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giant-sketches · 5 years ago

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The Library

Awesome! Another short side done for you all to enjoy. This one is completely by me without any kind of prompt attached so I hope it’s just as nice.

In this story Logan is a scholar living in a house on the outskirts of town. He’s been living there for five years now, adding books to his ever growing collection. However, such a long time of isolation has weighed him down and he’ll need a helping hand in getting back on his feet. A tiny hand that is. ;3

This story includes 3 sketches and 1 colored page.

Word Count: 4787 (a long one!)

Disclaimer: isolation, alluring to depression, anxiety, mention of vomiting, kind of steamy

“Thank you again Mr. Logan for helping us find the last herb we needed for healing our father.”

“You’re welcome. Now for my payment please.”

“Yes of course, here you are. This is a story our late grandmother read to us as children. We’ve memorized the tale so we have no need to keep the book around.”

“It's only been collecting dust on the bookshelf. It could use a new home.”

Graciously, Logan took the book and inspected its title; The Prince of Syds. The book was of the fairy-tale variety and told of a Prince that went on many harrowing adventures. The book was of a decent thickness and looked to be an interesting read for the scholar tonight. Casually, Logan hopped back on to his horse and trotted off back to his secluded homestead.

Logan was a recluse that lived a decent distance away from the neighboring towns. There in his comfy abode he collected a variety of literature and stored them all in his personal library. The library consisted of a multitude of genres from mystery, adventure, romance, nonfiction, maps, journals, and more. Logan was never picky when it came to a new read and he was titillated with his current find.

Like a child at Christmas, Logan pulled up a chair to his desk and gingerly turned the cover. Inside the book read a tale of The Prince of Syds that was on a quest to save the princess from the villainous Dragon Witch. While the initial premise may appear cliche, the story had many unexpected twists and turns. One of them being that the actual Dragon Witch was his twin brother that had been kidnapped as a baby and was being controlled by a sorcerer called D.

“Interesting, I had found it curious why this Dragon Witch had not just attacked the kingdom as a whole and only settled for a mere princess we hadn’t previously been introduced to. To think it was the Prince’s brother who was still fighting against the mind control placed on him.”

Logan rubbed his eyes as a tiny yawn escaped his mouth, “I should call it a night and return to my chambers.”

Another yawn, this time more pronounced, caused Logan’s mind to lock onto the idea of sleep. In his haste he simply placed the book onto his ‘to read later’ podium, left wide open. As Logan slumbered the book started imitating a mysterious glow as the pages flipped furiously to the start of the story. Once the book stopped on the page showcasing the Prince character a small hand covered in light stretched out and pulled its remaining parts out of the book. Now free from its bindings a tiny man now stood upon the page in confusion.

“Wha-what is this? Where am I? Just a moment ago I was conversing with my long-lost twin brother and now I’ve suddenly been summoned to this unfamiliar realm filled with giant objects.”

Frantically, the tiny man looked about the darkened room. He searched desperately to find something recognizable, but his eyes failed him. Distort, he huffed loudly,

“I can’t see anything in this darkened place, but I can at least see where I stand. I’m high up, too high to get down from so I shall remain here.”

Frustrated at his own uselessness the tiny man laid himself down on the pages folded beneath him and fell asleep until beams of warm sunlight awoke him. He gave a small yawn as he stretched unaware of the figure looming behind him.

“How peculiar.”

Shocked, the tiny man spun around to face the booming voice that ringed through his ears. Instinctively he yelped and jumped to his feet in order to take a defensive stance, but as he motioned downwards towards his hip a grim realization hit him. He was unarmed as a giant towered over him with peering eyes. Despite his fear he called out to the massive figure,

“Stay back giant fiend! I may be unarmed, but I’ve faced worse in more dire straits!”

Logan raised an eyebrow in response as he leaned in closer allowing his face to catch the light of the sun.

“I can assure you I am no fiend nor am I a giant. You are simply small and…” Logan paused to contemplate. “Actually, what exactly are you?”

“First off I am not a what, but a who. For who I am, I am Prince Roman of Syds!”

Prince of Syds? Is this the character from the book he was reading last night? Quickly, Logan glanced behind Roman to see that the pages had gone blank.

“The pages, what happened to them?”

In one swift movement Logan slammed his hands onto the podium causing Roman to lose his balance and fall on top of the giant hand. Dazed, Roman groaned at the sudden movement as he tried to lift himself back up. He stopped when he realized what he was holding on to and blushed.

“Why are they blank?” Logan was panicked.

Roman snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to the upset giant. He appeared concerned over the book that once housed his being. Even he had no idea what had happened honestly.

“I’m sorry, but even I have no idea what’s going on. All I know is I can’t return though I must be here for a reason.” Roman looked at the giant with pleading eyes, hoping this would calm them.

Logan huffed and raised his hands away in retreat. If this was the case there truly was nothing to be done.

“No need to give such a look, I believe you. Still, since you will be held up here for a time I might as well be a gracious host and make the best of this perplexing situation.”

Logan stepped back and took a deep bow towards the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Your Majesty. My name is Logan the Scholar and this is my home and personal library.”

A library, so that’s where he was. Roman looked around at the now lit room in awe, he had never seen so many different kinds of books. His eyes sparkled with delight as he himself enjoyed a good tale from time-to-time. Excited, Roman turned to ask if they could read one together, Logan however, had already made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to make a record of what’s going on for future reference and historical relevance. I have never heard of a book character coming to life before. You’re an astounding find.”

With that Logan turned the corner towards his room to retrieve his journal. All Roman really pulled from that statement was that his new giant friend found him astonishing. Boredom quickly overcame him as he laid down on his books empty pages and stared at the ceiling. He so wished he could roam about the room and read right now, but alas he was limited by his tiny stature. However, an ominous figure was stealthy creeping its way towards him.

“This truly is an amazing event to watch transpire in person. I must make haste to record what I can of our interactions. There are too many unknowns that could affect how long he will remain here.”

Uncharacteristically Logan gaily retrieved his journal from his nightstand drawer and made his way back down the hall to the library in a hurry. Right before reaching the door an all familiar sound came from behind, ‘meow’. Logan went pale and slammed the door open with a fright,

“ROMAN?!”

Yet, Logan’s fears were unwarranted as his eyes locked on to the adorable scene of the tiny prince cuddling with his uninvited and fluffy guest.

“Oh Logan, you’re back! Look at this adorable beast that has submitted to my charms so willingly. She will make a grand stead for my time being here.”

Oh thank heavens; Logan sighed in relief. For a moment there he feared for the worst.

“Pray tell, what name have you bestowed upon this fair feline?”

“Name? It doesn’t have one. It’s simply a stray that wonders in from time-to-time and I share leftover scraps with.”

“Just a stray, you say. No this cat is indeed yours Logan and as her owner you must grant her a suitable name at once!”

Logan was taken aback by such an absurd command and scoffed at the notion of even following through with it, until another soft meow rang out. Logan twitched slightly as he felt the cats warm fur press up against his pant leg affectionately. Roman looked on with pure delight on his face.

“Yep, she is indeed yours. Now a name if you would Sir Logan.”

Logan’s face scrunched up in embarrassment. To think he had been persuaded so easily by a pretty face and a fluffy tail.

“Cat should suffice.” he groaned.

“CAT?! Are you mad?”

Startled by how loud the tiny man’s voice could carry he jumped back in surprise.

“You’re an intelligent man, surely you can come up with a better name then that!”

“Fine! How about….Jam?”

Logan’s face flushed instantly at such a silly name, yet the cat’s appearance reminded him of marmalade.

“Jam? I like it, quite a cute name coming from someone so stern.” he chuckled.

Right now Logan’s face resembled that of a strawberry as he coughed to move the conversation along.

“Can you tell me the last thing you remember before you were summoned here?” Logan asked as he picked Jam off the floor and carried her back over to his podium.

“I was talking with my long-lost twin brother about a plan to take down the evil sorcerer D and free him from the curse. Next thing I knew this bright light swallowed me whole and I awoke to a darkened room with only strange, and large shapes surrounding me.”

That sounds terrifying and yet this hero found his surroundings safe enough to slumber in?

“Interesting, that correlates perfectly with where I left off with the book.”

“Really? What does that mean then? Will I ever be able to return and finish my story? Wha-what if I’m stuck here forever?”

An unusual sense of guilt washed over Logan as he looked down at the tiny prince. He couldn’t help feeling that somehow this was his fault even if there was no proof for said theory. Regardless he needed to do something to comfort Roman. Gingerly he raised his hand and patted Roman rigidly on the head in an awkward attempt to cease his woes. Roman, however, found the mechanical motion hilarious.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Roman had slumped over in laughter as he rolled playfully on the podium.

Logan found the reaction jarring as he simply rested his hand down and remained still. Obviously, Roman was now feeling much better, but at what cost to Logan’s pride. Once Roman stopped he could see how distort his giant friend looked and confidently walked over to the resting hand.

“I’m sorry for laughing, Logan. I know you were only trying to comfort me and I appreciate it. I feel much better now.” he said as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s pinky and planted a charming kiss on the knuckle.”

At that moment it was like a dam broke as Logan was overcome with emotions he had locked away. The sensation was so jarring it nearly knocked him out cold. If he hadn’t already been sitting he most certainly would have fallen to his knees. Any longer and he would have melted into a puddle, luckily Roman snapped him back to reality,

“By the way do you live here by yourself? I have yet to hear anyone else walking around or any other noises for that matter.”

It took a moment for Logan to compose himself, but he answered with a cooled down expression.

“You are correct in your assumption. I do indeed live here by myself and I have for many years now. Thus, you have no need to worry about anyone else discovering you are here. I can guarantee your safety Roman.”

Logan smiled the best he could, but it faded quickly as he saw small tears peering out from the corner of Roman’s eyes. Did he say something wrong? What could have been his miscalculation?

“Logan tha-that’s so sad!”

“Sa-sad?”

What was this tiny prince saying? If anything he was the happiest he had been in a long time right now.

“Yes sad, this place is huge and yet there’s NO ONE here? What about friends or family?”

That’s what he meant. Logan put on a cold demeanor as he remembered why he was here.

“No, I have no one like that and that’s just the wa-”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Logan’s fake face shattered in an instant by way of Roman’s concerned words. It would seem he couldn’t feign callousness with this one. He was now an open book.

“Fine, I won’t try that again. Still I’m not good at expressing myself and it’s true that I don’t have any friends or family. Not anymore at least.”

“Anymore? So you did have them once.”

“Yes.”

Roman wiped his tears away and choked down the lump that had formed in his throat. Logan was just like the princess he was sent to save in his story. All alone in the world with no one else there to help her. No, Logan wasn’t fictional, he was real and so was Roman right now! He had a wonderful idea,

“Then let’s go out and make some new ones!”

“Excuse me?”

“If you don’t have any friends then you just need to get out there and make some!”

“I-I don’t know…”

“It will be fine darling. Besides I also want to take a look at your realm before I leave.”

That’s right he was going to leave eventually. A slight pain coursed through Logan's heart. If they didn’t have much time together then maybe going out together was the best idea.

“Alright, but you have to stay close to me and not be seen by anyone.”

“Understood!”

With that Roman bounced with anticipation as he watched Logan’s hand lower down to him. Without hesitation, the tiny prince climbed aboard mesmerized by the site of him resting in a massive palm. His life was now completely in Logan’s hand, but he felt no fear. Carefully, Roman was slipped into Logan’s breast pocket. It was so warm as Roman pressed his back up against Logan’s chest to look up at the opening a few centimeters above him. Logan’s heartbeat pounded vigorously causing his entire body to pulse. The sensation was like nothing he had felt before as it overwhelmed him and he quickly fell forward against the other side of the pocket’s fabric walls.

“Are you doing alright in there?” Logan could feel the abnormal moment and grew worried.

“Yes, I-I’m alright. Just got a little warm is all.”

“I see, if that’s the case then here.”

Logan poked his pointer finger into the opening of the pocket. Roman could tell what Logan was going for as he clung onto the huge amount of flesh and was lifted up. Once his head had reached the lip of the pocket Roman latched himself on. Now he could breathe in the fresh air of the outside world.

“Is this this a town?”

“Yes, it’s the one that’s easiest to walk to and a good place to find magical items and good like spices and tea.”

“Oh so you all have magic in this realm as well?”

Logan paused for a moment before answering.

“Yes we do. Now try your best not to get over excited and pop out of my pocket okay?”

Tenderly this time Logan placed his finger on top of Roman’s head and ruffled his hair. The motion pleased Roman greatly as he blushed deeply. He felt extremely cared for in this moment. Usually he was the one doing the swooning so this was a nice change of pace.

“I’ll never leave your sid-”

Before Roman could finish his confession two loud voices called out from behind the pair,

“LOGAN?!”

Logan froze, he knew exactly who was there. He squeezed his eyes in fear and began to shake nervously. Roman had no idea what was going on, but he fell back into the lower part of the pocket and stretched out his arms in a comforting hug. Logan twitched a bit at the sudden feeling of the prince’s tiny frame pressed up against his. Yet, he found his touch pleasing as he placed his hand over his breast pocket in response. He could feel Roman being squished in between his hand and chest. Roman let out a light giggle at the return hug.

Thanks to Roman’s efforts Logan had calmed down and turned around to speak to the two mysterious figures waiting patiently.

“Patton, Virgil...it’s been awhile. How are you both?”

“Oh my gosh Logan, it really is you!”

“Where have you been? After...well you know, you just disappeared. Some people were even saying you might have died.”

“Yeah, we were so worried!”

“I can’t imagine why? As you can see I am doing quite alright for myself regardless of these so-called rumors.”

“You can’t imagine why...Lo aren’t we your friends?” Patton whispered through teary eyes.

“Geez Logan, we’ve finally been reunited after five years and this is how you act.” Virgil growled.

Logan was visibly agitated. Unclear of what had happened with these three Roman hesitated to step in, but shook his head at the notion of letting this opportunity slip away. Roman tugged at Logan’s shirt to garner his attention. Logan noticed and sharply glanced downwards, but his expression softened as he saw his tiny friend pinching his cheeks upwards in a smile. It didn’t take a genius to see what Roman was getting at.

“You’re right Virgil.”

“I’m sorry did you, mister know it all, say that I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I had wondered how you may have changed after all this time. Glad to see you learned some humility during that time.”

“I suppose I have changed, though I can’t say it’s not a recent development. Regardless I’ve had plenty of time...alone to think about my past attitude. I apologize for upsetting you Patton.”

“An apology as well? Now I’m not even sure I’m talking to the same gen-”

“That’s enough Virgil, he apologized after all. I know you’re upset, but…” Patton looked to Logan with a solemn look.

“Lo? Have you been alone this whole time?”

Logan swallowed loudly.

“...I have a cat.” he mumbled.

Patton’s face lit up at the idea of grumpy Logan playing with his cuddly pal, but a cat wasn’t a person. Virgil gave Patton a look of concern and grabbed his hand. Patton smiled and gave a nod.

“Would you like to hang out with us and catch up?”

“Oh I…”

Logan glanced down at his pocket where he took note of Roman’s shallow breathing and reddened face. It wasn’t a good idea to keep him trapped inside his breast pocket for much longer.

“How about I invite you two over to my residence instead? That way you’ll know where I live.”

“That sounds lovely Lo, we’d be honored to come over to your home. Wouldn’t we Virgil.”

“Yeah, it will be nice to catch up and tell you what’s been going on.”

With that the newly formed group took off to the outskirts of town. Once inside Logan’s abode the two were amazed at his collection, but even more astonished he hadn’t lied about the cat. Patton was instantly smitten with the fuzzy creature. After Logan finished up the tour Roman was placed inside his room on top the pillow. There he lied down with his body completely spread and finally relaxed. It had been a long day for the prince and he was understandably exhausted.

“How about you get some rest while I go entertain our guests?”

Roman yawned, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Logan carefully covered Roman with his handkerchief and caressed his face as he whispered, “Sweet dreams.” and tip-toed out of the room.

It wouldn’t be until a couple hours later Roman would wake up as he rolled over to be face-to-face with a slumbering Logan. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed the giant climb into bed, but maybe he was just that tired. Lost in thought Roman continued to stare at the snoozing behemoth. He smirked mischievously as he crawled his way up to the top of the pillow. Logan’s hand was in the way, but if he aimed right he should make it. He tested for any wind resistance and blinked twice to turn on his targeting systems before hurling himself downwards towards Logan’s face. Thankfully, he stuck the landing!

“I certainly have found myself in a peculiar predicament being suddenly transported to this giant land, but I believe this lovely princess right here makes it worthwhile.”

Pressing his lips to Logan’s the prince planted a barrage of kisses on to his sleeping beauty.

“Even if I am never to return, I believe I’ve already found the princess I was meant to save.”

Funny enough, Roman was now unable to make the climb back up the steep hill that was the pillow, but he didn’t mind. He simply made his way to Logan’s hand and squirmed himself between the fingers. Slowly, Roman fell back asleep and dreamed of his beloved.

An entire week flew by as Logan reconnected with his friends from his school days. Roman heard from Logan about what had happened five years ago and what led to his separation from society. It was a tragic tale of him being born without the ability to wield magic, but gifted intellectually. His noble family deemed him worthless and disowned him when he turned sixteen. Determined to prove them wrong he enrolled himself into the Magic Tower. To pass over the casting exam however, he forged his entrance papers by pretending to be a famous magician's apprentice. There at the academy he was deemed a prodigy and his brilliance flourished. Yet, despite his best efforts he was found out and promptly expelled with all his achievements and research being awarded to other promising students.

His entire existence was wiped from the Tower’s records. It was like he never existed in the first place. Having fallen into despair Logan simply thought disappearing was the only logic course of action. After all that’s what everyone wanted wasn’t it? However, that wasn’t true as his two friends had been searching for him this whole time. Once they heard about what the academy had done to Logan they were outraged and exposed the entire thing. The Tower lost its spotless reputation overnight and disbanded. Together Virgil and Patton put together a new institution that enrolled anyone interested in magic regardless of their abilities.

Logan felt like a fool for hiding this entire time without once thinking of looking into how things were developing without him. He had planned to move on, but instead he had become complacent, stewing in his own misery. His friends had helped him finally realize his error in judgement. However, it was Roman that had brought light back into his darkened life. He needed to properly thank him after Patton and Virgil left from their weekly visit.

“He’s doing so much better now. I love seeing him smile like that and he’s got this cute pep in his step too. Gosh, I didn’t think he could get even more beautiful, but he’s full of surprises isn’t he Jam?”

“Meow.”

“I hear you! I’m really happy for him, but...I’m a little jealous of his friends. I wish I could be out there with them chatting and laughing.”

“Meow”

“I know! Logan wants to keep me safe. They don’t visit for long anyway and then the rest of day I have him to myself.”

“Meow”

“Sure our relationship hasn’t changed...at all.”

“Meow”

“What confess?! I couldn’t I-I’m not even real. That’s right I’m nothing but a character from one of his many books.”

Roman looked sadly around the library where he was sitting on top of the desk and snuggling with Jam. He was one of many stories Logan owned, no one special.

“I’m not his happily ever after.”

Spontaneously, the blank book resting on top of the podium was enveloped in a light glow. Roman sprang to his feet in surprise as the light beckoned to him. He knew then that his quest had come to an end. Roman gave a whistle for Jam to carry him up to the podium.

“Thanks girl.”

Roman stroked the bridge of Jam’s nose dismally. Meekly he glanced towards the door hoping Logan may walk into the room any moment now, but no dice. The glowing had become more intense as Roman neared it. This was the end of his story, who knew it’d be a tragedy.

“Goodbye Logan.”

Not able to stall any longer Roman dived into the light and vanished as a gigantic flash spread throughout the entire house.

“What in the world was that?!”

“Ah my eyes!”

“What just happ- no,no,no,no!”

Logan’s stomach dropped at his current thought. He rose from his seat so fast he thought he would vomit as a sickening feeling crept up on him.

“Woah Logan are you okay, You don’t look so well.”

“I’m fine, I just need to go check on something real quick.”

“You are not fine! Why don’t we help you an-”

“NO! Please I-I need to do this alone right now. It’s important, please.”

“Bu-” Patton pulled Virgil back and shook his head.

“We understand Lo, go do what you have to do. We were about the leave anyway.”

“Thank you, both of you.”

With that Logan raced down the hallway and burst through the library door.

“ROMAN?!” no answer.

Logan frantically scanned the room, but all he saw was Jam standing on the podium. What the podium! There he could see Roman’s book with the pages now visible peeking out from underneath the cat. Slowly, Logan dragged his feet to take a closer look and gently shooed away to fluff ball. Sorrowfully, he turned each new page not caring to full read the paragraphs as his tears welled up. The story had changed to his own of finding the prince in his world and asking for his help in ending his isolation. Yet, as Logan reached what should be the end, what he found was another blank page. Too distraught to think about what this might mean he closed the book and clung to it. Pressing its entirety against his chest as he fell to the floor screaming out in pain.

This new found happiness meant nothing to him if he couldn’t spend it with the man he loved.

“Why, why did you have to go? I never got to tell you how I felt! What’s the use of these new emotions if I’m never given the chance to express them?”

Logan continued to weep long into the night. Never once allowing the book to leave his side as he finally tired himself out enough to sleep. Birds chirped per usual as the new morning came. Begrudgingly, Logan groaned as he went to reach for the book he had cuddled with all night only to find it missing. Panicked, he rubbed his puffed up eyes to better focus on his surroundings. Suddenly, he was caught off guard by the touch of the leather backing poking at his face. Logan whipped his head around to see who the perpetrator was that had snatched his book only to be met with an unbelievable sight.

“Ro-Roman?”

The man standing at the foot of the bed was none other than Roman, but he was now the same size as Logan.

“Ho-How is this possible?” Logan was overcome with emotion as tears began streaming down his face.

“Look.” he whispered.

Roman had turned the book to the final page, but this time it wasn’t blank. Instead what appeared on the page was a beautiful illustration of Logan and Roman holding hands and kissing in front of the house. Logan shaking in amazement, took the book from Roman’s grasp and started lovingly at it.

“Seems like I was your happily ever after, after all princess.”

Logan was happy, so happy he didn’t know what to do with all of it. In a bold move he pulled Roman on to the bed and curled himself around him sobbing. He was never going to let his prince go ever again. Roman tucked himself into Logan’s embrace and whispered into his ear,

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen @sanderssidestrash27 @nomynameisanon @crystalk17 @notkolaidoscop

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aliceslantern · 4 years ago

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Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 19--Lion’s Den

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Newly a captive, Ienzo tries to learn what Xehanort wants from him, as well as his plans.

Read in on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo woke suddenly, flailing against the blankets draped over him. His breasts ached terribly and there were wet spots on his shirt; he must’ve been under for some time. He touched one, wincing.

Xehanort’s son. Strands of nothingness around his throat. Darkness.

Where was he?

He was in a small, narrow room. It was minimally furnished--the single wrought iron bed was against one corner, by a narrow window; a small, very old oak writing desk was against the other wall; a squat, two drawer dresser was next to it. The walls were painted a faint violet, adorned with a crown moulding. A cracked door opened to a tiny bathroom with a shower. Ienzo padded across to the other door and tried it; locked, of course. He reached for his magic and found it sluggish, deadened. He darted over to the window, looked outside, and his heart nearly stopped.

Ienzo knew where he was; the castle in what was once Radiant Garden. A strange, faint mist wreathed the city, vaguely sulfuric. Massive poles in the distance held floodlights, likely to defend the remaining populace against Heartless. He opened the window and tried to reach out, but a ward blocked him.

He was a captive.

Amalia.

Panic overtook him then, and he tried the door again in vain, pounding on the thick old wood. “Let me out!” No response; he suspected a muffling charm had been placed on the door.

He hadn’t realized how dependent he was on her presence, her aura until it was gone. He had to have been drugged somehow, or enchanted, for his magic to simply be sleeping like this. But he hoped more than anything that Amalia was safe back in Demyx’s arms. He found himself mouthing a fervent prayer to whatever was listening for that to be the case. He had no idea what Xehanort or his sons would do to his newborn daughter if they had her. Kill her? Mold her into a shiny tool to use? He had no idea which was worse.

The door opened, and he struggled to conceal the wetness on his shirt with his blanket. He saw a small old woman with a tray of food, water, tea, and of all things, a lily in a thin crystal vase. “Good, you’re finally awake,” she said. She had a kind smile. “You must be starved, poor thing.”

Ienzo was reeling, wondering how to react, what angle to play. Motionless, he watched her cross the room and set the tray down on the writing desk. He could physically overtake her, he knew, and bound out the open door--unless that was warded too. But how far would he reasonably get before he ran into a guard, or worse? He couldn’t defend himself from prowling Heartless without magic.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “I treated those scratches on your throat, the bruises. Just awful, in my opinion.”

“Who are…” he trailed off.

Another smile. She brushed off her skirt; she was wearing what had once been servants’ livery under Ansem’s reign, crisp, comfortable, and functional. “My name is Lydia,” she said. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me, your highness. I was once the castle librarian. You were always there, weren’t you?”

Ienzo blinked slowly; a veil of time and panic made it hard to remember. Lydia had looked much younger then, her hair brown instead of gray. She’d always been happy to give him the books that Even said were too mature for him. “I apologize, I--”

She smiled again. “I know, I haven’t aged well.” A wry laugh.

He swallowed. “Am I a… prisoner?” he asked cautiously.

“The word being used is “guest.”” She bit her lip. “I think that’s for you to determine, your highness.” She pulled the domed lid from the plate, revealing a breakfast--eggs, toast, hash browns. Ienzo struggled not to react; ever since he’d been breastfeeding, his appetite had been nearly insatiable. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Go on, eat.”

She left, and shut the door behind her; Ienzo heard the click of the tumblers as it locked. He approached the food warily, sniffed it. His magic could tell him if it was poisoned, or drugged--except it was dead.

The practical thing to do would be to wait out this sensation until he could sense if anything was in the food.

But the smell made him weak . He’d need food to be able to think clearly, to plan. He sipped the water timidly; it tasted normal, so did the tea. The flavor of the egg nearly brought tears to his eyes. Xehanort must’ve kept the castle’s chefs; it all was the same as he remembered.

Focus, Ienzo.

He was nearly finished when Lydia returned with a small cloth bundle. “Better?” she asked.

“...Quite.”

“Remy heard you were here and made it specially. He so rarely gets to cook the way he wants to anymore. Xeha--er. His Lordship prefers things sour, bitter.”

