#—— &. FOLLOWING THE LIGHT OF THE STARS; WE LEFT THE OLD WORLD / MAIN.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We're Always Shifting {Chapter Three}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

WC: 7.5k

Masterlist

Summary: After a small fight and a make up session, Harry and the reader stumble upon a room that finally harbors some answers.

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The week following the disastrous attempt to steal from Snape had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and desperate attempts to make sense of the hollow ache inside you. Hermione, Draco, and Luna had thrown themselves into the task of helping you, their worry manifesting in different ways. Hermione had suggested Legilimency, but Draco had shut that down immediately, his voice sharp with protective indignation. You had almost forgotten what he had gone through; his main argument being it wouldn’t help with memories you claimed not to have- but you know what it was. He didn't want you to feel that pain. Luna had brought you a collection of oddities- an old mirror, a battered music box, a tattered vinyl sleeve- swearing they would spark something, but they only left you feeling more adrift.

Even Draco, normally so quick with a biting remark, had grown strangely subdued. His silences spoke louder than his words, his usual bravado giving way to an unspoken concern that settled heavily between you all. It was like they could sense the cracks forming in you, but none of them knew how to mend them.

You’d tried to distract yourself. Hours spent in the library with Hermione, feigning interest as she scribbled notes with the intensity of someone trying to outrun her own thoughts. You let Luna’s voice wash over you as she rambled about magical creatures, her whimsical theories like threads of light in the dark. And when Draco had dragged you to the Astronomy Tower, pointing out constellations with a confidence that made your heart twist, you let yourself get lost in the stars, searching for answers you couldn’t name.

But nothing worked. The ache remained, gnawing at you like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. And then there was Harry.

He’d been watching you all week, his gaze a quiet weight you felt even when you tried to ignore it. He didn’t push, not at first. But his presence was constant, lingering at the edges of your world like an unanswered question. Every time his eyes met yours, there was something there- something raw and yearning, something you couldn’t face.

By the time Monday morning arrived, you weren’t surprised to find him waiting for you outside the courtyard steps. His tie hung loose, his hair as perpetually messy as ever, but his expression was different. He looked... tired. And the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” He forced a smile, his voice softer than you’d expected. “Do you want to skip class? Go down to the Black Lake like we used to?”

The question was so simple, so Harry, that it almost broke you. Memories of stolen afternoons by the water flashed through your mind; his laughter, the sun on your skin, the feeling that nothing else mattered when you were with him. The sounds of Draco's snark remarks about you actually getting into the water- with Hermione’s fussing about getting caught- You wanted to say yes. You wanted to let him pull you back into that world, even for a moment. But the thought of being alone with him, of facing everything you couldn’t explain, was unbearable.

“I’d… rather be alone right now,” You muttered, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Harry stepped in front of you, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Don’t do that,” He huffed, his voice sharper now. “Don’t shut me out. It’s not fair.”

You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “I’m not shutting you out, Harry. I just-”

“Yes, you are,” He cut you off, his hands clenching at his sides. “You’ve been doing it all week. Hell, longer than that. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

His words hit like a slap, and you looked away, guilt twisting in your chest. “I’m not trying to shut you out,” You muttered softly. “I just… I need space.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Space,” He rasped, his voice laced with disbelief. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve had plenty of space, haven’t you? Space from me, but no one else.”

“That’s not fair-”

“No,” He interrupted, his voice rising. “What’s not fair is you disappearing into your own head and leaving me here, wondering what the hell I did wrong.”

The rawness in his voice made your breath catch, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. His green eyes burned with something you couldn’t name- hurt, frustration, desperation- and it cut deeper than you expected.

“Do you have any idea how much I miss you?” He strained, his voice breaking. “I miss us. I miss how things used to be. And I don’t understand why you don’t. It’s like… the second this year started, you wanted nothing to do with me. I need my best friend back.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Why not?” He demanded, stepping closer. “Is it because of Ginny? Because of Malfoy? Because I swear, if it’s about them, I’ll-”

“It’s not about them!” You snapped, your voice rising in frustration. The words hung heavy in the air, and Harry flinched, his hurt etched into every line of his face.

“Then what is it about?” He asked, his voice quieter now, trembling with something fragile. “Because I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a storm, and you felt your walls crumbling. You wanted to tell him everything- the flashes of memories, the way your chest ached when you looked at him, the fear that you were unraveling piece by piece. But how could you, when you didn’t even understand it yourself?

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know how to fix it either.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “Then let me help you,” He huffed. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together.”

His words should have been comforting, but they only made the ache worse. You didn’t deserve his loyalty- not when you couldn’t give him the answers he deserved.

Harry reached out, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulled away. “Take your space.” He sighed softly, his voice tinged with resignation. “But don’t forget… I’m still here. I’m always here. I'm not going to just leave you behind.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and watched as he walked away. His shoulders were hunched, his steps heavy, and you felt the tears spill over, hot and unrelenting.

As the courtyard fell silent around you, you realized how deep the chasm between you and Harry had grown. And yet, his words lingered, a promise you weren’t sure you deserved but couldn’t let go of.

"I’m not going to just leave you behind."

If only you could believe him. If only you could believe in yourself.

~~~

The days that followed your conversation with Harry dragged like wading through deep, endless water. You’d catch sight of him in the halls or across the Great Hall, and each time, the quiet anguish in his green eyes clawed at you. It made your chest ache, and no amount of distraction could dull the weight of it.

His words hung in the air, a constant echo in your mind. And yet, how could you tell him the truth? The flashes of fragmented memories, the visions that felt like whispers of another life. The image of Harry with a jagged lightning scar carved into his forehead- it haunted you. But how could you explain something that felt more like a dream than reality? How could you put that burden on him when you didn’t understand it yourself?

You tried to busy yourself, anything to drown the noise in your head. Hermione’s endless study sessions became your sanctuary, though her focused quill scratches only reminded you of your own restless inaction. Draco’s sharp comments- usually a source of irritation- started feeling oddly grounding, like he was trying to anchor you in his own backhanded way. And Luna, sweet Luna, would sit beside you, offering her peculiar trinkets and theories, her voice laced with a gentleness that made you want to cry. 

But no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how much you wished you could let them in, the ache in your chest remained, pulling you under.

And Harry.

He didn’t push, not at first. He lingered at the edges of your world, his presence always there, quietly waiting. But his patience wasn’t infinite, and you’d felt it begin to fray. The tension between you grew heavier with every passing day until finally, it all came to a head.

~~~

It was late one evening when you found yourself in the library again, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the occasional rustle of parchment. Hermione was beside you, her focus unwavering as she tackled Advanced Transfiguration. Across the table, Draco flicked lazily through a Potions text, his sharp features cast in the warm glow of a lamp. And then there was Luna, perched on the table’s edge, humming softly as she dangled a peculiar dried herb in front of her like it might hold all the answers you sought.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Hermione said finally, her tone cautious but kind. Her eyes flicked toward you, her quill pausing mid-scratch. “Still thinking about what Harry said?”

The question hit you and your thoughts came to a halt, though you tried to hide it. You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of your book. “Yeah,” You admitted, barely above a whisper. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated is putting it mildly,” Draco hummed, his voice cutting but not cruel. “Potter’s as subtle as a Hippogriff, but at least he’s honest. You? You’re like some impossible bloody riddle, and I, for one, am tired of trying to solve it.”

You shot him a glare, but Luna chimed in before you could retort. “Maybe it’s not about solving.” She said dreamily, tilting her head. “Maybe the answer is already there, and you’re just scared of it.”

Hermione sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. “Look, no one’s asking you to figure it all out right this second. But pushing Harry away isn’t fair. You know how he is. He’ll wait forever if he has to, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

The words sank in, the guilt clawing at your insides. “I know.” You murmured, your voice barely audible. “I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Draco said bluntly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. When Hermione shot him a glare, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. Someone has to.”

Luna’s voice was soft but steady, her gaze piercing in its own ethereal way. “Maybe it’s not about whether or not you want to hurt him. Maybe it’s about whether or not you trust him enough to let him help.”

The words struck a chord deep in your chest. Trust. That was the heart of it, wasn’t it? Trusting Harry to stay, to weather the storm of your fractured mind when you couldn’t promise him any clarity. Trusting him not to crumble under the weight of what little you could offer.

Without a word, you closed your book and rose from your chair, the scrape of wood against stone drawing all eyes to you. “I need some air,” You mumbled. “I’ll be back.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Luna placed a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her. Draco simply raised an eyebrow, though for once, he said nothing. You left before their collective concern could smother you.

~~~

The corridors were quiet, the late hour cloaking the castle in stillness. You wandered aimlessly, your thoughts a tangled mess of guilt and confusion, until your feet carried you to the Astronomy Tower. The crisp night air hit you as you stepped outside, the stars above sprawling endlessly, like an invitation to lose yourself in their vastness.

Leaning against the cold stone railing, you stared out at the dark silhouette of the Forbidden Forest. Your mind raced, memories you couldn’t place flitting just out of reach. The ache in your chest felt heavier here, the weight of it almost unbearable.

“You’re not the only one who hides up here, you know.”

The voice startled you, though it shouldn’t have. You turned to see Harry stepping out of the halls, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked as exhausted as you felt, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his face.

For a moment, you said nothing, the silence between you thick. Then Harry stepped closer, leaning on the railing beside you. “I didn’t mean to push the other day,” He said quietly, his voice raw. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

The vulnerability in his tone twisted something deep inside you, but this time, you didn’t look away. “I don’t know how to do this either.” You admitted, your voice breaking. “And I’m terrified that if I tell you what little I do know, it’ll make everything worse.”

Harry frowned, his green eyes searching yours like he could will you to let him in. “Worse than this?” he asked softly. “Worse than watching you slip further away every day?”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “Harry, I saw something the other night. It wasn’t real, but it felt real. It was you. But… not you.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was steady, but his brow furrowed with confusion.

You hesitated, the memory of his scar flashing in your mind. “You had a scar. A lightning bolt, right here.” You gestured to your own forehead. “And your eyes, Harry… they looked so tired. Like you’d been fighting something- something I couldn’t see.”

Harry stared at you, his confusion deepening. “A scar? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” You confessed, aspirated, your frustration bubbling over. “I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me, showing me things that just don’t make sense. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

As the silence settled between you, Harry’s hand remained steady on your arm, his warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. His eyes searched yours, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe he could take on some of the weight that had been suffocating you. 

“Alright,” He said softly, his voice tinged with that steadfast determination you’d always admired. “Let’s talk about it.”

You hesitated, then nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The two of you turned and began walking, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. For a while, neither of you spoke, the stillness giving you time to gather your thoughts. 

“It’s hard to explain,” You began, uncertain. “It’s not just the visions. It’s this… this feeling that something’s missing. Someone’s missing.” 

Harry glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Missing? Like you’ve forgotten someone?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “Or maybe it’s like they were never here to begin with, but they should’ve been. I don’t know, Harry. It’s like… there’s a gap, and I don’t know how to fill it.” 

He stayed quiet, letting you talk without interruption, his attention fully on you in a way that made your chest tighten. 

“And it’s not just that.” You continued. “Sometimes I look at people- Pandora, Draco, even Luna- and it’s like I’m seeing two versions of them at once. One that feels… right, and one that doesn’t. Like they’re slightly out of focus. I can’t explain it better than that.” 

Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And me? Do I… feel out of focus?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “No,” You said quietly. “You feel… solid. Real. But it’s like there’s another version of you, one I can’t quite remember but still… know. It’s the you with the scar.” You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of recognition, but he only looked more confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry murmured, shaking his head. “But if you’re seeing this, if you’re feeling this… it’s got to mean something, right?”

You nodded slowly, your steps faltering as the ache in your chest deepened. “It has to,” You whispered. “Because if it doesn’t, then I’m just losing my mind.”

Harry stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not losing your mind,” He validated you firmly. “You’re going through something, something none of us understand yet. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His words settled over you like a balm, and you felt a spark of hope flicker to life amidst the chaos. You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that he returned with a quiet confidence that made you want to believe in him. 

“Come on,” He said, his tone lighter now. “Let’s keep walking. Who knows, maybe you’ll start seeing something that makes sense.”

You snorted softly, the sound startling both of you into a brief laugh. “Unlikely,” You muttered, though a tiny part of you dared to hope.

The two of you continued down the corridor, your steps falling into an easy rhythm. You talked in fits and starts, describing the strange flashes of memory that haunted you, the sensations that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. Harry listened intently, his occasional questions thoughtful but never pressing. 

As you turned a corner, you felt it. A tug, faint but insistent, pulling you toward the stretch of stone wall ahead. You slowed, your steps faltering, and Harry noticed immediately.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” You murmured, your gaze fixed on the blank expanse of wall. The ache in your chest intensified, sharpening into something almost physical, and before you could say anything else, the stones began to shift.

Harry stepped back, his hand brushing yours as the wall transformed before your eyes. The bricks rippled and rearranged themselves, forming a tall, intricately carved door that hadn’t been there moments ago. You exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Harry, his expression mirroring your own mixture of awe and unease.

“What… is that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I… don't know.” You whispered in a shaken voice. Then, your jaw tightened and you turned sharply to smile at Harry. He seemed confused.

“But I know someone who might.”

~~~

The quiet corridors of Hogwarts grew heavier with the weight of secrecy, and you found yourself pacing just outside the newly formed door in the stone wall. Your heart raced, caught between the tension of discovery and the uncertainty of what lay within.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention, and you turned just as Harry came into view. He wasn’t alone. Hermione trailed close behind, her expression sharp and curious, while Draco and Luna followed at a more casual pace. Ron brought up the rear, his hair an unmistakable mess, and his face reddened as if he’d just been caught in a compromising position.

“Bit late for a study group, isn’t it?” Draco drawled, though his curiosity was evident as he eyed the strange door.

“Late-night adventure,” Luna corrected him dreamily, her gaze flicking between the door and the stars peeking through the high windows.

Ron, rubbing at his neck, muttered, “What’s this about, anyway? Harry practically dragged me here. Interrupted my… er, reading session.” His ears turned even redder, and Hermione huffed, though a faint blush tinged her cheeks.

“Reading session,” Harry repeated, his lips twitching with amusement. “Right. That what we’re calling it these days?” 

Ron shot him a warning glare. “Not the time, mate.”

Hermione, either unwilling to entertain the teasing or simply too intrigued by the door, stepped forward. “What is this place?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the intricate carvings on the door. “It wasn’t here earlier.”

You hesitated, glancing at Harry before turning back to the group. “I was hoping you'd know,” You explained softly. “It just showed up when I was telling Harry.. Everything.”

Hermione’s brows knit together in confusion, her logical mind clearly racing to process this revelation. “The Room of Requirement? I’ve read about it, but I’ve never actually seen it. Why now? Why would it appear for you?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. “But whatever’s inside… I think it’s important. I think it might help.”

Draco crossed his arms, his gaze flicking from you to the door with guarded skepticism. “And we’re just supposed to waltz in there, are we? What if it’s a trap? What if it’s not what you think?”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her voice soft but firm. “The room appears when someone truly needs it. It wouldn’t trick her. It’s here to help.”

Hermione nodded, her curiosity winning out over caution. “Luna’s right. If the room has appeared, it’s because it has something to show us. Something you need.”

Ron, less convinced, muttered under his breath, “Great. Another magical mystery to solve right before curfew. What else is new?”

Harry ignored the grumbling, his gaze locked on you. “If you think this will help, then we’re with you. All of us.” His eyes softened, the vulnerability from your earlier conversation still lingering. “You don’t have to go in alone.”

You felt a surge of gratitude, your chest tightening at the unspoken solidarity between them. Even Draco, for all his snark, looked ready to follow you inside. With a deep breath, you turned to the door and reached for the handle.

The moment your fingers touched the cool metal, it gave way. As the door creaked open, a cool draft escaped, carrying with it the faint scent of old parchment and something metallic, like the tang of magic that had been left undisturbed for years. The room beyond was vast, its high, vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. It resembled a library, but not one you’d ever seen before- this one had a strange, disjointed quality, as though the room itself couldn’t decide what era it belonged to.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes that ranged from pristine to crumbling. Scrolls were stacked haphazardly in some corners, their edges yellowed with age. A large wooden table dominated the center of the room, its surface littered with papers, letters, and strange objects. Some were covered in thick layers of dust, while others gleamed as if they had just been placed there.

Luna was the first to step inside, her wide eyes taking in the scene with quiet awe. “It’s beautiful,” She murmured, her fingers trailing along the edge of the nearest shelf. “But... sad.”

“Sad?” Ron asked, clearly uneasy as he peered into the room. “It looks like someone’s attic exploded.”

Hermione ignored him, her gaze locking onto the table. “This isn’t just clutter.” She said, her voice hushed with the kind of reverence she usually reserved for particularly rare books. “It’s... research. Someone’s been experimenting here.”

“Experimenting with what?” Draco asked, his tone sharp as he moved cautiously into the room. His eyes swept over the objects, his posture stiff with suspicion.

Harry stayed close to you, his presence a steady anchor as you stepped further inside. Your heart raced as your gaze flicked over the table, the scattered papers and artifacts drawing you in like a magnet. There were pieces of broken clocks, small vials filled with swirling silver liquid, and diagrams that seemed to map out the flow of time itself. 

“Time magic,” Hermione whispered, her fingers hovering over a series of intricate sketches. “Whoever worked here was studying time manipulation.”

