still time to make this stop, Harry, although it would certainly be regrettable as I think I’ll enjoy taking you apart far too much. Who’s to say I’d ever be able to stop?”

A waiting pause that Harry refused to fill with an answer.  

Another slap – Harry heard it before the pain fully registered blooming across the tender flesh of his backside. He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down hard so as not to cry out. He’d not let this monster have anything from him. He could have his body but not his soul.

“Let’s see if those lips are loosened after I’m done with you.”

And without any more preparation or warning, the blunt head of a thick cock prodded at his entrance until the bulbous tip finally slid inside with a pop. 

Harry’s breath left him with a whoosh when it didn’t stop there, and kept going until his arse pressed flush against a pelvis. He inwardly swore and prayed and cursed to every magical being and deity he could think of; anyone that could save him from this unfolding nightmare. Harry winced and bit the cushion to keep himself from screaming at the stretch and burn of such a huge thing forcing its way inside him. So deep and wide that he didn't know how it was all going to fit inside.

But it did, and Harry could feel everything from the tiny ridges to the veins that slid against his sensitive inner walls. A sharp hiss sounded as Voldemort’s hands slid up to curl around his waist. “Who knew the Chosen One would be so tight? I bet that fire inside makes you feel so warm around me too. Give a squeeze then.”

When Harry did not comply, Voldemort’s grip tightened and he began to move with abandon. He thrust without a care that Harry burned and felt like he was being ripped apart. The large girth slide in and out, pounding, slapping, and hammering into him for what felt like ages. One hand eventually moved from his waist to grab the back of his neck and shoved Harry’s face into the cushions of the chaise lounge. At this point, Harry’s whimpers turned to dry sobs uttered through clenched teeth.

Voldemort tutted in a mock show of sympathy. “Quiet, Harry, or else your friends might hear what a filthy creature you’re being for me.”

It seemed to go on forever, alternating between slow and drawn-out, to brutally hard and fast. Bitter shame flushed through Harry at the dawning fact he was hard between his legs. Disgust curled in his belly at his own biology, that there was any sort of pleasure being taken from this. He refused to acknowledge it and hoped the other man did not notice lest he discover new ammunition or encouragement from the display of weakness. But the hope was snuffed out too soon.

“I think I’ll take you on your back now,” Voldemort breathed hotly in his ear. “I want you to see exactly who is taking everything from you, Harry Potter.”

No, no, no…

The ropes loosened and Harry swung an arm out but he was too slow – too weak – and it was caught in a lazy but firm grip. Strong fingers curled around his wrist and forced his arm back to the other corner of the chaise lounge where it was rebound so that he now lay on his back, splayed bare before his torturer. Harry closed his eyes to the way those crimson-coloured eyes retraced the expanse of his naked body. Then there came that inevitable low sound of amusement again.

“My… Harry, Harry, you truly are a filthy creature, aren’t you.”

The sudden lack of air in his throat had Harry’s eyes shooting open to find a grinning face staring back at him.

“Tell me to fuck you,” Voldemort ordered, fingers squeezing until Harry’s vision blurred and his limbs strained against his restraints. After a moment the grip briefly loosened enough for Harry to get out the words: “F-fuck me,” he gasped.

“Say please.”

Harry sobbed as hot tears began to sting the corner of his eyes.

“Say it,” Voldemort hissed and his fingers gave a threatening squeeze.

“Please!” Harry panted. “Please fuck me.”

A satisfied smile curled thin pale lips and the hand was thankfully removed from around his throat. Harry took in large, relieved breaths of air as he slowly became aware of fingers pressing inside him again.

“Since you asked so nicely… But first, I think I’d like to see what it looks like for the Boy Who Lived to come on the Dark Lord’s fingers.”

Harry shook his head and with renewed vigour, began to struggle at his restraints again. The fingers were pressing, delving in deep until they pushed against something that made Harry see white.