Specially. What did that mean? “Give him my regards,” Ienzo said in a neutral voice.

“...Of course.” She reached past him to take the tray. “I’m told someone will collect you in half an hour, if you’d like to shower and dress.”

Ienzo hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to appear like he was playing into Xehanort’s hands--but maybe he should? To find out what he could? Play innocent, naive, claim Even had been coddling him all this time.

Either way, he could not go wherever he was going covered in breastmilk. If they didn’t know about his daughter, he couldn’t risk letting them find out. Perhaps the rush of magic from her birth had been confused for a spell of his own creation. And if that were the case... why wait four weeks? To lull them into a false sense of security, he realized equally.

He showered--the water smelled vaguely like iron--and winced, his nipples twinging again as he touched them. Without magic, he couldn’t exactly strain it off into the sink or toilet, despite the relief it would give him. The soap smelled harsh, but at least it washed off the scent of the milk. He washed his stained shirt thoroughly and left it to dry on the towel rack.

The clothing he’d been left was simple, but rather formal--slacks, a neatly pressed button-up, a white sweater vest, a purple ascot. He combed his messy hair with his fingers.

And then Ienzo waited.

It didn’t take long before someone came for him. There was a gentle knock at the door, then the lock clicked open. Ienzo tried to keep his expression open, neutral, but it was difficult when he saw their face.

Xemnas. The man had the gall to smile. “Old friend,” he said, in a voice that had only deepened with age. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

Definitely medicated, Ienzo decided. “Quite. You’ll have to give your father my thanks.”

“You may do so yourself. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Ienzo smiled pleasantly. He followed Xemnas out of the open door. The man was dressed similarly smartly, in a well-tailored black suit with a red tie. He realized he was being kept in the old servants’ quarters, from before Ansem had given them the apartments; his suspicions were correct and a pair of armored guards were at both ends of the hall.

“Please do not take offense to this,” Xemnas began. “But when my brother brought you in… we were rather surprised. We were expecting…”

“A princess?” He made himself smile again. “I’m afraid that phase of my life was left behind long ago.”

“I’m sure it protected you quite well.”

“Quite.”

Xemnas paused. “No harm will come to you here,” he said. “Be sure of that.”

“That so?”

“My father seeks to earn your trust. I hope it will work in the other direction too.”

“All this talk… I have never actually had the pleasure of meeting your father.” He found himself infinitely glad of the etiquette lessons Even had given him when he was younger. Best be diplomatic for now, until he had more information.

“I’m afraid outside opinion may have tarnished your view of him.”

Ienzo had to bite his tongue. “...Perhaps.” They continued walking in silence for a while. Xemnas’s pace was sedate, even relaxed. The faint smell of sulfur was everywhere; Heartless dazedly wandered the halls, but did not come near them. “Our guards,” he explained calmly. “After all, they do not need breaks, nor they need to eat.”

“Practical,” Ienzo said, trying to swallow the horror.

The castle, to his surprise, was much the same, down to the decorations; the only thing that had been changed was all the crests, away from the violet he’d known under his father, replaced with a deep red with a large X. “The symbol “chi,”” Xemnas told him, “Though some pronounce it “key.””

“...I see.”

He saw a few human servants here and there; they paused to bow to Xemnas as he passed. All the while, Ienzo swallowed the bittersweet nostalgia that threatened to overtake him. Memories stabbed him behind the eyes--here, Braig teaching him to ride the stair bannister; hiding here from Even as he chased him for his lessons; riding Aeleus’s shoulders along this hallway on their way to the gardens. “...Is it good to be home?” Xemnas asked, cutting his gold eyes to Ienzo.

“It certainly is nostalgic.”

“It could be your home once more. Had I… my way, you’d have never been forced to leave.”

He struggled to come up with a response, anger scalding his veins. Had Xemnas kept him here, doubtless they would've used and abused his power. “It seems there was poor communication all around,” he said vaguely.

“Indeed.”

They reached the throne room at last. Ansem had hardly ever used it in his reign other than for public events; he was much more comfortable meeting dignitaries or the public in his labs, his studies. It makes us more approachable, less mythic, he’d told Ienzo. The last thing you want to do is foster a divide between yourself and your people. We are royal, but we are not superior.

Ienzo’s heart beat heavily in his chest. He tried to keep breathing steadily, aware Xemnas was watching every little twitch of his face.

A pair of guards opened the large, heavy double doors.

It was just as Ienzo remembered, yet it had been perverted, too. The high, Gothic ceilings with the stained glass, sunlight pouring through; the marble, carved and laid in the shapes of flowers, polished to a shine; the long marble columns, the mural painted on the back wall, of the gods’ first contact with what was considered Ienzo’s first ancestor. The three thrones were the same, too. The middle one, the most prominent and most ornate, was reserved for the ruler, the lesser two for their heir and their consort.

All three of these thrones were occupied, and the mural was partially covered with another large banner, but this one had a different symbol; a black and red heart with an X crossing through, its bottom flared into a strange parody of a fleur de lis.

And there they were. The youngest son who had kidnapped him; the eldest son, boredly reading a book. And Xehanort himself.

He was much older than Ienzo thought he would be, in his eighties most likely, his bald head wrinkled, the veins visible. When he stood and spread his arms in welcome, his back was slightly hunched, and his legs were spindly. He took slow, long steps towards Ienzo, and when he got closer, bowed deeply. “Might I say it is an honor to meet at last, your highness,” he began, in a low, scratchy voice that sounded like he’d gargled marbles his whole life.

“Please, call me Ienzo,” he said. He offered a polite smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Aren’t you a polite young man.” He stood back up. “Ienzo. Is that, perhaps, after the first archmage?”

“The very same.”

“Aren’t names so much more meaningful, when we can choose them?”

He nodded once. He noticed the youngest son was watching him with a wicked smirk; he was petting something. Ienzo thought at first that it may have been a black cat, but the thing lifted its head. A Heartless. A disconcertingly small Heartless. He wasn’t quite able to mask his fear. It wasn’t--not--

“Oh, did you see young Xehanort’s pet? Bring it here, would you, son?”

He obeyed. Ienzo tried to keep breathing. It had sharp, long antennae, but it seemed rather content in its master’s arms.

“My eldest made these,” Xehanort explained, giving the Heartless a stroke. “Pure shadow--and nothing else. We’re hoping to see if they develop sentience, the way our other Heartless have. You’re a man of science, aren’t you, Ienzo?”

“...Quite.”

“Darkness is not quite so evil as you’ve been taught your whole life. Rather… it is one side of a coin. That balance is crucial to all life; one can never hope to crush out all darkness.”

“Do you seek to crush the light, then?” he asked, without meaning to.

Xehanort chuckled. “Of course not,” he said. “Of course not.”

It was the repetition that put Ienzo ill-at-ease. Instead, he just nodded.

“Darkness gives power, stability, clarity . It’s never been fair that your kind has been able to utilize magic, whereas the common folk… cannot. Think of how many fewer people would die of sicknesses, injuries, starvation, dehydration, if they just had the means to… borrow power from the earth.”

“Can the darkness do that?”

“Quite, my dear prince. I’d be happy to show you. But alas, we are only new friends.” He smiled. “I want to make this world better . Your father… well meaning as he was, simply could not stop what has been brewing for years. People should be equal .”

“And magic is an equalizer?”

“ Power is an equalizer.” He paused, as thought to let that sink in.

“...I see.” Scarily, Xehanort had a point. But some bodies simply couldn’t handle magic--the entropy and energy alone could kill, or in Isa’s case, degrade. Was that worth it? Was there not another way?

“I hope you’ll come to understand what we’re doing here,” Xehanort said.

“Perhaps I will.”

---

For most of the rest of the first week, Ienzo was kept in that small room. He was allowed out once a day for a half-hour walk with Xemnas. Other than Lydia bringing Ienzo his meals three times a day… Ienzo was alone. He realized that even in their most desperate circumstances, with Even he’d never been alone . There was always someone to talk to, scheme with, fight with.

Ienzo kept trying to use his magic. For three days he flushed his meals down the toilet, hoping maybe it was some kind of drug that would wash out of his system, but nothing came of it and he was only making his own head cloudy.

His breasts still ached tremendously. He tried to squeeze the milk out, with his hands, but all he did was give himself bruises, his already too-pale flesh marking easily. The omni-present ache made him think of his daughter, the way she felt in his arms, the way she smelled. The way it felt when the three of them cuddled together, so perfect, like nothing was missing. Ienzo’s heart felt like it was on fire.

Demyx. Amalia. Their names echoed constantly in his head, and more than once he woke with tears in his eyes. Please let them be safe. Please. Please.

Ienzo could not fall apart. He couldn’t afford to. He had to keep his head on straight, to perform, to try to earn Xehanort and his sons’ trust so he could--

Could… what?

Ienzo sat up slowly. He hadn’t been sleeping well, hurting too much inside and out to get much rest. What did he plan on doing, exactly?

It came to him in a flash--the computer. If he could gain enough favor to get down to that lab, he could contact Tron, who could contact Cid, who could let the others know that he was alive and safe (relatively speaking), and that, more than anything, he had an in--even if it made him seem like a traitor.

Maybe it was time for the prince to come out of hiding.

---

He’d just fallen into an uncertain sleep, and dreamed about his daughter. Hefting her up in the air. Kissing the little pads of her feet. The joy, the love on Demyx’s face as he cared for her. When he woke his breasts were hurting more than ever, and again, milk had seeped through the thin pajamas he’d been given.

He heard the click of the lock at the door, and before he could adequately cover himself, Lydia came in with his next meal. “Oh,” she said softly, and for the first time she shut the door behind her. “You… poor dear. You’re nursing, aren’t you?”

Ienzo knew better than to lie. He could smell the milk, slightly sweet. He just pulled the blanket to his chest. One lie he could tell was that the baby had died, but as he tried to force the words past his lips, the tears ran over. “Don’t tell him.” Humiliation broke over Ienzo in a wave, along with more panic. “Please, don’t tell him.”

Lydia picked up the napkin from the breakfast tray and handed it to him. She locked eyes with him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her dark eyes sharp and serious, and while there was complete honesty in her tone--and faint memories of her helping him in the library--Ienzo could not trust her.

He could barely eat that morning, in too much of an anxious haze. Xehanort could not know he’d had a child. He was not going to let Amalia and Demyx be doomed.

Didn’t you doom them simply by carrying her to term? An insidious voice asked in the back of his head. If you’d aborted her, she wouldn’t have ever been in any danger.

But what about the Forecast?

It took a lot of strength--almost all he had left--to clean himself up and wait to see if someone would retrieve him. Lydia came back several hours later with another tray, some cloth, and a book. The cloth wasn’t out of the ordinary--she brought him his laundered clothing--but the book was new. “Something to help with the leaking,” she said, and took the tray without another word.

Ienzo unfolded the bundle. It reminded him of a binder from years past, but thin cloth pads had been slipped into small pockets. She’d even left him some extra pads as well. He exhaled slowly and put it on. At least he no longer had to worry about this.

If he didn’t get back to her soon, the milk would dry up. Losing that connection before he was ready only made his eyes tear up further. He blinked it away. He had to be strong for her, to get through. Falling apart would only be self-indulgent. This taken care of, he picked up the book.

It was a simple volume of fairy stories, one he remembered well, one that had been taken from Ansem’s study. He sniffed the pages; old paper, leather, glue. The ribbon marked one of the pages towards the back of the book, and he flipped towards it.

Ienzo did not remember this story well. Perhaps Ansem had never let him read it, or he’d already moved on from fairy tales by then. The story was about Kingdom Hearts; that it was the gods’ paradise, and that one young god, unruly and rebellious, had gone against her parents’ wishes to visit man. She fell in love with a mortal, and when they married, their child could talk with the earth, could use that magic of the gods--Ienzo’s ancestor.

But there was more to the story than this, namely that Kingdom Hearts had thereafter been sealed to prevent more gods from giving mankind what they didn’t deserve. But the god that did the sealing was clumsy… and he dropped the key.

In a neat, firm pencil in the margins was “Keyblade.”

Suddenly the eradication of the seekers made a whole lot more sense.

Xehanort wasn’t looking to craft a Keyblade. He was looking to find one. To find one… he had to engineer a seeker or magic user, perhaps with the nothing, with the darkness…

Even’s replicas…

Ienzo’s breath caught. Of course. That was why he’d wanted them. If these “fake” bodies died from incompatible magic use, it wouldn’t be noticed--it wouldn’t matter. If they could not learn to wield Keyblades as Even had originally hypothesized… perhaps they could learn to seek those who could.

He had to get this message to them somehow.

A knock at the door. Hurriedly, Ienzo shoved it under the mattress before the lock clicked open. “Ienzo,” Xemnas said pleasantly. “My father was wondering if you might like to join us for tea.”

He swallowed. “Sounds wonderful.”

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #child oc - amalia #xemnas #master xehanort #young xehanort #ansem seeker of darkness

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msbeccieboo · 5 years ago

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Arrow 8x03 Brain Dump

ASDADGHSADFSAF!! Back on form this week, with more returning guests, massive sibling feels and concentration on characters that we love, AND THE COLLISION OF FUTURE AND PRESENT TIMELINES IN THAT EPIC ENDINGGGG!!!!!!!!! YAAAASSSS!!! I’m still spiralling now!!!

Oliver and Thea

Welcome back Thea Queen!! Oliver had missed his Speedy 😍

So following on from last week, Oliver travelled to Nanda Parbat (which looked suspiciously like Lian Yu...the S8 Budget was clearly too used up on guest stars to recreate the outdoor Nanda Parbat scenery we saw in S3 😂), where he hoped to find some answers about The Monitor. I’m not actually sure if he intended on visiting Thea, or if her appearance was just a happy coincidence! But either way he was able to tell her about Mia and show her the picture of his new little family GAJKFSDGHFHDSGFS!!!

Source: oliverxfelicity

More below the cut...

In a shock move for Oliver Queen, he is open and honest with Thea straight away about his prophesied and imminent death. Thea wasn’t buying it, and Oliver even made a little sarcastic comment to “take as much time as you like to be upset” 😂😂 I’ve seen a few people say that they wanted to see more emotion from Thea here, and in later scenes. My take is that Thea/Willa’s nonchalant air is just classic Thea Queen Swagger™, but did feel like Willa maybe wasn’t really all that present in all of the scenes (mainly the LoA stuff though really). I however loved her total chill at the prospect of Oliver dying...not dissimilar to us...we know what's what! Our boy will be okay in the end!

Oliver seeks out Talia Al Ghul to use the Leagues archives (?) to find out more about The Monitor, because she owes him one. I love the idea of Oliver collecting his debts for once...this could fill the rest of the season to be honest; he’s racked up rather a few favours over the years. Talia’s help comes in the form of an Indiana Jones-esque scavenger hunt to uncover an ancient League book, and some special Demon’s head sword (?), with interruptions by the pesky Thanatos Guild from last season, who Thea is at war with. Honestly, plot-wise, I struggled a bit this week; even on rewatch I found it hard to concentrate😂 . I just zoned in on the character moments to get me through. But luckily, there were lots of those!

One such beautiful character moment with the Queen siblings was on the side of a mountain, and reminded me a little bit of the Will/Mia scene up the Glades wall back in 7x16, I think? Oliver getting all emotional about missing his family and doubting his decisions every single day just punched me right in the feels 😭😭

Source: feilcityqueen

Then his explanation for trying to find answers before the Crisis: “My sacrifice, my death will protect the people I love. I need my family to be safe.” MURDERER!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Thea reassures him with some sage Queen family words, that their parents also made some questionable choices regarding them (that’s putting it lightly), but it ultimately made them heroes because of them. I think this scene was one of my favourites this episode, if not the season so far. Love me some Queen siblings 💗

The upshot of this random adventure with Talia was that Oliver read that the upcoming Crisis will actually be caused by The Monitor (dun dun DUUUNNN!!), complete with a lovely drawing of him 😂😂 But what Oliver doesn’t know, cos The Monitor doesn’t tell him anything is that there is also an Anti-Monitor, who will be the big bad of Crisis...so this may be a bit of a red herring for now!

Oliver ends his time in Nanda Parbat by saying one final (in his mind) goodbye to Thea, which actually made me sob like a baby out of nowhere, and has done every time I’ve rewatched the clip haha! Thea didn’t see it as a goodbye (cos Oliver dying? Pass!), but Oliver just cracks and won’t let go of her, and now I’m tearing up again 😭😭😭

Source: smoakmonster

I think by the way the goodbye scene played out that that will be the last we see of Thea, and ugh it’s such a shame because she has always brought out something special in Oliver, but we know she’ll be with him the whole time...😭😭😭

Stray thoughts:

They had Thea acknowledge Moira as her namesake (still think it’s a stretch, Moira-Mia? No.) but also had a callback to Thea’s Corto Maltese alias, which made me lol, and frankly, I find a better reference 😂

“All beings burn but a Phoenix rises from the ashes”. The Phoenix references this week were as subtle as a sledgehammer...Oliver is the Phoenix, and he will rise from the ashes following his death!

The Guild calling Oliver and Speedy ‘outsiders’ 🙄🙄 Oliver was Ras al Ghul and Thea is heir to the demon; get your facts right, biatch!!

Thea was a total badass this week, taking down Talia was sooo cool, and shows how far she has come as a fighter/hero.

Nice drop-in that Felicity gave the hozen to William!

Thea and Talia joining forces to raise a female ‘League of Heroes’; better than any faux-feminist Canary bullshit!!

The guest stars are fantastic, but their novelty and distraction is wearing off...I MISS FELICITY SMOAK 😫😫 Next week should hopefully tide us over, though!!

Dyla

Dyla had their own little adventure this week, that echoed their suicide squad mission in Season 2. Bronze Tiger killed a bad guy whilst working for Lyla, and in revenge, that bad guy’s son kidnaps Sandra and little Connor Hawke, then also tries to kill Lyla, but obviously she’s a total badass so that doesn’t happen! Anyway, all’s well that ends well and Dig rescues Connor and his Mum, and that’s about all I can remember plot-wise 😂😂

What we got character-wise, though was really cool! We got the first hint of JJ’s story of being 'neglected' by Dyla...with Dig and Lyla being increasingly away on missions and unable to call him, and in turn finding Connor and obviously starting to fall in love with him because he is the softest little bean �� When ickle Connor said “thank you Mr Diggles” I was a goner 😂😂

We saw Dig having a crisis of faith (pun intended) after seeing Earth 2 disintegrate before him, but ultimately he realises (after some Lyla wisdom) that they just have to hold on to each other and do their best. Lyla made a few comments and pulled some ‘I’m keeping secrets’ faces, asking Dig to remember the good times no matter what happens, and I need to know what Lyla knows dammit!! I still believe that she is on the good side, and her appearing to double-cross Dig and Oliver with The Monitor last week is a little bit of a red herring. I need to believe, ok!!!

Flash-forwards

Plot-wise, I actually think the flash-forwards were the strongest storyline this week. Following on from last week we had the team rushing back to the bunker to check on William, after JJ threatened him. This scene brought us another “frack” from Mia 😍, and a mention of Felicity as “Mom” from William 😭, as he managed to electrocute the bad guys all by himself! Will being a techy little badass is a forever mood and is yet another reminder of our Felicity. She is never really gone.

With the Deathstrokes now targeting William and other members of the Star City Unification Movement (SCUM, really?? LOL), William offers himself up as bait. As Oliver’s daughter, you can imagine how that went down with Mia. Badly. Big nope from Mia, who decides on a more direct approach of going to their HQ and kicking all of the ass 😂. Zoe is very much against this, but Mia is all “I know best, we’ll just storm in and take them all out myself” (S1 Oliver anyone?). Said storming in leads to this absolute beauty of a moment:

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!

Prior to kicking all of the asses, Mia and William have a heart-to-heart, with Will still angry at Mia for not trusting him to go into dangerous situations. Will thinks it’s because he’s not a fighter, but Mia comes back with “it’s because you’re my brother” 😭 😭 😭

Source: olicitygifs

In another Felicity-worthy pep-talk, William tells Mia that operating out of fear is not the way to go, and that they need to trust each other to survive. I’m really gonna need a Mia/Will hug soon, please and thank you. Honestly, Will is the perfect balance/offset to Mia with his easy humour and quick wit, but he ALWAYS brings the feels as well. He reminds me so much of Emily’s portrayal of Felicity, and not just in the way that his character has been written, but just by what he brings to the role. Ben is a wonderful actor; I adore him and he and William must be protected at all costs!

In the final confrontation, Mia, Zoe and JJ storm JJ and the Deathstrokes, but JJ gets Mia by the throat in an awesome 3x23 Felicity/Slade parallel. Mia couldn’t save herself like Felicity did in this instance, but we must remember that this is just the beginning of Mia’s journey. She has time. Unlike Zoe, who saves Mia, but is then fatally stabbed by JJ 😬 Poor Zoe dies in Mia’s arms. Kat’s acting here was perfection. I may have shed a tear. They had kept Zoe pretty much in the background in the FFs, so I wasn’t particularly attached; if one of FTA needed to die, then I’m good with her. Sorry Zo. But in all honesty, this fridging trope really needs to end. Another female character didn’t need to die in order to elevate JJ’s evil-factor, or to spur on Mia’s hero journey, or Connor’s struggle with his conscience. Enough now. Hopefully, being a bird, Zoe will be back from the dead soon enough anyway 😂

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer 💗

Connor sees Zoe die and goes after JJ. Hard. Tries to kill him. Between 2 generations of Queens and Diggles, the sibling parallels were so strong this week, and I’m loving it! I wrote a little meta here about it. But does Connor have the guts to actually kill JJ? JJ taunts that he doesn’t, Connor disagrees, but then the bright light comes for all of FTA and so we come to…

THAT ENDING

OH MY GOD ALL OF FTA IN THE BUNKER IN 2019!!!!!!!!!!!!

So most people following any kind of interviews or spoilers had a pretty firm idea that Mia would come back in time at the end of the episode. We were expecting it. What the show did was really quite clever...they allowed these pretty big spoilery-type interviews and tweets to be released, heavily implying that Mia would rock up in the last 30 seconds. They let us think we were all clever and had figured it out then BOOM! EVERYONE CAME BACK (minus Zoe 😬)!

I am so pleased with this!! All the paparazzi pics etc that we’d seen of Mia in the crossover etc had made me so happy, but equal parts sad that William couldn’t go back and see Oliver too, but now he can!!!

Uggghhhh it was so fucking goooood!! Oliver’s initial confusion of being beamed back to the bunker, stunned Dig, Dinah and Rene (I can live with their 5-second appearances this season 😂😂), then the camera and Oliver pan around to Mia, William and Connor just stood there!! Mia still had tears running down her face from seeing Zoe die, and she has her Arrow suit on and is covered in blood and she sees her Daddy for the first time in her memory!!!!!!! Just one word is delivered in those last few seconds and it was still one of the best moments of the season so far!!

Mia’s “Dad”, followed by Oliver’s confusion, realisation, then shock was just gaaahhhh!! But my absolute favourite reaction (I decided after multiple rewatches, for science, haha) was William’s 😍😭😍 His eyes full of tears, and utter gobsmacked-ness was fucking sublime!!

Source for all 3 reaction gifs: tylerposey

Next week is going to be so epic!! We have Mia, who has never met Oliver and who has built him up so much in her head and heart from Felicity and William’s stories, and also the tainted Star City archives, getting to finally come face-to-face with him. Then conversely, there is William, who got a few years to know his father, but then left him and eventually believed to have been abandoned by him and Felicity, and has had to live for 20 years until very recently still believing that, and now he gets to see him again, only a few months after little William left! Then there’s Connor, who Dig barely even knows in 2019 and he’s gonna call him Dad and then have to tell him that he nearly just killed JJ, who just killed Zoe, and Rene is right there and I AM HERE FOR ALL OF ITTTTTT!!!!

There’s so much content coming in next weeks episode it’s going to be so beautiful!! I wrote a post of things I really hope to see here, and I’m pretty confident we’ll get most of them and so much more!

Then there’s the implications of what FTA being in the present means for the future!! I had a bit of a spec meltdown here about how this could end up saving Oliver, and I think that’s pretty much just wishful thinking, but either way, them coming back to the present to help with the Crisis and to try and stop future Star City turning so bleak is going to make my head hurt and my heart sing in equal measure, I’m sure! After all, what is the point in having the multiverse, time travel, super powers etc in Arrow if we can’t reap some benefits from it somehow? The ending to this episode, and hopefully next week will be our reward for the fuckery we’ve had to endure with the more sci-fi-esque elements since Larry rocked up and the Arrowverse was extended. And I. cannot. wait.

Thank you to the beautiful, talented, and super speedy gifmakers for blessing us with all the amazing gifsets from this episode!! Mwah! 😘😘 (Uncredited gifs are mine)

💗💗💗

#Arrow 8x03 #Arrow #Arrow spoilers #Oliver Queen #Thea Queen #Mia Smoak #John Diggle #William Clayton #Arrow Season 8 #beccie's brain

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jacobseedz · 5 years ago

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Forgive Me [fc5]

summary: you mourn the deaths of your loved ones. pairings; The Seed family x fem!reader warnings; mentions of violence, death, minor swearing

You watched the setting sun, the lights cascading down the beautiful sky.

Salty tears streamed down your cheeks, you fell to your knees, a dull feeling taking over you.

They were gone. Your only family was gone. Even though you weren’t related by blood it didn’t mean you weren’t a real family. They loved you and you them, only that mattered.

Your mother was a nice woman, but she wasn’t ready to be a mother, neither your abusive father. Though, he hasn’t ever hit you, he tortured your poor mind, making you feel weaker and weaker with the passing days.

But one day three brothers moved into Montana, Hope County. The oldest brother was a military man, he culled the herd, selected only the strongest and most capable of protecting the whole flock.

The next was the youngest, an extremely rich lawyer, who carved the crime onto the sinners skin, promising atonement and a passage to their new heaven.

And finally there was the preacher, the one that even made the enemy change their beliefs and sides. He was loved by many, treated like a goddamn god.

Their sister joined later, a true angel with a pure heart, but poisoned mind. One blow of her flower and you were hers forever.

Because some people didn’t see their true purpose in saving the whole county, the new deputy took it into their hands to tear the whole project apart. However nobody seemed to care that the Seeds were human too, and were a family. You were the newest addition to the family

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, you were in so much pain. Memories ran past your head, the one with Jacob teaching you how to fish.

Believe it or not, but that mountain of a man liked to spend his practically non existent free time by the water. It somehow managed to calm his nerves. The whole project rested on his shoulders, he was the one that keeped everything under control, not John, not Faith, not even Joseph, it was Jacob.