Draco snorted, though his eyes remained fixed on a glowing hourglass perched precariously on the edge of the table. “Brilliant. Messing with time never ends well. Just ask anyone who’s ever gone near a Time-Turner.”

“You think someone was using a Time-Turner here?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Not just using,” Hermione said, shaking her head as she picked up one of the papers. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the text, written in a spidery hand. “This is advanced. Far beyond what a Time-Turner can do. They were trying to... change something. Or maybe... restore it?”

“Restore what?” You asked, your voice trembling as you moved closer to the table. The ache in your chest had grown sharper, almost unbearable, as though the room itself was reaching out to you.

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, her frustration evident as she rifled through the papers. “But it’s clear they were trying to fix something they believed was broken.”

Luna had wandered to a shelf near the back of the room, where a dusty mirror hung on the wall. Her reflection shimmered strangely, as though the glass were rippling like water. “This room remembers,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Whoever was here... they left pieces of themselves behind.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Ron muttered, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

Draco reached for a stack of letters, his movements careful as though he were afraid they might crumble to dust. “These are addressed to... someone named P.R.” He said, holding up an envelope. His eyes flicked to you. “Does that mean anything to you?”

P. R. The letters echoed in your mind, familiar yet elusive. Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against one of the objects on the table- a locket, tarnished with age but still bearing the faint engraving of a crest you couldn’t place. The moment you touched it, a wave of dizziness washed over you, and the room seemed to blur.

“Are you alright?” Harry’s voice cut through the haze, his hands steadying you as you swayed.

“I... I think someone I knew was here.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “Someone important. But I can’t... I can’t remember.”

Hermione placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening. “Take your time,” She said gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

As you steadied yourself, your gaze fell on a journal lying at the edge of the table. Its leather cover was worn, the edges frayed, but something about it called to you. You reached for it, your hands trembling as you opened it to the first page. 

The handwriting was familiar, looping and elegant, though the words themselves made little sense at first. But as you flipped through the pages, fragments began to emerge- notes about fractures in time, the consequences of changing the past, and a name that sent a chill down your spine.

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

Your breath caught, and the room seemed to spin around you. The locket in your hand grew heavier, the pieces falling into place with a clarity that was almost painful.

“He was here,” You furrowed your brow, your voice breaking. “Someone- Bartemius. He... he was trying to fix something.”