No, please, no…

But he couldn’t control it no matter how hard he tried. His back arched as his prick jerked and shot a stream of hot, pearly white release all over his stomach. A noise that sounded more like agony than pleasure was ripped from Harry’s throat.

Almost as soon as the high had come and gone, the waves of shame crashed down on Harry again. He was hardly even aware that the fingers had been once more replaced with a cock, and that it now moved more viciously within him.

A hopeless, dry sob escaped Harry’s lips that he smothered against the cushion of the armchair before continuing to take whatever Voldemort gave him. Another round of skin-splitting blows to his arse and another volley of thrusts inside his abused arsehole which he was sure would be bleeding by now. Harry grit his teeth, shut his eyes, and rode it out. This too, he told himself, had to pass. Sooner or later, it must pass.

The conclusion of his torture did not register at first until the crush of sharp teeth dug into his shoulder and signaled Voldemort’s release inside him. Harry could only manage a weak cry in response but otherwise did not try to throw his attacker off lest more pain come from it. Once the jaw unlatched from his skin and the throbbing died down enough, the dampness of the cushions beneath Harry’s face registered as evidence of him having cried into them. He swallowed thickly and found his throat raw and broken from what he can only imagine to be from screaming.

To his captor’s shock and reluctant awe though, Harry’s mouth remained sealed shut as it had been before.

With a snarl and an abrupt withdrawal from the abused body, Voldemort gave him a choice: If Harry did not give him the information he wanted, then he'd just have to kill his friends.

He then made to leave when from some desperate, deep place inside of him, Harry had found enough strength to scream one more time.

“NO!”

And then he began to do something he never thought he would: Harry begged.

The stream of pleading from the younger man’s mouth seemed to surprise Voldemort as much as it did Harry himself, though the former had to admit it was appealing.

Yes, Voldemort thought he liked that very much.

“I suppose some agreement can be reached,” the Dark Lord mused in a false tone of consideration. “So I will give you this, Potter; their lives will be spared if, and only if, you willingly give yourself to me…”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and his heart seemed to stop beating altogether. But it was his friends… Ron and Hermione. And he would rather die first than let anything happen to them. His gaze flickered to Dobby still lying in a small bundle in the corner of the room. The little elf’s body cooling among the shattered chandelier sprinkling the floor. Large glassy eyes stared, unseeing, at Harry who closed his own in defeat.

Harry could feel the curl of triumph echo through his scar without having to say a word.

“Such a good little hero you are. Willing to sacrifice everything for your friends… I often wonder how loyalty like that can exist.”

A moment passed where nothing happened and Voldemort snapped. “I’m waiting.”

Harry shifted sorely on the chaise lounge, realising that his restraints had been loosened. Slowly, he stood on shaky limbs and tried to ignore the trickle of blood and semen down his thigh. The ropes slipped from his wrists and ankles to drop to the floor in a curled heap like coiled snakes. Harry stepped forward gingerly, hiding the wince of pain that shot through him with every step. Voldemort watched him with gleaming, anticipatory eyes.

“That’s it, Harry, come to me…” his voice slithered in his ear. Harry was unsure whether it was aloud or in his head but at that point he didn’t care.

Once he got to Voldemort, Harry dropped to his knees and gritted his teeth at the jarring sensation in his bones and muscles.

“There we go. Open up, now. Open up nice and wide for your precious little friends’ sake.”

Harry held back another agonised noise that threatened to spill from his mouth and instead leaned forward and parted his lips to take in the long, hard flesh. Slick with the same warm liquids that dripped down his leg now.

Harry took all of him in and when he didn’t think he could take any more, Voldemort’s hand grabbed the back of his head and forced him down so that he choked on the lack of air and large intrusion at the back of his throat. Thankfully, Harry was allowed to pull back once – only to gasp in one desperate breath – before his face was forced against pubic bone again.

“Nice and deep, all the way, there we go…” Voldemort goaded. “Such a pretty mouth for fucking that I think that’s all it will be allowed to do from now on.”