One day you found him like that, sitting on the small, wooden bridge, only one judge two feet away from him, Red, the chosen one.

It didn’t growl at you, Jacob would never let any judge do that, not at you. You were the baby of the family, while you weren’t an infant you were still a teen.

You smiled, walking towards him and then wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face in his back. He already heard your clumsy steps, so he wasn’t very surprised or tense from the closeness

No words were spoken, they weren’t necessary, you both were content with each other’s company.

It was one of those “no deputy, no threat” days, which was very rare.

Smiling slightly at the memory, another one came to mind.

This one was with John. Since John found out you loved flying, he made it a mission to finally take you on a adventure through the sky.

Jacob sent you to see John on his ranch, telling you that he was going to be busy for a few days, with the deputy on the run and all, so he wouldn’t be able to give you 100% of his attention that you craved. Of course you understood his priorities so you waved it off, but the worry never left your face. He gave you the tiniest of smiles, promising you he’d be back.

After thirty minutes you were in front of Johns beautiful ranch. Quickly he took you to the massive garage, showing you his newest addition to his precious collection. A small plane, your name on the side and wolves painted at the back, your favourite animals. You nearly squeezed him to death after seeing his present.

Both of you flew together for hours, him making sky tricks and you cursing him out, shouting you’d smack that stupid grin off of his perfect face, at which he only laughed at.

You let out a breathy chuckle, that was the best day of your life. You’ve flown over the whole county, the landscape was amazing, you could never erase it from your mind.

Faith was like the aunt you never had, she always took care of you, even gave you some of her dresses, which looked exactly the same (what a surprise -.-).

It was a rather warm day, as it always was in Montana, but it was a perfect day to go out on a long walk around faiths region.

You liked being in the bliss occasionally, every one of your worry washed away, replaced with happiness and a smiley faith, that flied around you like a real life angel. You spent the whole day dancing around the bliss flowers, splashing your feet in a nearby lake, making flower crowns, even spying on the weird animals around the field.

You’ve never laughed so hardly like that day, it was as magical as a J.K Rowling book and it made you happy.

A sight left your lips, tears already stopping, but still threatening to fall. Joseph was you favourite sibling of them all, he was the one that actually found you sitting on the side of the road of falls end.

“My child...” he whispered, pulling his hand up, as if not wanting to spook you away.

You turned the other way, afraid of showing your weakness and your tear strained face.

“I won’t hurt you, child. Let me help.” he offered quietly.

His kind, yet intimidating stare made something snap in you and throw your arms around him.

Joseph started singing amazing grace, stroking your hair and rocking you back and forth. Finally you told him what’s got you so down, even though he was a total stranger. There just was something about him that made you trust him almost instantly.

“I won’t let him hurt you again. You’re too precious.” his warm lips met your forehead, bringing a smile to your face.

“How?” you asked, voice quivering.

“Come with me, meet my brothers,” you frowned.

“You could live with me, I’d keep you safe and take care of you.” he continued.

As crazy as it was you agreed, and your life couldn’t be even better.....

But now..

You were kneeling in front of their graves, after the deputy put their hands on your family, you found their bodies with the help of Jacobs few men, that survived.

Although they said Joseph’s body wasn’t found you didn’t believe your false hope and just shook your head, wanting to be with them in their last dying moments, but couldn’t.

“Thank you for everything. I love you all and I’m so fucking s-sorry for disappointing you, you were my only family and I wasn’t able to even help you, it’s all my fault, please forgive me.”

But they would never answer...

#Far cry 5 #reader insert #far cry 5 x fem!reader #far cry 5 x reader #female reader #joseph seed x female reader #joseph seed x reader #jacob seed x reader #jacob seed x fem!reader #john seed x fem!reader #john seed x reader #faith seed x reader #faith seed x fem!reader #deputy #vent #sad fanfic

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thefinalcinderella · 5 years ago

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Tsurune Book 2 Chapter 6-Door (Part 2)

It’s the Inter-High finals! Who will win, who will lose? Read on to find out! Also some really weird shit happens and by that point I was just like “...yeah okay”

This part took forever, but I hope it isn’t so tedious to read

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Heki-ryu Insai-ha is one of the styles still active today

2. Sakae Urakami was a 10-dan hanshi rank archer who was very well known in the kyudo world. He shot in the Heki-ryu Insai-ha style

3. Mato-tsuki means pointing the arrow at the target and teki-wari literally means dividing the target, which means turning the bow with the arm outstretched apparently. I could only find one English source for this the rest was in German hahahahahaha

4. Meigen is the ceremonial plucking of the bowstring. It is primarily done for the Imperial family. It’s believed that the tsurune helps drive away evil spirits

5. Fudou Myouou or Acala is a Buddhist deity who is a Wisdom King. He usually looks angry, carries a sword in the right hand, and has flames at his back

6. This isn’t the first time I came across wabi-sabi, and you’ve probably heard of the term before, but it’s a “world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection

7. The “Bow Saint” is a title given to Awa-hanshi

Previous | Afterword

At the moment one step foot in that place, one was invited into another world.

A tsurune, a matooto that pierced through the chest.

The shouts of "Alright!"

Bows and arrows came into this world as tools to sever the lives of others, but archers used them to sever their own lives.

And then, be born again.

Minato slept like a log after he returned from the hospital, and the next morning, his fever had completely receded. Even though there was still some pain left, his body felt lighter than he expected.

The fourth day of Inter-High, the last day.

The venue was wrapped in a tingling atmosphere. The number of spectators was also the most on this day out of all the days. There were many famous schools that had won, and their bow covers and bags with their schools’ name on them let their tradition and self-confidence peek through.

Next to Seiya, who was stretching, Ryouhei and Nanao were having the mysterious conversation of "Did you gooshura last night?” “Of course I did.” It was somewhat comforting. Here was the same scenery as when they were at Kazemai High School.

Kaito, with a sullen look, suddenly struck Minato’s back.

“Ow!”

“Yesterday you seemed to be gasping for breath, but since you’re able to cry out that loudly, you’re fine.”

“Your way of making seems a bit rough, Onogi.”

“Whatever. Right, we going soon?”

Prompted by Kaito, the five bumped their yugake-covered right fists.

Their opponent in the quarterfinals was the winning school the year before last. Kazemai won with seventeen hits against fifteen.

After the deciding matches for fifth to eighth place were finished, the semi-finals began. They won and advanced, but it was hard to listen to the sobbing from the people crouching behind the venue or from the washroom stalls. This was the path that they had taken, and for this tournament as well, there was the bitterness everyone except for the winning school tasted equally. The insides of their mouths felt coarse and rough.

Kazemai’s opponent in the semi-finals was Tsujimine High School.

In the hallway before the waiting rooms, Nikaidou had an amiable smile on his face. His large eyes were so full of vigor and spirit that one wondered if his panicked self from yesterday was an illusion.

He approached Minato, who was swinging his white headband.

"Why, if it isn’t Minato-chan. We were both miserable yesterday, weren’t we?”

"No, it was a good experience for me.”

"Heh…what a mature way to handle it.”

Behind Nikaidou, Fuwa was standing at a distance. He did not like to get friendly with others, so this sense of distance felt comfortable to him.

In the extreme cases of Ootaguro, Higuchi and Aragaki, they did not belong to any group from the start, because they had the air of people marching to the beats of their own drums. They were neither ashamed nor proud to be minorities—they had a natural attitude towards it. They wouldn’t feel insecure or worried even if they weren’t connected to large number of people.

Minato fixed his gaze on Nikaidou.

“Nikaidou-senpai. I’ve been recalling a lot of Saionji-sensei’s words since then. Because of that, I am convinced of this. Even if Saionji-sensei opened his door wider, your uncle would never be his disciple.”

"I’m shocked. Minato-chan, the always good boy, is provoking me? Do you feel like doing whatever it takes for the sake of winning? You sure have grown, Senpai is so proud of you.”

“Your uncle shoots in the shamen uchiokoshi style of the Heki-ryuu Insai-ha, correct? (1) Also, taking the ‘sanbun no ni’ is from the Urakami school, isn’t it? (2) Saionji-sensei talked about it. He said that since nowadays most people did shoumen uchiokoshi, he didn’t want the number of shamen archers to decrease. He also said that since he could only teach shoumen uchiokoshi, if we ever wanted to try shooting in shamen style in the future, that we shouldn’t hesitate to seek other teachers.”

“What?”

"I think Saionji-sensei knew the difference between who each archer wanted to be, and where they are aiming for. He wasn’t amazing because he hit a hundred targets. Hitting a hundred targets doesn’t have that much meaning, but the figure of someone shooting a bow is cool.”

"Heh…Thank you so very much for your valuable opinion. You must have an awful lot of free time to think about things like that the day before the competition.”

“I loved seeing you shoot, Nikaidou-senpai. The Heki-ryuu taihai you showed us several times: mato-tsuki, teki-wari and the yudaoshi towards the front of target—it was all truly cool. Yeah, you really love kyudo, Senpai.” (3)

“…I’m doing kyudo out of a force of habit. It’s just that since I’m doing it, I don’t wanna lose, and when I need to, I can use it for university referrals. It’s only insurance for broadening my future course.”

"Even so, I looked up to you when you were holding a bow. Those kinds of sharp movements could only be done by someone who trained a lot, and even now, you don’t seem like you’re doing kyudo out of a force of habit at all.”

"Hah…you two really are alike. Just as I thought."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘alike’?”

“You and your master.”

A corner of Nikaidou’s mouth lifted, and he left while fluttering his hand at him.

At the convocation call, they went on towards the third waiting room and passed through the door.

In the space enclosed by white cloth, there were also five to six staff members in addition to the competitors and managers from the two schools. Minato’s team placed their bows and arrows in the designated place and sat down in their seats with Tommy-sensei, their manager, at the end. To verify the identities of the competitors and manager, they underwent inspection of their equipment and numbers, as well as their attire, hands, and other body inspections. The staff told them that even if they lost, the deciding matches for third and fourth places would begin immediately, so they would need to come back there again.

Tommy-sensei collected the ID cards hanging from their necks, and took with him a small basket containing things like reserve arrows stuck in palm-sized, three sun (9.1cm) targets and spare bowstring reels, then they moved to the second waiting room. The competitors put down their bows and arrows again and sat down.

They would be entering the shajo once they left there. Tsujimine’s Ootaguro was cramming his left hand into a flat can filled with fudeko powder, and next to him, Seiya was doing things like rotating his shoulders.

At the signal, the ten competitors took their bows and arrows in hand and lined up in one single line.

When they entered the kyudojo, Tsujimine and Kazemai entered the first and second shajo respectively and sat down—it was finally time.

“Rise, begin!”

They did their yuu bows simultaneously, advanced to the shooting line and nocked their arrows.

First to shoot was Tsujimine’s oomae, Nikaidou.

A yugamae done in the shamen style involved making the tenouchi small to make it look like red leaves piling up, and pushing open the bow diagonally to the left at a third of one’s yazuka. Keeping that form, one raised their bow, and then at hikiwake, the right hand passed over the ear, and the arrow stops at a height that is almost level with it, which is the “sanbun no ni” position. After doing kakehodoki—making a grinding noise with the yugake at kai—he flicked his thumb, and the sharp flight of his arrow invited a matooto.

Next was the second archer, Fuwa.

His hoozuke was slightly higher than those for shoumen uchiokoshi, and his arrow was placed in between his cheekbone and the corner of his mouth (kuchiwari). He continued to stretch his arms as though they were holding the ends of a piece of string and he was extending it evenly to the left and right. He waited for the "yagoro"—the moment that led to the perfect opportunity for hanare. He also hit the target.

The third archer, Ootaguro, was very conspicuous due to his bamboo bow that was unusual for a student, the huge size of that bow, and not to mention his massive and bulky body. His amber bow bended so much that it seemed to engulf other people, and his arrow pierced the target with such a force that it made the azuchi cave in.

Conversely, the fourth archer, Higuchi, slowly lifted his bow. He drew his bow so gently that it verged on being too careful, and even if one thought that he finally reached kai, he took a considerable amount of time to release his arrow. After the spectators, wondering what was going to happen, were kept in suspense, finally at last, his arrow drew a parabola and fell to the target.

The ochi was Aragaki the maskman. Of course, he took off his mask in the shajo. Since he was narcissistic about his profile, he was extremely particular about the angle of his face. He fixed his gaze on the target to ascertain it, as though his name was being called from the target. He did not blink even once since he started uchiokoshi. He performed nobiai at kai as though to thoroughly worship his own profile.

The five got a kaichuu, and there was applause from the stands.

Kazemai did not succumb to them.

Elderly people, even if they were great archers, could never imitate the lively and youthful shooting they performed one after the other. They captured their targets in succession, and heated shouts of “Alright!” flew from the stands. The frog fans were shaking faintly.

In the second round of shooting as well, neither school missed.

Aggressive Kaito, cheerful Ryouhei, intelligent Seiya, sparkling Nanao, and cool and clear Minato――.

They increased the freshness of the colours each of them possessed, and painted a picture rich with those five colours.

Suppose that the settings book for the story called life had been written in one’s genes before one was born. Inevitable large events were prepared at each important point. However, it was up to the person themselves to write a heavy and dark story or a fun and bright story. Even if the plot was the same, it would become something else depending on the episodes one chose, and even for the same episode, just changing its arrangement would change the implications and meaning of it. There were endless ways to write, and each person had their own impressions and feelings.

Just as everyone’s faces and voices were different, no one had the exact same shooting form. No one could always shoot with the exact same form. Humans were creatures who kept on changing moment by moment. What one ate became flesh and blood, the information that entered from the eyes and ears was processed and stored by the brain, and skin cells were reborn in two weeks. One’s faces yesterday and today were similar but different. Even if one came to a stop, hung one’s head, bent over, crouched down, or shed tears of blood, a wind would still blow somewhere.

A new wind blew.

Supple limbs danced.

The color of evergreen.

Let’s etch these moments that would never fade into our memories.

The third shooting round. Seiya missed.

In the fourth shooting round, Nanao also missed, and Kazemai had the result of four, four, three, three, and four for a total of eighteen hits.

For Tsujimine as well, Fuwa and Aragaki both missed one shot each, and the results of four, three, four, four, and three—a tie.

For the tiebreaking match, each archer would shoot one arrow, and the school with the most hits won. Each person received a spare arrow from their manager, who acted as the kaizoe and sat in a reserved chair, and steadied their breathing. Even though it was just one arrow, it felt heavier than the four arrows they always had, and it was slippery in their hands from all the sweat.

“Begin!”

After finishing yugamae, both schools’ oomae raised their bows grandly. Both were marked with circles.

The second archers hit. The third archers hit.

And then, the fourth archer. The ochimae.

Tsujimine’s Higuchi missed, and Kazemai’s Nanao hit.

In the stands, the spectating Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo shouted while holding each other’s hands.

The last was the ochi.

As Aragaki’s matooto sounded, Minato was inserting himself into the centre of his bow. He performed nobiai in all directions, and waited for the moment of release. After he let go of his arrow, a circle was displayed on the scoreboard.

In the midst of the applause, they exited the shajo, and Minato’s team clapped each other on their shoulders. Ryouhei carried Nanao on his shoulder and they were shouting joyfully as though the championships were already decided for them.

Kaito, overcame with emotion, covered his mouth with his hand.

“…Did we just break through the semifinals?”

Seiya answered him.

“Yeah. We defeated Tsujimine.”

“Crap, my stomach kinda hurts.”

“Again?”

While Kazemai was shouting for joy, the competitors from Tsujimine were silent. They walked as though they were heading towards the practice venue.

Nikaidou and Fuwa looked at their two senpai.

“Higuchi-senpai, Aragaki-senpai. We should hurry on back to the waiting room.”

“I’m sorry for missing…”

“It’s fine, Higuchi-senpai. That’s just how kyudo is.”

Aragaki also nodded deeply.

Nikaidou turned his back on Minato’s team and started walking. His eyes were tinged with a quiet heat.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

So frustrated, so frustrated, so frustrated, so frustrated…

I will not be finished. This isn’t over――.

Fuwa laughed scornfully.

“It still ain’t over yet. Let’s go take third place. Then, after the closing ceremony, we’ll have a strategy meeting. When we win third, I’ll turn the information I learned into a souvenir, we’ll snatch permission to use the gym, and then we’ll reassemble a practice regimen for next year’s Inter-High.”

“…You serious?”

“If you don’t wanna, then I don’t really care.”

“…You’re still a crafty bastard, as ever.”

“Aren’t you the same?”

Nikaidou gave Fuwa a good punch in the stomach.

Tsujimine High School won third place.

The finals match.

The school that lasted to the end was, as expected, Kirisaki High School. It was a match between schools in the same prefecture.

The five Kirisaki team members were face-to-face, and Motomura gave them his final words.

“Let’s make this our greatest stage. There is nothing that can frighten us. Let’s show everyone the shooting of the powerhouse, Kirisaki!”

Shuu and the others got goosebumps at strong and confident Motomura’s words. No, they were trembling with the excitement of warriors. It felt like a burning in the pits of their stomachs. An impulse only understood by archers were in love with the bow, who were at the mercy of the bow.

Bargaining with the target.

One must not let it know that you wanted to shoot through its heart.

The five light bumped their yugake-right fists together.

Meanwhile, Kazemai was also gathered around Tommy-sensei. Masa-san spoke.

“Forget everything I’ve said up to now. You should shoot as you want, as though this is the first time that you are holding a bow.”

Tommy-sensei spoke after him.

“I feel the same way as Takigawa-san. All of you are plenty cool as you are. The best archers. This is today’s final mission. Now, let’s go.”

“Yes!”

Tommy-sensei put out his hand, and Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, Minato, and Masa-san placed their hands over it.

After they entered the second waiting room, the two schools sat next to each other.

Kirisaki High School—Motomura, Senichi, Manji, Sase, Shuu.

Kazemai High School—Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, Minato.

There had never been a scene that was so tense. The prefectural finals felt like it had happened a long, long time ago.

Shuu was on Minato’s left side. Even at this tournament, he got a continuous kaichuu and accomplished a monster-like act, but didn’t that put more pressure on him instead? You couldn’t keep on hitting forever. No matter how masterful an archer was, the moment when they missed would inevitably come.

However, Shuu was indifferent to Minato’s worries; he seemed happy. When he met Minato’s eyes, he smiled gently. It was like the time when they played with Souta at Saionji-sensei’s house, like even now he was planning a trick. Seeing him like that, Minato unintentionally guarded his left flank. He was far from his persona of being the “Young Prince Shuu” who many archers knew him as. He was just like a child.

Where did that calmness come from? He said that he would embody “one shot and expire,” but Minato didn’t even know what that meant.

What he did know was that his heart was pounding, and that he was excited.

The joy from being able to shoot on the same stage as Shuu.

At the signal, they stood up, and Kazemai and Kirisaki faced each other and bowed, saying, “We look forward to competing against you.”

It was the start of nyuujou. The five sat down simultaneously in the chairs of the first waiting room in front of honza. Tommy-sensei also sat down behind the competitors. The arena was different from the kyudojo they had always shot in, and even the smallest sound was picked up. It felt like everyone could even hear the sound that persisted in Minato’s chest.

His exposed heart.

The immovable target.

At the order to “begin,” the two schools went towards the shooting line, their yellow-green and purple headbands swaying above their shoulders. Masa-san, holding his breath as he watched over the group with the same-color headbands, was also at the very end of the shajo.

The oomaes began to raise their bows.

Motomura had the face of a young family head, and his true form was that of an extraordinary exorcist. When admonished by his gentle face, one would forget suspicious things and uncanniness. There were “sounds” and “words” that made people uncomfortable and those that soothed them, and seeing miracles on the bow since ancient times was because of the beauty of its form and shape. Before true beauty, people lost their wickedness, and a beautiful tsurune possessed the wavelength to heal people.

Meigen—the sound of joy. (4)

A sound that reset everything, returning them back to zero.

Kaito did not hide the heat that slept within him, and suppressed the demon with his look of anger. Like Fudou Myouou (5), he held a sword in his hands and carried flames on his back, waiting for sprouts of new life in a burnt field.

The second archers after them were Senichi and Ryouhei.

For both of them, their ideal archer was Shuu. His shooting that surpassed those of the same generation as him always captivated those who saw it. They groped for how close they could get to him, how it could superimposed over them, and how to recreate it. It was fascinating how even if they copied him, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as the original, but another way of shooting was born, mixed with their own colors. Senichi was delicate, and Ryouhei was bold and heroic. They both hit their targets.

The third archers were Senichi’s younger brother Manji and Seiya. They painted layers of muddy paint and hid their own inborn colors.

Manji had sealed up his fast shooting and kept on practicing to shoot carefully and without rushing in order to not have hayake. Just like how Senichi chased after Shuu, Manji chased after Senichi. The two of them absolutely couldn’t stand was being left behind or surpassed. A circle was shown on the scoreboard.

Rather than imitating someone, Seiya pictured his ideal image of what he wanted to do in his head and simulated it. He repeated that until he tricked his brain into believing that was truer, so even he himself completely forgot who he was originally, but from Kaito’s point of view, he didn’t seem to be able to change completely. His intricately calculated hanare induced a matooto.

Sase was an idol lover, and he himself had the talent of an idol. Like a refreshing and easygoing sportsman, he was not bashful at all, and was always in the center of a circle of strangers. He started talking to Motomura, who was brimming with wabi-sabi (6) even when he was young, not because he worried that he felt out of place in class, but because he wanted to talk to him and so he did. He also started doing kyudo because he wanted to try doing it. That was all it was.

Nanao was actually quite straightforward. He knew very well that his popularity with girls would make him the enemy of some boys, and that was exactly why he spread love. He couldn’t keep his overflowing feelings in his chest. I smile because you smile. I’m happy when you’re happy. Your angry faces, your troubled faces, I want to see lots of you.

After he snatched a magnificent hit, the yellow-green frogs in the stands swayed.

The ochi were Shuu and Minato.

When Shuu raised his bow, the world changed completely. One got lost in a shining golden land. Before that divine and beautiful archer, everything that had life stopped breathing. The fire he released from the depths of his body created an updraft, which started up and quickened. He slowly raised his two wings and spread his white feathers.

Sound was what fell.

A sound that stole away people’s memories.

When the watchers recovered their senses, the area was engulfed in the echoes from shouts of "Alright!" It gently rained with the sound that made their skin tremble and scorched their chests.

At the same moment, Minato raised his bow up high. He held his bow at kyuuha, with a strength like he was playing with it—not too strongly, not too weakly. The beautiful tsurune he heard when he was young. When that sound rang, Minato’s world changed. On the other side of the rain that fell beside him, a rainbow from thick clouds spread.

Even if he tried to not recall what was taught to him, his body remembered it all perfectly. The disciple inherited the master’s colors. Kazemai had Kazemai’s colors, and Kirisaki had Kirisaki’s colors. Even from among the many archers, when told, "You are from Kazemai High School Kyudo Club, aren’t you," he could continue hitting.

In the silence that made one even hesitate to move, the shouts of "Alright" bounced off the surrounding walls, continually going back and forth.

From right to left.

From left to right.

Thud, thud.

The sound, similar to fireworks, echoed.

The instrumental trio of tsurune, matooto, and shouts.

In the second shooting round also, tsurune were played in succession. It was all hits. Two five-person kaichuu were carried out, and there was applause.

When they entered the third shooting round, A bead of sweat ran down Minato’s cheek. His hearing wasn’t working normally, as the way he heard things was somewhat strange. A sensation of having dozed off, like he was being talked to in his head, like he was talking to someone in his dreams. Where was he right now? What was he doing? Even the act of drawing his bow felt like he was doing it in a dream-like state and lacked a sense of reality.

In the stands, Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo whispered to each other.

"They are so good it’s kinda scary…"

"I agree. I feel chills, even though it is the middle of summer."

"――This is divine possession."

Seo’s words made their surroundings more and more frozen.

In the fourth—final—shooting round, the oomae Kaito missed. At someone’s sigh, the tension in the shajo was broken for a moment. Perhaps overwhelmed by the change in the flow of that wind, the arrow the second archer Senichi released also pierced the azuchi. Since it was an indoor azuchi that didn’t use soil, a tap sound, similar to a matooto, resounded.

With that, both schools had one miss――. Once more, it became a one-on-one battle between the two ochi.

The spectator’s gazes were fixed on Shuu and Minato.

When Minato raised his bow, Shuu also raised his to follow him. They parted their bows grandly and inserted their bodies into the middle of them. They slowly released their breaths from their filled and content dantian. Upon doing that, the target itself approached the archer and assimilated into him.

The target is me, and I am the target. The great I, whose boundaries as an individual had blurred, will draw my bow.

They extended in all directions and formed crosses.

Nikaidou had asked Minato, "For what reason do you shoot a bow?", but that question didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t draw the bow to win or to train his body; he faced the target to breathe. Breathing was the proof of living. Therefore, on the days when he wasn’t holding a bow, he felt like he was dead.

It wasn’t "correct shooting makes for true hitting," but "correct questions make for correct answers." A good answer was born from a good question. If one were to ask Minato a question, it should not be "for what reason," but "How do you shoot a bow?" He embodied the answer to that question every single day.

Minato and Shuu were no longer thinking anything.

They didn’t hear anything.

They returned to the time when they met, losing themselves in drawing their bows.

For honing one’s body and entering a state of absolute concentration, it was annoying and hindering to have words inside one’s head. Thinking interfered with physical activity. Therefore, deep breathing was what helped empty one’s head. Along with breath, one would make "thought" get out of one’s body.

The one who shaded the event of an arrow hitting a target with good or bad, or emotions, was the "self," and the opposite of hayake and Yips was the state of "selflessness", or the zone. Being unconscious, in a sense, was like being someone who had expired. Dead people had no consciousness, and babies played innocently and without thought. Words did not intervene there.

――One shot and expire.

The archer dying at kai and being born again at hanare was the greatest shooting technique in the ultimate secret techniques left behind by the one who was called the Bow Saint. (7) The two were making use of that technique—Shuu intentionally, Minato unintentionally.

They cried their yagoe in their hearts.

Fly, yagoe.

Clear your path.

Run, yagoe.

Today’s a day of beginnings.

The two arrows were sucked into the bull’s-eye.

Amidst thunderous applause, the bell signalling seven-and-a-half minutes sounded. Minato and Shuu turned to face their targets and moved backed towards honza, and then sat down in their chairs.