The others exchanged glances, their confusion evident, but Harryreached for your arm. “What do you mean? Fix what?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as the ache in your chest became too much to bear. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “But I think... I think P.R. was supposed to help him.”

~~~

The hours passed in a haze as the six of you combed through the room, its strange, timeless air wrapping around you like a cloak. Scrolls and letters were examined, diagrams poured over, and objects handled with the utmost care. The weight of unspoken questions hung heavily in the air. Luna, ever practical in her whimsical way, had vanished at some point, returning with an assortment of snacks and a steaming cup of tea, which she set in front of you with a soft smile.

“You’ll think better with a clear head,” She cooed simply, her serene confidence somehow soothing.

You wrapped your hands around the tea, the warmth grounding you as you turned your attention back to the journal on your lap. Harry sat beside you, his presence steady and reassuring as he sifted through a pile of letters. Hermione and Ron were deep in discussion across the table, their voices low but urgent, while Draco stood by the shelves, his sharp eyes scanning the spines of books as though they might hold the answers you sought.

It was Draco who broke the silence, holding up a stack of letters with a triumphant smirk. “These are addressed to someone named ‘Vixen,’” He announced, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Bartemius seems to have been quite... devoted to her.”

The name sent a shiver down your spine, and you exchanged a glance with Harry. “Vixen?” You parroted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds... familiar. But it feels important.”

Draco flipped through the letters, his expression shifting as he skimmed their contents. “He wasn’t just devoted,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “He was... obsessed. Listen to this.”

He cleared his throat and read aloud from one of the letters:

My dearest Vixen,

How am I meant to live in this fractured, hollow world without you? Every breath I take is a cruel reminder of your absence, every sunrise an insult, every hour stretching into eternity without the warmth of your presence. You were my heart, my hope, my soul- and without you, I am unmade. Even now, I feel the edges of myself fraying, the darkness creeping in where your light once shone so brightly.

Do you know how often I find myself reaching for you in the quiet moments? When the silence becomes unbearable, I think of our laughter- the way it echoed in the halls as Regulus teased us or as Dorcas argued over some absurd plan we all knew we’d follow anyway. I think of Pandora’s curiosity, her unyielding faith in the impossible, or Evan’s snark, always ready to rally us when the world seemed set against us. We were unbreakable, weren't we? Together, we had something the rest of the world couldn’t touch. And now... now that unity feels shattered, like glass crushed underfoot. They won't look at me. Call me mad.

But it wasn’t the world that took you from me, was it? It was him.  

Dumbledore.

I see his shadow in every crack of this broken life. He played his games, weaving his manipulations like an old spider, and we were caught in his web. You, most of all. He didn’t see you as a person- not the fierce, vibrant force of nature that you were- but as a pawn, something to be sacrificed for his grand design. And now you are gone. He stole you from us. From me.

I hate him for it. I hate him with a fire that burns hotter than any magic I’ve ever known. He will pay for what he’s done- I swear it, my love. He will answer for the hole he has torn in this world, for the family he has destroyed. But my rage, my grief, my hatred- they are nothing compared to the love I still hold for you. A love that will not, cannot die.

And so, I refuse to let this be the end. I refuse to let Dumbledore’s schemes, his lies, and his arrogance win. I will defy him. I will defy the laws of magic, the constraints of time, the will of the universe itself if that is what it takes to bring you back. Whatever the cost, I will pay it. Whatever the consequences, I will bear them. Nothing matters but you, my Vixen.

I will find a way. Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora, Evan- they deserve to see you again. To feel whole again. And I deserve to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice, to live in the world as it was meant to be- where you and I were unstoppable.

I will not fail you.  

Wait for me, my love. No matter where you are, no matter how far you’ve been taken from me, I will find you. I will tear down every barrier, bend time itself, and defy the heavens to bring you home.  

Forever and always,  

Bartemius  

The room fell silent, the weight of Bartemius’s words settling over you like a heavy fog. Your chest ached, the same gnawing emptiness that had plagued you all week surging to the surface.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, breaking the silence. “That’s not devotion. That’s... that’s desperation.”

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “Whoever this Vixen was, she must have meant everything to him. And it sounds like something happened to her. Something he blamed Dumbledore for.”

Draco set the letters down, his sharp gaze shifting to you. “And you think this is connected to you? To what you’ve been feeling?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice trembling. “But it feels... tied to everything. To the visions, the ache in my chest, even the gaps in my memory.”

Luna, who had been quietly examining a small box filled with trinkets, spoke up then, her tone calm but pointed. “What about the initials? P.R. Whoever Bartemius was writing to, they must have been important too.”

Harry hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “P.R.,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It could be a name. Or a title.”

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

The room stilled, all eyes turning to Luna. She didn’t flinch under the weight of their gazes, her expression serene as always, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes- something deep and unknowable.

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco repeated, his voice firmer now. “Your mother. What if P.R. stands for her?”

Luna tilted her head, considering this. “It’s possible,” she said softly. “But my mother never mentioned Bartemius Crouch Jr. Or anyone named Vixen.”

“But he mentioned her,” Hermione interjected, her voice filled with quiet urgency. “If there’s a connection, it might not have been something she wanted to share. Especially if it involved time magic.”

“Wait a second,” Harry said, frowning. “If Bartemius was writing to Vixen and working with P.R., then where does this locket fit in?”

You looked down at the locket still clutched in your hand, its weight suddenly overwhelming. The crest etched into its surface seemed to shimmer in the dim light, and for a moment, you swore you saw something shift within its tarnished depths.

“I think...” You began, your voice barely audible. “I think this locket was hers. Vixen’s. And somehow, it’s tied to everything.”

Draco leaned closer, his sharp features etched with determination. “Then we need to figure out who Vixen was. And what Mrs. Lovegood’s role was in all of this.”

“And how it connects to you,” Harry added quietly, his green eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

You kept staring at the locket. It seemed old, older then most things in the room. You ran your thumb along the engravings, more stars.

Mindlessly, you lifted the tea to your lips and took a sip, immediately hit with a bitter- almost sour taste. Your expression shifted and you frowned into the cup like the liquid would apologize for it’s flavour, earning a laugh from Harry.

You huffed at him and leaned forward to take a sniff of the steaming mix and your face fell, the smell reminding you of the humid musty smell of the potions classroom. Then the memory hit you, it all hit you at once.

“I have been nothing if not fair tonight, Vix!”

“You guys.” You whispered and set the tea down. “Vix. It's what Professor Snape called me. That night we got caught in his storage closet- he called me Vix. What if.. it's Vixen? Short for Vixen?”

The room went quiet as your words hung in the air, the revelation settling heavily over the group. Hermione’s quill paused mid-scratch, and Harry’s gaze sharpened, a mix of concern and curiosity etched into his features. Draco, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied your expression.

“Vix,” Hermione repeated, her voice soft, but insistent. “That’s what he called you?”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the memory making your chest tighten. “That night in the potions storeroom... it didn’t make sense at the time. I thought it was just Snape being... Snape. But now...”

“It’s a nickname,” Draco interrupted, his tone edged with skepticism. “One he used like he’s done it before. Like it’s... familiar.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “And you’re saying it’s short for Vixen. That Snape knows something about this... about you.”

“It would explain why he’s been so cagey,” Hermione murmured, her eyes darting to the journal in front of her. “If he’s connected to all of this, then he’s been keeping it from us on purpose.”

“Typical Snape,” Harry muttered bitterly, running a hand through his messy hair. “He’s always holding onto secrets. This one just happens to be about you.”

Luna, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s protecting something,” she said, her voice lilting and serene. “Or someone.”

The words sent a chill through you, a nagging suspicion worming its way into your mind. “What if he’s protecting me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hermione was the first to break it, her tone hesitant but thoughtful. “It’s possible,” she said, glancing around the room. “If you’re tied to this Vixen, and she was important enough for Bartemius Crouch Jr. to risk everything for her... then Snape might be trying to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Draco scoffed, though there was an edge of unease to his voice. “Or he’s just doing what he always does: sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and making things worse for everyone.”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her eyes meeting his with quiet certainty. “Not everything is as it seems. Especially when it comes to memories.”

Your grip on the locket tightened, the cold metal grounding you as your thoughts swirled. Snape’s words from that night echoed in your mind over and over.

“I need to talk to him,” You said suddenly, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling under the surface. “If Snape knows something- if he’s been keeping this from me- I have to confront him.”

Ron furrowed his brow, shifting uneasily as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, voice edged with skepticism. “But if Snape’s trying to protect you, you really think he’s just gonna spill everything the second you ask? He’s not exactly known for being... forthcoming.”

Harry gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening. “Ron’s right. Snape’s a master at keeping secrets. If he doesn’t want you to know something, he’ll find a way to shut you down.”

Draco’s sharp laugh broke the tension. “Oh, please,” he drawled, leaning against the edge of the table. “Snape’s not some untouchable genius. If he’s hiding something, we’ll find a way to pry it out of him. Subtlety isn’t Potter’s strong suit, but-”

“I’m sitting right here, Draco,” Harry cut in, his tone clipped.

“Enough!” Hermione snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t about who’s better at manipulating Snape. The question is, how do we even get him to listen? Confronting him outright might not be the best idea if-”

The sound of your head hitting the back of the sofa interrupted her. Everyone turned to you, their conversations faltering as they noticed your sudden shift. You had sunk deeper into the plush cushions, eyes fluttering closed, the tension in your face softening as if the fight had drained out of you entirely.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice low with concern as he stepped closer. “Are you... okay?”

“Just tired,” You mumbled, your words slurring slightly. Your head lolled to the side, and you let out a long, heavy breath. “Really, really tired...”

“That's strange,” Hermione murmured, exchanging a look with Harry. “You were fine just a minute ago.”

Luna, perched on the arm of a nearby chair, tilted her head with an almost serene expression. “Oh, that’s the sleeping draught,” She said simply, as if announcing the weather.

“What?” Draco straightened, his sharp gaze snapping to her. “Sleeping draught? What are you talking about?”

“The tea,” Luna explained, her tone light and airy. “I added a touch of sleeping draught. She’s been so restless, and I thought it might help her relax.”

“You drugged her?” Ron yelped, his voice jumping an octave. “Without telling her?”

Luna shrugged, her dreamy demeanor unbothered by the growing alarm in the room. “She needed it. And it’s not as if it’ll harm her. It’s just a gentle nudge toward sleep.”

“Luna!” Hermione’s voice was half-scolding, half-exasperated. “You can’t just-”

“She needed it,” Luna interrupted, her voice gentle but resolute as she looked at you, now fully dozing against the sofa cushions. “You’ve all seen how exhausted she’s been. This will give her a chance to rest. The Galanthus Nivalis I put in will help her memories.”

“The what now?” Draco hissed and snapped his entire body toward Luna. But she just smiled.

“Snowdrop. We planted it in Herbology weeks ago. It finally dried.” She hummed blissfully. “She needs it. It will help her memories, with her thoughts. And the Sleep draught.” She muttered before turning to smile at your sleeping form as Harry took off his cloak and laid it over you. “Encouragement.”

The group was silent for a moment, everyone staring at Luna in bewilderment.

“Bloody hell, remind me to never cross you, Lovegood.” Ron muttered with wide eyes.

Luna tilted her head, her serene smile unshaken by Ron’s comment. “Oh, I would never do anything harmful, Ronald,” She said sweetly. “Unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“That’s somehow not reassuring,” Draco muttered, narrowing his eyes as he took a seat beside you, watching your steady breathing. His tone was sharp, but the tension in his posture betrayed his concern. “What exactly is this supposed to do, Luna? Beyond putting her to sleep?”

“The snowdrop is for clarity,” Luna explained patiently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s said to bring light to the shadowed corners of the mind. Combined with the sleeping draught, it should help her relax enough to let her thoughts surface. Sometimes, the mind holds on too tightly to things it isn’t ready to let go of. This will give her space to remember.”

“Or,” Draco countered, leaning forward with a glare, “it’ll just mess her up more, and we’ll be left cleaning up the pieces. Did that thought cross your mind, Luna?”

Hermione interjected, her tone exasperated. “Oh, stop it, Draco. You’ve seen how much she’s been struggling. Luna might actually be onto something. Snowdrop has restorative properties- Professor Sprout mentioned it in class. If this gives her a moment of peace, we should be grateful.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Luna said dreamily, her gaze flickering to you again. “I thought you might understand.”

Harry, who had been silently watching over you, let out a soft sigh. “Luna’s right. She’s been pushing herself too hard- too much guilt, too much pressure to figure this all out. If this helps, even a little, then it’s worth it.”

Draco let out a frustrated huff but didn’t argue further, his eyes lingering on you as if searching for any sign of discomfort. “Fine,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair. “But if she wakes up confused, crying, or worse, I’m blaming Lovegood.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Because that’s new.”

“Enough,” Hermione snapped again, rubbing her temple. “The important thing is that she’s resting. Let’s use this time to figure out our next move.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. Harry shifted closer to you, adjusting the cloak he had draped over you to ensure you were warm. His gaze softened, and he muttered under his breath, “She’ll be alright.”

Luna, who had been humming softly to herself, smiled warmly at him. “She will,” She said. “You’ll see.”

For a while, the room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of parchment as Hermione returned to her research and the occasional muttered comment from Draco as he sifted through the letters. Ron, looking thoroughly unsettled by the turn of events, busied himself by examining one of the dusty bookshelves, while Harry remained by your side, his unwavering presence a silent promise.

As you lay there, your breathing even and your features peaceful, something in the air seemed to shift. The magic of the room, subtle but ever-present, seemed to hum in response, as if waiting for the moment you would wake. Waiting to come alive once more when you returned.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine @edb954 @juniorlore @milunalupin @ailoda @ellipsisspelled @nessielovesfood @yannew @schrodinger-ka-billa @rory-cakes @rubyboobie17 @jennapancake @vilentia @derbygracie

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics in which one of the main pairing is their brother's/sister's best friend as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

💋 Bloodline by banana_louis

(E, 177k, fluff) Louis doesn't know how to feel when his best friend, Liam, finds out about a brother that he never knew, who was placed for adoption before he was born and is bursting into his life at twenty-four years old.

💋 Want You More Than A by TheCellarDoor / @donotdialnine

(M, 77k, high school) Falling in love with your step-brother’s best friend is a disaster enough. When he happens to be the boy everyone loves and you’re a nerd who wears sweater vests and cries during rom-coms, it takes it to a whole new level.

💋 late nights and good intentions by princelouisau

(E, 71k, historical) a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend.

💋 teenage dreams in a teenage circus by orphan_account

(E, 50k, high school) The last few months of sixth form bring about a lot of changes, however. Gemma refuses to let anything stop her from getting into her top-pick uni, Perrie second-guesses what makes her special, and Louis breaks the most common of friend codes: he falls for his best mate's little brother.

💋 We Got The World Shaking by FutureMrsHaroldStyles

(M, 39k, omegaverse) the one where Harry goes into heat at his best friend Lottie's birthday party and her big brother helps him out.

💋 Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

(M, 34k, historical) Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season

💋 Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

(E, 33k, high school) the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

💋 With the Rising Sun by Tomlinsontoes / @pianolouis

(M, 33k, NYC) Somehow he got roped into his sister's brilliant idea of getting her college best friend to help him branch out and meet people.

💋 It's Been So Long by elsi_bee / @elsi-bee

(T, 31k, friends to lovers) Harry Styles' first crush was one of his sister's best friends, a certain someone named Louis Tomlinson. And Louis? He just vaguely remembers Gemma's younger brother from back in the day. A lot can change in ten years.

💋 Pillow Talk by @fallinglikethis

(E, 25k, sexuality crisis) When Harry starts having confusing feelings for a male classmate, his sister's best friend, Louis, helps him figure himself out. Cue lots of kissing, sex, and falling in love.

💋 and i don't care it's obvious by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 20k, uni) However, his issue was that no one had ever created a guide that one could follow in regards to what to do or how to feel when your crush was your sister's best friend.

💋 i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by pinkgelpen

(E, 19k, omegaverse) Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend

💋 I'll Be Your Light by mightaswellll

(M, 17k, roommates) Harry Styles always had a crush on his sister's best friend Louis Tomlinson. Moving in with them should be a good way to get over it, right?

💋 Won’t Let You Down by noellehenry / @noellehenry-original

(M, 15k, small town) Suddenly he’s the owner of a farm and B&B, gets involved in illegal trading of unlabeled bottles and has to deal with his everlasting crush on his sister Gemma’s best friend, who has returned to Woodville…

💋 What do you mean he's coming? by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(G, 15k, famous/not famous) Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance.

💋 show you the stars in the daylight by bruisedhoney

(E, 13k, size kink) the one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it's definitely not his best friend's little brother Harry...ten years later, he changes his mind.

💋 Dirty Little Secret by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 10k, secret relationship) the one where Harry and Louis fall in love, but can’t figure out how to tell Gemma. That is, until Harry gets pregnant, and they don’t have much of a choice.

💋 Here We Come A-Wassailing by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, Christmas) It was cold, they would be outside in said cold, and he only wanted to stay warm and comfortable in the house. At least his best friend Gemma and her family are part of the caroling crew.

💋 Giving Me Excitations by @juliusschmidt

(M, 6k, vacation) Gemma's BFF Louis joins the family on a beach weekend. Harry likes him so much.

💋 harder to hide than i thought by dangerbears

(NR, 6k, high school) louis's best friend's little brother suddenly got very attractive.

💋 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, omegaverse) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. 

💋 Tell Me That You've Got Me by @lululawrence

(NR, 2k, neighbors)  the one where Harry was always Louis' best friend's younger brother...until they grow up and once innocent forms of affection come to mean a little bit more.

💋 All This Time by @allwaswell16

(T, 1k, omegaverse) Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way.

- Rare Pairs -

💋 That Dimpled Smile by Phillipa19

(E, 47k, Zayn/Harry & Marcel/Louis) When Harry's best mate Louis shows an interest in his nerdy little brother, Harry isn't prepared to let him near. But it's hard for Harry to keep track of those two when he has enough trouble trying to figure out what the hell is going on with him and Zayn and their secretive relationship.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves. 

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family. 

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips. 

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move. 

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself. 

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine. 

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries. 

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white. 

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see. 

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--” 

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil. 

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance. 

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them. 

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to. 

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask. 

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast. 

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited. 

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them. 

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves. 

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream. 

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you. 