Harry mentally added that he would sooner end his own life than have this happen again. And that was a promise and an oath; this would not be happening again, one way or another. The thought spurred him on and lit a fire behind his watering eyes that he turned on Voldemort as a challenge.

The look did not go unnoticed and was returned with one of wariness and suspicion. But it was clearly not enough to override the pleasure the Dark Lord was getting from Harry sucking on his cock.

Another yank on his head drove Harry down on the long, thick shaft again. Harry glared, one full of rage as his mouth bore down again and again. Voldemort’s hand still clutched painfully at his scalp and hair, making him gag and choke. His throat and lungs burned, his vision became blurred and his face numbed as spit dribbled down his chin. And when the lack of air began to make Harry light-headed and dizzy, he beat his hands against the powerful thighs, fingers digging in and hoping they'd do some damage no matter how small. But those small mercies of air were short-lived until Voldemort would jam himself back into his mouth again.

At last, it became too much and with a guttural cry from Voldemort’s mouth, hot and bitterly salty release splashed down Harry throat and flooded his tongue, almost drowning him with it all. His head jerked back and the hand holding him dropped away in its relaxed state so that he could cough all over the floor. His bare chest heaved with desperate gasps for breath.

The sight seemed to amuse Harry’s captor by the way he laughed in his cruel, taunting way.

“You have more use than originally thought,” Voldemort said, and closed his robe over himself properly again. He stood and began to retreat from the room.

“W-wait…” Harry rasped.

The footsteps halted and without turning to face him, Voldemort spoke.

“Never fear, Harry, a deal is a deal: Your friends shall remain unharmed. For now.”

In a swirl of robes and black smoke, he left, and Harry, spent and exhausted and hurting all over, hobbled over the pieces of broken chandelier, uncaring of the pain, toward Dobby. With a gentle hand, he removed the blade and closed the elf’s eyes at last so that he could appear resting. 

He then turned to walk a few feet and pulled his hoodie from the pile of his clothing still left on the floor and wrapped it around his shaking shoulders. Too tired to put anything else on, he curled in on himself in front of the embers of the dying fire where he eventually let blissful nothingness claim him.

Harry woke with the immediate and terrible knowledge of where he still was and what exactly had happened. Still weak and exhausted, he also realized that he was not alone.

Voldemort sat under him on one of the armchairs, tracing his skin with misleading gentleness and watching him. He must have lifted Harry while he slept and placed him on his lap. Tears threatened to prick Harry’s eyes so he closed them to stop them from falling. With a swallow around the dull burn in his throat, he made another silent vow to never let this man see him cry.

“Not even a kiss good-morning?”

Harry simply stared and Voldemort continued: “I must confess I’ve never known what it felt like to be kissed. Something tells me that there must be something remarkable about it going by how authors, poets, and musicians alike will dedicate their work to it.”

The cold fingers reached up to touch Harry’s cheek who flinched.

“Kiss me,” Came the order, and Harry, dead-eyed and for all the world appearing like he had given up, pulled himself into a sitting position to lean in and press still lips to Voldemort's thin, cold ones before pulling away again.

Unsatisfied by the lack of enthusiasm, Voldemort roughly yanked Harry against him again as fingers tugged hard at his hair and dug painfully into his tender scalp. He crashed their lips together in a bruising, possessive kiss. Teeth bit and a tongue pushed for dominance into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth who had no other choice but to open up to him.

After some moments, Voldemort pulled away and his customary vicious smile was on his lips again.

“You know, I don’t think I want anything out of you anymore. You can take the old fool’s words to the grave for all I care, for I’ve a far better use for you now anyway.”

His smile was gleaming and mad, holding the promise of a lifetime of hell and pain. But it was a promise Harry would not let him keep.

In a flash of silver, Bellatrix’s dagger appeared from the pocket of his hoodie to sink into Voldemort’s right shoulder with too much ease.  

The older man hardly had time to register what happened so the resulting cry of shock was delayed. Within that split second before he went to grab his wand, Harry hesitated – The rising wave of panic and horror of his own action began to creep up on him. But in the next instant he had smothered it with a greater sense of urgency.