Nineteen hits to nineteen hits. It was a tie.

The two schools’ managers handed their archers one backup arrow each. Each team shot a total of five shots, and if it couldn’t be decided in one set, then they would repeat the process. It was like an izume match for group competitions.

"Rise, begin!"

The Kazemai and Kirisaki archers nocked their arrows. With a single arrow, victory or defeat was decided. An arrow that was too heavy.

My chest hurts. My chest hurts. My center of my head feels hazy, and my fingertips are getting really numb. The insides of my ears sting. To get away from this choking feeling, I’ll breathe slowly, slowly.

The first shooting round. Both schools got hits.

Next was the second round.

Ryouhei’s arrow landed to the right of the target. Sighs overlapped with shouts of "Alright" from the stands.

Third round, hits.

Fourth round, hits.

And finally, the fifth round.

Minato and Shuu made beautiful tsurune ――.

After they exited the shajo, Kazemai and Kirisaki bowed to each other. Kaito and Motomura, feeling just like Ryouhei and Senichi, mutually smashed their yugake together. Minato and Shuu also bumped the backs of their yugake.

When they passed through the exit, the press gathered to interview the winning school. Minato and the others passed by them. On the return path, there was the staff room partitioned off with white cloth, and large windows on the left side. It was dazzlingly bright outside the windows, the trees swaying in the breeze.

Ryouhei came to a stop in front of the wall between the windows, and collapsed on the spot. He pressed his head against the wall hard, and his shoulders were shaking. He got on his knees temporarily, then he couldn’t stand up anymore.

"If I…If I hadn’t missed… I wanted to shoot more, and more… It’s my fault we lost…”

Minato put his arm around Ryouhei’s shoulders from behind.

He couldn’t say anything. That regret he himself had also tasted. That intense anger and sadness towards himself.

If one was experiencing such painful emotions, then they shouldn’t be doing things like kyudo.

I’m so frustrated, I’m so frustrated, I can’t forgive myself――.

Seiya also bent down in that spot and placed his hands on the two boys’ shoulders.

"Me, Kaito, Nanao and Minato—we’ve all missed before. We’re all the same. Someone who never missed before doesn’t exist."

"Uugh…ah…"

Kaito was watching over shoulder at Nanao folding Ryouhei, Minato, and Seiya together into a big hug. Kirisaki, having finished their interviews, passed by them there, and Shuu remained behind as the other members continued on.

When Nanao and the others noticed him, they removed themselves from Ryouhei, and Shuu knelt down before him.

"Ryouhei, Sae wants to meet you. Summer vacation is still long, so would you come and play with us, if you like? It seems Toujou would also like another bout with you."

"…Alright. I won’t lose, after all."

Ryouhei had his hands taken by Seiya and Minato and stood up. He then smiled.

Shuu left them.

In the hall, competitors could be seen chatting with their families. The accompanying children, perhaps bored, ran around in their slippers while making pitter-patter sounds.

Suddenly, Shuu remembered that it was the day of Sae’s violin lesson today. He turned his face towards where the sun was shining and narrowed his eyes. He could see an illusion.

"…Sae? Why are you here?"

“Shuu-niisama, congratulations. We came here to support you, of course. We thought we would make you nervous if you saw our faces, so we made sure to not be seen. It was hard.”

Next to her, Shuu’s mother was also smiling.

“Congratulations, Shuu. You were wonderful.”

Unexpected words, from an unexpected person.

As Shuu was at a loss for words, a man appeared from behind. Without needing to cross swords with anyone, he gave off the air of someone who made others lose their will to fight—someone who had the nickname of “Samurai.”

“Father…”

“Congratulations. Your shooting closely resembled that of Saionji-sensei’s in the past. I can see that you trained a lot, Shuu.”

“…Thank you very much. I am truly sorry that you had to come all the way here while you were the one who was busy, Father.”

“To tell you the truth, I received many phone calls at my company. From Sugawara Senichi-kun and Manji-kun, Motomura-kun and Sase-kun, as well as Narumiya-kun and Yamanouchi-kun. All asking me to please come and see Shuu shoot. It seems that my son has some good friends. I am looking forward to seeing the growth of all of you from now on.”

Shuu wanted to respond, but couldn’t make words come out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried.

The unseen words written on that Tanabata paper strip were, “From your son, Shuu.”

To be able to heard the word “son” come from you--.

When the wind came dancing in from the doors, the light that reflected off the windows hid Shuu’s face.

Meanwhile, Minato and the others exited the hall to find Masa-san waiting for them.

He smiled, and while saying things like “Alright!” “Okay!” and “Let’s go and eat something tasty”, he roughly tousled the five boys’ hair. Tommy-sensei also patted their backs.

Even though Minato had been holding it back for a long time, it was at that moment that his tear glands loosened. Seiya, Ryouhei, Nanao, and Kaito were the same.

Masa-san, Tommy-sensei, you’re both awful.

Even though the closing ceremony is going to take place after this, isn’t it super uncool to mess up our hair like this…

The five boys formed a circle.

And then, they shouted that they would stand on this stage again.

At dusk, the train carrying five boys departed.

On the screen of Ryouhei’s phone, there was a picture sent by his sister.

It was a picture of overpowering mountains and a tall sky.

The first star of the evening, which couldn’t be seen from the windows of their rooms, shone.

Fragrant ears of rice and the sound of cicadas.

Before he knew it, Minato dozed off, and leaned on his teacher beside him.

Previous | Afterword

#tsurune #tsurune translation

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iron--spider · 6 years ago

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Worried that Tony Stark is going to die in Avengers: Endgame? Do you want proof that he logically shouldn’t and the citations needed to die on that hill in the event that the powers that be do the unthinkable? Well step right up, fans and friends, because @whimsicalethnographies and I have compiled everything you might need, from canon quotes to future promotional appearances, that prove Tony Stark is not destined to die, and if they do kill him, they are ignoring the path that they laid out themselves and are thus causing his character arc to fail.

Here we go:

Canon evidence

“Don’t waste your life, Stark”

“A man with everything and nothing”

Both of these quotes are referencing family. Yinsen was referring to his own loving family, and Tony revealed that he didn’t have one (of course it’s hinted that this is Pepper—she’s supposedly his frantic text when they’re first attacked—but he doesn’t explicitly have it or her yet). Yinsen’s sacrifice was not for Tony to become Iron Man. It was for Tony to have a life, to have a family. What he didn’t have in the beginning and what he wanted to stay alive for. Tony ultimately fulfilling Yinsen’s true wish for him to stop isolating himself and make a family would be the most satisfying way for Tony’s story to end.

Yinsen is able to die peacefully because he has family that has already passed, and he wants to see them again. There is no way Marvel can properly parallel this because Tony’s family (the ones he genuinely loves anyway, other than his mother) are still alive, or still in the future (his children). If he dies he will leave everyone behind. The love of his life will still be here, and he’ll never be able to have children. If Pepper is pregnant, this is even worse. He will have a child, as he wanted to do, as he was looking forward to doing, but he will never meet it. This is especially cruel.

This would be a gross subversion of Yinsen, and ruin any meaning the character actually had in Tony’s life. He wanted him to be more, to have more, and to Yinsen, more was a family who was waiting for him.

In IM3, a little boy in a restaurant ominously whispers, “How did you get out of the wormhole?” It’s heavily implied that that line is entirely in Tony’s head as he’s descending into a panic attack and represents his fear of the unknown, and his fear of how he’ll handle the unknown, essentially finding the man behind the Mandarin mask who is coming after the people he loves AND fear of what he’ll do if he doesn’t have his armor to protect him. He obsessively spent a year(ish) building suits (of questionable quality) to keep that unknown away. By the end, he’s faced *that* fear, the fear of who he is without the suits. His anxiety/PTSD shifts from that point to Thanos himself, but he doesn’t yet have a face or an actual explanation until Infinity War, even though the magnitude of it is ramped up in Ultron by Scarlet Witch using the power of the Mind Stone. This is the start of facing an unknown, and if it follows the narrative comparison, coming out on the other side victorious, better, and stronger as a person. Rising above and moving on, not dying in the process, continuing to carry the self-inflicted weight of the entire universe.

“A famous man once said, ‘we create our own demons.’” Dying when he comes into contact with and defeats his true demon—“my only curse is you”—is not giving Tony his good ending.

An article on Iron Man 3, arguably the most important movie in Tony’s arc https://filmschoolrejects.com/finding-the-place-of-iron-man-3-in-the-marvel-cinematic-universe/

“Tony is defined by his desire to set arms down and leave war behind; Steve is defined by his inability to do the same”

“If Marvel really wants to give Tony the ending he deserves, they’ll let him live. Fans will continue to push their predictions down the pipleline until they eventually come true, but the arc laid out for Tony, starting in Iron Man 3, is clear. He needs to let go, but he can’t. The conclusion of Tony Stark’s arc isn’t death; it’s learning to pass responsibility on not to an army of robots, but to the people he trusts. After ten years, Tony Stark deserves his time in the sun.”

Tony’s PTSD - it would be a punch in the face to those of us with anxiety/PTSD/OCD who identify with him. He's got one of the most realistic portrayals of mental illness in film, and the powers that be acknowledge that, and it would SUCK for a company like Marvel to rip it all away when he's almost to the point of letting go of the responsibility he's carried—rightly or wrongly, because Thanos would still be collecting those stones even if Tony had never been in that cave—since the beginning of his story. Dying? That's not letting go. That's saying "sorry you went through all this, it sucks and then you die, because it really was all YOUR responsibility and you have to suffer to fix it."

In Ultron, Helen Cho says Tony’s “bulky metal suits will be left in the dust”. Tony says that’s “exactly the plan”. He wants to retire. He wants to be able to stop being Iron Man so he can live his life.

“Isn’t that why we fight? So we can end the fight and go home?” Tony in Ultron. None of this has ever been continuous for Tony. He’s consistently been heading towards his future goals and fighting when he has to—he gets derailed because he feels it’s his duty to step back in. He does not seek out the fights, and he doesn’t necessarily want to be a part of them. He wants to make his life and that’s where his narrative is heading. If it doesn’t make it there, it fails. He fails.

“Maybe I should take a page out of Barton’s book. Build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up.” “The simple life.” “You’ll get there one day. “I don’t know. Family, stability...the guy who wanted all that went into the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” End of Ultron conversation with Steve. Tony wants to settle down, buy a farm for Pepper (representing retirement and the start of his family). He is the one, out of himself and Steve, that is actively seeking to “tap out” of the fighting life so he can be with Pepper, and start a family. Steve says “I’m home” when he hears the soldiers chanting.

Wedding conversations in Civil War, Homecoming and Infinity War. The amount of mentions this has is huge. It would be a major hanging thread if it never happens.

The original plan was for Pepper to be pregnant during CW, however this was changed to put Tony in a darker place. They are going for Dad-Tony eventually, and that wasn’t conducive with where he was in CW. Yet.

Happy has been carrying “that thing” since 2008. Would they really do that to Happy/Jon Favreau, perhaps the other father of the MCU as he directed Iron Man—have him carry the ring for 10 goddamn years just to cut that storyline off with no resolution? Happy deserves to see this man-child he’s chased around forever get married and settle down.

Specifically, “Wong, you’re invited to my wedding.” It would be a terrible subversion if instead he goes to his funeral.

And per the writers (who also wrote the CA movies),

Markus: Things always shift in the writing, but I think we all knew where it was going and it was a matter of how best to get there so that it feels most satisfying or most earned. What was that adjustment process like? How much did the script have to change from when you were breaking it in 2015 to when they went to film it? Were there big things that you had to account for that you just hadn't had any idea about? Markus: Because of the other movies? No. I don't think there was anything massive that we had to change gears for. There were things that became better because of the value that the other movie had acquired. https://www.etonline.com/how-the-avengers-endgame-writers-arrived-at-the-most-satisfying-ending-possible-exclusive-123477 That would be an absolutely collosal shift to wipe it away entirely

The baby conversation in Infinity War. Why set all this up so blatantly if they weren’t going to use it? For a cheap emotional rug pull? Tony wants children, not just another set of his genes in the world.

And Pepper’s response; she doesn’t want children if he’s still Iron Man, for fear that he’ll be distracted, or something worse. If she’s going to have a kid with him, she wants him there. If the point was simply a baby, not a baby AND Tony, this is pointless exposition. Also, Pepper has thought Tony was dead at least four times: IM1, Avengers, IM3 and IW. Would they really make her watch it happen for real after that? Rob her of her family and make her worst fear come true, right in front of her eyes?

Tony as Odysseus - A lot of us—who've watched and identified with this character—realize that this is an Odyssey, not a Tragedy. Odysseus makes all kinds of mistakes while trying to get home, but he gets there, after 10 years. And then,

“As for yourself, death shall come to you from the sea, and your life shall ebb away very gently when you are full of years and peace of mind, and your people shall bless you. All that I have said will come true.” He makes it home. He got super lucky a lot of times, but he made it home, to his family. He found his everything.

“You’re a hard man, Odysseus. Your fighting spirit’s stronger than ours, your stamina never fails. You must be made if iron head to foot.”

Alternate translation- “You’re a hard man, Odysseus, stronger/ Than other men, and you never wear out, / A real iron-man.” (both quotes taken from starkravinghazelnuts, http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/181064173168/so-i-did-more-research-about-tony-steve-and-thor)

Promotional

https://www.themeparkinsider.com/flume/201812/6461/ Tony Stark is heading up a new rollout in Disneyland parks. Speaks for itself, they’re making Tony have a very strong presence in the parks. Disney is for kids, kids love Iron Man, and they will be aware of his death and reminded of it when they see him and Stark Industries everywhere on their family vacation. Longtime fans will also have to deal with this. If they were actually going to kill him, why would they make his presence in the future of these parks so big?

“In California and Paris, Tony Stark is retrofitting two of his father’s Stark Industries sites into new hubs for training and innovation. Through partnerships with S.H.I.E.L.D., Pym Technologies, Masters of the Mystic Arts and the new Worldwide Engineering Brigade, The Avengers and their allies will forge new global campuses to champion the next generation of heroes.” We know Hank Pym hates the Starks because he feels Howard betrayed him by trying to replicate the Pym Particle. As Scott says, “Hank Pym always said you could never trust a Stark.” How does this work, unless there is something forward that allows them to establish a better relationship? This can’t be retrofitted to anything before a potential Endgame end.

https://youtu.be/0tW77VFKQC0 https://youtu.be/EVIu43xSeYY In the Ant-Man and the Wasp ride, they collaborate with Tony/Iron Man in their ride mission. You see him, they speak to him, and it seems like a new storyline. It connects to the Iron Man Experience’s storyline, the ride they already had there in Hong Kong.

https://www.playstation.com/en-us/games/marvels-iron-man-vr-ps4/ upcoming Iron Man VR game. It would be very morbid playing this game, from Tony’s POV, if Tony is dead.

That giant Iron Man statue for Endgame in Hong Kong (https://www.timeout.com/hong-kong/news/a-giant-4-5m-iron-man-installation-and-life-sized-avengers-have-taken-over-hysan-place-041219). Imagine coming across that thing if you just saw him die. It’s staying up until May 13th. Do they want it looking like a place of mourning? A monument with flowers and notes? Shit, that’s a spoiler in itself that I don’t think they want. It would also be incredibly depressing.

https://www.tmz.com/2018/01/12/avengers-4-wrap-party-cake-drops-clues/ Endgame wrap party cake. If Tony died, he would be on this thing. It wouldn’t even be considered a spoiler because Iron Man is literally the face of the MCU, so people wouldn’t look twice at it. But his absence does say something—that they didn’t think they needed to pay tribute to him here, because he is still around to pay tribute to later, if need be. This cake is implying different characters are in peril, with certain hands shooting up out of the ground. But Iron Man is only represented with his logo on the bottom, as are all the rest of the heroes. If he died, he’d be the centerpiece. More on this theory by starkravinghazelnuts http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/180160474003/the-cake-theory-proposes-that-cap-nat-and-bruce

Cast quotes regarding Endgame

Gwyneth - (on a picture of her and RDJ) “you know I will be this guy’s Pepper any time he needs me” why would she say this if he’s dead? If he was dead and she didn’t want to spoil, she didn’t need to say anything at all.

And this wasn’t a one-off referring to playing opposite him, she was referring to Tony/Pepper, after an interview in which she said she was probably done, but would come back for a day if they wanted her.

Gwyneth again - https://www.etonline.com/how-the-avengers-endgame-writers-arrived-at-the-most-satisfying-ending-possible-exclusive-123477 “Pepper and Tony have had a real long journey together. She obviously starts as his dutiful assistant, and then the relationship evolves, and now this decade later they're married, and they have a child. Their relationship has evolved in all of the ways that great romances evolve.” Now, I always saw this as—Gwyneth was done filming when this quote was given. She was aware of the end of her character’s journey, so this is obviously something that happens at the END chronologically. Why would she reference something smack dab in the middle of the film, especially if it was just going to be erased by time travel/quantum realm shenanigans? She’s also wearing an engagement ring and a wedding band in some interview photos where she’s in costume. Plus, possible/probable spoilers…….Pepper is going to be suiting up as Rescue, which really knocks off the possibility of a mid-movie child for Pepper and Tony. It would be completely against her character to suit up and leave a kid behind, considering how much flack she gave Tony for his suits before, and how her hesitation to have a child hinged on Tony re-inserting his arc reactor. Plus, on a more emotional note, Gwyneth refers to Tony/Pepper as a great romance, and it is. But I feel like she and Robert combined would not be happy at all if the writers were to destroy this great romance by killing one of its members. That way it falls flat, it never finishes, it doesn’t get its rightful end. I feel like she and RDJ (who has significant sway over what happens to Tony) would argue against this happening. This is a great romance, and those end in happily ever afters. This isn’t West Side Story. This is a Disney movie.

Evans - https://youtu.be/bH0frwdtmXM (when asked to describe the movie in one word on GMA) “Satisfying. It’s like TV shows, the final finale—how many times do they stick the landing? How many times do you walk away saying that went exactly how I wanted it to go? This movie—I think they deliver, I think they really do stick the landing in terms of, you know—addressing the arcs and really finding a completion.” I think this definitely speaks for itself. The arcs are important and we know what they are. One of our main concerns is them tossing out the true endings to these arcs for cheap, cruel emotional shocks. If Chris says specifically that the arcs are addressed, then we know what that SHOULD mean for each character. Plus, saying “that went exactly how I wanted it to go”? I don’t believe any genuine fans want deaths. Especially fans with children. People who genuinely care about these characters want to see them succeed and live to reap the rewards. So saying it went “exactly as I wanted it to go” and that they “stick the landing” bodes well for things ending up nicely for our heroes. Nothing in his speech here screams death.

Hemsworth - https://www.digitalspy.com/movies/a27110673/avengers-endgame-chris-hemsworth-interview/ also uses the word cathartic. Nothing about Tony dying would be cathartic. It would be sickening and depressing and we wouldn’t get anything out of it.

Taika Waititi https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/films/1082838/Avengers-Endgame-Korg-Taika-Waititi-Thor-Ragnarok-Avengers-Infinity-War-MCU-Marvel “They keep their cards so close to their chests, but from what I’ve heard, it wraps up everything in a really great way." “It feels like the fans are getting rewarded for hanging around for 10 years and watching all these films.” “Because the more you know about the characters and the stories and stuff, the more satisfying this film will be.” These feel particularly important. A reward would not be killing the biggest character in the MCU. And he mentions the fact that really knowing the characters makes everything more satisfying. We all know where Tony is heading, and what he wants. These quotes particularly point to Tony surviving, and maybe everyone surviving.

Scarlett - https://wegotthiscovered.com/movies/scarlett-johansson-calls-avengers-endgame-beautiful-valentine-decade-madness/ “a beautiful valentine to a decade of madness” Not ‘my bloody valentine’. A gift full of love for the people that have been here for ten years watching these characters grow.

RDJ - https://twitter.com/our_rdj/status/1118891286763798528?s=21 https://twitter.com/caplovesfondue/status/1118764023397249024?s=21 https://twitter.com/MCU_Direct/status/1119043210553249792 “I guarantee you that this will pay off. This Avengers Endgame, I’ve said it before, is our finest hour.” “The last eight minutes of that movie are maybe the best eight minutes in the entire history of the whole run of them, in a way. Because everyone’s involved. So I was delighted.” Both of these quotes, from the man himself, the man who loves Tony Stark with his entire being, do not feel like a Tony death at all. Because if we know Tony, we know what a payoff for him is. It’s getting the life, the family he’s been fighting for since the beginning. And as for the second one, logically, eight minutes does not feel like enough time to send Tony off in an out-of-left-field death. And I think our final battle will be longer than eight minutes. So I personally believe he’s referring to the wedding. He loves Tony/Pepper enough to hold their wedding in extremely high regard. He’s always delighted with Tony’s happiness and Tony advancing in his journey, especially with Pepper by his side.

“Cathartic” - https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/herocomplex/la-et-hc-avengers-endgame-press-conference-20190407-story.html said by the Russos at the press conference

“Satisfying” - https://www.digitalspy.com/movies/a27110673/avengers-endgame-chris-hemsworth-interview/ , https://www.etonline.com/how-the-avengers-endgame-writers-arrived-at-the-most-satisfying-ending-possible-exclusive-123477

“Earned” https://www.etonline.com/how-the-avengers-endgame-writers-arrived-at-the-most-satisfying-ending-possible-exclusive-123477 When you think about Tony, you do not think his death is earned at this stage, because so much is left hanging that his story has been calling for since moment one. What would be “earned” for Tony is him marrying Pepper. He has more than earned that. She has earned this wedding, too.

Misc (POTENTIAL SPOILERS)

Tony has sacrificed over and over and over again, in almost every movie we see him in. Doing it in Endgame would be a rehash of the same storyline, and sacrifice is not something Tony has to learn. He already knows how, he’s already willing. He needs to learn how to live. Bringing him to that realization at the end of it all would be the most appropriate route to take.

Iron Man 1 - he implores Pepper to hit the button, even though she tells him, “but you’ll die.”

Iron Man 2 - while it could be said he would be killed by the presence of the reactor itself, JARVIS explicitly says the use of the suit is accelerating the palladium poisoning that is killing him. Tony doesn’t stop. Part of this could be attributed to his reckless end-of-life attitude, but it’s clear from the Senate hearing—he wouldn’t have stopped

The new element is obviously something in itself. While the IM2 novel called it vibranium, this was retconned in CA, and then set up for more in Captain Marvel when it was revealed the project involving the Tesseract was called Project Pegasus, first called that when Fury dropped off Howard’s things at Tony’s mansion. Tony withstood the power of the Mind stone in A1 with the arc reactor, and then again in IW when Thanos unleashed the power of the Power stone on him and the suit merely blocked it. The suit is literally powered by the Space stone, much like Carol is, and for IM2-IM3, the Space stone literally powers Tony, which is more than you can say for a Mad Titan. Even Hulk doesn’t have the power of the Space stone behind him. You don’t hang a gun on the wall unless you plan on firing it later.

Also tied into IM2 - “if you could make a god bleed” … Tony is the only one to actually injure Thanos.

Avengers - Tony lays down on the wire. The arc set up by Steve’s comment is fulfilled when he flies the nuke through the wormhole. He knew it would probably kill him, which is why he tried to call Pepper.

Iron Man 3 - he sends his suit to Pepper first, when the “Mandarin” comes for him. Then in a deleted scene, he removes his arc reactor to save Harley’s bully, and nearly dies before Harley puts it back

Age of Ultron - Tony, despite wishing to go home and buy Pepper her farm, is willing to stay with Thor on the flying rock, even though he knows he could die, it’s his responsibility to fix this.

Civil War - this is a bit of subversion, as Tony is in a dark place and never needs to sacrifice his life. But as we saw in IM3, Tony IS Iron Man. And he’s willing to turn over power of Iron Man, which he wasn’t in IM2, to a higher power. He’s willing to give up his autonomy to keep the rest of the team out of jail and assuage his guilt (he’s starting to see the repercussions of bearing it all on his own). We can have discussions about who was right about which part, but Tony was willing to sacrifice a big part of himself.

Infinity War - duh. He got on that spaceship. He was planning on it being a one way trip (which incidentally, is why Pepper wasn’t keen on a kid). And then he took Thanos on one-on-one. And then, the look of despair when Strange gave up the stone to save him? He was more than willing to die.

Endgame - eventually, he will be willing to try, even if it means his death, because he’s always been willing to sacrifice himself. Remove that burden from his shoulders.

(It is interesting to note that the one time Tony is not in the position to sacrifice his life is in Spider-Man: Homecoming. When he is in the overseeing/mentor position, which could be his role in the MCU after Endgame, and when he’s starting to take up the role of “father figure”, which he should also be after Endgame, but to his own biological children as well. He is however, appalled and terrified at the thought of someone else, this crazy Spider-child who’s just a bit too much like him, being reckless and willing to sacrifice himself. Maybe Tony needs to take a bit of his own advice.)

The endings of the Iron Man movies are all tonally upbeat and to end Tony’s story for good on a “downer” note does not go along with his storyline --from starkravinghazelnuts http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/181110494893/avengers-endgame-is-said-to-be-the-end-of-many-of

The Infinity Saga is Tony Stark’s arc. Every other character, including Cap, is ancillary. Every character is where they are because of a Stark. What happens to him will be the defining characteristic of the Saga, and it isn’t set up to be a Tragedy.

RDJ says the last eight minutes of Endgame has “everybody” involved, which would obviously include Natasha, who is extremely important. Which contradicts the reddit “leaks.”

https://twitter.com/stevcrogvrs/status/1118853707280601088?s=21 Chris Evans says if Steve had a choice, he would go back in time to be with Peggy. Since he was able to say this, there’s no doubt that it doesn’t happen, as the Marvel spoiler snipers would have switched from Mark to Chris and put five holes in his head before he hit the ground. This contradicts the reddit “leaks.”

https://comicbook.com/marvel/2019/04/19/avengers-endgame-hawkeye-black-widow-relationship-jeremy-renner/ Jeremy Renner also says Clint and Natasha’s relationship will last “forever”, which seems to underline their closeness and how much they mean to each other. All of this contradicts the reddit “leaks”, which describe a horrible thing happening to the two of them that wouldn’t ever actually happen if they were to stay in character. Plus, Chris Evans apparently called these dudebros out and straight up denied their “leaks”, so these “leaks” have no veracity either way.