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests. 

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded. 

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.” 

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore. 

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence. 

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there. 

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak. 

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate. 

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you. 

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s. 

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.” 

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real. 

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened. 

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.” 

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined. 

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."  

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden. 

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart." 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

[kyri45]

ISAT Sky:Cotl!AU Part 1: The Dock

AKA: How I think a possible sequel could be stroctured, using Sky: Cotl as a base for this AU)

SO! We know that Something happened after Siffrin almost destroyed the world. Something broke in a way, by the presence of Red. And also by the fact that the Daydreaming one can remember more clearly about their sister (they remember her appearance and that she had a bag, all things that are more visual than the abstrac fact that she liked to sing, etc… all this while she didn’t struggle to remember)

So the island is so forgotten, you can barely see it anymore (you CAN, briefly, see it by the end of the game)

… but that doesn’t mean is not there physically, right? Wouldn’t that mean you could theoretically still go there? It would probably kill someone from the amount of headace they would have probably. But something happened, and remembering some of the stuff isn’t as painful anymore.

The story could begin with the gang going to Bambouche, maybe to go see Bonnie’s village. The are rumors about people starting to see the island again, But it seems clouds and fog are in the way most of the time. Siffrin could finally start talking slowly to their family about what he could remember from his home.

This could lead them to try and physically go there to the Island by boat (Shiffrin used to have one, and could properly use it even at a young age, so they maybe they know the basics of navigation?) If you can see the island from Bamb0uche it means it can’t be more than a day on a boat away.

What they land on is something similar to the Isle of Dawn, and as they explore, Siffrin unintentionally activates one of the first murals of the game. (I’m using Sky's old beginning for this, not the one after the Aviary update).

“All are given breath by starlight…”  “The first of us lived in the joy that we would one day return to the stars”

The murals could be written in Siffrin language, and being that Siffrin DOES have Memory of Memories even after the loops ended, he CAN read without pain his language again.

As they venture further, they explore the only things left which are the boats and the remaining dock.

The Spirits

The spirits could be either actual people who are in an unconscious state from being part of the Wish or reflections of them (almost like the Sadness is the equivalent of becoming lightless in Sky) and their memories can help you remember how to say specific words in your language that will help you later unlock doors or simply slowly breaking the Wish.

Winged Lights as Wish/Star levels

As for all the stuff about winged lights, I would like for Siffrin to gain his first “star” here, but in any case, I don’t think they would be able to fight until the end. But each “star” or “winged light” could be used as a way to gain more Wish Craft or XP in a way.

In any case, the Family could reach the main entrance of the Kingdom (the Temple of Dawn), and more star-based riddles are solved to enter the temple. A vision of the future gives them a flash of the Wish and lowers their HP aggressively, but then, they see one constellation and Siffrin realize that he can finally recognize it. The first constellation he can recognize after years...

A short note about the colors

The first hints of the history of The Country could lead them to see specks of one of the colors.

Now, my main theory about colors is that whoever made the Wish for the country to disappear could have made it in a way phrased so that they also took its “Light” away, and being colors a variance of light refracted, that could have caused them from being taken away.

(also because I like how in Sky the following mural says “But then the sky went dark, and our kingdom shattered”)

What it would be REALLY cool to see in a sequel, is how shades of colors are slowly coming back the more you uncover about The Country (kind of like Gris in a way)

From darkness, one color at a time, they could light up the memory of the Country again!

And that’s all for part one! If you like where this is going, please let me know!

[transbianmuffin]

Memories pt. 5

cw basically a queer cuddle puddle with lots of drugs

If you enjoy shoegaze and heavy synths I highly suggest to have in background "Lower your eyelids to die with the sun" by M83 while reading this. It was my main soundtrack when I wrote this fic and I think that it would enhance the overall experience :3

********

"Sinea! Welcome, long time no see!"

"Xarsei, thanks for having us even with such short notice."

"And losing the opportunity to finally see Chloratea's first pet in many years? Seven hundred? Eight hundred? Roots, nobody, NOBODY would want to miss that."

"I- I'm n-"

"She's not my pet. Xarsei, she's my ward."

"Sure, sure she is. Now little one, you look amazing by the way, would you want to go with the others? Me and Sinea have some catching up to do."

"..."

"You can go, Deena. I'll be here, whenever you need me just look in my direction and I'll come immediately."

"Ok... thank you."

"Not your pet, eh?"

"I'm working on it. She wants to be, that's clear as the morning summer sunlight, but I want her to beg on her knees to be taken by me."

"Dirt Sinea, you truly want to break her."

"No, not at all. She's already mine. She only needs to realize it."

"She is cute, though."

"She is the cutest creature in the universe."

[Floret 1] "Oh my oh my oh here she iiiis~"

[Floret 2] "You look gorgeous sweetie~"

[Floret 3] "This dress in a-ma-zing. I want to make out with you."

"W- well I-"

god she's on me, her tongue tastes like sweet lavander I'm making out with this cute girl I just met and my head is already starting to feel dizzy

[Floret 1] "Awww~ you two are sooo cute."

"A- ah- sorry I was saying, hi I'm Deena! I'm Sinea's..."

[Floret 2] "First floret!"

"...ward."

[Floret 1] "Oh a ward! That's cute! But but but we need to introduce us! I'm Kyle Graemina, first floret!"

[Floret 2] "I'm Hipatia Sinens, fourth floret!"

[Floret 3] "And I'm Maddi Sinens, first floret and Hipatia's connivent. I want to make out with you again."

[Kyle] "Maddi, give Deena a break. Sorry, her mistress always fills her up with Class D and Class J before doing this gatherings."

[Maddi] "Hipatiaaaaa~"

[Hipatia] "Yes, sweetie?"

[Maddi] "Come here~"

"So, Kyle, are you happy?"

[Kyle] "What? Sure I'm happy. We're all happy! Our Affinis provide us with everything we need. We don't have a care in the world besides being cute."

"I guess so."

[Kyle] "Are YOU happy?"

"I wasn't happy for a long time."

[Kyle] "And now?"

"I am now."

[Kyle] "Here, smell this lily. My mommy gave it to me for you."

this smells so nice...oh that dizziness again, I can't stand on on my own feet Kyle is so cute I want to play with Hipatia hair I want to melt between Maddi's arms

[Kyle] "Come Deena, let's join the others."

this fluffy cushion is soo good on my skin Maddi embraces me while Hipatia starts kissing my neck.

Her kisses burn my skin with pleasure every time her lips leave that little bit of saliva my nerves send blissful pulses to my brain which in return makes my body shivering with anticipation for the next one

Maddi plays with my hair while Kyle kisses sloppily her free hand

I never felt so good in my whole life

Her fingers running through my locks make my scalp go numb while Hipatias kisses keep getting closer and closer to my mouth until we kiss

Colours starts to blend together as I close my eyes and I feel my anxiety, my fears, my trust issues my imposter syndrome my sense of inadequacy the hate I have for my past comrades myinsecuritiesmydysphoriamydysmorphiamyrage

gone

all gone

far away

far away million light years away left behind dying like the stars in a system too old to be remembered

there's only bliss

there's love

I kiss Hipatia

She then kisses Maddi

Kyle and I feel each other skin, each other limbs, each other sweet sweat

my nails pierce Maddi's skin while she moans gently begging for more

there's peace

there's kindness

there's joy

a sharp pain followed immediately by pleasure fills my limbic system as Maddi's canines make their way in the side of my neck eradicating any thoughts for a couple of seconds that feel like centuries

I don't want to go back to Jupiter

I want Maddi, I want Hipatia, I want Kyle

I don't want be to be an Independent Terran

I want to be a pet

I want to be Sinea's tulip

My body is numb with overstimulation my mind is composed of millions of figments made of pure pleasure

I-

I-

"Little one?"

"..."

"It's time to go, you all collapsed. We are taking you to bed."

"C-can..."

tell her tell her that you want to be her pet tell her now

"Sure you can sleep with them tonight, if only you could look at the three you. You are so cute all melted one against the other."

"Sinea~"

"Sleep, my dearest, tomorrow we will talk."

"That went well."

"A lily filled with Class D, a pretty strong strain of A and enough N to denying any climax despite almost reaching it. Wasn't I the cruel one, Xarsei?"

"Oh come on, what's the fuss? You don't really care, or maybe?"

"Watch your mouth."

"Maybe you are upset because I drugged your poor pet, ehm ward, without you knowing it."

"Do it again without my permission, Xersei, and I'll punch you so hard in the face you'll leak sap for a month."

"Duly noted, Sinea~"

********

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 41: Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Trigger warning: graphic violence, depictions of torture, body horror.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

*

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*

Author’s Note: Please note the trigger warnings. I had to step away from this for a little while (all right, more than a little while). Chapters are consecutive, of course, and as I posted the last one and moved to wrapping up this one I found life imitating art in a very, very uncomfortable way. I don’t talk a lot about my work for many reasons. Normally it’s not very exciting. And then there are the days that stay, the reminders that sometimes the world is deeply, viciously cruel in ways that are hard to process. As part of my work I met two men who were subjected to that cruelty, heard their stories, and helped care for them on their paths back home.

The first iterations of this series of scenes were very different from where we ended up. Nine and her team were far nastier at first, which wasn’t really true to her, and then I tried to make it funny which- well, obviously we can see the problem with that approach. So this is where we ended. It’s still an ugly chapter, but here we are.  

This chapter is dedicated to AD, AH, and all victims of torture. 

Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Theron follows her close as a shadow as they make their way from her ship across the base, dodging carefully around the first watch guards on their patrol routes. A month ago it would have been simple but a month ago they’d been sloppy; since then she’d ordered new watchposts set, new floodlights installed, locked down the turbolift platform to the valley below. There were so many other places to land a ship on Odessen, canyons and clearings and deep, dark forest far beyond the view of the towers, and it would have been far too easy for an infiltrator to sneak in.

Or one might simply use your landing bay. Valkorion’s armor gleams as an arc of light cuts across the path. In through the front door. All comers welcomed. Perhaps Arcann should-

The illusion shatters when she steps through it, the sentence left ominously unfinished. 

Second patrol. Third patrol. Through the external door on the heels of a pair of Sana-Rae’s adepts, weaving through the hall and crammed into the back corners of the lift with an absolutely massive Zabrak with a distinct half-ring of glitterstim around one nostril (she makes a mental note- the cantina’s more than necessary but if they’ve got a spice problem that’s another vulnerability they can’t afford), down the hallways into Science Wing and nearly to the lab- outside door’s open, good, but how’s she going to-

Shit.

She’s six steps ahead of herself in contingency plans as usual, mind racing, but that doesn’t matter worth a damn when she fucks up Step One. Stopping so abruptly he almost runs right into her, she grabs Theron by the wrist and pulls him into the darkest corner of an empty meeting room. His head tilts in silent confusion as she reaches toward the stealth generator clipped to his belt. I thought- he starts to sign, one hand raised. 

Switching, she replies, left-handed; pulling it free, she replaces it with hers. Backup has a shorter clock when the main’s off. If it overloads-

Theron nods. Bad. Right. Where should I stand?

Back- her fingers stutter as she considers (Void, she really isn’t thinking, is she? She needs to be. One mistake and the whole thing comes apart)- back left corner. You’ll have a five-count to get through the door before it closes, then don’t move and-

Don’t say anything. I know. He repeats the sign, an added emphasis. I promised. 

She rubs her forehead, trying and failing to settle the ache building between her eyes. I know. Come on. 

***

The inner laboratory door slides closed with a soft hiss, just muffling Theron’s last few footsteps as he settles carefully into the corner, and she lets her stealth field drop. 

“I got your message.” Nine forces the words out, forces strength into her voice as she sets the lock. She cannot falter, not now. “SCORPIO, give me the holo. Let’s get it opened up.”

“Commander.” Doctor Lokin looks up from across the room, setting a handful of instruments and an empty syringe- not all clean, she notes- neatly into place on a polished metal tray. Beside him, her would-be killer slumps forward against the treatment chair’s restraints, an intravenous catheter in his right arm and his lower body wrapped in a surgical dropcloth, head covered by black fabric and bound around the middle with thick strips of spacer’s tape. “We were just beginning.” 

[ sleepy already, cipher? but we’re only just beginning.

when hunter’s slap hits she startles bolt upright in the chair and then wishes she hadn’t, her ribs shifting beneath the straps like so many shattered potsherds as she grinds her teeth to keep from screaming. she’s screamed so much already and she won’t give him the satisfaction of another, won’t-

hunter gestures- toward the woman, she thinks, it’s getting hard to see now with her face so bruised. let’s wake her up, hm? ah, no- something cold and metallic tightening on her right index finger- the other hand, to start. now the left side, still the index finger, tighter and tighter and oh void it hurts it hurts it hurts she’s got to say something or it-

i’m telling you, she gasps, when those reinforcements get here from- and there’s a sharp snap and she can’t help it and she screams-

keep singing, little bird. I do so hate to have to break your pretty wings.]

Her hand throbs.

“I didn’t tell you to start without me.” Her stomach churns even as she curls her fingers into an easy fist, testing their movement; she couldn’t do that for a month after Corellia so it’s only the memory of pain, isn’t it? “And how long has that tape been on? We need his eyes open, not swollen shut. It’s too fucking tight.”

“If you’re referring to this-” Lokin lifts a pair of bloody-gripped forceps with one finger and a long-suffering look- “your knife tipped his saphenous, and I assumed you would prefer he not hemorrhage before you had the chance to work. I’ve only just run the amytal in, nothing more. But,” he squints at the rings of tape, flips a vibroscalpel from the tray into his palm and before she can even begin to move he slices through the binding neatly, once and then again, “you aren’t wrong. SCORPIO restrained him while I was busy with his leg, but I ought to have-”

SCORPIO turns from the console, shoulders lifting in what might have been a shrug. “My primary directive on Odessen remains operational security, Commander. He cannot share what he cannot see.”

“Yes, but-” 

One of the wall-mounted monitors beeps, shrill and insistent, until Lokin prods it with a gloved finger and it lapses into red-flashing silence. “He’s starting to wake. Shall we?”

Void, she hates interrogations. (She used to be good at them once, when she was younger and followed orders better. She used to be good at them because of course, why waste precious time on subtleties when you can simply pry and bend and break and it all comes out in the end either way- maybe in pieces, yes, but that was just another puzzle to solve if one was clever enough, even if it was messier-

Orders were orders. 

She used to be good at them once. Before Corellia.)

“Is Lana coming? She’s covering for me with Sana-Rae, I think, but-”

She turns too quickly as the door opens behind her and as she spins the room tips sideways and then it starts to spin, too; pausing midstep, she grabs at the nearer benchtop to steady herself, her left hand raised as a counterbalance. Lana clears the doorway in two steps, the worry lines across her forehead deepening. 

“I’ve got you,” Lana murmurs. “We’ve just finished, and I had a feeling you might-” she only wrinkles her nose a little as she glances toward the instrument table- “want my help with this.”

When she nods the world shifts unpleasantly anticlockwise. “Yes. Dialing out blind on his holo’s a losing proposition. With any luck he’ll talk, but I’m not counting on it and we haven’t got the time to wear him down.” Pressing her lips together against a wave of nausea, she inhales. Exhales. Inhales. The spinning slows. 

“Physical methods, then?”

She shakes her head- oh, Force, there it goes again- inhale. Exhale. “Just tell me what you see. I’ve been bled on enough today, and if we push too hard-”

“Does it matter? You can’t possibly intend to let him-” at her gesture Lana lowers her voice, just above a whisper- “walk away from this. An attack, here, on you- there have to be consequences.”

“Do I look like a Jedi to you? You know me better than that.” When she says it Lana snorts and rolls her eyes and to be fair she has a point- of course she has a point- but a misstep now could be the last strand of a rope to hang herself by, the final block knocked loose that brings the whole tower crashing down, and she can afford that far less than to give away a shred of undeserved mercy. “You’re a step ahead of me, that’s all. I need the who before I decide the what.”

Lana sighs. “I know. I only- I defer to you, Commander. It’s your decision.”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s Trant’s. But we won’t know until we know, and-” another warning chime from the monitors; another warning look from Lokin. “We’re running out of time. And when we’ve finished I’ve still got to talk to Koth and Senya, and-”

“Already postponed, and that can wait in any case. There’s nothing to discuss that won’t keep for a day. We’ll call them once we’re in transit,” Lana eyes her up and down, “after another round of kolto.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Lana’s hand comes to rest beneath her lifted arm; with the world still half-spinning she’d have missed the subtle pulse of energy if Lana hadn’t flinched when their fingertips meet. “Force help me, you’re not - I’ll take it over, Nine. I’ll… I can do it. You should rest.”

“No.” When she shakes her head the room stays level now, at least. It’s something. “No. This is my mess to sort out. Just lock the door.”

***

Five minutes later all she’s got out of him is a slurred sequence of names, ranks, and serial numbers (lying, Lana says each time from her perch behind the chair, though she knew that long before she said it) and the unwavering gut-punch certainty that the man is an SIS agent. With so little actual information to go on and their databases two years out of date- when Theron left he’d downloaded what he could but slicing back into the mainframe to sync them’s a risk none of them are willing to take right now- trying to find a name for her attacker’s useless, with dozens of dossiers a partial match to the same physical parameters: average height, average build, Underlevels accent, Republic emblems tattooed on biceps and back and another handful laser-faded to barely visible outlines. With half the Republic’s infantry dredged up from the Coruscant undercity’s gangs and prisons and half the SIS (and nearly all of SpecOps) poached from the army, she could have shot into the Dealer’s Den or the Red Rancor on a Primesday night and hit five clones of him in a straight line between the door and the bar.

She studies his face from every angle, waiting for a memory to trigger, and- no, still nothing, barely a nod in the corridor or a passing glance in the mess line. Three weeks on Odessen and the man’s practically a ghost, a traceless alias for a name and a ride hitched on a transport from Port Nowhere. Granted, both she and Theron had been off-planet most of that time, but stars, if this one got in so easily how many more could?

That’s a problem for another day. It has to be. 

But for now SCORPIO runs the serials, just for the sake of thoroughness, and- ah. Those faces she knows: Corellia, six years ago; a Coruscanti gala, bloodstains on a black dress; Dromund Kaas, only a month or two before Zakuul. 

She just hadn’t known their real names, then. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. 

Orders were orders.

“So you’re ten dead men in a trenchcoat, then? And you’re wrong about that last one, by the way. That was probably Cipher Four. I’ve never been to Ord Mantell.” She pushes his commpad away with a scowl. The damned thing’s wiped clean- all the more likely he’d spoken to Trant within the last half-day, then; that was a lesson from Alderaan that only the Director ought to have learned. With enough time they could have recovered it, but they don’t have time. So she turns back to him instead, her thumb and index finger poised on closed eyelids gone puffy from the pressure of the binding. “Last chance to make this easier on yourself. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

“More’n ten. Way more.” His words are less slurred now, the serum finally taking effect, and Lana sits up straighter. “‘nd hells take your easier. You’re gonna kill me anyway, so-” 

Void, why are they always so insistent on dying?

She doubts he can see her, so she just adds a twinge of melodrama to her sigh. “Not necessarily, agent. You tried to murder me. Naturally, I objected-” a little more pressure on his eye, just enough that he starts to shift against the restraining strap- “but if I really wanted you dead I’d have let you use your kill pill instead of wasting perfectly good antitoxin on you. I can be civil if you can.” 

Lana closes her eyes, focused and still.

“To be clear, you’re alive as a means to an end and it’s in your best interest to cooperate. But you and I know how it goes, don’t we?” When she lifts her open hand SCORPIO presses the holotransmitter into her palm. “Good soldiers follow orders. It’s not personal. You were only doing as you’re told.” She leans in closer, knee jostling against his mended leg just a little harder than necessary as the paper drape crinkles, voice lowered in a simulacrum of confidence. “Stars, I remember those days. He sits in his big office and sics you on a target, unclips your leash and you just- well. Ours not to reason why, hm?”