Harry did not spare another second to think before he thrust the knife into Voldemort once more. This time the body beneath him jerked violently and there was a clatter of what must be Voldemort’s wand dropping to the floor. Harry did not pause or stop this time; he repeated the action again and again until the once-strong hands that reached up to try stop him were too weak and fell to the side, limp and useless as the dagger kept spearing into the body of Harry’s torturer.

No sound but that of Harry’s harsh pants and the dull, wet thuds of a knife hitting a lifeless body could be heard in the purple-walled drawing room of Malfoy manor.

Harry scrambled off the armchair the moment he realized he’d done enough. The body was not moving anymore. He was safe, he was safe…

But for the longest time he just sat on the floor and stared, alternating looks between his bloodied hands and the mess that was left of his enemy. His hands were shaking and his heart pounded in his ears.

Voldemort… was dead.

The revelation shook Harry to the core and he could not stop shaking even as he slowly dressed himself back into his old clothes again. With one last glance at the dripping blade discarded on the floor, Harry left for the dungeons below. 

Ron and Hermoine shared looks of relief and nervousness when they saw him. But they froze the moment he opened the gate and fully witnessed the state he was in; covered head to foot in what could only be blood. In frantic voices they asked if he were all right but Harry found he could not truthfully answer the question just now. A wave of something monstrous and dark simmered beneath the surface of his mind and it took him everything he had to keep it there, locked tight until they could leave this damned place.

“Harry?”

“Come on, we haven't got much time.”

Both his friends were still looking at him though; at the shut off look in his eyes and expression. He wished they would stop. He was trying so hard...

“What about Voldemort?” Ron asked.

“Dead, for now.”

Stunned silence followed the statement and Harry could see the moment they pieced it together; from his blood-stained person to his sudden freedom. Hermione and Ron exchanged another look but they did not have much time before the Malfoys and Bellatrix realized something was wrong.

They finally crept out of the dungeons, Griphook in tow, and Disapparated from the hall. Just in time to hear the beginnings of a familiar, vengeful and despair-filled shriek echo through the manor.

As the gut-wrenching jerk of Apparition took hold, Harry gripped the twin of his phoenix feather wand in a tight fist. They still had a few horcruxes to kill, after all, lest the corpse came back to life again.

#harrymort #tomarrydarkspringexchange #thelightningsoul #title taken from the song 'o death' by shakey graves #that song is 10/10 would recommend #also this was way too long to put in a post wasn't it #//orz #m: writing #harrymort prompts

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Because he’s gone

Psych fanfic, set in early season 5 but doesn’t follow canon after that. TW: Character death, HEAVY angst, no comfort, grief after losing loved ones, doing stupid things that lead to death

Henry left three weeks after the funeral.

    It had been hard enough, before. Shawn didn’t come over as often, and even when he did, Henry could tell he wasn’t nearly as alive as he had once been. Lord, how he wished he could say the news came as a surprise to him. To be shocked and horrified and to wonder how it could have ever happened, because that would have been so much easier.

    But things were never easy when Shawn was involved, never. Every message Henry sent out was accompanied by a voice telling him he could have prevented this, every word he wrote for the eulogy reminded him why he was giving it and what a fool he had been for not connecting the dots quicker, every eye watching him an accusation of what he had failed to do.

    He tried to stay, he really did. But after the funeral he felt as though his house had turned against him. Every time he turned a corner there was something waiting to sucker punch him. The “backup pineapple” Shawn had squished into the corner of the fridge, the little green army men Shawn had lost into the couch cushions at some point or another, Shawn’s room itself, all of it reminded him why he couldn’t stay here anymore, because it wasn’t his house anymore.

    It was Shawn’s.

    Karen quit her job two months after the incident.

    What happened to Gus was awful, but she could live with it, she told herself. No one could have known there was another dealer, hiding in the shadows. No one could have gotten Gus away after those twitchy fingers had gotten hold of him. No one could have saved him.