When asked to draw their favorite characters, Anthony Russo drew Iron Man and Joe drew Spider-Man. The Iron Dad relationship is obviously going to be important in the movie, and it would bode well for these characters to get a good ending in the movie if they’re the very favorites of both directors.

RDJ is screening Endgame at his house for family and friends on Easter Sunday. Would he really ruin a holiday with a movie in which his character dies an unwarranted death?

There has not been a wedding in the MCU yet. What would be a better way to end the MCU’s first romance than with the MCU’s first wedding? We’ve had a funeral already, for a side character, and that was bad enough. Imagine how horrible it would be to witness Tony Stark’s funeral as the ending for Endgame. That does not seem like the kind of feeling the Russos want to leave us with. The wedding seems far more appropriate for a movie of this scale and importance.

The chess theory (courtesy of starkravinghazelnuts) — “The last piece to discuss on the chess board is the King piece. This piece is the game winner. Once your king is check-mated, the game is over, and your opponent wins, regardless of the score. The king chess piece is the piece you must protect the most and the one you cannot live without. Many experienced players may find themselves utilizing the king in an attempt to gain an advantage over an opponent, something weaker chess players are leery of doing. No matter how you choose to use your king piece, he must stay alive at all costs.” Tony and Thanos are the Kings on opposing sides. The king must be kept alive in order to win, which is why Tony should make it to the end of the film intact. Thor also literally mentions someone “playing an intricate game” and says that person “has made pawns of us” at the end of Ultron when discussing the Infinity Stones. http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/181491397743/starkravinghazelnuts-quite-frankly-this-is-the

Two very important meta pieces by starkravinghazelnuts, who has essentially been funding my positive attitude for a while now http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/182086909963/looking-back-over-everything-i-still-feel-really http://starkravinghazelnuts.tumblr.com/post/182017989478/i-agree-with-you-the-rhodey-show-sounds-good-but-i

https://fanfest.com/2018/08/16/the-russos-reflect-on-iron-man-being-the-heart-and-soul-of-the-mcu/ “I think, in a lot of ways, he is the heart and soul of the Marvel universe,” Infinity War co-director Joe Russo said during a video interview with Wired. “He’s a fascinating character, a character that we love because he is imminently flawed and we like characters that are challenging and express their humanity and I think Tony Stark does that as well as any of the characters. He started off as a narcissistic alcoholic and grew into a hero which, I think, makes him imminently relatable and signifies what the Marvel universe stands for, which is character first and the heroes are defined through the choices that they make.” The Russos love Tony. And you cannot live without your soul, you cannot live without your heart. No matter what you say about Tony, losing him to death would leave a massive, gaping hole in the MCU. Keeping him available to return is the safer bet in almost every regard.

https://youtu.be/f0Ai05cUQoM “If there were no RDJ, there would be no MCU.” - Kevin Feige. RDJ started it all, and Tony shouldn’t die, his presence should remain. He should be able to pop in and out as he sees fit. They know his star power and how important Tony is to the MCU.

https://www.newsarama.com/39526-rdj-as-iron-man-irreplacable-but-will-eventually-leave-says-avengers-infinity-war-directors.html “One closeup from RDJ is worth another actor’s entire performance, he’s incredibly gifted and insanely talented” - Joe Russo. May be a weak reason, but would they really...make him permanently lost to them? They’ve expressed interest in coming back. Would they really banish their most talented and lucrative actor to the darkness of a character death for a cheap shock?

https://youtu.be/5ljluGA4dQU (around ten minutes in) In the Jimmy Kimmel interview, they show the clip they’ve been showing everywhere of Carol’s meeting with some of the Avengers. Jimmy points out that RDJ isn’t in the clip, and he asks if that means something bad for Tony. RDJ says “No, no, no. Not in the slightest.” He could and probably is referring to the fact that Tony is definitely alive at this point, sure, but his attitude and the way he says it points to an overall confidence about Tony that bleeds over to the viewer. In fact, Robert’s whole demeanor during this press tour has been one of pure joy. He is having the time of his life, dancing and laughing, moreso than we have seen before. It could be a man enjoying his last tour with a very special group, but, somehow, I don’t believe someone who loves Tony as much as RDJ does would be this happy if Tony died. Especially if Tony’s death was unwarranted and out-of-left-field, which it absolutely would be if it happened. And this is in contrast to Chris, who has been, while not sad, far more reserved.

Some on-point thoughts from some of the few sane people on reddit:

“After Infinity War went out of its way to establish Thanos as a physical embodiment of Tony’s PTSD (“he’s been in my head for 6 years,” “My only curse is you”, *author’s note: see also above with coming to face an unknown fear like in IM3*), the idea of him ultimately defeating Thanos by killing himself is like... morally reprehensible as a message. I’d like to think Markus and McFeely would know better than that, but honestly, I’ve felt since Civil War that they don’t have the best grasp on his character. Edit: someone asked me in a PM to elaborate on this, so I’m just gonna go ahead and post what I wrote just in case anyone’s interested. Ok, this is gonna be kinda long, but I’ve been sitting on this for a while. so Iron Man 3 was the beginning of Tony’s new character arc that’s gone from phase 2 up till now. In phase 1, his whole journey was learning not to be selfish, and to be willing to put himself on the line to protect others. Avengers 1 completes that arc, and Iron Man 3 sets up a new conflict, where he’s driven entirely by his trauma from the events of The Avengers. He’s obsessed with protecting the world from threats beyond his control- we see it in Iron Man 3 with the house party suits being products of his anxiety, and in Age of Ultron with the Ultron program. He feels like it’s his responsibility to be everyone’s protector, and he’s desperately clinging to any sense of control he can still have in a world that he now realizes is much bigger than him. In Infinity War, he finds out that the event that left him traumatized was orchestrated by Thanos, and for the rest of the movie is driven by a single-minded need to confront Thanos directly and put an end to him, in order to finally be free of the PTSD that’s dominated his life for 6 years. By taking on that responsibility and ambushing him on Titan instead of reaching out to his support system (Steve + the other Avengers), Tony inadvertently puts everything he cares about at risk. In the context of Tony’s story, Thanos is his trauma- and Tony’s defeat on Titan is a direct result of his compulsive need to carry the burden of that trauma alone. So to then have him sacrifice himself to defeat Thanos in Endgame essentially sends the message that “yes, it is a good thing to bear that trauma on your own, and in fact, if you can’t see any other option, killing yourself is an acceptable solution.” It sends a horrible message in the context of the ongoing story, and it doesn’t tell us anything new about Tony as a character- we already know he’s self-sacrificing, it’s been his defining character flaw for four movies already. It’s just a really poor way to end his story.” — msg53

“This. Tony’s arc has been about letting go of his ego while learning to rely on others. His first step was handing Stark Ind. over to Pepper. He tried letting go with Ultron, but it failed cuz Ultron was just an extension of himself. Then he started seeing how being a mentor/father figure could help a kid in need of both (Peter) and the eventual next step should be family and real retirement while others defend/avenge Earth, once he’s done with his Thanos curse. Aside from Thor, His death would feel the most gratuitously out of sync with his journey of all the OG Avengers.” —VictorVonDoomBots

(special shoutout to cuddlebirb over there, consistently fighting for Tony rights)

The absolute nastiness to take out their main character, their cash cow, the one that started it all, when he’s got so much still hanging simply makes no sense. They would leave people with a sick feeling in their stomachs over this movie. People would not be happy with the turn of events, they would feel cheated out of a proper ending for the main character of the whole franchise. It would not be an event movie, it would be the movie that Killed Tony Stark. It would be tainted, and I don’t think the Russos want that. I know they say they think about their own reactions when writing these films, but they’ve gotta be smart enough to realize what a mistake this would be for the die-hard, longtime fans.

Plus, this is an ending to one generation and a lead-in to another. They don’t have Stan anymore to do their cameos, and some people will be on edge about whether to continue. Having RDJ hang around to do cameos and show up here and there to help the new heroes will put people in those seats for the upcoming films. His fifteen minute presence in Homecoming made many people go see the film that wouldn’t have otherwise. They need a hero that people know and love to remain a constant, even if he’s not in a starring role, and Tony Stark is the perfect person to do this. He always helped the younger heroes in the comics, and he’s already taken the mentor mantle with Peter. It’s a natural progression.

The amount of suffering that Tony has been through in the entirety of the MCU and in Endgame in particular, should lead to him finally getting something good in the end, a retirement where he gets to relax and let someone else carry the weight of the world instead of him, for once. Endgame will begin with Tony in extreme anguish, sick, hurt, sad and alone (save for Nebula). In the end, he should be healthy and happy, surrounded by the people who love him, with his future bright, full of possibility, and free of threats because Thanos is gone. That is simply good writing and good bookending. The writers shouldn’t be in the business of torturing Tony for torture’s sake. If he begins in such a dark place, he should end somewhere promising.

Happy’s behavior in FFH trailer. Tony is Happy’s best friend. Would the man be acting so chill, flirting with May, if his BFF just died? It is confirmed that FFH takes place minutes after Endgame. Plus, in a deleted Infinity War scene that featured Happy, Tony says that he and Pepper should set him up with someone. Would that someone be May?

Pepper is literally Tony’s endgame—he says it himself, “in the end, it’s always you.”

#tony stark #avengers endgame #avengers #marvel #endgame speculation #this is massively long but i think it really gets its point across #there is just way way too much pointing to his survival #robert downey jr #rdj

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no1else-but-me · 6 years ago

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Book Recs if you love Jaime and Brienne

This is a collection of all the book recs I could find from @briennesjaime tumblr books rec, the reddit, and my own. Please reblog your own if you have some.

1. The Queen of Attolia which is book#2 of the The Queen’s Thief series

This is definitely more for the enemies to lovers trope. The thief even loses a hand like Jaime but under much different circumstances. The Queen is like the colder version of Brienne.

Revenge When Eugenides, the Thief of Eddis, stole Hamiathes’s Gift, the Queen of Attolia lost more than a mythical relic. She lost face. Everyone knew that Eugenides had outwitted and escaped her. To restore her reputation and reassert her power, the Queen of Attolia will go to any length and accept any help that is offered…she will risk her country to execute the perfect revenge. …but Eugenides can steal anything. And he taunts the Queen of Attolia, moving through her strongholds seemingly at will. So Attolia waits, secure in the knowledge that the Thief will slip, that he will haunt her palace one too many times. …at what price? When Eugenides finds his small mountain country at war with Attolia, he must steal a man, he must steal a queen, he must steal peace. But his greatest triumph, and his greatest loss, comes in capturing something that the Queen of Attolia thought she had sacrificed long ago…

2. The Lumatere Chronicles

One of my favorite series of all time. It’s character driven and it’s has many surprises. Starts off with Finnikin has lost hope like Jaime but gains it slowly over time. Evanjalin her honor and her pursuit of her quest reminds me very much of Brienne.

Finnikin of the Rock and his guardian, Sir Topher, have not been home to their beloved Lumatere for ten years. Not since the dark days when the royal family was murdered and the kingdom put under a terrible curse. But then Finnikin is summoned to meet Evanjalin, a young woman with an incredible claim: the heir to the throne of Lumatere, Prince Balthazar, is alive. Evanjalin is determined to return home and she is the only one who can lead them to the heir. As they journey together, Finnikin is affected by her arrogance … and her hope. He begins to believe he will see his childhood friend, Prince Balthazar, again. And that their cursed people will be able to enter Lumatere and be reunited with those trapped inside. He even believes he will find his imprisoned father. But Evanjalin is not what she seems. And the truth will test not only Finnikin’s faith in her … but in himself.

3. Howl’s Moving Castle

This one might be a stretch but hear me out. Howl is pretty much the embodiment of Jaime but probably more vain. While, Sophie really conveys Brienne self-esteem issues but still noble in her own right. Plus, their banter very reminiscent to Jaime and Brienne.

Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl’s castle. To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there’s far more to Howl—and herself—than first meets the eye.

@temporiibus recommends The Raven Cycle!!

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.” It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore. From Maggie Stiefvater, the bestselling and acclaimed author of the Shiver trilogy and The Scorpio Races, comes a spellbinding new series where the inevitability of death and the nature of love lead us to a place we’ve never been before.

The Winners Trilogy

As a general’s daughter in a vast empire that revels in war and enslaves those it conquers, seventeen-year-old Kestrel has two choices: she can join the military or get married. But Kestrel has other intentions. One day, she is startled to find a kindred spirit in a young slave up for auction. Arin’s eyes seem to defy everything and everyone. Following her instinct, Kestrel buys him—with unexpected consequences. It’s not long before she has to hide her growing love for Arin. But he, too, has a secret, and Kestrel quickly learns that the price she paid for a fellow human is much higher than she ever could have imagined. Set in a richly imagined new world, The Winner’s Curse by Marie Rutkoski is a story of deadly games where everything is at stake, and the gamble is whether you will keep your head or lose your heart.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone recommended by @realduality

Errand requiring immediate attention. Come. The note was on vellum, pierced by the talons of the almost-crow that delivered it. Karou read the message. 'He never says please', she sighed, but she gathered up her things. When Brimstone called, she always came. In general, Karou has managed to keep her two lives in balance. On the one hand, she's a seventeen-year-old art student in Prague; on the other, errand-girl to a monstrous creature who is the closest thing she has to family. Raised half in our world, half in 'Elsewhere', she has never understood Brimstone's dark work - buying teeth from hunters and murderers - nor how she came into his keeping. She is a secret even to herself, plagued by the sensation that she isn't whole. Now the doors to Elsewhere are closing, and Karou must choose between the safety of her human life and the dangers of a war-ravaged world that may hold the answers she has always sought.

The Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson. Hard SF, and the romance is definitely not a major plot, but one of the characters involved in the trope is legit my favorite fictional character of all time and that journey from enemy to friend to lover is a big part of it.

In his most ambitious project to date, award-winning author Kim Stanley Robinson utilizes years of research & cutting-edge science in the 1st of a trilogy chronicling the colonization of Mars: For eons, sandstorms have swept the desolate landscape. For centuries, Mars has beckoned humans to conquer its hostile climate. Now, in 2026, a group of 100 colonists is about to fulfill that destiny. John Boone, Maya Toitavna, Frank Chalmers & Arkady Bogdanov lead a terraforming mission. For some, Mars will become a passion driving them to daring acts of courage & madness. For others it offers an opportunity to strip the planet of its riches. For the genetic alchemists, it presents a chance to create a biomedical miracle, a breakthrough that could change all we know about life & death. The colonists orbit giant satellite mirrors to reflect light to the surface. Black dust sprinkled on the polar caps will capture warmth. Massive tunnels, kilometers deep, will be drilled into the mantle to create stupendous vents of hot gases. Against this backdrop of epic upheaval, rivalries, loves & friendships will form & fall to pieces--for there are those who will fight to the death to prevent Mars from ever being changed. Brilliantly imagined, breathtaking in scope & ingenuity, Red Mars is an epic scientific saga, chronicling the next step in evolution, creating a world in its entirety. It shows a future, with both glory & tarnish, that awes with complexity & inspires with vision.

The Folk of the Air

Of course I want to be like them. They’re beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe. Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences. As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

@swainlake recommends the darkest powers trilogy by kelley armstrong is really good

My name is Chloe Saunders and my life will never be the same again. All I wanted was to make friends, meet boys, and keep on being ordinary. I don't even know what that means anymore. It all started on the day that I saw my first ghost - and the ghost saw me. Now there are ghosts everywhere and they won't leave me alone. To top it all off, I somehow got myself locked up in Lyle House, a "special home" for troubled teens. Yet the home isn't what it seems. Don't tell anyone, but I think there might be more to my housemates than meets the eye. The question is, whose side are they on? It's up to me to figure out the dangerous secrets behind Lyle House... before its skeletons come back to haunt me

@imladriss recommends: We hunt the flame by hafsah faizal

People lived because she killed. People died because he lived. Zafira is the Hunter, disguising herself as a man when she braves the cursed forest of the Arz to feed her people. Nasir is the Prince of Death, assassinating those foolish enough to defy his autocratic father, the king. If Zafira was exposed as a girl, all of her achievements would be rejected; if Nasir displayed his compassion, his father would punish him in the most brutal of ways. Both are legends in the kingdom of Arawiya—but neither wants to be. War is brewing, and the Arz sweeps closer with each passing day, engulfing the land in shadow. When Zafira embarks on a quest to uncover a lost artifact that can restore magic to her suffering world and stop the Arz, Nasir is sent by the king on a similar mission: retrieve the artifact and kill the Hunter. But an ancient evil stirs as their journey unfolds—and the prize they seek may pose a threat greater than either can imagine. Set in a richly detailed world inspired by ancient Arabia, We Hunt the Flame is a gripping debut of discovery, conquering fear, and taking identity into your own hands.

@moirindeclermont recommends anything from Jacqueline Carey (she is a goddess and my favourite writer) but also Deborah Harkness (A discovery of witches) which is amazing, I’m obsessed with it. Nemesis by Isaac Asimov touches some themes similar to Brienne’s. Arn the knight

The land of Terre d'Ange is a place of unsurpassing beauty and grace. It is said that angels found the land and saw it was good... and the ensuing race that rose from the seed of angels and men live by one simple rule: Love as thou wilt. Phèdre nó Delaunay is a young woman who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye. Sold into indentured servitude as a child, her bond is purchased by Anafiel Delaunay, a nobleman with very a special mission... and the first one to recognize who and what she is: one pricked by Kushiel's Dart, chosen to forever experience pain and pleasure as one. Phèdre is trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bedchamber, but, above all, the ability to observe, remember, and analyze. Almost as talented a spy as she is courtesan, Phèdre stumbles upon a plot that threatens the very foundations of her homeland. Treachery sets her on her path; love and honor goad her further. And in the doing, it will take her to the edge of despair... and beyond. Hateful friend, loving enemy, beloved assassin; they can all wear the same glittering mask in this world, and Phèdre will get but one chance to save all that she holds dear. Set in a world of cunning poets, deadly courtiers, heroic traitors, and a truly Machiavellian villainess, this is a novel of grandeur, luxuriance, sacrifice, betrayal, and deeply laid conspiracies. Not since Dune has there been an epic on the scale of Kushiel's Dart-a massive tale about the violent death of an old age, and the birth of a new.

Deep in the stacks of Oxford's Bodleian Library, young scholar Diana Bishop unwittingly calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript in the course of her research. Descended from an old and distinguished line of witches, Diana wants nothing to do with sorcery; so after a furtive glance and a few notes, she banishes the book to the stacks. But her discovery sets a fantastical underworld stirring, and a horde of daemons, witches, and vampires soon descends upon the library. Diana has stumbled upon a coveted treasure lost for centuries-and she is the only creature who can break its spell.

In a hail of fire and flashing sword, as the burning city of Acre falls from the hands of the West in 1291, The Last Templar opens with a young Templar knight, his mentor, and a handful of others escaping to the sea carrying a mysterious chest entrusted to them by the Order's dying Grand Master. The ship vanishes without a trace. In present day Manhattan, four masked horsemen dressed as Templar Knights emerge from Central Park and ride up the Fifth Avenue steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during the blacktie opening of a Treasures of the Vatican exhibit. Storming through the crowds, the horsemen brutally attack anyone standing between them and their prize. Attending the gala, archaeologist Tess Chaykin watches in silent terror as the leader of the horsemen hones in on one piece in particular, a strange geared device. He utters a few cryptic Latin words as he takes hold of it with reverence before leading the horsemen out and disappearing into the night. In the aftermath, an FBI investigation is led by anti-terrorist specialist Sean Reilly. Soon, he and Tess are drawn into the dark, hidden history of the crusading Knights, plunging them into a deadly game of cat and mouse with ruthless killers as they race across three continents to recover the lost secret of the Templars.

Irissa and Kendric Series

Irissa was the last of the sorcerous Torlocs, untutored in magic and abandoned upon this decaying world by her people. Kendric was one of the Six of Swords, gifted with a legendary weapon to guard the Realms from harm. But now he was an outcast, and his death was sought with reason by the other Five. Sorceress and swordsman, they were thrown together; each filled with ancient prejudices against the other. But only by combining her uncertain powers with his remaining skills could they survive. Survive they must, however. Rule was a world formed upon magic - but now magic was failing and there would soon be no place for it. And destiny in strange guise had chosen them to make one last stand against the dark forces that were waiting at the Gate of Valna, seeking to destroy their world

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Orphaned as a child, Jane has felt an outcast her whole young life. Her courage is tested once again when she arrives at Thornfield Hall, where she has been hired by the brooding, proud Edward Rochester to care for his ward Adèle. Jane finds herself drawn to his troubled yet kind spirit. She falls in love. Hard.

But there is a terrifying secret inside the gloomy, forbidding Thornfield Hall. Is Rochester hiding from Jane? Will Jane be left heartbroken and exiled once again?

Since its immediate success in 1813, Pride and Prejudice has remained one of the most popular novels in the English language. Jane Austen called this brilliant work "her own darling child" and its vivacious heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, "as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print." The romantic clash between the opinionated Elizabeth and her proud beau, Mr. Darcy, is a splendid performance of civilized sparring. And Jane Austen's radiant wit sparkles as her characters dance a delicate quadrille of flirtation and intrigue, making this book the most superb comedy of manners of Regency England

In the medieval and fantastic realm of Tortall, Keladry of Mindelan (known as Kel) is the first girl to take advantage of the decree that permits women to train for knighthood. But not everyone in Tortall believes a woman is up to the task, and Kel faces harsh discrimination. With unparalleled determination and a knack for leadership, she captures the hearts of her peers and proves that she is not a girl to underestimate!

#jaime x brienne #braime #brienne of tarth #jaime lannister #We should start a book club #only half joking #but for real we should #next up does anyone have shows and movies that fit the dynamic of Jaime and Brienne #long post

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years ago

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Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker Part 9/? - Cross-Country Part 10/? - The Pit Part 11/? - Calls for Help Part 12/? - Campout and Reunion Part 13/? - Apocalypse Bunker Part 14/? - Terrible Truths Part 15/? - Library Crystals Part 16/? - The Stark Gallery

They landed at LaGuardia, where they had a quick (and expensive) lunch, and visited a kiosk to get Peggy and Howard a second set of cell phones before catching a train into the city. Peggy’s impression of twenty-first century London had been of the city she remembered but somehow more so, bigger and brighter and busier than ever before. Manhattan was, if anything, an even more extreme example. The streets were teeming with cars, dogs, and people. New, shiny buildings stood side-by-side with ones nearly a hundred years old. And like the familiar buildings in London, it hadn’t aged particularly well. Plaster was peeling and pavement was cracked, as if the entire island were crumbling away under the weight of all this human activity.

In the midst of all that, it was a bit unbalancing to find that the Fifth Avenue façade of Howard’s old mansion hadn’t changed a bit. It looked exactly as it had during the brief time Peggy and Angie had lived there – a mix of Georgian and Neoclassical architecture that probably looked refined to anybody who didn’t know the difference between the two. The magnolia trees had grown but they’d been lovingly pruned, and there were different flowers in the garden but the beds were in the same place. It looked as if Peggy could move right back in.

Except, of course, for the giant banner advertising a new exhibit of Jackson Pollock, and the massive queue of people waiting to get in. Those were very definitely new.

“That’s a hell of a thing to see,” Howard muttered, as they got in line. “A hundred people just waiting to get into your house.”

“Are you telling me that’s never happened before?” Peggy asked, skeptical.

“Those were reporters,” Howard told her. “Not members of the public.”

Peggy looked at the crowd of people waiting, and then at Toulouse herself, with blue and green locks falling out from under her knitted cap. It would be silly to keep Toulouse and Kevin out when all these other civilians were coming in, and Toulouse herself looked determined. Peggy had a feeling if she told her no, there’d be a fight.

“Not now,” she decided, “but this is just a scouting-out trip. Once we have a plan for what to do next, we may ask you to leave.” They probably wouldn’t have to worry about anything more dangerous than security guards, but Peggy wasn’t going to take that for granted. HYDRA might be able to find this place, too. They might even have followed them here.

“Let me know if I can help,” said Toulouse firmly.

While the main façade faced Fifth Avenue, the actual entrance to the mansion was on East Seventieth Street. Toulouse paid admission for four and then stepped into the main foyer, where Peggy discovered that Toulouse had not been joking about the interior having been preserved with its original décor. Even the wallpaper was, while not exactly what she remembered, certainly a very close replica. The coat check and small gift shop were on the right, and on the wall across from them was a large framed photograph of a family posing in the portico.

“Son of a bitch,” Howard said under his breath, and walked towards it.

The photo was in colour, and printed very large – nearly three feet tall, which rendered the image a little grainy up close. Even so, there was no mistaking the identity of the largest figure. It could only possibly be Howard himself.

Peggy came closer, too, to see how her friend had changed over the years. He definitely looked older, thinner, and more tired. His mustache was a little bushier and his hair had gone gray, and he looked more deathly serious than she could ever remember seeing him. Standing on his right and smiling gently was an attractive blonde woman, at least twenty years younger than he. Her hair fell long around her shoulders and she was dressed in a dark skirt suit and pearls. Between the adults was a little boy, three or four years old. He had a mop of dark hair and serious brown eyes, and looked stiff and uncomfortable in his little suit and tie.

There was a brass plaque below the picture. It said, Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark, September 1973.

“So that’s them, eh?” Howard murmured.

“So it is,” Peggy agreed.

It was a strange thing to see, she thought. Toulouse had mentioned that Howard would get married, but here was the proof, staring back at them across forty years. His wife, Maria, was very much Howard’s type – a petite blonde with a pretty face and a charming smile. Peggy wondered what was different about this one. What had made Howard decided that out of all those little blondes, this was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

Howard must have been thinking the same thing. “I wonder what she was like,” he said. “I wonder where I met her.”

“It might say on your Wikipedia article,” Toulouse suggested from behind him.

“Yeah,” Howard said distantly, and Peggy could tell that he wasn’t going to look. He didn’t want to know. Why would he? Who wanted to know that here was the love of their lives, forever beyond their reach?

Peggy knew that feeling all too well. It still came over her every so often, usually in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. She’d told herself again and again that she was over Steve, that she couldn’t dwell on what might have been – she’d told Jason that, and it had been good advice for him as it was for her, but there was a part of her heart that just wasn’t willing to take it. Daniel had asked Peggy if she still loved him and she’d had to say yes, she always would. She knew better than to let it interfere with the rest of her life and relationships, but she was very much still in love with Steve Rogers.

Kevin and Toulouse were hanging back now, not wanting to interrupt. Peggy herself was of two minds about it. If they stayed here staring for two long, somebody might wonder why, but Howard was having to contemplate an entire life he could never live. A wife he would never meet, a son he would never hug… he would need time to cope with that. Peggy hoped they had that time.