The cuff around his right wrist clinks against the arm of the chair as he makes an obscene gesture. 

Wrong tactic. Well, then.

Her sigh’s loud enough to make him flinch. “And it was all wrong, wasn’t it? All that planning, all that time pacing, writing a five-line message that he never even saw, all for nothing?” His breath stills, his heart rate spikes, and Lokin hooks another syringe to the IV port and slowly pushes the plunger down. “DId you think I wouldn’t see? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it wasn’t so utterly pathetic.”

His head lolls forward against the restraint, a counterpressure against her hand. 

“Oh, no, no.” Shifting, she pushes him back upright with two fingertips in the center of his forehead. “Not yet. Not until-”

“I almost got you.” His mouth contorts- it might have passed for a grin in a darker room, teeth bared, feral-  and something in his voice makes her hair stand on end. She recoils, pulling her hand away from his face even as he pauses. “So fucking close. Just a few more seconds and I’d’ve bled you dry, Cipher, and then I’d-”

(The words barely register; he’s not the first and certainly not the most creative person to threaten her with postmortem indecencies but somehow they always think it’s going to shock her into silence, as though it’s the single most awful thing that could ever happen when she’s lived through far worse horrors and more to the point she wouldn’t even know, she’d be dead).   

“-see enough and you know Shan’d come running- Force, that would’ve been even better, the look on his traitor face even if it was the wrong way round-”

wait. 

WAIT.

no, Trant wouldn’t have- 

When she blinks she sees it all in the span of a millisecond: half a hundred ways it could have gone, half a hundred indignities inflicted, half a hundred times it breaks Theron for just long enough for the blow to fall. Lana must see something else; she makes the smallest little sound, a muffled gasp of disgust covered over by knuckles cracking in clenched-fisted fury and then a snarled Sith curse she doesn’t understand (but Valkorion clearly does- she isn’t wrong, he murmurs) and it brings her back to herself. 

Her comm buzzes; her eyes flick down toward the screen. 

<ask him about belsavis>

Kicking him for breaking comm silence would be counterproductive, she supposes, but what does Belsavis have to do with anything? If Theron knows his name he ought to have just said so, not making her work harder than she already is.

< don’t know him but think I know the unit> <told Marcus it was a bad idea> <don’t think he listened>

That would explain the burned-off tattoos. Stars, has the SIS truly become that desperate? Or was this another Garza project- some experiment likely as not to fail just as Eclipse Squad had, so why waste frontline troops when the Republic had a whole planet full of froth-mouthed maniacs more than happy to keep killing as the cost of their freedom and if things did go bad, well, they were going to die one way or another so what did it matter?   

Then SCORPIO blinks once, head turning toward her comm and then, slower, toward the corner and oh, damn it all-

“Didn’t think the SIS went in for necrophilia,” she says conversationally, covering her mouth over a particularly exaggerated yawn as Lokin barely stifles a snort. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Jedi. I am curious, though- did you pick that up on Belsavis, or was that why they locked you up in the first place?”

His teeth clench. 

“Piracy? Hm, no. Some flavor of war crime, I’m sure- oh, I know. Fragged your CO, I’d bet. You’ve got that sort of look.”

“Onomatophobia. Go fuck yourself.”

(She’d come at it all wrong, hadn��t she? 

She’d thought this wasn’t personal because for her it wasn’t. Okay, fine, with Trant maybe it is, now, but this is no old enemy. She only hurt him to start with because he cut her first and deeper and even Theron doesn’t know his name- and stars know his memory’s brilliant, to judge by his stories he remembers everyone he ever worked with and it was far harder for him when they weren’t all just Minder Ten and Fixer Twelve and Watcher Three. The garotte alone might have been sheer bloody-mindedness in a way she wouldn’t have expected from the SIS, but even the Republic for all its supercilious moralizing had its fair share of sadists; Hunter hadn’t truly been one of them but they’d certainly all thought so at the time and still they’d all turned their heads, every single time, even when she’d screamed until her voice gave out.

Of course her control word was in her Republic file. He wasn’t the only one to try to use it, the first ones in earnest and then, when she’d shredded enough of them into bloody little pieces that they realized it didn’t didn’t hold her any more, as a vicious sort of mockery. That worked a bit, she supposes; maybe it always will. Not well enough to save them, of course.

She’d thought it wasn’t personal, that orders were orders and he’d come after Theron because he had to. But stars, she’d been out of the game for five fucking years and he’s practically got her dossier memorized, errors and all, and he’d called Theron a traitor and the first time she really pushes his buttons he-

Oh, this was very personal.)

“No,” she says, and breathes, trying to untie the panic-knot tightening in her chest, “I don’t think I will.” Snatching up a scalpel from the instrument tray as her voice wavers, she presses its tip, just so, beneath his chin. “You thought you were close? Close only counts in horseshoes and heavy ordnance, puppy, and that and a slip of my hand’ll buy you an unmarked grave. And-” he’s trying not to move, trying not to flinch. A single bead of blood wells up beneath the blade and stars, it’d be so easy, just one little movement and stay calm stay calm stay calm- “you still haven’t answered my question. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

Lana exhales as her gaze comes back into focus, lip curling. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like it. “Today. It was today. But beyond that-”

“It’s good enough.” It was never going to be that easy. “SCORPIO, you don’t still have Belsavis census access, do you?” 

A yellow flash, and then- “I am no longer tethered to Ward 23, and what I retained is long out of date. Proximity would be required.”

“Never mind. We’ll move on to the holo, then. Doctor?”

“Ready.” Lokin nods approvingly as she sets the scalpel down. “Retractor?”

“Retractor, please. Left eye.”

One click. Two clicks. Three.  

The ‘pub squirms, fighting the restraining strap in earnest as he tries to blink against the cold metal instrument. “What are you-” his pupil constricts until she shifts the operating light away- “you gonna take my eyes now, Cipher? Keep ‘em in a jar somewhere, or-”

The holo’s scanner locks on as she holds it level with his forced-open eye. “No, thank you.  I never was much for souvenirs.” 

It chimes cheerfully as it comes to life in her hand; she flips idly through the settings. The user ID’s a string of alphanumeric gibberish, the message system’s not set up and the whole thing’s still on factory default but she’d expected all of that. It’s almost certainly a burner. The call log’s intact, though, with four time-stamped entries. One: incoming but barely five seconds long, likely a functionality test. Not useful. Two: outgoing, eighteen days old. Confirmation of arrival? That’s a Coruscanti subnet, but that could be a handler. Three: outgoing, one day old, to the same address as the second- they’d landed back from Nar Shaddaa by then. 

Four: incoming. Coruscant again, but a different address. One minute and six seconds duration. 

Two and a half hours ago. 

He said he’d call it off, Void damn him. If Trant kept his word and she’s wrong, if she burns the last thin strands of the bridge between Theron and everything he ever believed in to ashes and she’s wrong-

(He did say he would call them. Reflected in the freezer’s glass door, Valkorion tilts his head contemplatively. And tell them what?

He said- 

he said-

[-but those last few breaths last longer if you don’t struggle, don’t they? You’ll figure that out soon enough.]

For the first time she can remember there is something like approval in his smile. So you did hear it, he says. But oh, little Cipher, you didn’t listen.)     

She gestures to Lana and Lokin, pointing with two fingers at each one in turn and then the door with a snap of her wrist that sets it throbbing. “All of you but SCORPIO, clear the room. Now.”

Lana blinks but it’s Lokin who speaks first. “Commander, if I may? If you plan to proceed further, the subject may require additional stabilizing mea-”

“Wait outside until I call for you. That’s an order.”

He’s halfway to the door before Lana starts to move from the benchtop and even then she pauses beside her as she passes, one hand on her shoulder and her mouth lowered level with her ear. “You’re not getting Valkorion involved? I know you’d rather not dial out blind, but I thought I felt-”

“I’m not,” she murmurs in reply. “On either count. But if this goes bad I don’t want you in the room when it does.”  

“All right.” The sheer force of disapproval contained in Lana’s sigh might have leveled buildings; it isn’t all right and they both know it but it’s far too late to argue over it now. “Should I go and find Theron, then? I can think of some excuse to keep him with me until you’ve finished.”

They both startle at the sound of SCORPIO’s voice. “Unnecessary. He is-” her heart stops as the droid’s eyes flicker- “secure.”

“We can’t be certain of that. He still doesn’t know, does he? If there’s a second-”

“I see many things that you do not, Lord Beniko.” Five metallic fingers uncurl ceilingward (not toward the corner; her heart stutters, then resumes). “I am perfectly certain.”

Lips pressed together, nostrils flared, Lana grits her teeth against a retort before she simply continues toward the exit. “Then I will wait,” she says, a sparking halo of electricity coiling around her words as the door slides shut behind her, “until I am needed.” 

And then the room is quiet save the beeping monitors, the ‘pub’s ragged breathing and the sharp rattle of his restraints, and Nine glances sidelong at SCORPIO as she settles herself carefully in the blind spot on his right. “Be nice.”

“Error. Program file: nice not found.” 

She must have iterated again; the sarcasm’s new. Rolling her eyes, she glances down at her comm again. 

< Also, you are welcome.>

She flicks an ironic salute toward the droid and that too makes her wrist ache. More time in the tank, then, on the way to Voss. More time lost that she can’t afford and a favor owed that she probably can’t afford either- stars know SCORPIO’s kept secrets for her well enough through the years but she’s no particular fondness for Theron; the last time he’d cracked a joke about needing a processor update she’d signal-locked his implant to play That Slippery Little Hutt Of Mine on repeat for forty-three minutes straight until half his face was twitching and he’d finally apologized- but hopefully that can be negotiated. Ongoing access to the network, maybe. Lana will fuss and she’ll be right, but if that message had gone through unintercepted they all know what it might have meant. It’s a small enough price.

“If you’re done arguing-” the ‘pub’s slurring again. He’s burning through the serum faster than she’s ever seen- “either get this thing off me or-”

If he keeps that up she may as well not bother with the call. She ought to have known better than to think that he’d say much of anything useful but his ranting’s absolutely tedious; they’re going to need to gag him after all, aren’t they? It wasn’t supposed to be that sort of interrogation, but she also hadn’t particularly expected him to- oh, if he calls her that one more time she might just stab him after all. (Like he’s got any room to criticize- all her old sins could overfill an archive but at least she’s not a stars-damned corpsefucker.) “Shh.” When she tilts her head toward it SCORPIO picks up the spacer’s tape and tears a strip from the roll, pressing it firmly over his mouth until th+e noise quiets into muffled incomprehensibility. “That’s quite enough out of you, I think.“

Hm. That brings to mind a better idea, actually. 

“Do we have enough input for a voiceprint? Something like this?” Tapping a brief message into her commpad, she sends it through to SCORPIO. Only a few lines, but if it truly is Trant on the other end of the connection it should be enough to be certain.

It has to be enough.

She doesn’t look toward the corner. She mustn’t look toward the corner. 

“Way more than enough.” It’s near enough a perfect mimic. SCORPIO folds her arms smugly and the ‘pub goes grey. “Prepared for playback.”

“On my signal, then, but give me a twenty second delay on video.” Her fingers twitch despite themselves, tingling at the tips; she forces her breathing into rhythm. (Lana was right. She isn’t fine. 

Lana was always right. But she doesn’t have a choice.) 

Inhale. “And prep the package files for transmission on verbal command. No passcode.” Exhale.

A pause, a flash of scarlet. Inhale. “Yes, Commander.”

Exhale. 

Inhale. She smooths her hair back, adjusts her collar carefully under her chin, slaps both cheeks briskly with closed fingers to bring a little color into them and even that little jolt rattles her brain inside her skull. She considers, briefly, the backs of her eyelids. That seems to help. Exhale. 

The far corner remains quiet. 

She lifts the holo in line with the ‘pub’s eye once more as his pupil shimmers finely from side to side; they’d definitely pushed the dose too high but even so it’s far faster than it ought to be, chasing some other vice out of his system, and the camera struggles, beeping and chirping error after error until finally it locks on. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

She meets SCORPIO’s gaze, scrolls back to the end of the call log, and presses redial. 

Inhale.

“Connecting.” The tinny synthetic voice of the SIS operator sets her nerves on edge. “Connecting.” Come on, pick up-

The channel opens with a click and she nods, lets her breath out into the following silence before the voiceprint begins.

“It’s done. Shan and the Cipher. Wrong way ‘round, but-”

“Well-” the video delay goes both ways but she doesn’t need it, she’s heard Marcus Trant’s voice in so many briefings it’s burned into her brain; the last brittle shard of hope she’d clung to shatters and leaves her with nothing left but rage. How dare he- “it’s about fucking time.”

Oh, she is going to end him.

***

Nine’s body language shifts then, her spine rigid where she’d been starting to hunch forward in fatigue, her hands fisted, fingernails digging hard into her palms. Her stance settles, just a little wider, forward on her toes; her chin lifts. He can’t see her face, still angled toward the prisoner. 

“Send the photo confirmation, then execute extraction- and get your video on. Where are you?” Force, he’s going to throw up. Even when Jonas told him, even after hearing Marcus with his own ears he hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d called it off. It had to be a mistake- or maybe Nine’s paranoia got the better of her (and he knows why and he doesn’t fault her, she can’t help Valkorion in her head and the poison he’s feeding her day after day after day) and this was just another shadow to peer into. Dragged into the light, it would have been nothing at all. A mistake. A mistake. 

She nods to the droid once again. “ Just a few more seconds. Bad connection but I’ve almost got it.” 

He shudders. The copywork’s uncanny and he knows for sure that’s not all readback. If SCORPIO gets it in her head to playact as one of them, starts giving orders in Lana’s voice or Koth’s or his own? He’s no reason to think she would, but whatever loyalty she seems to owe starts and ends with Nine. They’ve got to talk about it, at least.  

Nine angles away from their prisoner, raises the comm chest-high as the little hologram springs up in the hollow of her hand. He can see her better now, her face blank and beautiful and perfectly, utterly cold, and then she smiles and- 

(He has spent far more time than he’d ever admit to, from Rishi to Ziost to Zakuul to tonight, every hit and hurt and shattered bone and her bloody armor left in a pile again and again on the medbay floor, being scared for Nine. 

This might be the first time he’s honestly been scared of her.)

“Hello, Director,” she says. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s only a little flinch, but it’s there. “Cipher. Still alive, I see.”

“Commander. You lied to me, Marcus. You know what happens now.”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” 

Every syllable of her laughter’s a rifle shot, clear and piercing. “Yes, yes. You said you’d call, and you did.” By his posture he’s caught and he knows it, back straight, shoulders set. “But you know perfectly well that wasn’t our agreement. To go by the way Theron spoke of you I’d have thought you an honorable man, but-”

Marcus lifts one hand, a futile placation as Nine’s mocking smile fades back into hard-eyed silence. “I really am sorry about Theron, for what little it’s worth. He-”

“You’re sorry?” That wasn’t a laugh, not quite, halfway caught in her broken throat. “You’re certainly about to be, but Theron’s fine. This puppy was just as stupid as the last one- worse, actually, since he got himself caught in the bargain.” She turns her body, lets the camera capture the prisoner behind her straining against the chair straps in wide-eyed muffled fury. “He never got anywhere close to Theron.”

“He knows, then?” (He still can’t see Marcus’ face. He isn’t sure whether he wants to.)

She shrugs, noncommittal. “One thing at a time.” Her free hand gestures vaguely toward the instrument tray. “I’ve been a bit busy, I’m afraid, and now I’ve got all these dossiers to send off-”    

“I’d suggest some time in kolto first. You don’t look at all well, Cipher.”

“Commander.” When she blinks her eyes stay closed half a second too long and she sways back and forth and stars, she needs to sit down before she falls over but she’s too stubborn to let anyone see her hurting. He knows her tells now, though- her jaw clenches, her left hand curls and uncurls. “Five years in carbonite couldn’t kill me. You honestly thought a garotte would be enough?”

“No,” Marcus says softly. “Not really. But we make do with what we have, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do. SCORPIO, transmit file Eclipse . Full recipient list.”

One red flash, two green. “Transmission complete.”

(She really did it. Oh, fuck, she really, actually did it. 

He should never have gone home. He should never have gone-  

It isn’t home. Not any more.) 

Marcus sighs. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Nine looks up abruptly as one of the monitors sounds yet again; she reaches up and simply shuts it off completely and at this angle he can finally see properly, both of their faces in profile. “Every reputable news service in the Core Worlds and about half of the disreputable ones, so you may want to warn your receptionist. I suspect your switchboard’s about to melt.”

“She’ll handle it, and Eclipse Squad was Elin’s mess. I’m afraid I can’t comment. Now, if we’re finished-”

“We are not. Transmit file Legate. Full list. Call it off. Now.”

One red flash, two green, and Marcus winces, his composure finally breaking. “Are you out of your fucking mind? No one came out of that clean, you least of all.”

“I might be.” A knock at the door- no, it’s there, not here, and a comm chiming. “But Legate died in a warehouse collapse on Quesh, poor thing, though with all those warheads going up at once confirming it was quite impossible. Pity.”

A single vein pulses across his forehead. 

“Call it off.”

Another knock. “Do you think Theron will believe that?”

“He doesn’t need to. He knows about the Castellan restraints- he’s known for years.” She glances, for the smallest fraction of a second, toward his corner. “I think he’ll understand if I blur the truth a little.” 

(He nods before he remembers she can’t see him. Of course he understands. He wishes she hadn’t done it, wishes she hadn’t needed to do any of this, but of course he understands.)

The room goes quiet, the stillness broken only by restraint buckles clinking against the chair frame. 

“Do you think he’ll believe this?” 

The angle of her head’s a wordless question. 

“What wouldn’t you do to bring down an enemy? The head of the SIS, no less.” The framing of the projection changes, the bottom edge of a screen coming into view as he stands up slowly from his desk. Marcus’d always lived at the office, one of so many bad habits he’d passed down to him over all the years they’d worked together (the work always comes first, he’d said. It always will. It will take everything you can give to it and then it will take more and you’ll swear and shout and threaten to quit. And then you won’t, because this is what we were made for. And that is how we win). “It’s everything you ever worked toward. So: a foiled assassination attempt in your own base- how terrible.” He clicks his tongue, a mocking little tsk. “You’d have to retaliate, and who would fault you?”

Nine’s eyes narrow. 

“But if it came out that you set it all up- a few intercepted messages, perhaps, shared by an old friend-”

Her lips draw back from her bared teeth. “Stay away from him.”

“I’m finished,” Marcus says. “I know that. But that doesn’t mean you get to win. Once a iiar, always a liar, Cipher Nine. Who do you think he’ll believe- you? Or me?”

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t . Not that it would have made a difference, but Marcus couldn’t have known that- Force, he really is going to throw up.

(When Theron joined the SIS he was seventeen years old and every adult he’d known for more than a galactic standard month had abandoned him, sold him out or simply sold him at the first sign he’d outgrown his usefulness. It took nearly a year on Coruscant, nearly a year of steady paychecks and a bed to sleep in every night, before he owned more clothes than he could fit into a go bag; it took almost two before he stopped apologizing for asking for equipment. But Marcus never gave up on him, even when he fucked up (which back then was more often than not), even when he bristled and snapped like a half-wild animal, even when he wanted to give up on himself. If Master Zho had been the nearest thing he’d known to a father- stars knows it wasn’t Jace, especially not now- Marcus had come close too, once.

Once.)

She takes a deep breath. She’s fading fast, now, hands tremulous even as she’s fighting to keep the holo steady. He can’t just sit here and watch this, he can’t, he can’t-    

“Her,” Theron says, letting the stealth field drop as he takes a step forward and she spins, startled, at the sound of his voice. It comes out as a gasp; he doesn’t even know how long he’s been holding his breath. ”Who do I believe? Her. Always.”

Marcus buckles like he’s been gut-shot, bracing himself against his desk. “You- you said you hadn’t told him yet. You said-”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” Nine smiles, absolutely feral and absolutely beautiful, and he steadies her with one hand at the small of her back. “Though as you can see, I really have been busy.”

The last time he saw that look on his face was the day the blockade went up around Coruscant. “Hello, Theron.”

“Hello, Marcus.”

He sits back into his chair, heavy, elbows resting on the desktop. “This office would have been yours, you know. You were ready for it. But you’re on the wrong side of the war.”

“Which war?” Nine says it at the same time he does and then she dips her head, ever so slightly- you first. “We’re here fighting Zakuul. We’re here fighting Arcann,” he continues, “and we’re finally winning. I know you know that. I know Jace knows that, and I know you’re both still fighting the same fucking war against the Empire that you’ve been fighting since before I was born because for you that’s the only thing that matters. But I’m not.”