    Was it terrible? Yes.

��   Could she deal with it? Yes.

But Karen knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Shawn’s death was on her, and no one could convince her otherwise.

When Shawn had first come into her office that day, shadows under his eyes, his manner gruff, demanding to be given his job back, she had known straight away only an idiot would reinstate such a broken man. When her sympathies were met with nothing but snorts, that should have settled the matter.

But the moment his voice cracked, the moment his eyes started to shine, Karen felt her resolve shatter. He needed to work, he explained, he needed to do something. And she fell for it, telling him that as long as he went slow, as long as for the first time in his life he showed some degree of self-restraint, he could go back to working.

She should have known a week wouldn’t have been enough to quell one’s inner demons.

Of course, the gangster Shawn had made his murderer was going to rot, but it didn’t change anything, really. The effort Karen put into his case was really just a distraction from the body that had been moved into the morgue that she knew deep down she had put there.

Even once the case was over, Karen had stayed. It was in the nature of her job that she was going to lose employees. It wasn’t anything to quit over.

After two months of not having a single request for a remeburstment on pineapple smoothies, of not having a single demand for a check that may-or-may-not have actually been earned, of not having a head psychic running about her station and crime scenes, distracting her officers, however, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Without Shawn, the station felt alien in a way it had never felt before, as though he had taken the familiarity Karen had built up after years spent in its halls away with him. So she left, choosing to spend her time with Iris instead of ghosts.

And if some nights it felt like the ghosts had followed her home, well, maybe that was what she deserved.

They were still a great team. Despite the losses, despite the people who had left, despite it all, they were still the best cops on the force.

Even with Lassiter spending every odd night staring at Shawn’s case file, which had taken up permanent residence on his crime wall, trying to decide who was the real killer: the shooter or Shawn, his aim was still the best of all the detectives.

Even with Juliet constantly finding her thoughts lapsing into the “what ifs” where she had reacted quicker, where she had stopped him, where she had done anything other than watch as the man she had only now realized she loved threw himself in front of that madman pretending to try and talk him down, she was still the first person to find the case-cracking lead time and time again.

Together, they were unstoppable, taking on the hardest cases without breaking a sweat. In the eyes of the department, they had risen above all that had happened admirably.

But the department didn’t see everything. It didn’t see the deafening silences they fell into on lengthy stakeouts, uninterrupted by the loud and proud psychic. It didn’t see the way their relationship became strictly professional, the easygoing friendship they once maintained overshadowed by Shawn and Gus’s absence. It didn’t see the way they both fought to keep their jobs, not knowing what they’d do with themselves if they quit but also not knowing how they could stay.

Only they saw it, when Lassiter pretended not to notice the photograph Juliet had shoved into one of her drawers, too painful to look at but too important to get rid of. Only they saw it when Juliet ignored every time Lassiter’s head snapped towards the source of any loud noise, expecting it to be someone else.

Only they saw it in the dead of night, at one house or the other, pouring over a casefile that was just a little bit too familiar, unable to sleep because they just had to solve this, both refusing to acknowledge that closing this case, that closing a hundred cases like it would never change the outcome of the only case that really mattered.

And after everything that happened, after what happened to Gus, after what Shawn did, after Henry abandoned the house, after Karen turned in her badge, after they spent so many nights breaking down, Lassiter and Juliet started to wonder why they even stayed.

Without the disturbance of the peace that was the former head psychic, or the more controlled voice that was constantly on his tail; without the older cop constantly in and out of the station because of said psychic; without the bemused voice of the former chief reminding them what they should be doing, the station felt foreign. It was an awful thing to accept, but they didn’t belong there anymore.

Problem was, they didn’t feel like they belonged anywhere anymore.

#psych #angst #character death #no comfort

[deadrumors]

A Secret to Keep

Or in which Klaus doesn’t resort to drugs and goes breaks instead.