Finally, Howard tore himself away, with honest pain in his face that he couldn’t quite hide by forcing himself to smile. “Okay,” he said. “The vault entrance will be in the library.”

“Wasn’t it in the music room?” asked Peggy with a frown. Howard had used the library. The music room was only there because fancy houses were supposed to have one.

“It was, but when I decided to hide it better I planned to move the door,” he explained. “If I got on with that, it’ll be in the library.”

The music room was circular, and was now used as an exhibit of antique instruments, including an eighteenth-century cello and a white-lacquered grand piano. They looked like the sort of things Howard would collect just because rich people were supposed to collect things. A doorway from there led into the library, which was where most of the crowd was. Not only was it home to several rare books, but the featured exhibit of three paintings by Pollock were hanging on the far wall. These were not particularly impressive as far as Peggy could tell. They all looked like they’d been made by simply throwing paint at a canvas.

Howard took no interest in the art at all. He turned immediately to the right, where the library shared a wall with the music room – the fact that the latter was round left a wedge-shaped space between them. A large Indian rug was hung there, with a plastic panel in front of it so that people couldn’t touch.

“Is this the place?” Peggy asked. Based on her memory of the music room entrance, it did seem right.

“Should be,” Howard said. “Looks like they re-wallpapered, or maybe I did that. Either way, hides the entrance completely. If I can just find the seam in the plaster…” he reached to touch the wall.

“Sir,” a security guard stepped forward. “You’re not allowed to touch that.”

Howard looked at the man and began drawing himself up to his full height, and a horrible mental picture flashed through Peggy’s head. He’d forgotten the situation, and was about to tell the guard that he could touch whatever he wanted in his own house. She grabbed his arm to drag him away.

“There’s a sign right there, Honey,” she said, in an American accent. “I know it’d look nice in your study, but I’m sure it’s not for sale. Right?” She smiled at the guard.

“That’s correct, Ma’am,” the guard told her.

Howard deflated as he remembered where and when they were. “Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he said.

There was a little café in the museum courtyard. The food there was even more shockingly expensive than at the airport, but they ordered some coffee with steamed milk and some Danish pastries, and sat down to talk about their next move. Howard continued to be uncharacteristically quiet. The fact that this house no longer belonged to him was apparently as difficult for him as knowing he would never meet the woman in the photograph.

“I suppose we could always come up through the sewers, like the last people who robbed that vault,” Peggy observed.

Howard shook his head. “I filled in the hole and reinforced it. It’d take a bomb to get it out again. We’ll just chip off the plaster and go in through the door.”

“And how do we get back into the house after closing?” Peggy wanted to know. She didn’t doubt Howard knew how to do it, she only wanted to remind him that he hadn’t told her.

“Why would we leave?” Howard started to smile again. “You really think I built myself a house with only one secret room?”

“Oh, of course.” Peggy shook her head. “How very silly of me!”

“How can I help?” asked Toulouse.

The humour melted out of the conversation as Peggy and Howard exchanged a glance. Neither of them wanted Toulouse getting hurt, and the chances of them triggering some kind of alarm while doing this were very good. A technology that could create those multi-use mobile phones could do all kinds of things with surveillance.

“You can wait outside,” Peggy decided, “and let us know if the police are coming.”

Toulouse sighed. “That’s what I figured you’d say.”

“You’ve already been a great help,” Peggy assured her. “We couldn’t have come this far without you.”

“I know,” said Toulouse. She had a spoon in her hand, and was playing with the foam on her coffee, piling it up in to a mound that slowly collapsed again. “Daddy would agree with you. He’s all about paying to save the world, but he never goes to any of these places himself. I guess he’s afraid he’ll end up like Junior.”

Peggy had slept through the part of the conversation on the plane when Toulouse had said how her brother died. She wondered now if it might be important, but Toulouse didn’t look as if she wanted to talk about it and Peggy didn’t want to sound like she was prying. “Well, perhaps that’s a very good reason,” she said.

“I agree with them, for what that’s worth,” said Kevin. “I’m just sticking around to make sure somebody’s trying to avoid Yellowstone blowing up under me. I don’t actually want to have to fight a supervillain if I don’t have to.”

“Daddy isn’t a supervillain!” Toulouse protested.

“He kind of is,” said Kevin. “I mean, he wants to set off a volcano on purpose. That’s some top-tier supervillainy.”

“He is not a supervillain,” Toulouse told him. “Supervillains are like… are like Loki, or Ultron. They’ve got powers and stuff. Daddy isn’t a supervillain. I figure there’s got to be a reason why him and Cass are mixed up in this,” she went on. Now she was gesturing with the spoon, rather than scooping foam. “Maybe somebody’s using them. Remember I said Daddy did the investigation when HYDRA was exposed in the UK? Maybe somebody promised him something and he didn’t realize it was going to lead to this! I wish I’d been able to say something to Cass.”

Peggy wondered if she ought to be worried. It was possible that Toulouse was right, and if she told her father and brother what was going on, they’d put a stop to it. It was also possible, however, that she was dead wrong, and that trying to say anything to them would be a disaster. They needed more information before they could let her try. Before she could say anything, though, Howard spoke.

“Actually, Toulouse, Kevin, I’ve got a really important job for you two. We are going to need a distraction.”

The staircase to the second floor was between the foyer and the fountain court There was a security guard posted there to intervene if anybody decided to duck under the rope. Across from the staircase was a little marble table displaying an intricate silver-plated wine cooler. Toulouse and Kevin passed by this, and Toulouse hitched her purse up her shoulder and knocked the cooler over.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, and went to pick it up.

“No, don’t touch it, you’ll get fingerprints on it!” Kevin told her. He stuck out his foot to stop her, and bumped the thing again.

“Both of you get away from that!” the horrified guard exclaimed. He went to move them away from it, and with his back turned, Peggy and Howard slipped up the red-carpeted stairs.

“That poor cooler,” Peggy remarked.

“Eh, it’s not even real Sheffield plate,” Howard said, unconcerned.

At the top of the steps was a little room where another guard was supposed to be watching a bank of television screens that showed various views of the house. Peggy and Howard outside the door were quite clearly visible on one of them, but the guard in question was reading a comic book and not paying the slightest attention. As they tiptoed by, Peggy noticed what was hanging on the wall next to the shelves of screens.

“Is that one of those paintings from California?” she asked.

Howard glanced over his shoulder at the portrait. “I dated an artist there,” he said. “She told me I was her muse. That’s when I knew I had to leave her – I couldn’t take being anybody’s muse. Too much pressure.”

“Mmm,” said Peggy. “We’re lucky the staff didn’t recognize you, if they have to look at that all day.” Then again, perhaps they had, and just dismissed it as a coincidence.

“I wonder what happened to the ones she did of me nude,” Howard said.

“If she had any sense, she burned them.”

#fanfic #agent carter #peggy carter #howard stark

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hoseokmylovesworld · 6 years ago

Text

Picture of Love | 11 (M)

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, smut, dirty talk, praise kink

Words: 6,056

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her. She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

"I didn't know we were going shopping." I turn to J-Hope once I finally get myself together from my insane fit of laughter.

Even standing here now with my eyes travelling over all the sexual gadgets on every wall, I couldn't bring myself to believe Jay brought me to a sex shop. The place was way bigger than I could have guessed. Rows of dildos and vibrators, vibrating dildos and anal stimulators went on forever it seemed. There were even walls stocked with weapons, accessories and rope for bondage along with every leather creation known to man. On the opposite wall of the store were imaginative costumes for roleplay. The classic doctor and nurse duo caught my eye and my mind took off with a bed room scenario including Jay in a snazzy lab coat and scrubs and me in a tight, red and white nurse's ensemble. Mmm.

Being pulled out of his shocked stare, he turns to me, flustered.

"Yeah? Neither did I." He remarks, turning back to his surroundings with his hand with his hand on his hip, finding the humor in the situation, finally. "...Unless you wanted to...I could... you know... " he gestures to the toys to communicate that if I were interested, he would buy me something.

I'll keep that in mind.

"No, thank you. I'm quite satisfied with the collection I have now... Thanks though." I say, looking back at him to gauge his reaction, but taking a few more steps into the business.

Jay makes a slightly caught off guard face and his cheeks slowly, but surely accumulate a pink hue.

"Don't act surprised, you saw that coming. Probably." I brush off.

"Yes, I suppose I did." He laughs. "Well, I'm sorry I brought you all the way here for nothing. Makes for a good story though, ha... I'm gonna kick Suho's ass for this." He curses under his breath.

"Oh? Or did you do this on purpose to tell me something?" I move closer to him and rest my hands on his chest, making suggestive eyes at him, planning to make my move.

He takes hold of my waist in turn, but his next words contradict his actions. "Charlotte, if I wanted to tell you I wanted to sleep with you, I would." He utters smiling, as if it were nothing.

Ooh, bold and rude are we?

"So...why haven't you? Do you not want...?" I don't finish my sentence out of pure embarrassment and offense. I begin to back away and release myself from his grip in fear of making a fool of myself any further.

"No! I mean yeah, I do!" He stammers, attempting to bring my body back to himself. "I just...I thought you wanted to take things slow." He makes a very confused, yet hopeful face. My shoulders drop and I can't help, but let out a giggle.

Of course the reason he hasn't questioned me about sex is because he's concerned. How am I even able to be associated with this man?

"Yes, I do... but I'm thinking this can be the exception." I move closer and lean up to whisper in his ear and press my hand to his crotch, evoking a groan from J-Hope. "'Cuz I really like you. Also because I really wanna suck your dick." He laughs nervously, briefly ducking his head into my neck.

"That sounds... amazing, but I probably should get some food in you first." He looks down into my eyes, caressing my face once again.

"Or you could put something else in me." I persist, biting my lip for effect and keeping eye contact.

J-Hope just laughs freely, all nervousness gone. "That sounds even better, believe me, but I'm serious. You should really eat something and I'm actually pretty hungry myself." He says more sternly, but still has yet to remove my hand. That's the second hard-on I gave him today and he's not jumping my bones.

Is this a joke?

"Wow, what a gentlemen... fine, I'll play by your rules." I relent, accepting that I've lost the battle.

"Good... because soon there won't be any." he whispers in my ear and then took my hand that was on his crotch and kissed the back of it all while looking at me with those bedroom eyes.

Mission complete. Message received.

I then take the hand that's holding mine and kiss that as well, earning a pleasantly surprised face from Jay. "Good. Let's get outta here."

I drag him out of the building, not sparing the silly blonde another glance on the way out. The car is charged with sexual tension and comfortable yet static silence.

J-Hope pulls up to a large, stone building and parks directly in front of it. "This is where we're having dinner?" I inquire as he helps me out of the car.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Hope you don't mind." He sends me a smirk and doesn't wait for a reply, leading me towards the building that reads Nob Hill Apartments on at the top. Oh.

I take a good look around the lobby on our way to the elevator. It was filled with huge leather chairs and mahogany furniture and marble walls, altogether a very expensive looking place. Before I can comprehend what's happening, my view is disrupted by the closing of the elevator doors. Coming back to myself, I assess the situation aloud.

"So, what are we going to do about dinner at your apartment?" I'm genuinely confused as to why he didn't just go to the drive through or something. The elevator dings once we reach the fifteenth floor and we step out to approach a lone door at the end of a short corridor. "I'm gonna cook for you, of course." J-Hope takes his keys out and unlocks the door. Oh this just keeps getting better and better.

"You're... gonna cook... for me?" I stand, dumbfounded in the hall. Jay just turns to me and flags me over with a tilt of his head and a flick of his wrist. "Yes, now come in." He laughs. I cross over the threshold into Jay's apartment that happens to be huge as fuck. Before I have a good look around, he requests that I take my heels off and he removes my coat and put them all in the coat closet. A fucking coat closet in an apartment.

"Alright, would you like the grand tour?"

"Yes, please."

"Ha ha, okay."

The closest was the full bathroom, which was surprisingly, very clean, next was the fully equipped laundry room. After that, was Jay's bed room, which had a beige upholstered, king sized bed with a mac laptop resting carelessly on the bed spread, a walk in closet, another full bath, a metal computer desk with a neat desktop setup, for editing I assume, and a stack of books on top of it. The walls were a cool grey and the space was very tidy, but the room still gave off a comfortable, "lived-in" feeling.

"Next is the living room." Along with the initial door that lead us to the bedroom from the hall, there was a sliding, white door that took up most of the wall that lead to the living room.

Well shit.

The first thing I notice about the living room was the magnificent view of the city from its abundant windows. The Golden Gate and Bay bridges along with the rest of the San Francisco were lit up against the night sky. I let out a content sigh. J-Hope comes to stand beside me as I stare at the beautiful view. "That view is part of the reason why I took the place. My roommate loves that view too." I immediately turn my head in his direction at this.

"Roommate?" I ask, slightly concerned.

"Oh, yeah, well, not really my roommate, my friend is just staying for a while. He won't be back tonight though, don't worry." He rubs my arms, comfortingly, while shooting me a flirtatious glance and I decide to study the living room further so as to not jump his bones right here.

He'd better not.

It had dark, hardwood floors with a large grey rug covering most of it and a coffee table sat on top of it. A hefty three seat, leather couch accompanies the coffee table and is flanked by two more leather armchairs in front of the full entertainment system and massive flat screen.

"Nice." I say to myself, but he responds "Thanks. That's my guest/roommate's room over there." He points to the closed, sliding door on the right of the living room, directly across from his.

"And this is where all the magic happens. The kitchen." I am then lead into the kitchen that does not belong inside an apartment, but a two story suburban home. There's every kitchen appliance ever to exist and all the cabinet space you could ever wish for. There's even a granite island with three stools in front of it. I take a seat in one as J-Hope gets to work pulling out utensils and ingredients. I watch as he pulls the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his forearms and washes his hands.

"You have such a nice place here." I say continuing to ogle my surroundings.

"Thanks. Yeah, I worked really hard for it." He doesn't bother taking his attention off of what he's doing.

"I see that. What does your roommate do?" I ask, simply trying to make conversation. I could give a shit what his roommate does for a living.

"Uh, he's a music producer." He shares absentmindedly, very focused on his task.

"Oh, that's cool." I nod. "What are we eating anyway?" I try to peak over his shoulder.

"Chicken parmesan and some spaghetti." I audibly gasp behind him, my eyes popping out of my head.

"That's my favorite food." I announced excitedly.

He turns slightly to me with a pleased smirk. "I know." He almost purrs or at least that's what it sounded like to me. "Oooh, he listens." I cooed proudly. "Of course he does." He shot back satisfied with himself causing me to giggle.

This along with the thought that he probably prepared for this night under different circumstances on a separate occasion really warmed my heart completely.

"Hey, you want some wine to hold you over? This might take a while." He points to the chicken he was in the middle of seasoning.

"Oh, yes please." I accept without a second thought. J-Hope pulls a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rose from the fridge and pours two glasses. I take a sip and savor the taste and watch Jay as impressed as I've ever been. Man, he's got money, a nice car, a nice place and he can cook!

From what I can smell anyway. God, please don't let me fuck this up anytime soon.

We make small talk for a little while longer before I begin to get bored just sitting and watching his back, so I make my way to the counter, near the stove, where he's working to get a closer look. I glance at the browning chicken in the pan and then up at J-Hope through my lashes and we lock eyes before he chuckles and looks away, I notice, he even starts to blush. How fucking cute is that?!

"You want a sneak peak?" He says, preparing a spoon full of the homemade spaghetti sauce for me to sample. Yeah, a sneak peak of that dick.

"Yeah sure!" I answer, just happy to have his attention again.

He happily escorts the spoon to my lips and my eyes widen once the sauce hits my taste buds.

"Jay," I grab his arm quickly as if I have pressing information to tell him. He looks back at me intently, awaiting my message. "I don't know if you know this, but...this is actually good." I say in a shocked voice. I drop the act and let out a chuckle when his shoulders drop from their tense pose and he narrows his eyes at me.

"That's very funny, but I'm not surprised." He replies, suddenly reaching out to touch my face. He swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth and comes back with a red sauce that he immediately sucks into his mouth all while making eye contact with those bedroom eyes of his. "Tease." I whisper under my breath, making my way back to the island to sip on my wine. Jay chuckles at my actions and continues cooking, forcing me to do nothing, but look at his impressive back muscles. Taunting me without even trying now.

Get it together Char.

More small talk ensues until I peak to see Jay plating the food. He brings two plates and the bottle of wine over to the island and sits beside me. "Whew! Finally, I'm starving." I dig in without a second thought or reply from Jay. Once again I'm speechless at how delicious this dish is that I've been eating all my life.

"OH, J-Hope!" I mumble frantically through all the food in my mouth. He all-but jumps in his chair and looks me over for any injuries. "What? What is it!? Is it the food? What's wrong?" He asks wildly, trying to find solutions.

I nod hurriedly and swallowed everything in order to speak. "J-Hope, this is so fucking good!" I announce the reason why I was making a fuss and his expression completely changes from one of concern to betrayal. He goes back to eating his meal, fighting off a desperate need to laugh, while I for one took to laughing at his expense openly.

"Awww, Jay. Don't be mad." I teased through laughter as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." He replied, emotionless. "Awww, I'm sorry. It was just so delicious. I couldn't help myself." I say peppering kisses along the exposed right side of his body. I continue to do this as a moment of silence comes over us until Jay speaks up.

"That's twice I fell for that joke." he whispers. "I know! I'm amazing aren't I?" I let go to reward myself with a fork full of chicken parm.

"I can't argue with you there. Just not again, please." He looks up feebly, only half joking. "Yes, Jay, you got it. Thanks so much for cooking me this amazing meal by the way. It's lovely." A genuine smiles adorns his perfect face and I mentally pat myself on the back for putting it there.

"Of course, I've actually been wanting to do this for a while, but haven't found the right time. Ha, maybe I should be thanking Suho for telling me to go to that place."

I knew it! He had been planning to make me dinner after all. I don't know how to respond once my suspicions are proven true, as I'm filled with so much pleasure to hear that he would plan all this for me. It shows that he really put a lot of thought into this night to cook my favorite food, save an expensive wine bottle for the occasion and entertain my foolishness all the while. I place my hand on his forearm that rested on the table without thinking.

"You don't have to, you know?" I said in a low voice.

"Don't have to what?" he inquired genuinely lost at my vague sentence.

"To...Impress me, I guess." J-Hope was clearly not expecting this answer, as his eyes got the slightest bit wider and his mouth moved into a small frown. He was obviously lost. "I mean...What I mean to say is, you've taken me to the most expensive restaurants and nothing less, used your resources and connects to get wonderful photos and videos for my band and here you've worked really hard to make me this amazing meal and...I really appreciate it. No one has ever done this much for me... But I would be satisfied with like a burger and fries or something too." We both can't help, but laugh at that last part.

"I know Charlotte. That's the main reason why I like you so much." I give a toothy grin at the compliment that made me feel warm inside and make a side note to ask him about the other reasons later. We each go back to eating in comfortable silence before he decided he had more to say on the topic.

"I want to, though." Were his next words, leaving me the one to look at him in confusion. "Impress you, I mean... I mean it's not like you don't deserve it and it's no secret, I think you're... incredible and honestly, probably the most stunning girl I've ever met." I look down at the commendation out of habit. Jay gets up out of his chair to close the distance between us and lift my chin up to look at him with his thumb and index finger. "So forgive me for wanting to go the extra mile for someone as utterly brilliant as you are."

My stomach struggled to withhold the slew of butterflies running rampant inside it at the amount of praise coming from Hoseok. I honestly didn't know how to take it all, I definitely wasn't used to this and I could swear I felt tears flaring up behind my eyes at the sentiment. But there was no time to process it anyways seeing as Jay's lips were headed straight for mine and I welcomed them, gladly.

He took my face in both hands and bent down to plant on a kiss on my waiting lips. Instinctively, I wrap my hands around his middle, feeling everything I can and let my legs spread wider to give him better access so that I was on the edge of my seat and there is no space left between us. Jay's tongue easily enters my mouth as the kiss turns rough and I let out a soft moan, loving where this is going.

He runs his hands down my sides, not missing a single curve on his way to my thighs. I feel his hands caress the backs of my thighs and suddenly I'm being lifted into the air onto the island in the same exact position without breaking the kiss. An excited and impressed squeal escapes as I land, causing Hoseok to chuckle into my mouth. His mouth travels down my jaw to my neck, spending time on my sweet spot before he explores my collar bones and repeating the whole process with a hunger, like his life depended on it.

He dragged my body to the edge of the counter, one hand on each of my ass cheeks, causing my skirt to ride all the way up. With this, he properly grinded into my center, which was right where I needed him.

"Nnngh... You gonna give me what I want now?" I ask breathlessly in Hoseok's ear, in as sultry a voice as I can muster. "Yes, Charlotte." He pants in between his attacks on my neck. "Anything... You want... It's yours."

Arousal seemed to rush between my legs at the assertion and the delicious assault he was delivering to my jugular.

"Mmm." I hummed in approval, gripping the silky black hair at the crown of his head and pulling it back so that I could look him in those beautiful brown eyes. He wasn't expecting the rough action, moaning at the loss of exposed skin to gnaw on. He looked absolutely ravenous. His eyelids hooded with lust, chest heaving with excitement, ready to pounce again at any moment. I doubted I looked any different.

It was an odd experience, seeing Hoseok so wild and untamed like his usual gentlemanly self, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Take me to you room." I say before connecting our lips again. Jay wastes no time in picking me up and getting us to his room. He makes a b-line directly for the bed and carefully places me down on it before going to climb on top of me. He gives me a passionate kiss that sends warmth through my chest and continues his onslaught on my neck.

"God, I love your collar bones." He explains giving them a pleasant nip. I moan in delight at the statement. He starts to make his way down my body and I stop him because I have plans of my own.

"Ah-ah." I interrupt him. Jay looks up at me in bewilderment. "Take off your pants and get on your back." I instruct earnestly. A smug smirk appears on J-Hope's face, I don't return it seeing as he is unmoving between my legs. "You calling the shots now baby?" I try not to get distracted by the titillating chill that runs up my spine at the pet name or the memory of our almost first kiss with the phrase before it.

"Don't play dumb, you know what I want." I press, not even trying to hide the carnal desire building up inside of me for this man. Jay seems taken aback and pleased with my answer all at once. He moves off the bed to properly remove his offensive clothing, getting completely naked. "Fuck." I let slip while ogling his body, seeing that he has six pack abs and a very large penis.

"Soon, just be patient." He replies in a smug voice, getting back on the bed. I take advantage of his position and grab hold of his shoulders, pinning him to the bed so that I'm on top. "Smartass." I say as I go to flick his nipple with my tongue.

"Sss! Ahh, uh, that's new." He swallows hard, not knowing what to do with his hands at the sign of something new. "Just sit back and relax, baby." I drawled, pleased that the pet name had the same effect on him as it did on me.

I watch him visibly release the tension from his body and went back to tracing the expanses of his body with my tongue. Jay was mostly silent unless it had to do with his nipples or the area around his privates. I teased him by leaving hickeys on his hips and v-lines and blowing on the sensitive skin, even going as far as biting his thighs a couple of times.

I would make my way back and forth across his pubic bone and kitten-lick his cockhead each time, but never putting it in my mouth, causing him to whimper. I was having the time of my life just worshipping this man's body, enjoying his moans of pleasure with no rush for him to return the favor... Now that's new.

In my fun-filled daze, I hear Jay's voice in between the pants and whines. "Charlotte," He mewls. "Please..."

Oh? "Hm?" I look up to find his face screwed up in anguish, his left hand fisted in the sheets and the other half covering his face. "What was that?" I question, nipping at his abdominal muscles once more.

"Please-ss! Please stop teasing..." He looks down at me, pleadingly, which I return with a smug smile of my own. I've never been the one to earn pleas from a partner during sex, let alone wish to hear someone beg, but with Hoseok, it was one of the most magnificent sounds to ever grace my ears. It's all I've ever wanted.

"Is that what I'm doing?" I ask coyly. "Yes, Charlotte that is what you're doi-haugh!" His fretting was cut short as I finally took his erection in my hand, offering some kind of friction. "There's no need to raise your voice." I all, but whisper, letting the heat of my breath fall onto the tip of his cock.

"Hoo, ha ha, Charlotte," He begins, losing his patience.

"Say it again." I let my tongue slide up the side of his length briefly.

"Ahh, say what?" Jay asked cluelessly, surely losing his mind. "You know what." Is all I offer him with a sinister gaze. I felt a surge of power rush over me and I loved it. Being in control for once.

"Huhh... Please?" He takes a crack at it, but I wanted more. "Is that all you got?" I inquire while running my fingers along the underside of his balls.

"Mmm! Please, Charlotte will you put my dick in your mouth?" He spat out all at once, chest heaving.

"Mm, better... What will you give me?" I give his cock one long stroke and watch his body shudder. My mouth fell open at the sight and I couldn't resist the urge to touch myself. I hiked my skirt all the way up and stuck my hand inside my underwear to find an insane, but not surprising, amount of arousal already there. Collecting some, I teasingly swirled my fingers around my clit waiting for Hoseok's reply.

Hoseok looks down to see what all the movement is and his head falls back on the bed defeatedly in response. "Ugh, anything! I'll give you anything." He repeats his words from earlier and it's almost enough. I just need one more thing.

"Who's cock is this?" His dick twitches in my hand at the query.

"Oh, it's yours. It's all yours Charlotte, all of it." He panted out wholeheartedly, making my clit throb underneath my fingers and my stomach fill with butterflies simultaneously. With this, I finally took him into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks and jerking him off with my hand.

Jay tremors with the contact and immediately fists the sheets, this time with both hands. I take the hand in my panties and drag his fist to my head, signalling that he should grab onto that instead. He takes the hint and takes a fist full of my hair in his hand and tugs, causing my hand to quickly find its way to my clit again.

"You like when I pull on your hair, huh, baby?" I nod as I bob my head up and down on his dick and let out a moan of approval, sending vibrations through him, causing him to pull on my hair again and the cycle continued as such until Hoseok announces, "I'm gonna cum, Charlotte." I made no move to get off of him, I only nod in understanding. This exchange gives Hoseok the approval he needs to hold my head down on his cock as he hits the back of my throat.