“You dare-”

“I made my choice,” he says softly.  “Now you make yours. Are you going to drag the whole SIS down with you?”

Marcus rests his head in his hands. For a moment it’s the day after the Ascendant Spear, the day after Ziost, the day after Tython, the weight of a thousand impossible choices and ten thousand lies pressing down on him, and then he looks up and shakes his head. “No.” He sighs. “No, I’m not. What happens now?”

“Resign,” Nine murmurs. “Retire. Disappear before the Senate comes for you, or let them scapegoat you: I don’t care what you do, but you will call this off. You will do it now, and if I ever have reason to doubt you- if anyone from the Republic so much as breathes harm in Theron’s direction- the Ralltiir file goes public.”

Someone’s pounding on his office door, a woman’s voice shouting something incomprehensible as he reaches out of frame, and then a few moments later a series of four tones in a cadence burned into his own memory- send message; subnet selected; confirm?-

Message sent. 

The holotransmitter in Nine’s hand chimes. 

“Done. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Nine turns once more (and he turns with her, careful) to put their prisoner back into frame. “What do you want me to do with him? I’d put him back on Belsavis if I was you, but-”

Marcus stands up abruptly, even as he makes a face as she says Belsavis, at the unmistakable sound of a single round of blaster fire and the hiss of a door sliding open. “Elin,” he snaps, “not now -”

“Yes, now.” General Garza’s got a blaster pistol in one hand and a commpad in the other when she crosses into camera view. “I just got a fucking call from the fucking- oh.” She cranes her neck toward the projector. “Well, we can fix that problem, at least-”

The call disconnects abruptly.

Nine sags against him, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I know I promised-” 

“Commander.” He’d nearly forgotten SCORPIO was still at the console until she speaks, and he’s never heard that tone from her before; he looks sharply up at her and follows her sightline. The prisoner’s sitting bolt-straight, back rigid, eyes wide, and a high-pitched whine like a drill through durasteel shrills warning from somewhere that isn’t his mouth- “Commander, get down!”

All Theron can do is drop where they’re standing, his body a shield over Nine’s, before there’s an awful wet noise and the smell of blood and something else familiar in his nose, hot and metallic and not his and not hers and even though he knows he shouldn’t he looks up again and oh, fuck-

The lab door slides open and Doctor Lokin comes running into the room, Lana just behind with her lightsaber blazing, and they both stop short at the sight of it, at the ‘pub still strapped into the chair with half his head just gone and at him and Nine on the blood-spattered floor.

“What- who-” Lana covers her mouth with her free hand. “What in the Void happened?”

Nine’s shaking so hard she can barely move; he curls her close against him to keep her upright. “Not me,” she whispers. “Not me.”

[minimumsky5]

So, it turns out, drawing planets is hard....

Anyway, here is the system we will be following as life develops on multiple planets, with the sizes to scale, but the distances obviously not! The system is shown as it would appear 5 billion years into its history. Tidally locked planets are shown with their sub-stellar point pointing at the observer.

Lets start with the star, the energy source for the entire show. Yggdrasil (Norse tree of life, and foundation of the universe) is an M1V BY Dra star, which when translated to English means that the star is a large red dwarf (nearly at the limit of M class), but it is also a BY Draconis variable, meaning that its starspots are so big, that they can significantly reduce it's light output. This star is expected to have a main sequence lifespan of 225 billion years, but as with all red dwarfs, its luminosity will increase significantly more proportionally than Sol's will, so its habitable zone will end covering most of its terrestrial planets for at least some part of it's lifespan.

Hephaestus (Roman god of fire and the forge) and Laki (named after a particularly destructive Icelandic volcano) are the two innermost planets of Yggdrasil. They are both hot, small worlds with large iron cores, similar (though smaller and a little cooler) to Mercury. By 5 billion years into the systems history, Hephaestus's mantle has cooled and solidified, but Laki alternates between a resonance state with Vitrellus and one with Thalia, meaning that it maintains a constant volcanic output driven by tidal forces, even though a planet of it's size should have no primordial heat left. Laki was on the cusp of habitability, but it's high volcanism resulted in a runaway greenhouse event that stripped it of its water early in it's history, leaving it with a roughly 2 bar atmosphere of CO2 and SO2.

Methuselah (named for the biblical patriarch, said to have lived for 969 years) is our next stop, and unlike Laki this world is the first one to be able to hold onto significant water. However, due to it's proximity to Yggdrasil, its water cycle is very different to Earth. At it's equator, it is too hot for rain to reach the ground, and so it's tropics and mid latitudes are parched deserts with only very rare oasis providing any moisture. At the poles, however, water can condense, and these small seas provide Methuselah with 2 very habitable areas for life. Methuselah is a small planet, twice Mars's mass but much smaller than Earth, but it is locked into a complicated resonance with Thalia and Avalon/Eden, one which will remain indefinitely, and means that Methuselah is capable of sustaining plate tectonics despite it's small size.

Vitrellus (named in reference to Oil of Vitriol, an old name for sulphuric acid) is the most alien of all the worlds in the Yggdrasil system. This world, half the mass of the Earth and nearly the same radius, has a much higher concentration of sulphur and sulphur compounds in its crust, meaning that it's oceans condensed not as water, but as a strong solution of sulphuric acid. Despite this incredibly hostile chemistry and hellish temperatures (regularly reaching 90 degrees Celsius at the equator), Vitrellus has an active and diverse biosphere based on silicon, carbon, and sulphur compounds.

Thalia (named for the Greek Charity of fertility and plants) is a planet somewhat larger then Earth, which due to it's size accreted a large envelope of volatiles onto its surface, forming an ocean nearly 50km deep on average. This layer of volatiles also created a thick atmosphere and a strong greenhouse effect, creating surface temperatures just barely below the critical point of water, where the boundary between the ocean and atmosphere becomes indistinct. No life survives down there, but the cloudtops maintain habitable temperatures despite the torrid conditions below, allowing huge blooms of skyplankton and other attendant organisms to flourish, turning the planet a strong green colour.

Dionysus (named for the Greek god of festivity and insanity) is the closest thing to the traditional picture of a tidally locked world orbiting a red dwarf that Yggdrasil has to offer. It has the traditional swirl of cloud surrounding it's sub stellar point, and at this point in it's history an ice sheet surrounding it's terminator. The planet currently has an active surface biosphere, but this is only a temporary feature. Dionysus goes through regular cycles of huge build ups of carbon dioxide in it's atmosphere, up to 1-2 bar, followed by equally massive drops in CO2 levels down to just a few parts per million, caused by continents passing through it's central collection of storms. Life on Dionysus is one of times of huge plenty, and vast catastrophes.

Avalon/Eden are the jewels of the Yggdrasil system, a pair of habitable superearths locked in orbit of each other. Both of these worlds are ideal candidates for life; large mineral rich oceans, plate tectonics to allow for carbon cycling, and their mutual tidal forces will keep their interiors warm and convecting for billions of years. There is one current difference between themselves and Earth, however; as these planets are currently towards the outer edge of the habitable zone, they have large CO2 dominated atmospheres, nearly 2 bar each, just to keep warm. These planets will be the centre of attention for this project, and along with Methuselah, will maintain life for the longest time.

After the Avalon/Eden system is a rocky asteroid belt, containing twice the mass of Sol's asteroid belt, followed by an interloper from the outer reached of the system. Anguta (named for the Inuit creator god, and god of the underworld) is a waterworld that initially formed outside of the gas giants in the system, before an encounter with Persephone saw it swing into the inner system. A combination of another encounter with Parvati, and drag from the original system asteroid belt (now carved in 2 by Anguta), caused it to settle into a circular orbit. Anguta is currently right at the outer edge of the habitable zone, with it's surface locked in ice and only a thin, nitrogen dominated atmosphere, but as Yggdrasil grows in luminosity, this is unlikely to last.

Our next stop is the queen of the system, the largest planet of Yggdrasil, Parvati (Hindi goddess of power and beauty). Parvati is a large gas giant, 50% more massive than Jupiter, with a large collection of rocky and icy moons, and rings to rival Saturn's.

Odin (Norse god of wisdom and healing) is the second gas giant of the system. It is about half the mass of Jupiter, but due to the effect of gravitational compression, Parvati and Odin are almost the same size, to within a few dozen kilometers. Odin has a thin set of rings, but has 4 major moons locked into a Laplacian resonance.

Amun (Egyptian god of the sky and wind) is the systems only ice giant, an azure gem shining brightly due to methane in it's atmosphere granting it a brilliant blue colour. Occasional clouds of methane occur in it's mid latitudes, and around storms in it's tropics.

Persephone is the final planet, an Eris like object in it's outer system, covered in a homogeneous layer of ice that was deposited from past volcanic paroxysms.

[bobbile-blog]

Okay so considering the end of Il Siracusano, I wanted to put together a list of floating plot threads that might lead to future events, just to get my brain in order. This will be a list of the events and characters involved, as well as a general summary of where things are in these plots in Global.

So, we have:

(Minor spoilers for a lot of Global under the cut, but specifically for some bits at the end of Il Siracusano)

- The main story, obviously, counting both Reunion and Dublinn/Kazdel stuff, as well as stuff like What the Firelight Casts and Vigilo. Not sure how relevant this will be to future side events because it’s already the main plot, but who knows.

- The Feranmut plotline, encompassing Ancient Forge(?)/Who is Real/Invitation to Wine/Where Vernal Winds will Never Blow, featuring Nian/Dusk/Ling/Chong Yue. Updated pretty regularly as the CN new year event. Haven’t been keeping up with this one so I can’t say where we are rn but we’re about to get Vernal Winds anyway so it doesn’t matter much. The short overview is that Yan used to be populated by godlike beings called Feranmuts. Feranmuts fought a war with people, which concluded when a Feranmut named Sui betrayed his people out of a selfish desire to be the only being with the kind of power that Feranmuts possess. When he was discovered, the emperor of Yan (China analogue) split him into 12 fragments which eventually developed their own identities and personalities - these are the Sui siblings, i.e. Nian, Dusk, Ling, Chong Yue, etc. Once all twelve of these siblings meet again, they will reform back into Sui and he will be reborn, and probably take over the world. As such, the current goal is to find a way to prevent the siblings from all waking up and getting back together, and hopefully finding a larger way to prevent Sui’s resurrection.

- Abyssal Hunters and Seaborn, with Grani and the Knight’s Treasure/Under Tides/Stultifera Navis/Mizuki and Caerula Arbor, featuring Skadi/Specter/Gladiia/Kal’tsit. Was updated pretty frequently as an anniversary event, but they seem to have thrown us a big lore dump with Caerula Arbor and left it at that for the time being, which is understandable. The state of the plot at the moment is the Abyssal hunters we have are back together, Specter is back to her old self, they’ve met Ulpian and established an uneasy truce with the Iberian (Spanish analogue) Inquisition, and we’re starting to understand just what Ishar-mla is. Iirc the alternate timelines we see in IS3 are actually shown to the Doctor by Mizuki, so that may play into future events as well.

- Kazimierz, with Maria Nearl/Pinus Sylvestris/Near Light/Obscure Wanderer, featuring Blemishine/Zofia/Nearl/The Followers/Flametail/Ashlock/Fartooth/Wildmane/Justice Knight my beloved/Młynar. This kinda shouldn’t be on this list, because it’s mostly wrapped up, and I don’t expect any more Kazimeirz events for a while. It’s still probably important to summarize though so: Margaret Nearl won the 24th Major and became the Grand Knight, and has since stayed in Kazimierz (Poland analogue) to improve living conditions for the infected and push back against the General Chamber of Commerce. The Armorless Union has mostly been decapitated - the Platinum defected, the Lazurites have disappeared and taken on new identities, and the Darksteel has promised to stay away from Margaret and Rhodes Island. Pinus Sylvestris and most of the rest of the Nearls are now on the landship, working for Rhodes Island.

- Rhine Lab, with Mansfield Break/Dorothy’s Vision/Lonetrail/the second Records of Originium comic (which has an official translation that you absolutely should read it’s really good), featuring Silence/Ptilopsis/Saria/Ifrit/Dorothy/Mulesyse/Ho’olheyak/Kirsten. This is one of the newer plotlines, and my personal favorite. Kirsten Wright, founder and head of Rhine lab, wants to go to space. Ever since her parents were killed in a plane crash, she’s looked at the stars as a goal for humanity and a symbol of the power that science and technology can give us. Unfortunately, in pursuit of that power, she believes the end justifies any means, and the Colombian (America analogue) military-industrial complex definitely isn’t helping things. Kirsten’s disregard of human rights has pushed away the people closest to her, most notably Saria, who left the company after discovering how Ifrit was abused. At the moment, the relationship between Rhodes Island and Rhine Lab is becoming more adversarial because we keep poaching their directors when they see the horrific human rights abuses that they’ve committed. Saria left after the Diαbolic incident, Dorothy left after site 359, and now the Doctor even has Mulesyse thinking about leaving. In addition to that, Saria has finally confronted Kristen and told her in no uncertain terms that she is done working with Rhine lab, which Kristen previously hadn’t fully accepted. Unfortunately, all this has only served to drive her deeper into “the ends justify the means” - rather than accept that she might have been wrong, she’s doubled down on the idea that if she can just achieve her goal and make it to space, they’ll all see how right she was and come back.

- Wolf Fangs, with some hints in the earlier chapters of the main story and being explicitly confirmed in Il Siracusano, featuring Texas/Lapland/Projekt Red/Lunacub. This is the newest of these plots, set up in Il Siracusano and presumably proceeding from there. The Feraerus are supernatural talking animals that we’ve encountered a couple of times throughout the story, like the High Priest or the Emperor. They are connected with the land and are almost akin to guardians of it. They don’t need Originium for their magic, and are tied to the setting in ways we don’t quite understand yet. More importantly to us, though, they’re involved in their own power struggles and contests among each other. This underscored the drama in Il Siracusano - the whole Bellone family was propped up by the wolf Feraerus Zarro as part of an ancient game in which the wolves pick champions, called Fangs, who fight each other in a Battle Royale to decide the pack’s next alpha(debunked study, I know, just roll with it). We know a couple of the fangs - Lunacub is one and Bernardo was another before his death, but Projekt Red is also a Fang, as well as Crownslayer’s mentor, so we’ll probably be coming back to this conflict in the future. Judging by Bernardo’s story and Lunacub’s files, the implication is that a lot of this story is going to revolve around breaking free of these old traditions and systems.

- The Sami Icefields haven’t technically gotten an event yet, besides that one story in Operational Intelligence, but I’m including it as an honorable mention because it looks like we’re going there for IS4. The Icefields are up north of Ursus, and they are terrifying. You remember the Emperor’s Blade, the one that kicks your ass in WD-8? Yeah we only see three of them in the game because the rest are busy fighting against the Eldritch demons constantly invading from the Sami Icefields. Let’s please never go there ever, thanks.

That’s all I can think of in terms of plotlines as of Il Siracusano in AK Global. If there’s anything I forgot or got wrong, tell me and I’ll add it in.

[willowwind78]

1 Annabel- Chapter 5

˜ Chapter 5- Faust: First Part - Johann Wolfgang Van Goethe ™

Wild dreams torment me as I lie.

And though a god lives in my heart, though all my power woken at his word,

Though he can move my every inmost part – yet nothing in the outer world is stirred.

Thus by existence tortures and oppressed I crave for death, I long for rest.

˜ ™

Annabel returned down the hall to her own room confused and unnerved.  The floor was cold against her bare feet. She had not given it much thought earlier. Now, she wondered how she could have ignored her half-frozen toes and what time it was. She pushed the curtain aside and looked out the window.

The night sky glowed with millions of stars. The blackness went on forever, the moon shining like a light bulb in the sky. She could do nothing but smile as she slipped out of her pajamas and scurried to the wardrobe. A worn pair of jeans, white t-shirt, light sweater, and some socks, she tip-toed out of her room and down the hall. Carrying a pair of brown leather boots in her hand, she was careful to not make a sound as she crept down the steps and out the front door. On the last step she sat and pulled her boots onto her feet.

Struck by the beauty of the night, she reached down and felt the cool softness of the grass against her fingertips. A deep breath filled her lungs with the smell of rotting leaves that was fall. She half ran, half hopped to the converted stable beside the main house. The door creaked and moaned as she slid it open and disappeared into the darkness. Instinctively her hand reached out to grab a helmet where it hung, exactly as she had left it with a dark leather jacket. She threw them over the seat, pushed the small bike out of its holding and walked it nearly a quarter of a mile down the drive towards the dirt road.

Once past the mailbox, she swung her leg over the worn seat. Grinning from ear to ear, she clipped the turtle shell helmet under her chin, pushed the start plug and twisted her right hand. A familiar “Bwat-ta-tat-tat” filled the night air. The twinge of sulfur infected her nostrils. She wasn’t much for speed, but it sure beat walking. Off at a fantastic thirty-five miles per hour, the cool wind pulled tiny tendrils from her braided hair.

The Vespa twisted and turned with its rider past small forests of trees, along rocky hillsides and past field after field of sleeping sheep and cattle. At this time of the morning, there was not a soul to be seen. Every man woman and child was snug in their bed, preparing for the next day’s work.

From the first time she was allowed out on the scooter, she was enthralled by the feeling of freedom when straddling the old seat. The only thing that existed in the world was her, the dirt beneath the wheels and the wind flowing relentlessly across her shoulders. It was the closest to flying she had ever come. Complete exhilaration filled her every pore. While she contemplated at times, upgrading to a motorbike, the Vespa held a special place in her heart for midnight riding and it was easier to avoid deer.

She drove down the road in whatever direction the world took her. Father Samuel taught her long ago that there is purpose to all we do and following the path of God was as simple as letting go and allowing Them to lead you. While she often doubted Father Samuel’s wisdom, when she was on the bike, his words never rang truer. She paid no attention to where she was, just went where an invisible force tugged at her to go.

Within what seemed like no time at all, she arrived in an unfamiliar location. As the bliss of freedom wore off, reality began to settle in and she wondered to where she had traveled. The point she had left the graveled road was uncertain. Standing here in the woods without the faintest clue as to where she was, she started to ponder if perhaps she should have listened a little less to God and a little more to the Randall McNally folded beneath her seat.

With a flick of her foot, the kickstand came down and the Vespa sat neatly on the dirt path. Pine trees had left a thick bed of needles creating a crunchy trail beneath her feet. Unsure of where she was headed, she felt the need to travel on foot and after setting her helmet and jacket on the bike she started down the ever-thinning deer trail towards the unknown.

Tall oaks that had somehow managed to not get choked out by the pines, left pesky acorns threatening to wrench her ankles at nearly every step, but she picked her way along what felt for no particular reason, the way to go. Since the path seemed clear enough in the dark, she felt confident she could find her way back when she needed to.

Luckily, she was completely absorbed in watching her feet as she walked, so there was little chance of her falling off the steep cliff when the tree-line abruptly ended. The ground stopped. She looked up and out upon the horizon. It was breathtaking.

A small church nestled itself into the valley surrounded by a field of recently harvested corn. The white-washed walls were stark and out of place against the dark background. A faint glow had begun in the east where the sun was threatening to rise. A tiny graveyard lay next to the church, between the fields cut by a short dirt drive. As the sun peaked over the horizon, she followed the rays of light into the cemetery and was pulled in.

A young man, far too young to be mourning this kind of loss, knelt in front of a newly erected tombstone reading:

Tolle lege

Christina Evans

1995-2013

Beloved wife, daughter, sister and journalist

Tears filled his eyes. A glint of silver sat in his hand.

            Annabel’s heart ached for him. His pain and thoughts echoed across the distance to her as if they were her own. He had come to take his own life on his wife’s grave. His blood would flow into the ground and in some way, he believed he would be with her again. The blade was poised, firmly grasped in his right hand, over his left wrist. His words carried across the wind to her ears.

            “Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I do not understand. What did she do wrong? Was it me?” Tears openly flowed from his eyes, down his cheeks and dropped to the ground. “I loved her! Damn you I love her!” His body shook with a mixture of anger and pain, the muscles twitching and relaxing at sporadic intervals. Several times his arms tensed, readying the knife above his wrist, only to be relaxed and nearly dropped to the ground.