Ben/Klaus because if the writers can make Luther/Allison canon and ignore the pseudo/incest implications of their relationship then so can I

Read on Ao3

——

Between the darkness of the tomb and screams of the damned, time stops being relevant. Klaus has lost his grip on the minutes, hours, days he's been trapped in the mausoleum, instead falling into a strange void of space that feels like eternity.

There are so many of them. There are so many dead and dying and people in between and they never shut up. All talking at the same time, all screaming his name, screaming for help, screaming for vengeance. Klaus has clenched his hands over his ears for so long that his arms are stiff with fatigue and his ears throb from the pressure. His nails are broken and bloody from his attempts to escape, the last of which a sad and desperate scratching at the walls in hopes of salvation. He’s passed the first stages of hunger, falling into the painful haze of dizziness and exhaustion that comes from starvation.

Hope of leaving the mausoleum has left him, leaving only fear and resentment towards the man who threw him in here without a second glance.

In the blind of the dark and the static of the screams, something in Klaus Hargreeves breaks.

——

When Reginald Hargreeves opens the door to the crypt, Number Four is lying on his back in the middle, a smile twitching on his lips and a hand covered in blood at his side.

——

Klaus comes back to the academy quiet and still. Ben can tell that the others are unnerved by him, even more so than they were before. They leave space between them and him when he walks slowly into a room, his eyes far away seeing something none of them will ever understand.

Ben’s hands clench so hard his nails leave welts in their wake. Ben has often imagined punching his father, overpowering him, taking him down. But watching Klaus become an empty shell makes him want to become the monster inside him and rip Reginald Hargreeves apart.

Klaus sits next to him on the couch, his fingers twitching every so often like a static shock, his eyes glazed over and staring in the distance. Ben’s the only one who still gets this close to him, and he makes a point to do so, glaring at any of the others too cowardly to be family to their brother.

“They see everything you know,” Klaus says absently.

Ben looks up from the book he’s been reading, staring at his brother who hasn’t spoken since he came back with dad.

“What?” He asks, ignoring the swell of relief at hearing his brother’s voice.

Klaus hums, his eyes flittering around before saying, “The spirits. They have eyes everywhere. They tell me things, when I want to listen.” Klaus giggles and something about it unsettles Ben. “Time isn’t real, but not in the way we think. A cycle or a line? They say no. War isn’t coming but we’ll lose anyway, a broken cycle, a broken loop. Father is playing with fire, and he’s going to burn the whole world.” Klaus starts humming again, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and Ben can’t help the sinking feeling in his gut.

——

Klaus likes to dance with people that aren’t there. Or maybe they are, and Ben just can’t see them. Klaus spins around the living room, his arms outstretched as if to hold someone’s shoulders, his lips humming a song no one else can hear.

Ben likes to watch, likes to watch Klaus look the closest to happiness he’s ever seen him, likes to watch his siblings give klaus a fond look as they sidestep him. His father has made his opinion on Klaus’ new hobby and feminine clothing loud and clear, but Klaus’ dismissive and kind smiles have the power to armor Klaus in a way none of his other siblings have learned; a way to stand on his own.

The others like the new Klaus, like his nonsense ramblings and soft smiles and serene aura. Ben can’t help but resent them, can’t help but hate their sudden change in behavior towards Klaus. Ben knows better, knows Klaus is only like this because dad took something from him in those months of Klaus’ disappearance. Klaus can be this calm and content and ‘serene’ because he knows there’s nothing left of him to break. And dad knows it too.

It’s the only thing stopping dad from further training. When Klaus is already at the bottom of the barrel, what else can their father do to him?

Reginald got what he wanted anyways. Klaus’ powers have reaches a state that’s terrifying to most. The dead whisper the secrets of everything into his ears, and come to his aid in the midst of a fight. They materialize and dematerialize at Klaus’ whim, flickering like the lights they malfunction when they appear.

Ben loves Klaus no matter how he is, but he can’t help but miss the kid he use to know, the one that talked and joked and laughed, the one that would crawl into his bed because he was scared of the dark, the one that told their father off despite the consequences, the one that used to be Klaus but has been lost to the dead.