Tears well up in my eyes at the pressure, but I fight through it as this is all I wanted and this is definitely not my first rodeo. He groans and comes down my throat in hot spurts, waves of pleasure visibly running through his body as he does. He promptly sinks into the bed, satiated and happy while I clean up the mess, still sucking on and sometimes licking up and down his cock because I can.

Hoseok comes back to life at some point and doesn't stop me, he only caresses my face and massages my scalp and I feel him start to get hard again in my mouth.

"God, you are amazing." He looks down at me with nothing, but adoration and I give the same gaze back.

"Come here." He orders with his finger. I'm powerless against his strong, heated gaze as I climb my way back up his body. He meets me halfway and I'm sat in his lap, kissing his soft, swollen lips. He works my shirt up over my head and gets rid of my bra in record time. This most definitely is not his first rodeo either.

He forces me straight back and pins me to the bed now. He eyes my bruised neck and chest with pink and red hickeys covering my brown skin, proudly before diving in to gift me more. I giggle and moan at the gesture. He must really have a thing for collar bones, it's kind of cute.

He travels down to my breasts and gets a kick out of my squirming as he greedily, stroked my nipples with his tongue. Migrating further south, he licked and sucked skillfully down the plains of my body with his sinful mouth. I whined at the loss of contact, as he carelessly removed my skirt and underwear at once. He looks me over once again in awe, it seems. I almost start to fidget under his gaze, but I fight it. The show I put on earlier reminds me of how confident I truly am and I find the power to gaze right back at him with lust filled eyes, silently begging him to take me.

"You're so beautiful, Charlotte." The pure adoration in the way he utters my name sends a delicious chill down my spine. I smile in thanks, not knowing what else to say and frankly struggling to find the words. He doesn't give it a second thought, instead, he backs up and pushes my legs back so that they're touching my stomach and takes my clit into his mouth without warning.

I intuitively, buck my hips into his mouth, Jay puts a stop to that by grabbing my thighs and forcing them down. The force he exerts will definitely leave bruising, but I find I am more than okay with that when I think about how I want Jay to leave his mark on me. The thought alone causes me to moan out and I grab Jay's head for leverage, twisting my fingers into that thick black hair that I love so much. He hums in approval into my pussy and I let out a tiny shriek.

"Ohhh, yes! Don't. Fucking. Stop." I pull his face closer to my cunt with both hands and my body arches off the bed when he sucks my clit into his mouth and repeatedly flicks his tongue against it full force.

"Shit! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, hah!" I felt myself getting close when he Jay inserted two fingers and started fingering me at an intense speed, catapulting me directly into my orgasm. My body froze in place and everything around me stood still. I let out a silent cry and my eyes rolled back into my head as Jay continued to finger me tirelessly for what felt like forever. He continued until I begged him to stop and I couldn't get mad at him for it because I loved every second.

I laid there in a drunken daze, chest rising and falling frantically, slightly convulsing without being touched. I felt Hoseok's body cover mine without putting much weight on me and I turned to face to him. He put both his hands on my face and kept calling my name even though I was right in front of him. With my vision slightly clouded with white spots and my drunken nature, I could see why he might be alarmed.

"Hey, Charlotte? You okay, babe?" The pleasant nickname brought some awareness to me and my senses and I was finally able to make Hoseok out with no spots or anything blocking my vision. The only thing I could think to do when I saw his beautiful face was to kiss him deeply. And the only thing I could think to say afterward was "Thank you."

He just laughs and caresses my face. "Anytime Charlotte." He lays his head on my chest and we just lay there for a while, enjoying the other's company.

"I mean what are you aquaman?" I jokingly ask, causing the both of us nearly cry with laughter. "No, but I try." He lifts his head up slowly and sends me a timid gaze. "You think you got one more in you?" He asks through hopeful, squinted eyes.

As if on cue, his cock twitches against my thigh, fully hard and I can feel arousal swell deep in my gut once more.

"If what happens next is anything like what I just experienced, I got whatever you want." I said seriously, looking deep into his eyes. He smiled, getting up to put on a condom and bouncing back to the bed like an excited puppy. He gazed at me longingly from above before pouncing on my lips. He kissed me fervently all the while reaching to down to make sure I was still wet enough for the main event. Of course I was.

"You ready?" He asks. "I been ready for a long time." I reply truthfully. I've waited for this moment for what seems like forever and now that it's finally here, I'm trying to revel in it for as long as possible.

Suddenly, he thrust his cock inside me while staring deep into my eyes and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. My jaw goes slack and I still his hips to get used to his massive size, but I don't look away. Eye contact during sex isn't a foreign concept to me, but I haven't done it with anyone since my ex. I didn't expect to want to capture the feeling it brings with Hoseok, but it feels more right now than it ever did before.

I girate my hips toward him, letting him know it's okay to move and he pulls almost all the way out and then delves back into me deeply. He hits my g-spot with most of his thrusts, causing my jaw to drop and my eyes to roll back into my head briefly before I refocus on him again and again.

"God, you look so fuckin' hot when you do that. Nnngh, so good baby, you're so good." I smile lazily and hum happily at the praise given to me. Jay takes notice of this.

"You like when I tell you how good you are?" He demands, his thrusts getting more powerful. "Ah! Yes!" My back completely arches off the bed and Hoseok follows my hips up into a new angle where he's on his knees, taking the weight of my hips and my shoulders and arms are the only part of me on the bed.

I let out a shout at the new angle that is bringing me closer and closer to my climax. "Right there! Oh my God, yes!" I scream as Hoseok takes complete control, guiding my body where it needs to go with his body as well as with his words.

"Oh, yes. You're so good Charlotte. Just taking my cock like that. Just take it, it's yours. All yours baby. Ooh--squeeze it like that again... Oh fuck."

Hoseok's intoxicating words and his rapid thrusts left me floating in a sea of nothingness. Euphoria spread from the tips of my toes to the every pore in my body. I was once again frozen in time and space, just a non-responsive pile of gummy limbs left throbbing around this cock for him to use as he pleased. And use it, he did and I welcomed every second of it. He came into the condom a while after me because he has the labido of a horse on steroids and collapsed on top of me. It was not a completely unwelcomed experience. I eventually wrapped my arms around him and vice versa, I was completely content.

A few minutes later, he got up to throw the condom away and made his way back to bed for a bit of cuddling. I haven't been a cuddler for years, but like most things when it came to Hoseok, I made an exception.

"That was absolutely amazing." He uttered into my chest, that was now cluddered with hickeys and fingerprints. "You can say that again. You're a fucking animal Jay, who knew?" We both laughed.

"I could say the same about you. Oh and Charlotte?"

"Yeah?" I peer down at him to get a better look.

"If we're gonna keep doing this, maybe you should learn how to pronounce my real name so I can hear you scream it next time." He smiles at me only half-joking.

I don't hesitate to take the pillow under him and slam it down on his face.

But he's not wrong, I would love to.

#j-hope fanfic #suga fanfic #junghoseok #junghoseokfanfic #minyoongi #minyoongifanfic #bts #btsfanfiction #ambw #kpop #humour #sugardaddyj-hope #smut #j-hopesmut #btssmut

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twopoppies · 7 years ago

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Historical AU Fic Recs

I was asked by @zsolounamanzana to recommend some historical fics (sorry love, I accidentally deleted your ask!). I don’t actually read historical AUs that often, so I will probably end up recommending ones you already know, but here’s a bunch I really liked. I hope there’s some here for you:

Threadbare by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill.

He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) by @indiaalphawhiskey

France, 1754. Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

To Honor by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

#46. It's Getting a Little Hard

Ech day me comëth tydinges thre, For wel swithë sore ben he: The on is that Ich shal hennë, That other that Ich not whennë, The thriddë is my mestë carë, That Ich not whider Ich shal farë.

**** Each Very grievous are they One must go hence Do not know when Greatest grief Do not know whither I must go

-Unknown, Medieval English lyrics

Commander Styles leads his men to victory, but at what cost?

And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Atlas At Last by @louisandthealien

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

No One Like You by myownspark / @myownsparknow

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

The Man Who Saw The Devil by @metal-eye

"The Devil was staring at him.

"Louis shifted slightly in his seat and scratched the back of his neck, picking up his program and reading the title of the play again: L’homme qui a vu le Diable.

"He was wearing a satin red suit, one that certainly stood out amongst the usual greys and blacks of other Paris theatres, and instead of merely appearing the two times that the main character summoned him, this Devil followed the other men around on stage as they spoke and played cards. He kept looking over their shoulders and mocking their awkward movements, jerks and twitches compared to his own lithe prowl. The theatre audience, most readily impressed by gruesome effects and sensationalism, couldn’t take their eyes off him.

"Neither could Louis."

Paris, 1912. Louis is a frequent patron of the Theatre du Grand Guignol. Harry is a performer. Tonight he's playing the Devil.

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by Anonymous

“So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing.

“It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?”

“For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm.

Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason.

“Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close.

Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them.

---

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

We’re What’s Right In This World by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”

“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.

The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” ---- Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

Paint The Sky With Stars by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by @alivingfire

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

Louis has been alive since life was a mere concept; he watched the summoning of Man into existence, he was there when Eve took the apple. He’s seen seas break the world into separate pieces, he’s watched empires crumble into dust. He’s seen wildfire consume cities, he’s seen the world painted white with snow. He has known the most beautiful humans to walk the planet, he has watched the most powerful mortals gather their riches and influence around them and then die just like the poorest, weakest humans do. He’s met humans whose motives defy explanation, people who use their lives as battering rams, as tools, as weapons, as chess pieces.

None of that stopped Louis in his tracks.

But Harry did.

If you haven’t read Butterfly Gun and you can find someone who has it downloaded (it’s been deleted), read that...it’s set in the 1940′s if I recall correctly and it’s beautifully written.

I haven’t read this one yet, but it was highly recommended to me. It’s a WIP, but the writing is apparently is finished:

Victorian Boy by DonnaHaywardsHead

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

This is another I haven’t had a chance to read but friends told me is wonderful:

Back To You And Tennesee by rippedgloves

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

#my fic rec #mine #larry fic rec #historical au

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allenmendezsr · 4 years ago

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Off The Floor: A Manual For Deadlift Domination

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/off-the-floor-a-manual-for-deadlift-domination/

Off The Floor: A Manual For Deadlift Domination

Buy Now

Discover How A Skinny Computer Nerd From Minnesota Uncovered A Little-Known Secret That Skyrocketed His Deadlift From 245 Pounds to Over 600 Pounds While Forcing His Body To Pack Slabs Of Rock-Hard Muscle Onto His Shoulders, Traps, Back, And Arms…

My name is David Dellanave and just a few years ago I was a pretty average lifter. My deadlift numbers were stuck and didn’t seem to be going up at all.

And it’s not like I wasn’t trying – in fact, TRYING was all I did! I tried every single deadlift program under the sun, religiously following the instructions, just hoping to get a little stronger, a little bigger, a little better. I tried…

I tried low-volume programs where I only focused on high intensities and heavy loads – but my max never went up.

I kept deloading to improve my form, but no matter how perfect my technique got, my deadlift didn’t improve and I wasn’t putting on any muscle working with baby weights!

I tried Westside Barbell’s world-famous system, to no avail.

I tried high-volume programs with tons of sets. All I got from this was a weakened immune system, getting sick all the time!

I even tried a famous program from a well-known Russian coach that did nothing but drive me into the ground with no progress to show for it.

But no matter what I tried, I would always just end up injured and in the same place that I was before. I always thought I was making a little bit of progress, but then I would end up “tweaking” something and my progress was immediately STOPPED.

I went on this “roller coaster” for a number of years before stumbling upon a little known secret that skyrocketed my deadlift and my muscle gains…

This secret has allowed me to take my deadlift from 245 pounds to 605 pounds, and become a world record holder in my weight class for the deadlift (And in case you’re wondering, the secret I am talking about is NOT steroids. I am all natural and have the blood tests to prove it.)

I was asked to take a steroid test on the day I set my Jefferson Deadlift World Record.

And on top of that, as my deadlift numbers shot up, I started to pack on pounds and pounds of rock-solid muscle to all of my weakest body parts.

My arms, shoulders and back blew up practically overnight. I went from a skinny 168 pounds to a jacked 205 pounds and 10 percent body fat in the blink of an eye.

Since then I’ve achieved triple-bodyweight deadlifts in four variations and gone over a thousand pounds in partial-range deadlifts. I can deadlift 365 pounds with one hand or one leg. I’ve pulled 225 pounds for 50 reps in under a minute. My training logs track over 30 variations of deadlifts, and I sometimes deadlift five days per week. I’ve never been beaten in a deadlift event in contest.

I’ve shared some of my deadlift secrets with major publications like T-Nation & Men’s Health, helping guys all over the world add pounds to their deadlift and mass to their frames.

And these miracle results haven’t just been a one-time thing. I’ve been able to replicate these shocking improvements with all of my male and female clients.

You see, in addition to my own lifting, I also run two gyms in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

And since discovering these deadlifting secrets, I’ve been able to skyrocket the deadlifts of “everyday” men and women in just a few weeks.

These men and women aren’t genetically gifted or even athletes for that matter. Most of them are between the ages of 20 and 60 and they work normal jobs while lifting with me just a few times each week.

And the best part is…

The men continue to pack on more muscle in all of the toughest areas to get bigger in: Bigger shoulders, bigger backs and bigger arms start to pop up practically overnight.

And for the ladies, they can’t believe the difference in how much better their arms, legs and butts look after a few weeks using these deadlifting secrets.

Just take a look at some of the MASSIVE improvements I’ve helped lifters just like you make:

The Biofeedback Breakthrough That Changed Everything

My frustation with being stuck, injured and not making progress changed literally overnight, on a cold Saturday in the middle of a Minnesota winter. In circumstances reminiscent of a spy movie, I was introduced to something that I would never have believed if I didn’t experience it for myself. This was a moment like something out of The Matrix. Just like Neo, I was being offered two choices. I could either take the leap and see how deep the rabbit hole went, or wake up in my bed believing whatever I wanted to believe. Lucky for you and me, I took the red pill and my training changed forever.

I was invited to an exclusive underground seminar where experimental techniques were being discussed. These shadowy figures were on the very cutting edge of the science of training. And during this seminar, they demonstrated to me that there is a way to figure out exactly the type of training stimulus your body needs at any given time.

Imagine knowing without a shred of doubt the exact weight, the exact reps, and the exact sets you should use for optimal progress. Beyond that, this technique can also be used to help you train around injuries and keep making progress. (In fact, it can help you avoid injury or resolve existing injuries, too.)

I know, it sounds impossible. It sounds too good to be true; it even sounds like magic – but it’s not magic, it’s science.

The technique I learned at that underground seminar is all related to a little-known concept called Biofeedback Training.

Now, if you want the technical definition of biofeedback training, it’s:

“Biofeedback is the process of gaining greater awareness of many physiological functions primarily using instruments that provide information on the activity of those same systems, with a goal of being able to manipulate them at will.”

A more basic definition of Biofeedback Training is a method that collects information from the body, and then uses that information to teach the body how to perform more effectively.

At the time, Biofeedback Training sounded great in theory, but I was still skeptical. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t taken the plunge and tried it.

I saw the results for myself — and then again and again — with clients and others who had applied the principles. Using these Biofeedback Training principles I had learned, I was able to add almost 200 pounds to my deadlift in the first year alone. The next year was almost as impressive, adding another 150 pounds taking me all the way up to a 605-pound deadlift at a bodyweight of 185.

And, as I mentioned, I wasn’t the only one making such remarkable progress, my clients – regular joes and janes – were too.

I don’t just help regular guys, though. Even best-selling authors like John Romaniello and seasoned fitness professionals like Bret Contreras call me when they want deadlift advice.

Within the highest-level circles of the fitness industry, my name is pretty much synonymous with the deadlift. Sure, my reputation is partly based on the impressive results I’ve produced for myself and my clients; but the real reason I’ve become so highly regarded is that I’ve made myself a student of the deadlift. I’ve studied classic powerlifters and strongmen from as far back as the 1800s, and in doing so, I’ve rediscovered many of their long-forgotten secrets. In fact, in recent years I’ve helped to revive old school deadlift variations and bring them back to the mainstream – helping people get stronger and pack on muscle like never before.

Why A New York Times Best-Selling Fitness Author Was PISSED That I Wouldn’t Share This Information…

On a recent trip to New York City, I had the chance to hit the gym with my buddy John “Roman” Romaniello of Roman Fitness Systems. And although we were excited to train together, our session got off to a slow start…

Now, John’s no fitness slouch. He’s a best-selling author, a veteran of the fitness industry for over a decade and one of the biggest names in fitness right now. But, like anyone else, he’s human. Even fitness experts hit a rut — which is what happened to John. Not only had he hit a strength plateau, he’d been experiencing extreme pain in his low back. As a result, he’d basically given up deadlifts!

Because he’s my friend, I really wanted to help. Although I normally keep the recipe for my Secret Sauce close to the vest, I suggested he try some Biofeedback Training. When I explained it, he probably thought I was crazy…but he was desperate and willing to try anything. I coached him through the process, first testing his range of motion, then making adjustments and re-testing him.

In just 10 minutes, we figured out the exact stance he should be using for deadlifts, and the exact rep range he should be training with. Long story short, over the course of our session, John had an incredible first experience with Biofeedback Training. Not only was he able to pull more weight than he typically uses, it was the first time he was able to deadlift pain-free in almost 8 months!

In his words: “Mind. Blown.”

The funny thing is, over the course of our training session, John got angry with me. By the end, he was legitimately pissed off.

John wasn’t mad about his deadlift PR, he was mad that I hadn’t told him about Biofeedback Training before.

You see, I’ve kept mostly quiet about this information and these techniques over the past several years. While I was quietly using this information to train hundreds of clients at my gym, The Movement Minneapolis, for a long time I refused to share any of this information – even with my close friends. John couldn’t believe I was hoarding all this information about the deadlift – much less about the Biofeedback Training concept. He admonished me for it, and told me that I needed to write a book by the end of the summer because “it’s a book that needs to be written.”

After a few months of procrastinating, I set out to create the book John insisted I write. In the end, I wrote dozens of pages about the deadlift, including every variation you need to know about to level up your deadlift and put on massive slabs of thick muscle.

I compiled all of this information and organized it into a comprehensive program that I am excited to introduce. That program is Off The Floor: A Manual For Deadlift Domination.

Here are some of the secrets revealed in the program:

How the common mantra of “core training” is costing you pounds and risking your back health.

What type of deadlift will widen your back, blow up your traps, and give you erectors like tree trunks.

Not doing these lesser-known variations is easily costing you 25 to 50 pounds on your best deadlift.

The truth about lifting straps – and it’s probably not what you expect it to be.

Deadlifting for high volumes – the piece you’re missing.

The one cheap thing you should add to your gym bag to nearly instantly give you jacked forearms.

The deadlift variation you least expect is the one most likely to help your back pain.

The weird-looking deadlift that might be exactly what you need to unlock greater strength.

The key to perfect form that multiple world champion and freak of nature Dimitry Klokov knows, and you think is wrong.

Why you must change your form when you progress from beginner to a more advanced deadlifter.

How to deadlift more often – and put on more muscle – than you ever thought possible.

The manual is as comprehensive as they come, and includes information on:

Biofeedback Training 101: Everything you need to know to start implementing Biofeedback Training for yourself. You’re going to learn how to use the most advanced piece of training technology on the planet to tell you how to train smarter. Hint: it’s not a Tendo, an OmegaWave, or an iPhone with a gadget attached to it.

Deadlift Training Guide: Lessons I’ve learned on my quest to become a human crane – and coaching hundreds of people along the way.

Deadlift Exercise Library: Every critical deadlift variation you need to know. Think the deadlift is as simple as conventional or Romanian? Think again. These variants of the deadlift are the key to unlocking faster gains and unlimited progress.

The Off The Floor Program: I’m going to be honest, in the end I want you to use Biofeedback Training to become the master of your own programming, but before you’re ready to do that you need a stopgap. The Off The Floor program is going to outline exactly how to implement all the concepts I lay out in the book for maximum results.

Accessory Exercise Library: I would sign up for a program that involved nothing but deadlifting, but unfortunately you’d be shortchanging your results. Carefully chosen accessory lifts will round out your strength and speed up your deadlift progress.

Special Topics Section: Want to know how to destroy the competition at your first (or next) meet? Have a nagging weak spot in your pull? Curious about the core controversy? This section will finally answer these questions for you once and for all.

When I finished writing it, there was so much information that covered so many topics I knew I needed help making it more cohesive. In other words, I needed an editor – badly. Lucky for me, I happen to be marrying Ms. Jen Sinkler, one of the most badass fitness editors in the world. Upon reading it, she remarked, “You wrote fifty-freaking-three single-spaced, 12-point-font Word document pages about deadlifting. You’re insane.” “Insane” may be too strong a word, but it’s certainly not the worst thing I’ve been called. So, I took it as a compliment. The fact is, I simply love deadlifting, and I poured everything I have into the program. Jen was kind enough to edit it for me, and the final product is a tightly edited, beautifully photographed manual full of high-level information – a manual that you can download instantly right now.

“Less Than A Session With a Run-of-the-Mill Trainer”

If you wanted to hire me for one-on-one deadlift coaching or you were to come to my gym for personal training, you’d be looking at spending over $200 per hour, easily. While I certainly think that’s a great price for a valuable service, it’s not the expense that keeps my service out of reach for many people. The larger factor is that I can only coach so many people in a day, and I haven’t been able to take on a new client in months. While I love training my clients here in Minnesota, I wanted to make my knowledge available to people all over the world.

And, to be quite honest, I wanted to make that knowledge more affordable.

When you pick up Off The Floor today you’re going to get an amazing amount of information for an unbelievably low price. But you’re not just going to get the manual. In the package, I’m going to include quite a bit more. In the 9-Component System you’ll also receive:

Off The Floor $299 Value

The Off The Floor manual with almost a hundred pages of content that readers have called “the most they’ve learned about the deadlift in one sitting” and “flew threw it in one sitting because it flowed so well.” Be warned though, you’re going to want to immediately go to the gym or garage and train when you start reading.

Off The Floor Programs $99 Value

Three completely biofeedback-based training programs to get you stronger no matter where you’re starting from. Two 8-week beginner and intermediate programs as well as a 12-week advanced program. This in addition to the original Off The Floor program. Each program is fully biofeedback dependent so in a sense you have an almost unlimited program because no two people will ever do the same program.

Off The Floor Video Library $49 Value

Nearly an hour of video content on the biggest and most important deadlift variations that will ensure you’re getting the most out of your lifting – PLUS a detailed walk-through where I take someone through a biofeedback testing and training session so you can see just exactly how to implement biofeedback in your own training.

Grip Challenges $29 Value

Test your mettle or build a powerful grip with this bonus guide of grip challenges. Complete these and you’ll build forearms that would make Popeye jealous and Olive Oyl swoon.

Deadlift Exercise Library Quick Reference $49 Value

The cold hard facts about every deadlift variation you need to know. Descriptions, instructions, and pictures so that you can have a quick reference with you anywhere, even in the gym.

Deadlift Gear Guide $49 Value

You can certainly deadlift with just the rusty old weight set you found in your parents’ basement — that’s part of what makes it so great. But, you’d be missing out on some better training options available to you with the right gear. In this guide I’ll show you tools of the trade, whether it be advanced options, such as bands and chains, or simple things you can add to your gear bag to improve your results.

Biofeedback Training Guide $199 Value

Earlier this year, I created a 9-week Biofeedback Training course. This information was only available to my exclusive subscribers, until now. In this course, I hold your hand and walk you step-by-step through transitioning to a Biofeedback Training system. This has never before been available all in one place, except to my private coaching clients, and I’m going to include it here for free.

Supplement Guide $19 Value

There are a lot of crap supplements you can waste your money on. There are also supplements that can significantly improve your results with little added cost. Knowing which are worth it is the difference between flushing money down the drain and seeing the difference every time you look in the mirror.

Mastering the Deadlift with Bret Contreras $79 Value

I spent over an hour talking to whom many consider the foremost expert on the biomechanics of the glutes and hip – pretty much the deadlift. Bret and I share what we each believe to be the biggest limiting factor in the deadlift, and how to optimize your training to eliminate it.

One thing I want to point out that is new since the very first release of Off The Floor in 2013: This book now includes 3 entirely new 8 to 12-week programs for a total of FOUR complete programs for beginner, intermediate, and advanced lifters as well as the original Off The Floor program which has put tens of thousands of pounds on the deadlifts of lifters in 2014. That’s right, you get four complete programs in one.

Simply because I want you to have the best information you can possibly have, you have the opportunity to pick up the 6-component system valued at $870+ for an investment of only $99.

That’s less than the cost of a personal-training session at a run-of-the-mill commercial gym with a regular trainer who doesn’t have access to the information or experience that I do – and knows nothing about the deadlift or Biofeedback Training.

Now imagine if you wanted to work with a coach just twice per week, for the same 12-week period that the Off The Floor training program outlines — at a minimum of $75 per hour, you’d be spending $1800 in training alone. That’s more than twenty-five times the price for mediocre coaching, and probably mediocre results.

On the other hand, for a one-time investment of $49 – way less than it would cost you for a single training session with me — you can get your hands on this highly prized, hard-to-find information, all assembled for you in one place. What’s more, you’re going to get a complete 12-week training program designed by one of the premier deadlifting experts around, who just so happens to be a world record holder.

You Have Nothing to Lose & Muscle to Gain

If you don’t want to get stronger, and you don’t want to be an impressive deadlifter, and you don’t want to pack on muscle then by all means do not buy Off The Floor. But if any of those things arent’t true then you can’t afford not to make the small investment.

For less than half the cost of a single coaching session, you’re getting over 500 dollars of valuable content that is going to skyrocket your gains. For $49 you’re getting everything I’ve toiled for years to learn about the deadlift handed to you on a silver platter. All you have to do is take action.

60-Day Money-Back Guarantee – NO QUESTIONS ASKED

Look, I’m going to guarantee you results because I believe it is my duty to deliver what I promise. If I am going to tell you that you are going to achieve massive improvements in your deadlift, I better deliver. Test drive this program, and if you’re not satisfied within the first 60 days (that’s two months!) you can get a full refund, and keep the information.

I’m offering this generous guarantee because I 100% believe in this manual, and I know you’re going to see amazing results with it.

If you want to build up rock-solid shoulders, traps, and arms while adding 30, 50 or even 100 pounds to your deadlift, then simply click the “Add To Cart” button below and you will have INSTANT access to the Off The Floor manual along with the 5 other pieces of the system.