            He looked up suddenly when he heard a voice behind him. A man, dressed in a charcoal gray three-piece pin-stripe suit and a dark red bowtie leaned against the fence, the watcher. “God considers the taking of one’s own life the biggest sin you can commit. Some might say… unforgivable.” He paused momentarily as the figure straightened and began to walk toward the young man. “Far greater than murder, gluttony, pride, envy, or even greed. Those that commit suicide are doomed to burn in hell for eternity. Is that what you want?”

            “I… I don’t care anymore.” His head bowed as he stared at his left wrist. “Anything is better than the hell I am already in.”

            “I can take away this pain away if you want. You will never have to feel again.” The suited man’s tongue spoke eloquently. It brought comfort and soothed even Annabel’s ears. She watched as the stranger glided through the cemetery, so smooth that he seemed to float across, his wing tip shoes leaving not a trace in the dewy grass. He placed his left hand on the shoulder of the mourning man in what should have been a comforting gesture but felt like something else entirely. “Imagine no pain, no worry, everlasting life. It is yours if you want it.”

“I never want to feel again. Not now. Not ever.” He looked up with tear-stained eyes, red and swollen with pain. “What kind of God would do this? Take away a life so young, so promising?”

The man in the gray suit’s mouth twitched only slightly. “My God will alleviate your pain if you choose to follow.”

“I choose.” The kneeling man said without hesitation. “I choose to forget.” The knife poised over his wrist, reverberating with intent.

“You would hand the devil your soul?”

            “Lord, if you can hear me. I am done with you! You have taken everything from me!” the man’s voice echoed across the open ground. Hatred. Scorn. Loathing.

            The stranger leaned toward the man, his lips nearly caressing his neck as he whispered into his ear. “You give me your soul? Openly?”

            “Anything to take away this pain, yes.” With a quick slice, the blood began to flow, while simultaneously the suited man sank his teeth deep into the other man’s neck until his body collapsed in a lifeless heap. A shimmering cloud emerged from the man’s body like the smoke from a djinn’s lamp. Suddenly, the cloud shattered into a million pieces of shiny silver confetti that dissipated when they hit the ground.

Reality sucked back like a vacuum cleaner. The world shifted as Annabel returned to the hillside where her body stood motionless. Choking on a lump in her throat, she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She stared in horror at the body laying on the ground, blood oozing from its wrist in ever slowing pulses. The sun rose above the horizon, casting light upon the world as if everything were still good and wholesome in it. Tears filled her own eyes. She slumped to the ground, hanging her legs over the side of the hill, dumbfounded, yet entranced by the surreal scene.

Questions filled her mind, bogging down her senses with confusion. Who was the man in the gray suit and where did he come from? What was he? Did she really just see him bite the other man? Was she even awake? She pinched her arm. Ouch. Yes, she was awake. How could she possibly see everything from so far away?

Eventually, something caught her eye. She tilted her head to the right unsure of what she was seeing. No, it couldn’t be. She caught herself attempting to leap forward to get a closer look, just before she would have fallen two hundred yards down the steep, rocky cliff. She squinted and peered, then closed her eyes and reopened them again.

No matter how many times she repeated this action, she could not change what she was seeing. Two men walked out of that cemetery into the trees and one of them was looking at her.

[troubleshade]

Some good-byes aren't meant to be forever

(The aftermath from "Lost and Found")

Several weeks passed since Chiisai found back home. She couldn't be happier about it, even if she needed a week to get used to her old world and how a few things worked here. Her siblings Asha and Coen barely left her side. They had so much to talk and catch up from the past years. Even Aster took his time to ask the returned turtle about her adventures. Sometimes it felt too surreal for her to be here again and seeing her loved ones busy with their own lifes. It doesn't felt like she was away for a decade but at the same time it does. This feeling causes her often to daydream.

And like the past dawns, Chiisai let her mind drift away again while laying in her old hammock. The new wake-sleep circle was the most difficult part for her to get used to it. She stares up to the remaining stars while thinking back to her other family. A slight pang of guilt rose in the turtle again, she just left without leaving a hint for the four boys. Did they notice her absence? Are they maybe even mad at her? Will they think she's dead? The turtle sighed, she just hoped that her new brothers are still okay without her in their life. Well, she was sure they'll be just fine without her.

Her train of thought came to a stop as she heard light footsteps next to her hammock. Chiisai didn't need to look to know that it was her old caretaker Aster. His shell scraped for a second on the wall as he sat down with a quiet huff. The silence between them was familiar and quite comfortable. "Thinking again about your brothers from another world?", he softly broke the silence. Her smile grew at his title he gave her four brothers to avoid misunderstandings. "Yeah..." Her answer was short for that question. "Are ya worried about them?" Chiisai finally glances to Aster. "Not in the slightest", she answers with a proud voice, "They doing just fine even without me, I know it. They don't need me anymore as a protector, they found their own way." He hums in affirmation, nodding slightly. For a moment both didn't say a word. "They may don't need a protector, but maybe they need their sister." Chiisai stared perplexed to him. "It's a difference you know? Just because you got the title as the older sibling doesn't mean you're only there for one purpose." Aster continues. "Well no of course not but it was like my most important main task...", Chiisai mumbled defensive. Before she could continue he interrupted her quickly. "Your most important job wasn't looking after them. It was every opportunity you took to be there for them. You told me so much about your time with the boys. How you learn more about their interests and lifes, you gladly spent time with them, helped them when they had a miserable day and even the four were there for you if you had a bad day. It was a give and take. You're more for them as just a 'protector'. You're part of their family." She still looked at him in silence, clearly thinking about what he just said. A small smile formed on her face. "Yeah... still I hope they forgive me that I just vanished... I just ran into the portal without thinking twice about it because I was afraid it would close on me again..." She sighs. "Well...now I can't change it... they'll figure it out... hopefully." Aster just nodded.

Once again it was silent for a while, her eyes returned to watch the sky. After a while she could hear him softly chuckle. "Well...but some good-byes are not final... you do know that I saved the coordinates from the other dimension where we found you don't ya?" The question was followed from an awkward silence before her shout was heard in the farthest edge of the city: "WHY DIDN'T YOU TOLD ME THAT SOONER?!"

The apartment never felt so gloomy like in this very moment. Because Chiisai didn't respond to their texts and calls for the last weeks the four boys Lee, Raphie, Mike and Don decided to visit her. They just assumed the reason of this problem was that she destroyed her phone again somehow. For the last hours they waited patiently in her home, talking and joking around. She would come home eventually, like always...right?

Their mood drastically went from "worried but good" to "worried and horrible" after an almost day long wait. Just right then Raphie would notice the fine layer of dust on the furniture, Lee looked into a fridge full of spoiled food. Don mentioned that the most precious belongings are still here, so she couldn't moved away. And Mike closed the window who stood open for a while because the floor underneath it was wet from the rain. Hopes were crushed and the worst scenarios appeared in their heads. "Maybe she found a way home?" Don slowly said, trying to sound positive. Lee was the only one who nodded but even he didn't believed it. Silence filled the room again it felt like a heavy blanket.

A hard blow on the couch broke their trance like state. "Bullshit! Accept it Don, she just left us without saying anything!" Raphie shouts out his face turned angry . "She don't wanna see us ever again! Why should she just disappear without a word?! We're nothing for her anymore since we travelled around!" Mike stared bewildered to his screaming brother. "Don't you fucking dare to say that again! She would never-" "LOOK AROUND! SHE. IS. NOT. HERE. ANYMORE. This apartment is empty for a long time now! She cut us out of her life! She took the frickin' chance that we were out of town to do that!" Raphie cried out louder to interrupt Mike, waving his arms around to prove his point. Mike's eyes well up with tears. This wasn't true. Hell, he would even swear on his own life that Chiisai would never just abandon them. He wanted to say something against it but Raphie didn't gave him the opportunity. "I don't want to hear your poorly thought reasons why she wouldn't do it!" His breath staggered. "Because the other option would mean she would be d-" Raphie stopped, never ending his sentence. His brothers stared shocked and silent at him. "I..." He sighed out and let him fall defeated onto the couch. "I just can't believe she's gone..." His voice was only a whisper now.

No one of them dared to speak, they only thought about the happier times of this place and the past resident. The heartbeats was the only sound that they could hear right now. Until a familiar voice spoke up:

"Wow, that's the saddest display I've ever saw... Can I join the pity party?" Flabbergasted, the four boys stared to the newcomer. The red masked brother was the first who reacted with a sprint to the person and a surprised shout. "BIG SIS!" The others followed him shortly, almost tackling the smaller turtle to the ground as they hugged her. "It's good to see you all again too." She said happily, trying to hug them all back at once. Her old caretaker were right: Some good-byes aren't meant to be final.

Universes AU boys belong to @xxlea-nardoxx

[neverlearnedtoread]

A Curse So Dark and Lonely

⭐⭐⭐⭐; it is a truth solely acknowledged by me that the more cringefail a love interest is, the better the romance

Oh?? 👌😉😏

fairytale retelling! i love retellings of well-known stories. something something telling the same stories as our ancestors and our descendants binds humanity together something something

it takes a while to come to light, but the love interest is one of those 'head before heart' idiots. he's genuinely shrewd, politically savvy, and calculating, i.e. exactly the sort of person who doesnt fall in love easily. which makes him being the 'beast' in this beauty and the beast retelling so compelling! he's trying SO hard to engineer feelings and its just not working 😭

following off the above point: the love interest thinks he is inherently unlovable. nothing is juicier than someone who thinks they're too hard to love being proven wrong!

No.. ❌🤢🤮

isekai story, which as a trope teeters on the edge of losing me completely on principle; Kemmerer did manage to add enough details to keep me from totally losing my suspension of belief

just enough 'not like other girls' energy in the main character to make the first 50-100 pages hard to get through. i know its crazy, but consider: sometimes when a girl is kidnapped it's okay for her to have some level of caution / fear??

love triangle attempted(?) - wild choice from the author to make the guardsman hotter than the prince. i mean i get it, but if you're going to do that, can we not have the reason she doesn't choose him be so obviously and singularly because it wouldn't break the curse?

Summary: Harper, an 18-year-old girl with cerebral palsy, has a lot of problems - her mum has cancer, her father's a deadbeat who left them indebted to loan sharks, and her brother Jake is now working for said loan sharks to pay off those debts. Harper's always felt like a liability - too weak to help, let alone protect anyone - but when she sees a dodgy guy knock a girl unconscious in an alleyway, she has to try. Of course, no good deed goes unpunished - in the tussle, Harper finds herself magically transported to a parallel world with a whole new set of problems, including a cursed prince, an evil enchantress, and no way home.

Concept: 💭💭💭 Honestly, I didn't think too highly of this one! I had heard various criticisms about the prince being too broody and the sense of 'not like other girls' throwing others off, and it was selling itself as an unapologetic YA Beauty and the Beast retelling, so I wasn't thinking that this book would do anything crazy for me because Beauty and the Beast as a fairytale isn't my favourite.

Some spoilers under the cut!

Execution: 💥💥💥 On the whole, this book met my expectations exactly where I held them, which was a typical YA fantasy romance. I hold nothing against books that give me exactly what I expected - if I didn't think a book would suit my reading tastes, I wouldn't pick it up in the first place! I did have a hard time at the start - I'm pretty sensitive to 'not like other girls' vibes, so harper really grated on me, but once she and rhen understood each other better I was having a lot more fun. I kept pinballing between enjoying it (rhen being bad at romance) and rolling my eyes at it (harper being too Strong Women Feminist) through the middle but by the time we hit the 'i have to go home to see my family before its too late' story beat, the book was clawing its way to a solid 4 stars.

Personal Enjoyment: ❤❤❤❤ Despite being a predictable YA fantasy romance, Prince Rhen was a pleasant surprise. It is my personal (and therefore, correct) taste that male love interests are best when they are, at heart, cringefail. Rhen fits this criteria perfectly - he can wine and dine and politick with the best of them, but what he wants to do is save his people, and for that he needs someone to fall in love with him for realsies. He is wholly unable to accomplish both (on account of him being very shit at love) until Harper jostles him forcibly out of his holding pattern - he tells her he's doomed to fail, and she still convinces him to wholeheartedly try. It makes Harper not only the heroine of the story, but specifically Rhen's saviour - that's true romance, babey!! Their chemistry was the cornerstone of me rating the book 4 stars - with special shoutout to Lilith being shamelessly used as a plot device to make the romance go. We love an evil enchantress who is petty and bitchy.

Favourite Moment: The sweetest moment of the book was definitely Harper inviting Rhen into her room after learning Lilith tortures him every night. It was such a genuinely heartfelt moment that brought them together! But I love mess, so my actual favourite moment is when they kiss right before Harper leaves for DC, only for Harper to recoil from the sharp scales growing over Rhen's skin. The horror!! The drama!! The 'if you haven't fallen in love with me at this point, you certainly won't now'!!! and then Harper just going home without any resolution at all. NO ONE ELSE was having fun in that scene but me! and THAT'S BEAUTIFUL 😝

Favourite Character: Prince Vincent Aldrhen of Emberfall, cringefail king. Yes I understand he's horrible for any number of reasons, and no, I will not be retracting my statement. There's nothing more fun to me than a character who is convinced they are unlovable and has the evidence (and track record!!!) to prove it. This dude was like 'kissing this girl i like is more emotionally devastating than being magically tortured by a crazy evil enchantress every night because I will only be able to do it the once'. I can't NOT root for him to be dicked down!!

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2023 #8: Shed

(A/n: If its been perpetual Light without any other weather for 100 years, surely that means no seasons too? So I have to wonder how the First would feel about the world settling back into its old rhythm and the old seasons once they finally return. It must be so strange if they haven't seen snow or rain or ice in so long, or the changing leaves. So I really wanted to catch this sense of uncertainty, if most won't remember or even know about the concept.

Tho in this case, Almet might know, or she might not, depending on how old she is, but I've erred on the side of caution and assumed she's post-Flood birth.

Part of me just also feels like I miss the First and Ryne, even tho I know the very next patch is gonna have her feature in a way (small or otherwise, we don't know yet). I hope she's doing well, especially if she's still working hard for everyone. ;3;

Word count: 1385)

“Which way was it again?”

The blue flower path was certainly pretty, but it made for difficult travel when one forgot which fork in the road to follow to Fanow. Ryne unfortunately had forgotten, given the long while it’d been since she had visited the Viis town. The dense trees and the darkened shadows from the enveloping canopy didn’t help her bearings, unable to even see into the distance for a hint of life at the forest’s edge. She was travelling with a small guard, though unfortunately none had any experience with the forest as she had. Leaving her alone to shoulder the burden of navigation.

Her role as Oracle of Light had been changed somewhat, in light of the First’s new lease of life - she was something of an Emissary now for the Crystarium, often ensuring good relations between the various surviving settlements across Nordvrandt, both within each region and with the main city as a hub. Slitherbough didn’t have any issues with their neighbours, but she still wanted to check in with Fanow herself as well. If she could find it…

Fortunately for her, she wasn’t left stumbling around for much longer, as a voice broke through the leaf rustling ambiance.

“Hail, Oracle! It has been some time!” Looking up, and hearing the surprised chattering from her caravan behind her, Ryne smiled to see the familiar face of Almet standing upon a thick branch in the canopy. The woman leapt, traversing down the trunk with graceful bounds until she landed upon the petal strewn floor.

“Almet! It is good to see you,” Ryne greeted her, “I hope all has been well.”

“Of course. The forest has never been more peaceful since the night finally returned and the Sin Eaters numbered finally dwindled to nothing. I’m sure you could tell as much during your travels.” Ryne nodded, already breaking into chatter about their journey there and their reason for visiting, and idle introductions to the rest of her entourage.

“An Emissary is it? From one important duty to another, surely you of all of us have more than earned the rest after your deeds?” Almet said, shaking her head in awe.

“Many have told me, but I wouldn’t feel right just sitting doing nothing while everyone else did all the work,” Ryne replied.

“Well, that is your burden to bear, but I am pleased to see you continuing to look after the wellbeing of all on our star. Even coming all this way to check on Fanow, as cloistered away as we are here,” Almet nodded, coming to a stop by a wooden gateway arch. To Ryne’s surprise, they’d already reached the town’s entrance, unaware that Almet had led them along the way as they’d talked.

“Oh! I…Thank you. I’m sorry to say I seem to have forgotten the way,” Ryne said, flushing at her confession. Almet at least worse an understanding smile.

“Tis no worry. With how far you have travelled and how the forest has changed with the Light gone, I would be more surprised had you remembered. Feel free to come in and settle yourselves, someone will come and see you to a hut to rest yourselves so long as you are staying here,” Almet announced to the rest of the group. Ryne’s own nod to encourage them had them wasting no time entering the village, leaving the two alone.

“As much as I appreciate your hospitality, we hopefully shouldn’t stay too long. We wouldn’t want to impose, but we do have other places to visit as well.”

“You are certainly not imposing. We would always welcome you, as the allies of Ronka and the saviour of the star. But you of course have your duty as well. Allow us to at least see you well prepared for your journey,” Almet offered. Slitherbough had already offered to refill their supplies for the next leg of their journey after visiting Fanow, but more would always be nice. Sometimes to pass onto the next village they visited or even to the Crystarium’s supplies and stores when they returned.

They started up into canopy bound platforms, unperturbed at first of the wind that began to pick up – though Ryne did feel her stomach lurch as the boughs around her creaked and groaned from the strain. However they both came to a pause at a mumbling from a pair of nearby guard Viis leaning against the railing.

“It’s so different, how did it change so?”

“I don’t know, but it looks rather beautiful.”

“Ladies, is something amiss? Did something happen on your patrol?” Almet asked, making them both jump. As one of them frowned to see her surprise had crushed something in her grasp, the other held out a pristine leaf to show.

“Almet, it's so strange! The leaves are changing!” the guard stated. Almet took it in hand, brow furrowing at the discovery. Ryne peaked over, confused. The leaf was a bright vibrant orange, with dappled yellows along its lower half. A fan of leaves were thrust into her view, and she gaped at the sight; bright reds and yellows, more orange and faded gradients, and the normal greens were tinged brown along their edges.

“Is it not just from a peculiar tree?” she asked, trying to rationalise the strange appearance.

“Absolutely not, I’ve patrolled these same forests for 75 years, I know every tree in every corner,” the guard insisted, “This is new!”

“Almet, do you think the trees may be suffering an illness to cause this? Are they dying?” the other Viis asked, looking over the crushed remnants still in her hand with concern. Almet paused, still marvelling over the odd phenomena.

“No, I don’t think it is that,” she said carefully, “I can’t guarantee what this is for certain, though I may have an idea. I would like you to keep an eye out on your patrols, and inform the other groups of the same; if any more turn out like this or if anything else changes, let me know. But I appreciate this news.” The guards shared a look, then nodded and rushed off into the town.

The wind grew fiercer, and Ryne found herself shivering in its blast. Almet stood, letting it rustle through her hair and clothes.

“To think, it may finally be happening again,” she hummed, turning the leaf over in between her finger tips.

“What? What’s happening?” Noting the rising panic in Ryne’s voice, Almet smiled.

“Nothing to be worried about…or perhaps we should. But not for the reasons you may think, Oracle,” she said, “Tis the seasons. They may finally be cycling once again. The forest is changing.”

“Seasons? Changing?” Ryne had heard the concept somewhat, from Thancred - he’d mostly explained them briefly, how the sun would grow warmer, or the wind would grow colder at different times in the year. But in a world without shifting weather patterns, the notion didn’t really seem to be understood anymore.

“I remember tales from my mother, from before the Flood,” Almet explained, eyes growing distant as she recalled the memory, “She would talk about how the seasons would change the forest; how the animals would shift and move their nests and families, following their food as it too moved; how the grass would grow thick and green with the heat, and thin and wiry with the chill; and how they had different produce cycles for each passing moon, how they had to plant many crops in one season to keep people fed in the others, as less could be grown. 