——

The latest villain gets a few hits on Ben, leaving gashes in his arms and sides from her sword and blood staining his skin. Mom stitches his wounds together with a smile and a hum, and for a moment Ben can’t help comparing her behavior with Klaus’ and the idea leaves a sick feeling in his stomach.

Klaus is leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom, a frown and furrowed brows shaping his face into one of worry. It’s not often to see Klaus worried these days, as it’s not often to see Klaus with much emotion at all.

“You need to be more careful.” Klaus says when mom leaves, the door closing behind her, “You could’ve been killed, dammit Ben!” Klaus shouts, for what seems to be the first time in months, and in this moment he’s more Klaus than he’s ever been since he came back.

Ben sighs and holds his palm out, and Klaus takes it, and Ben pulls him close, a familiar dance as easy as breathing.”I’m right here Klaus, I’m okay.”

Klaus presses his face into Ben’s shoulder and Ben can feel him trembling.

“You won’t be.” Klaus whispers.

Ben tightens his grip ever so slightly, “Why do you say that?”

“The spirits,” he says, “they feel you drawing closer.”

Ben stiffens, even though he’s not sure he understands. “Klaus-“

“You need to be careful.” Klaus repeats. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

Klaus looks up at him, his face set but his eyes watery. “Promise me. Promise you wont leave me.”

Ben touches Klaus’ cheek, feeling the way Klaus presses into it, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

“I promise.”

—-

The day Ben dies is a day of chaos.

Allison and Luther had been on their own mission of taking down a drug lord when a bank robbery started happening downtown. It was only three men and the bank wasn’t large enough to have much money of note. Dad didn’t think too much of it and sent Ben on a solo mission to stop it.

Allison and Luther get home right as Klaus starts screaming.

They run into the living room as the lights start flickering, some even exploding. Klaus is sitting in the middle of the room, glasses and other objects flying around and shattering as the dead manifest around Klaus. Diego is standing in front of Vanya, arm outstretched with a knife in hand. Father shouts from the other doorway, screaming at Klaus to get himself together, as though that fixes the situation or makes it any better.

Allison steps forward before Luther can push her back and speaks, “I heard a rumor,” she says and her power vibrates in her chest, “That you calm down!”

The response is immediate, the objects previously levitating fall to the ground and the ghosts dissipate, leaving a destroyed living room and a slumped over Klaus in the center of it all. The room is still for a moment, the slowing of Klaus’ heavy breathing the only thing disturbing the peace.

Klaus lifts his head and stares at their father, previous tears not yet dried on his cheeks. “You killed him.” Klaus whispers. “You killed Ben.”

___

Klaus sits at his brother’s grave long after the rest of his family have left, letting the ghosts and the newly departed drown out his own grief with their screams.

“You promised,” Klaus whispers, sound lost to his own ears in the shouts of the dead, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

“And I plan on keeping it.” A voice says to his left, the tone clear and the words distinct, somehow overpowering all the rest of the ghosts.

Ben stands as he did in life, hands in his pockets and a slight slouch in his spine. He doesn’t look like the bloody mess that he should be and Klaus’ heart aches.

Klaus stands, and Ben holds out a hand. On instinct Klaus goes to grab it only for his hand to go through and a sob works its way up his throat.

“I told you to be careful.” Klaus says, reaching into his core to pull out the powers inside him.

“I know,” Ben says, “I’m sorry.”

Klaus reaches for Ben’s hand again, this time making contact through his abilities, and Ben pulls him in and wraps his arms around Klaus. Being held by a ghost is cold and slightly uncomfortable but Klaus wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Stay with me?” Klaus asks selfishly.

“Always.” Ben says, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

#the umbrella academy #Klaus Hargreeves #ben hargreeves #my fic #tw child abuse #tw pseudo incest #ben/klaus #klaus isnt an addict #ben still dies at the end