“And I know these past 100 years, the Light has prevented any such changes. The temperature may have dropped or risen, but it was never enough, and the forest was still the same as ever, unchanging and silent.”

“So…the idea of these seasons returning is good?” Ryne asked. The wind blew through once more, and this time Almet let the leaf in her hand fly free with the gusts.

“Yes, I think it is. Perhaps we will struggle to adjust after so long without, but I believe we can do that. And it will be wonderful to see the world return to its original self once more,” she smiled, “You may have extra work for yourself now to prepare the world for these big changes to come.”

[looven]

There's a deeper truth to most stories that are used for fairy tales, myths, an' even pirates shanties. For a lot of these though, they be relics of th' past, forgotten an' left behind as lessons for newer generations to look to for inspiration, or for perhaps for guidance..

...

I have a tale 'bout somethin' that is all too real, an' one that affected me directly. An' while most folk tend to believe it to be th' ramblings of an insane man, it is somethin' only few like me self know about, let alone want to even discuss.

Back in th' early 80's, there was a pizzeria parlor that was franchised as "Freddy's Pizza & Friends." Th' idea was simple, a pizza joint that hosts birthdays an' has an arcade in it for younglin's. Th' stars of th' restaurant bein' robots who could sing an' dance, act out scenes an' play songs for children to loose themselves to for hours at a time.. it worked like a charm too. Means th' kids got to have fun while mum an' dad got to question why they spent twenty bucks on a pizza an' a couple o' tokens for th' family.. of course they couldn't complain much, it was a decent enough way to spend th' afternoon.

Aye, an' things were perfect back then, not a care in th' world. Just simple fun for th' family, and not a way in the world they could get hurt in th' place, aye? It ain't like we didn't have guards an' employees keepin' their eyes on th' place.

For me, it was th' fifteenth of May when everything happened all at once. It was a late night, 'round dinner time. Parties were bein' held, an' I had just completed my act for th' evenin'. A pirate Shanty or two, accompanied by a story, narrated an' acted out by none other than me self, Foxy.. th' Pirate Fox. As I watched on from me cove as th' kids ran 'bout, livin' their life th' best way they new how too, I would notice somethin' out from th' corner of me eye. Against th' back of th' arcade hall, I noticed a small child huddled against th' wall. Pirate hat, plastic hook, frantic eyes, and a scared look ran across th' poor lad's mug. I couldn't help but feel awful while lookin' on from me cove, so I figured I could 'least help find th' lad's parent.. or at least somebody.

Unaware to me self an' th' other band mates, we were retrofitted with a new program to help protect an' route stranded children back to other groups to help with their safety.. I never really understood that fact at th' time, an' why we were given th' function. I was nothin' more but a husk of a robot, with a simple code to follow, an' nothin' more. Bein' th' Old salt of a sailor I am now, I know why we were implemented with th' changes.. an' I only wish I realized sooner.

As I began to make me way over to th' marooned pollywog, I would get held up by a couple of kids, askin' a bunch of questions, chattin' me ears off. I would of course respond to them, an' give em a hardy ol' pirate laugh, an' a quote they could say to their parents later that evenin'. Unbeknown to I, someone had already began to interact with th' young sailor. Once me eyes looked up to see if he was still in th' place I would see a taller rabbit figure talkin' to him, a single green balloon in hand.

Who is that.

The only question that ran through me wired brain. I could tell from the lighting that th' figure was a golden yellow color, with a draped look to th' left ear. I couldn't even get a second chance to ask to myself who it was before I would see him take the child's hand an' lead him away from the main floor of th' pizzeria, the last bit I could see was th' balloon trailing behind them, disappearing behind one of th' corners. I immediately would begin to chase th' pair, carefully makin' me way through the sea of adrenaline-drunk children nearly blockin' me path to the hallway they had gone towards.

On th' way over, all I could think was "who was that." Over an' over again to me self. It wasn't Bon, they were nowhere near that scrawny, an' if it weren't them.. then who was it. My train of thought would run short as I looked down th' hall a door, that was gapped open, the balloon now standing lone at the hinges. Th' basement, with a large label warnin' non-staff to stay away. What in th' seven seas would they be taken th' child down there? It ain't no where a young lad should ever be at

Without much thought, I began to make my way down th' staircase, leading down below the restaurant's main body. As the darkness 'round me grew, me eyes would softly illuminate, allowin' me to see th' surroundings a tad better. Every step downwards I would feel th' metal case creak below me weight. What would a child have any reason to be down here, an' who was th' figure they were with.. it has to be someone who knew th' restaurant layout, maybe a crewmate? It didn't make any sense to me..

I would finally hit th' bottom floor, and look about. Th' air was thick an' had a strange oder to it, almost like a bog. Cobwebs an' wires dangling 'round th' room. All I could see was shelves filled with some maintenance gear like hand-cranks, tool boxes, an' some other miscellaneous items. Though there were some items on th' ground, almost seemed like they had been thrown down in a scuttle. I would proceed forward, an' despite me best efforts to keep quiet, th' plating on th' floor would make me footsteps echo in th' corridor. Behind th' door I passed, I could hear th' generator for th' pizzeria whizzin' an' rattlin', surely no way there were in there.. it would be too small of an enclosure.

Just when I thought I had ran out of space, behind th' last shelf in line I would see th' kid with his head dropped low, with his pirate hat sat in his lap. A sigh of relief, or at least th' closet I could get to one, would sound from me as I saw th' child. I noticed th' tears covering the neck of his shirt an' figured I ought to be slow when talkin' to him, didn't want to alarm him after all..

...I don't ever want to remember what I saw that night.

...

"There ya are, Bucko.. what are ya doin' down here? Don't ya know this area is off limits to customers.."

...

"I can escort ya back up to th' dining hall if ye would like.. I'm sure yer parents must be worried sick!"

...

Without a second thought I would put my hand on his chin, softly redirecting his face towards me. His faced was covered with blood, a stained petrified look hallowing his once alive demeanor.. his eyes. God his eyes. They had been cut from th' sockets.

In a panic, I pushed myself back from his body, which caused it to fall over again th' cold metal floor. His back had been torn open, with a large cut running against his spine, a pool of blood quickly forming below him. I don't believe I ever felt an emotion like this up to this point, I felt defenseless, scared.. defeated. Without a moment to even process what had happened, a deep slow voice would ring through th' deafening silence. I couldn't make out th' words, I wasn't in any state too. With an act of pure instinct I would turn, swinging my hook towards th' noise. An ax blade swinging into, and ripping off the suit material right off of my endoskeleton. I dropped to th' floor, an' with a single shocking pain to my Endo, I would go dark.

...

Ever since that moment on, I would learn more 'bout th' man, and who it was that murdered that child that night. I would learn about all th' poor souls he dragged into his game.

Though we don't know his name, we know that he worked for this company, an' that he's still out there somewhere.. an' th' worst part is? I had to bare th' soul of that poor child in me for years, acting as a vessel for them to exact their revenge. Th' fact that this happened at all.. I wanted to do nothin' but protect them, an' all th' others affected by this monster..

But I did say that before, those who know these kind of tales can use them for guidance, an' for lessons for later on.

Good always comes to those who wait, an' I've certain I've waited long enough. Tonight, I got my chance to find him, an' I'm not gonna waste it.

[caffeinejournalist23]

Film Review: The Grand Budapest Hotel - aka When Movies Outside of the MCU Could Look Expensive

I was just starting high school when I first saw this movie – keeping in the theme of luxury and cinematic beauty, I had just seen Leonardo DiCaprio and Toby Maguire in The Great Gatsby around this same time too. I’m led to think that 2014 was the last year we had extravagant wealth exercised in all aspects of film making - between the richness of contrast in the photography, the golden wit of comedy within the dialogue, and the star-studded casting, The Grand Budapest Hotel is among one of the few films within the past decade not released from Marvel studios to give the audience an experience of cinematic luxury.

            I happen to be taking a digital photography class this semester and in watching this film I could not help but apply some of my newfound knowledge in photo/cinematography; as an amateur photographer, something I’m learning to utilize in bettering my photos is to alter the contrast. The SparkNotes version of “contrast” means the degree of distinction between light and shadows and the tones that that contrast creates; the richer the contrast is within a photo/film shot the more the shadows are exemplified, which gives the shot more depth and realism. When contrast is used poorly the shot looks dark and blurry, but when contrast is altered properly the film can be beautiful, dramatic, and compels the viewer’s attention. This movie beautifully and strategically uses rich contrast within scenes - especially in the montage of Gustav and his prison mates escaping the confines of the prison; the prisoners fight to escape in the dead of night and the mercenary murdering on behalf of Dmitri (Madame D’s son) has his threatening shadow looming over the main protagonists throughout the film until his final showdown with Zero and Gustav in the blinding-white mountains – a drastic shift in lighting/contrast I find intentional. Something I noticed is that the contrast deepens as the movie progresses into darker themes; the beginning of the film is almost washed-out in its brightness – which correlates with the flamboyance of Gustav’s personality and Zero’s naïve first impressions of the hotel, but then as the story progresses with Madame D’s death, her greedy son hunting down Gustav and the “Boy With Apple” painting, and the xenophobia of law enforcement threatening Zero’s livelihood, the film gets richer and darker in contrast – to the point that the final scene shared between Zero and Gustav is filmed strictly in black and white. 

            The dialogue/script for this film is ridiculously clever; the jokes were funny and the diction/language was easy to follow despite the unfamiliar world/environment and “old timey” culture. When I first heard Gustav’s “proper” aristocratic accent, I was worried that I would need to go back through the filing cabinet of Victorian English literature as far back in my mind as 2019 in order to keep up with the story – but then Zero took over the narration and humorously replied to Gustav in perfectly modern English - specifically when Gustav laments about Madame D after she parts from the hotel; he lists his many admirations for her in frilly upper-class European style and Zero agrees with Gustav by simply saying “yes sir,” “no sir,” and/or “truly”). I like that the script makes this film a contribution to both the comedy and drama genre; the plot is suspenseful, and the comedic dialogue/circumstances do not diminish the intensity of the conflict between the protagonists and their antagonists. An example of this is when Gustav and Zero take the Boy With Apple painting Madame D left to Gustav in her will and replace it with an obscene painting of two naked women masturbating (in the “general trivia” for the film provided by Prime Video it is confirmed that the artist of this painting called it “Two Lesbians Masturbating”); the obscene new painting and the ridiculous obsession/fancy for the Boy With Apple Painting are humorous, but these comedic elements do not sacrifice the seriousness of the situation – ridiculous or not, Gustav is being hunted by Madame D’s family and lives are being lost in the pursuit for this priceless painting.

I would say that this film could contribute to an emerging subgenre I’d like to call “Cultural Comedy” because the film creates a culture that is unfamiliar to us as an audience but then uses elements such as language and plot in a way that is incredibly familiar to us as modern-day Americans; this subgenre would include The Grand Budapest Hotel,The Dictator, and Coming to America – just to name a few off the top of my head that I think would fit into this category. These “cultural comedies” also emphasize a theme of wealth; often times the plot revolves around either clearing the main character’s name in the eyes of the law to obtain a wealthy inheritance or reclaiming wealth/status that is jeopardized by the antagonist/the protagonist’s character flaws. 

All in all, I love this movie and would highly recommend it to anyone. Fun fact: this film, in addition to The Great Gatsby, inspired me to heavily consider studying cinematography and a career in filmmaking. If you like anything Victorian (i.e. “Downton Abbey,” “Victoria,” and “The Crown”) and love witty comedies such as The Dictator or Swiss Army Man, I would highly recommend watching this film; it’s classier than a Seth Rogan film but funnier than The Favorite. Maybe don’t show this to your Kate Middleton-obsessed grandmother, but certainly recommend this to your cool British Literature professor.

[idolskpop]

‘Moving’ Season 2: Will the Hit Disney+ K-Drama Return for More?

‘Moving’ Season 2 is the question on every fan’s mind after the thrilling finale of the hit Disney+ K-drama. Based on the popular webtoon by Kang Full, ‘Moving’ follows the lives of three high school students who inherit superpowers from their parents and get involved in a dangerous conspiracy. The 20-episode series, which aired its last three episodes on September 20, 2023, boasts a star-studded cast, including Han Hyo Joo, Jo In Sung, and Ryu Seung Ryong, as well as impressive visuals and CGI effects. It also became the most expensive K-drama in history, with a budget of over $100 million. But will there be a ‘Moving’ Season 2? And what can we expect from the next chapter of this action-packed story? Here’s everything we know so far.

Is ‘Moving’ Season 2 Confirmed?

'Moving' Cast: Go Yoon Jung, Ryu Seung Ryong, and More Reign the Popularity List For Drama Actors As of this writing, there is no official confirmation from Disney+ or Kang Full about the renewal of ‘Moving’ for a second season. However, there are some hints and clues that suggest that the beloved webtoon-based K-drama might come back for more. First of all, Kang Full has other works related to ‘Moving’, such as ‘Timing’ and ‘Bridge’, which feature some of the same characters and expand the universe of superpowered people. In fact, in one of the episodes of ‘Moving’, a character from ‘Timing’ made a cameo appearance. He is Kim Young Tak, a student of Choi Il Hwan who has the ability to stop time. Rumors have it that he might join ‘Moving’ Season 2, and that he might be played by actor Yoo Seung Ho. Secondly, the finale of ‘Moving’ left some loose ends and unanswered questions that could set up the plot for a potential sequel. For example, who is Elias, the mysterious man who looks exactly like Frank, the American agent who was killed by Ju Won? Is he Frank’s twin brother, or a clone? And what is his mission in Korea? Moreover, what will happen to the National Intelligence Service (NIS) after the death of its director, Mr. Min? It seems that agent Ma Sang Gu, played by Park Byung Eun, has taken over his position. But can he be trusted? And what about Shin Hye Won, the high-ranking official who turned out to be an old acquaintance of Jang Hee Soo? She seems to have a special power that prevents her from aging. What is her role in the NIS and its plans for the gifted ones? And finally, what will become of our main trio: Kim Doo Shik, Lee Mi Hyun, and Kim Bong Seok? They managed to survive the final battle at Jeongwon High School and reunite with their friends and families. But they are still in danger from those who want to exploit their powers or eliminate them. Will they be able to live normal lives, or will they have to fight again?

When Will ‘Moving’ Season 2 Be Released?

(Photo : Ryu Seung Ryong Instagram) If ‘Moving’ Season 2 gets a green light from Disney+ and Kang Full, it might take some time before it hits our screens. The first season of ‘Moving’ began filming in late August of 2021 and finished in early September of 2023. That means it took almost two years to complete the production of 20 episodes. Considering the amount of work and resources involved in creating such a high-quality show, we can expect a similar timeline for ‘Moving’ Season 2. That means we might not see it until late 2025 or early 2026. Of course, this is just an estimate based on the previous schedule. There might be some delays or changes due to various factors, such as the availability of the cast and crew, the COVID-19 pandemic situation, or other unforeseen circumstances.

What Can We Expect From ‘Moving’ Season 2?

(Photo : Disney Plus Korea) If ‘Moving’ Season 2 becomes a reality, we can expect it to continue the story of Kang Full’s webtoon and explore more aspects of his rich and complex world. We might see more characters from his other works, such as ‘Timing’ and ‘Bridge’, as well as new ones with different powers and backgrounds. We might also learn more about the origin and nature of these powers, and how they are related to politics and science. How did these people get their abilities in the first place? Was it an accident or an experiment? And who is behind it? We might also witness more action scenes and battles between the gifted ones and their enemies, such as the NIS, the CIS (Central Intelligence Service), or other organizations that want to use them or get rid of them. How will they protect themselves and their loved ones from these threats? And last but not least, we might see more development and romance between the main characters, especially Doo Shik and Mi Hyun, who finally confessed their feelings for each other in the finale. Will they be able to stay together, or will they face more obstacles and challenges?

What Do Fans Think About ‘Moving’ Season 2?

(Photo : Disney+, Yoo Seung Ho Instagram) Fans of ‘Moving’ are eagerly waiting for the announcement of ‘Moving’ Season 2, and they have expressed their love and support for the show on social media. Here are some of their comments: I just finished watching Moving and I’m speechless. It was such a masterpiece. The story, the acting, the effects, everything was perfect. I hope there will be a season 2 because I need more of this amazing show. #Moving Moving is hands down the best K-drama I’ve ever seen. It had everything: action, drama, comedy, romance, suspense, and more. The cast was phenomenal and the chemistry was off the charts. I’m so sad it’s over, but I’m also hopeful for a season 2. Please make it happen, Disney+ and Kang Full! #Moving Moving was a roller coaster ride of emotions. It made me laugh, cry, scream, and cheer. It was so well-written and well-directed. The characters were so relatable and lovable. I’m so proud of them for surviving and finding happiness. But I also want to see more of their adventures and struggles in season 2. Please don’t let this be the end! #Moving

Conclusion

(Photo : Disney+) ‘Moving’ Season 2 is not confirmed yet, but there are many reasons to believe that it might happen in the future. The show has a loyal fan base, a talented cast and crew, and a captivating story that can be further explored and expanded. We hope that Disney+ and Kang Full will listen to the fans’ wishes and give us another season of this amazing K-drama. Until then, we can rewatch ‘Moving’ on Disney+ and enjoy its thrilling and touching moments. What do you think about ‘Moving’ Season 2? Do you want it to happen? And what are your expectations and theories for it? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions in the comments below. Subscribe to IDOLS KPOP for exclusive updates and captivating content. Read the full article

[littlemsstories]

Gray flowers for the weep

Looking into the night sky as the stars shine like lights too far of reach, your eyes slowly let the salty droplets flow freely onto your face. The moon highlights your tear-flowing face with it’s light. The flowers outside gently move to the breeze as the grass follows. Even the fallen leaves of the trees.

Normally, the sight would cause others to go outside and enjoy the scenery. With their lovers, family, or friends; Even pets, or simply, alone. Some would come out with cameras, food, blankets, or other objects.

But sadly, it hadn’t been normal anymore, for the past 12 years.

“ Normal” was now just a joke. It has been a joke for the past 12 years. Most don’t even say the word anymore, as it cause even more sadness and anger. If there were any left to give.

But what is anger compared to bloodshed?

Blood lust?

Insanity?

Death?

What is anger compared to those?

What does anger has in common with them?

Simple.

Anger caused humanity to tear into each other like ravages.

Caused us to turn our backs to our own species.

Caused us to kill our own species.

Caused us to kidnap our own species.

Caused us to become, what now is, us.

All of this bloodshed wouldn’t of happened if they would’ve unleashed whatever shouldn’t have been let out.

A sickness.

Explores explored a cave, a cave that shouldn’t have been explored. And soon, a deadly sickness spread across the world in a matter of not months, but weeks.

And that sickness spreads to not only human, but animals too.

Unlike limited time human have when it comes to being sick with the sickness, the animals have less time then we do.

That caused all the animal species to become extinct insanely quick.

When you run out of the main meal of humans, the nutrients in the ecosystem decreases.

So now, what is you supposed to do when your food supplies is out and your environment is dying?

You cannibalize your own.

Looking at the dead corpse of your once lovely old neighbor, you wrap her body into a tighter bag, then put her into the body bag. It won’t be easy trying to bury her body so no one would try to cannibalize her or sell her body for other things. But I’ll be worth a shot to know that you respected her even after deaths to bury her.

Putting the body bag on your back and grabbing extra weapons for defense, you look outside to see if there’s any trap or insane maniacs lurking around. Grabbing your dog leash and grabbing a flashlight, you head out to bury her body.

Hopefully the bodies of the dead would help give nutrients to the environment. And hopefully no one would snoop around looking for corpses.

Once you were done burring her body, you put the now dead gray flowers in the ground next to her. Maybe now she’ll be better in heaven with those flowers. Maybe those flowers would be full of color in the clouds next to her.

Looking back up as your dog moves forward, you see the flames rise higher and higher. The air smells of smoke and burning flesh.

It seems as if it’s time to leave unless you want to be the next burning flesh or the next sick corpse.

If there is a next time.