NOTE: Off The Floor is a completely digital downloadable series of books, videos, and audio files. After you order, you will get INSTANT ACCESS to download all product components onto your computer so there is no waiting or shipping costs! The format for all the written material is PDF, which can be viewed on Mac or PC, videos can be viewed online with any modern browser, and all audio content can be loaded on any digital audio player.

P.S. For $99 you are getting not one but FOUR done-for-you deadlift programs that will put 30, 50, or — if you’re like I was — even 200 pounds on your deadlift while also packing muscle on your frame. You’re also backed by my 100 percent money-back guarantee, so you literally have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

P.P.S. Two months from now, are you going to be stuck in the same rut you’ve been in, or are you going to be throwing another four wheels on the bar for your deadlift sessions? Even worse, you could be not lifting at all because you got hurt following the usual deadlift advice. This is your chance to change that.

ClickBank is the retailer of this product. CLICKBANK® is a registered trademark of Click Sales, Inc., a Delaware corporation located at 917 S. Lusk Street, Suite 200, Boise Idaho, 83706, USA and used by permission. ClickBank’s role as retailer does not constitute an endorsement, approval or review of this product or any claim, statement or opinion used in promotion of this product.

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sword-and-quill · 8 years ago

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The Mage & the Warlock

I promised an excerpt on the weekend, but hey, what’s a day between friends? ;) In this segment, Zory and Allan are introduced for the first time. Next excerpt will be meeting Alister, which will conclude the introduction of the main cast (which has been the primary focus of my excerpts thus far.) Woo!

The wrought iron gate creaked ominously as Mara pushed it open, noisy from years of resting idle on its hinges. She picked her way through the overgrown yard, stepping over jagged pieces of discarded metal and shards of broken dinner plates when she could spot them. The weeds were so numerous they had begun choking one another out in a struggle to dominate the little patch of land available to claim in front of the decrepit old house. As she drew closer to the front door, she noticed that someone had wildly looped thick, tangled masses of barbed wire around the porch’s banister and railing. Worse still, some of the loops were reddened with either rust or blood - perhaps even both.

Mara halted in front of the porch stairs, looking down at the strange, gritty piles of dirt that were neatly lined across each one. She thought she could identify rock salt in the mix, but that was about it. Even more interestingly, there were recent tracks disturbing the formation. Stepping in the stranger’s footsteps to avoid further destroying what appeared to be a ritualistic display, she made her way up to the front door, carefully inspected it for anything that could be considered a trap, and then knocked. At first, there was nothing but the sound of rustling weeds. Then, as she strained to listen, footsteps and voices slowly grew in volume.

“Seriously, Allan,” Someone said, increasingly audible as they approached the entry from somewhere deeper within the house. “All jokes aside, if you absolutely won’t move, you have got to get a pet or another roommate or something. You can’t be the only living thing in this place, it does really creepy things to you.” Mara hastily backpedaled as a tall black woman with dimpled cheeks pushed the door open with an elbow, carrying a massive box of eccentric items in her arms. “And while you’re at it, don’t forget to-” she broke off in mid-sentence, blinking owlishly at the other woman on the porch. “Oh! Someone was actually knocking. I thought it was one of your ghosts again.”

A rather miserable-looking man with ash white, tightly stretched skin poked his head around the woman’s shoulder and sized Mara up through thick, smudged glasses. “I don’t want a visitor.” He dismissed her, turning his attention back to the woman lugging the box. “Zory, please reconsider. These new methods you’ve been exploring can very exciting, but they’re ultimately untested and I believe they pose a risk to the practitioner’s-”

“Allan…” Zory laughed and huffed as the same time, shaking her head. “I’ve heard that at least fifty times from you and my answer’s always gonna be the same: progress demands experimentation. You can’t be scared of everything in the universe.”

“I wasn’t frightened of you, only the risks!” He protested plaintively, skinny shoulders sagging in dismay. “Please, I… I’m going to miss you.”

Zory sighed and glanced over at Mara, who was waiting quietly and awkwardly for the conversation to conclude. She held up the box with a raised eyebrow and Mara nodded, holding her arms out for it. Once her hands were free, she stepped forward and embraced Allan in a tight hug, which he returned fiercely. “I’m gonna miss you too, Al.”

All too quickly, Allan pulled away from the hug and pushed a finger under his glasses to wipe at his wet eyes. He didn’t look up at either of them, just stepped back over the threshold into his home and gripped the door tightly with one hand while he leaned on the frame. “You’re, uh, always welcome here. Of course. I. I won’t change the locks and you still have some supplies somewhere.” He glanced up at Zory for the briefest of moments to catch her slight, understanding smile, and then quickly looked back at his feet, swallowed hard, and closed the door on both of them.

Mara looked down into the box to give the other woman a moment of privacy and realized it was full of magical reagents. There was plenty of chalk and incense, several books, some crystals, and various jars containing things she didn’t recognize.

“Thanks for holding that; I didn’t want to start boo-hooing over the rocks, it takes forever to situate them properly.”

“No problem,” Mara looked up from the box and wrinkled her nose at the door before turning to leave the spooky, lonely old place to its equally peculiar caretaker. “Talk about having the worst timing, though.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty unlucky for you.” Zory took a deep breath as she followed Mara down the stairs, “He’s not gonna open that door for weeks and that’s if he takes this better than I think he will.”

It was difficult to ignore how nervous she felt. More than anything, she wanted to politely return the box and then go pound on the door until Allan agreed to help her, but all of the traps and the unsettling displays in the yard made her wary of taking a chance on how he would react, whether he was a nervous man or not. Instead, she gave Zory a sympathetic glance. “Are you going to be alright to drive home?”

“Oh, sure, but you’re sweet for asking. Allan’s one of my best friends and I feel awful for leaving him on his own, but we just can’t share a place anymore. All his other quirks and our constant bickering about philosophy aside, I can’t live with someone who regularly forgets to handle utility bills or clean. It’s been a nightmare of freezing water and mountains of garbage. But enough about that - what did you need from him, anyways?” Zory lead Mara back onto the street, navigating the yard with the air of someone who had been able to memorize the location of every piece of garbage hidden in the knee-high weeds.

Not for the first time, Mara wished she had been able to take Booker’s collection of contacts with her, even if his library was too large to be moved as a whole. “I was hoping he’d be able to help me. He is… a friend of a friend and right now he’s the only magician I know.”

“Oh!” At the word ‘magician’, Zory’s demeanor opened up slightly as she quickly glanced at Mara once again, mulling over the implications before deciding to take the chance. “Warlock.” She corrected her with the air of someone who’d had to make that correction one too many times, laughing warmly as she reached up and dried her eyes with a bright orange shirt sleeve. “He likes that title better. And good luck getting him to cast any kind of spell for you; you’d think he’d be a little more comfortable with it, given all the high-grade freaky stuff he slings around, but the man’s a wreck. You should ask literally anybody else, it’s not like he’s the only practitioner in the city.”

“You’re probably right, but I’m new and I don’t know how much time I have to get familiar with the occult scene here.” Mara waited for Zory to pop open the trunk of her scratched up hatchback and then obligingly set the box down. “I know you don’t know me, but if you could point me in the direction of someone who knows what they’re doing, you’d be doing me a massive favor.”

After she closed the trunk, Zory smirked and pointed at herself. “Allan might be on that cosmic shit, but I’m the girl to talk to if you want to actually get anything done. There’s a few covens in town, too, if you like your magic with a religious zip to it. What do you need, exactly?”

“I need to make sure someone can’t scry me with any of my old things.” There was no room to be delicate about the issue; she didn’t have the time to waste on tracking other people down. Thein might have already managed to discern her current location, but if she could render those items void of any bond to her, she might be able to shake him off her trail.

Zory pursed her lips and eyed Mara from her toes upwards. “I might have something that could do the trick, but it wouldn’t be pretty and I do charge for my work. A ritual like that will run you about $300 unless you’ve got something you can trade me of similar value.”

Mara grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck. She didn’t have nearly enough money to pay for much of anything at all; until she had seen Allan’s response, she had been banking on getting him to help her for the sake of his connection to Booker. Already, cash flow was a serious issue, but she couldn’t risk settling down in a place to find work until she was absolutely certain Thein couldn’t follow her. “I don’t have a way to pay you,” She admitted sourly. “I had to leave everything behind to get away. Was kind of in a hurry.”

“I can’t do this without compensation. Can’t afford it.” Zory gave her a sympathetic look, but crossed her arms over her stomach, keys dangling from her fingers. “The components for the spell you want are really expensive and not only do I not keep those particular ingredients stocked, I have to worry about the rent on my new place. Still, maybe there’s another answer to your problem. What exactly are you running from that makes you think you need anti-scrying measures? Did you piss off a practitioner?”

She took a deep breath, buying time to think of a truth that didn’t involve the full story. “No, I… pissed off a demon. He wanted to turn me into a pet and when I said ‘hell no’... he made a lot of threats. Took it far enough that I got scared.” Trying to be nonchalant, she shrugged. Zory’s warm brown eyes gleamed as she re-evaluated Mara’s features.

“I’m guessing that shiner’s his work, eh? Damn.” For a moment, both of the women looked away, mutually uncomfortable by the situation. “I can see why you thought Allan might be a good idea. Paranoid, off the grid, warded to hell and back.”

Mara looked back at the foreboding house, wondering how he had been connected with her former mentor. “Anyways, I’m sorry to add to your rainy day,” She said, “Just had to ask, you know?”

“Sure,” Zory agreed, twirling the car keys on her index finger before tossing them into the air and catching them again. “I tell you what: I can’t afford to cast this for free, but I’ll ask around to see if someone else might be able to swing the ritual pro bono and I can get Allan to open that door for you. Nobody’s getting through the security measures on his place without weathering some serious damage. If you manage to come up with the money later, I’ll get the creep off your tail.”

“Thank you!” Her hope rekindled, she eagerly followed Zory back through the trampled foliage and waited beside her while she rang the doorbell repeatedly. Quickly, Allan yanked the door open; he looked so hopeful in that moment that she almost felt guilty.

“Yes?” He gave Mara a confused look, but then immediately refocused on Zory with undisguised hope. “Did you change your-?”

Zory managed an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Al, I’m still on my way out, but you need to have a talk with this lady, alright? She’s got a bit of nastiness on her tail and could use your help.”

When Allan’s hazel eyes came to rest on her, the vulnerability immediately crystallized into cold mistrust. “I told both of you: I don’t want any visitors. If there’s nothing else, I’m-”

“Please!” Mara pleaded, reaching forward to catch the door before he could close it. “I know we haven’t met before, but my name is Mara. I worked really closely with Booker for the past six years, right up until- until we were betrayed.”

Allan straightened up, his openly hostile expression melting to concern. “You’re Mara? He. We had cause to discuss you, frequently. I wondered what happened to him, I haven’t heard a thing for weeks. but… you’re here. How? Is he alright? Please, come in. I’ll need to scan you for any malignancies in the aura, of course, just to be cautious, but then we can-” Abruptly, while he was ushering her over the threshold, he seemed to remember that Zory was there. “Do you- ah - Want to come back in as well?”

“Not today, Al. I’ve got some unpacking to do.” She replied, not unkindly, giving a little wave as she walked away. Together, Allan and Mara watched her leave the yard. When she reached her car, Allan quickly closed the door and leaned on it. In the brief moment before he turned around, Mara saw his face crumple - but when he met her eyes, the only sign of his unhappiness was the severe frown on his thin mouth.

“So, the fiend betrayed you two at last.” He said, sighing gruffly and pushing his glasses up his nose. “I warned Booker so many times that you cannot make pacts with their kind, but he insisted that you both needed the back-up. What a blasted waste of time. Please, tell me he’s alive.”

“He’s alright, for now.” Mara trailed after him into a messy kitchen. It was a miracle the room didn’t stink with all of the dishes and garbage strewn about, but she slowly realized there was no sign of food anywhere on the counters or on the plates themselves. “He wasn’t with me when it happened.”

“Naivete will get you every time - not that I need to lecture you, now that you’ve seen their treachery firsthand. You must have had a difficult time dealing with this, but you will need to be careful for some time. You might’ve been followed. Have you taken precautions?”

Mara furrowed her brow at the warlock, who was busily trying to clear a space on the island in the middle of the kitchen by precariously stacking more dishes on top of one another on other counters. “Obviously.”

Allan scoffed loudly, unceremoniously tossing the plate he was holding into the garbage. “There is nothing obvious about it. How can you be certain?”

“Because I left in daylight. He and his crew were almost exclusively nocturnal, I’m sure I got away without being directly followed,” She reassured him, pushing some garbage off of a chair so she could take a chair; observing Allan’s own flippancy about the state of the place, it seemed unlikely to upset him. “I used the cash I had to get a bus to bring me here.”

“That’s it?” He stared blankly, pausing with his hands clenched around a garbage bag. “No no, no no no, that’s not nearly enough. What if you lead him here?” Before Mara could again promise that she hadn’t been followed, he shook his head vigorously and let the bag tumble back to the ground. “Let him come if he’s coming; the wards would hold against a Grey’s entourage. In the meantime, why not tell me what you think I can do for you beyond offering safe haven?”

“Well,” She glanced down at the chipped blue paint on her nails. While she spoke, she began picking at the polish, letting flakes of it flutter to the ground. “I wanted to find a mag- er, warlock. I had to leave everything behind and I’m afraid he’ll just steal a hairbrush or something and pay someone to divine where I ran. If I can get him off my trail, I won’t have to hide.”

“Sensible.” Allan approved, shoving a hand into his patched jacket pocket and digging out a stub of powdery yellow chalk. “It’s a little more complicated than that, of course, but you’re right to be worried. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do in the way of magic for this. It’s much too dangerous to perform a ritual with so many unknown entities that might be paying attention to either of us. Who knows what might notice the power spike?” A shudder ran through his body.

#Mara the Paragon #Zoryana the Mage #Allan the Warlock

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cantfakethecake · 8 years ago

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Ask meme!

I was tagged by @klickitats to do this...probably about a week ago? Oops. Really though, thank you so much for the tag!

The usual rules: Answer the questions and tag nine people to do the same.

How old are you?

Current job?

Full-time student, for the time being. I had to quit my job at the library a few months back because it clashed with my field work schedule. Said fieldwork fell through thanks to a few kind-of-shady things I won’t get into here, so I’m stuck in get-a-job limbo until I’m assigned a new placement.

What are you talented at?

It’s silly, but I’m great at alphabetizing things? Give me any word, and I can alphabetize the letters in it on the spot. I also have a great memory for tiny personal details - which is great, until I come off as creepy for remembering something someone told me offhandedly two years ago. I can bake like a champ as long as I have a recipe handy. I also tested with a 143 verbal IQ while going through an ADHD evaluation? It hasn’t been useful for much beyond bullshitting papers at light speed, but I’ll include it as long as I’m feeling a little braggy!

What is a big goal you are working towards?

Beyond graduation and a vague “being able to financially support myself”? No idea. I switched my focus/major from “mental health and addiction” to “community/social justice” just a few weeks ago, and this early on? Most of my hopes for future jobs are less “goals” and more “prayers.” If it’s even a little bit less miserably boring than the jobs I’ve had in the past, I’ll take it!

What’s your aesthetic?

Jeans and plaid (usually with Toms), dogs, fresh-baked bread, comic books, coffee mixed with hot chocolate, half-finished coloring book pages, fidget toys.

Do you collect anything?

Not really? Moving from a decent-sized apartment back to my tiny childhood bedroom has made me pretty strict about getting rid of things I don’t absolutely love. I’d rather have a lot of small, unrelated things than one massive collection that takes up my limited space!

(I do have way, way too many books and coffee mugs, but that’s less about collecting and more about Half Price Books being where impulse control goes to die.)

A topic you always talk about?

I mean, right now I get to be a pretentious grad student and get philosophical about social justice issues every day. Other than that, though? Crown me Shit Queen of Garbage Town, but I’m the biggest fucking gossip. I’m always, always here to listen to people rant. I don’t care who we’re talking about. A shared coworker? Your second cousin who I’ll never meet in my lifetime? Don’t care. Just hook up that social IV and start pumping in some Grade-A Salt. (That’s the worst sentence I’ve ever written, and I’m almost sorry.)

Pet peeves?

That thing where you drop a credit card on a smooth surface and you can’t quite get your fingers under it to pick it back up again. I may have been frustrated by this nearly to the point of tears a week or two ago.

Good advice?

Following the lead of everyone else I’ve seen answering this, and directing this at younger-Betsy:

You are not broken. You have a super-fun combo of ADHD and severe anxiety. Prozac is your friend. Talk to someone - maybe sometime before you’re nearly 18? The view from 25 is great, but I’d love to not still be learning some of the social stuff most people figured out in high school.

Your preferences are not shortcomings. Not going to school dances is a valid choice, and you’re not missing out on some universal milestone by staying home. You’re missing a night where you leave homecoming after one hour, because the blaring music and mass of dancing people put you into sensory overload and you started crying in the bathroom. Branching out is good - but in order for it to go well, you need to respect your own likes and limitations. Don’t let people shame you into doing something that hurts.

Don’t stick that packing peanut up your nose. Really, don’t. It’s going to get stuck, and you’re going to hear about it at every holiday dinner for the rest of your life.

On a similar note: You’re three years old, and you’re at a birthday party. You want a piece of cake. I get it. But you also just watched a neighbor kid shove a bunch of those metallic confetti stars into the cake. Don’t eat it. I know - a bunch of kids are already eating, and they’re doing just fine. This is your first chance to learn that the odds are never, ever in your favor. You’re going to swallow a confetti star and choke on it. I promise. Don’t do it. You don’t even like cake.

You do not want a baby. I repeat: YOU DO NOT WANT A BABY. You like the idea of shopping for tiny outfits and picking out names and those half-asleep cuddles you get to enjoy when you’re babysitting. You’re sixteen. You don’t want to commit yourself to years of giving one human being your complete and undivided attention without a break. You don’t even like playing with your DOG for more than 20 minutes at a time. Like, thankfully you’re Ohio’s Least Datable Teen, because holy shit. 25 year old Betsy really likes not being a parent.

“Hi. Do you like Sonic Adventure 2 Battle?” is not an acceptable conversation starter. That is not how you make friends in a middle school class full of strangers. Alternatives include: Anything else. Literally anything else.

You are not set in stone. The world’s perception of you is one of the most malleable things you’ll ever handle. Fake it ‘til you make it, and keep trying when you fuck up - because you’re the only one who’s going to remember that one time you said something colossally stupid. (I mean, you’re going to remember it forever and ever and ever, and still physically cringe when you remember it out of the blue ten years later - but no one else gives a shit! Really! It’s only half bad, and the payoff is so worth it.)

Recommend three songs?

Oh god, I’m awful about getting into new songs. I tend to find a new artist once or twice a year, and listen to them on repeat for a few months. I was getting a bit better about listening to new things on my drive to school - aaand then my car’s stereo died. Nice. My picks are old, and I think I’ve probably recommended them at least five times each by now, but I’ll go with...

Tomorrow is Mine, from Bayonetta 2. My problematic favorite game series forever and always - but god, the music’s catchy.

Tomorrow is a Latter Day, from The Book of Mormon.

...I’m struggling to come up with a 3rd, so I’m going to fall to the embarrassing garbage that’s actually been stuck in my head for days now. Enjoy.

Tagging: @alistairswaifu, @blondepomeranian, @bronwinning, @dragginage, @theherocomplex, @truck-shepard, and anyone else who wants to do this! I know everyone says that, but I really do mean it. I’m nosy as shit. I’d genuinely love to see it!

#thank you again so much!

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theemptyquarto · 8 years ago

Text

A Letter for Mary

Fic. Warstan (yes, still). Epistolary. Containing massive spoilers for Sherlock S4E1, major character death (more than one), a huge amount of very bad language and ALL THE ANGST.

I’ll get it up on the various fanfiction sites tomorrow probably. But I churned out 2850 words of fic in about four hours of work which is by FAR a record for me and I wanted to capture what I can do when inspired by rage.

The following letters are selected from the archives of material donated to the library as part of the estate of noted author and adventurer Captain John H. Watson, M.D. (hons), Ph.D. (h.c.) The originals are handwritten and undated, thus the ordering has been chosen based upon textual and other cues within the m.s. Itself.

Mary-

I am writing this under duress. Because that miserable prick Sherlock broke into our flat and said, “John, I take my responsibility as your friend and Rosamund’s godfather seriously, and as such, I must tell you that I am concerned for your wellbeing.”

And after a lot more shit like that including some actual threats I got hauled back to another fucking therapist and got another fucking psych diagnosis (traumatic grief, if you were wondering) and another fucking stupid writing assignment.

So here we go: let’s send a mash note to my dead wife. I’m sure that’ll make me feel much better.

Sherlock took my bloody gun. And our friends stay over in a rota to make sure I don’t off myself, not that I would. I have Rosie to think of. I’m not like you, I wouldn’t ever leave her that way. You selfish bitch.

She keeps fucking crying for you and I don’t know what to do, she’s too little to understand things like “forever” and-

The hell with this.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It should have been Sherlock.

It should have been me.

I dreamed about you last night. You had on your purple dress and you were sitting in the restaurant we liked and you explained to me that it was all, obviously, just a trick. I forced myself to wake up.

Because I know, I know that that doesn’t happen. The people who die don’t come back to us. But there’s this little part of my brain that keeps whispering, “Well, if it happened once...”

If it could happen again. Please, please. If I could get one more miracle.

Dear Mary-

I’m trying this again. The life insurance policy we got when Rosie was born finally paid out today… the cheap bastards took forever to investigate it, given the terrible circumstances of your death. And when I opened it up and saw the cheque I immediately thought I should text you to tell you, that you’d be happy that we could pay off the mortgage, put some money away for Rosie to go to university someday.

About three times a day I think of something I’d like to tell you. And every time there’s that “Oh” moment right afterwards. I don’t know when that’s going to stop.

Things are… better, I suppose. I don’t feel like I’m living in a horror movie anymore. I don’t really feel much of anything, honestly. Everything is grey, including this city. I’ve thought about moving, but you’re not supposed to make decisions like that in the first year, and I don’t want to disrupt Rosie’s life any more than it has been already.

She’s getting so big now. She’s started to stretch out and she looks like a toddler, not a baby anymore. She has a bunch of words, and she can say a few little sentences like “want cup” and “Wosie up.” Sometimes she sort of cocks her head and looks at me and when she does that she looks so much like you it’s actually physically painful.

I was jealous of her, though I didn’t really realize it at the time. It’s petty and terrible but I was. I’d just found my way back to you and then she was born and all of a sudden I felt like I was alone on the outside of this little circle of mother and child, and I made a terrible mistake.

Did you know about that? I hope you didn’t. I hope that your last months weren’t tainted with that. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it was enough. And now Rosie’s all I’ve got left of you and I have to live with myself.

Guilt on top of grief’s one hell of a thing. Would you forgive me, if you knew? If I could ask you to your face instead of writing these letters to nobody?

I don’t forgive myself.

Yours, John

Dear Mary-

Rosie and I went to Baker Street and spent the afternoon there today. I bet you’d have been happy about that.

It’s not the same, anymore. Detective work is over for me: I’m a single parent now and I can’t afford to take those sorts of risks. And honestly I think Sherlock’s considering hanging up the hat himself. He talked about his cases but none of them really seemed to capture his attention. A lot of the heart went out of him when you died.

But it was good. The bastard has been my best friend for the better part of a decade and you can’t hang on to blame forever. He shouldn’t have provoked the woman with the gun. I should have gotten there first. You shouldn’t have leapt in front of a bloody bullet.

None of us wanted any of this to happen. But here we are.

He doesn’t like to talk about you, but he got misty when he was playing with Rosie… which, speaking of, he literally went out and spent two hundred pounds and bought her a chemistry set. I pointed him to the “Ages 8+” on the box and he said “Well, surely that’s more of a guideline than an actual rule. And there’s no enforcement mechanism in place.” But I played the bad guy and put my foot down because she’s still too young for hydrochloric acid, so she spent the afternoon making snakes out of clay while he and I grew silver crystals on a copper wire.

It was almost like old times, except of course for the missing person at the heart of it.

I keep thinking it’s going to stop hurting, eventually. You know how many people I’ve loved who have died? And I’ve always been able to put it behind me, sooner or later. But it’s been two years now and it still fucking hurts, every day.

I love you,

Still,

Yours,

John

I dreamed about you last night. And in this dream we were back in Morocco and you were sitting in my lap and kissing me.

All we did in my dream was kiss, though that night we did more. If I’d known then that it would be the last time together. If I hadn’t been feeling guilty, even then. I’d have paid more attention, made more of an effort… because now I don’t really actually remember it. It’s just a blurred compilation of the thousand other times we were together. Two bodies, seeking comfort in the dark.

But in my dream you were warm and I could smell your perfume and you kissed me like you loved me. I didn’t want to wake up and have it end. But I did, in an empty bed.

My dear Mary,

I just got back from the funeral. I took Rosie, kind of against my better judgement, because the bloody books all say that you should respect the child’s wishes about these things and let them decide how much they want to engage with the process, and she said she wanted to go. It was closed casket, so I didn’t think it’d be too distressing.

She was a champ throughout the actual service but in the car on the way home she had an absolute hysterical meltdown, and kept repeating, “She’s never going to come back! She’s never going to come back!”

Father of the bloody year material, I am. I pulled over to the side of the road and took her out of her carseat and let her cry it out in my lap, until she hiccuped herself to sleep.

I cried too. I’m crying now.

It wasn’t like with you… it was sad, but not tragic. She had all the long years you never got, and she just went to sleep one night and never woke up. It’s how I’d like to go, someday. But as far as I can tell Rosie has no memory of your death and so this was like the first time for her.

She left the house at Baker Street to Sherlock, obviously. I got all of her jewelry, to hold in trust for when Rosie is old enough to wear it. Some of it’s really nice. It’s all sorted into custom-made boxes, and as I went through them I noticed there was a missing space.

It was those earrings, the ones she basically forced you to take because you made the mistake of admiring them where she could hear you. I got your jewelry box out of the attic and took them out, and put them back with the rest of her collection. There’s a necklace and a bracelet that go along with them. Maybe someday Rosie will wear them and get to remember you both.

She was such a good woman, the nearest Rosie came to a grandmother, and a second mother to all the rest of us. She got herself out of a life she hated and built a new and better one. And now she’s never coming back.

If you could come back to me, to us, I would do anything at all to make that happen. I’d harrow hell like Orpheus for Eurydice.

Rosie’s awake, and she’s calmed down now, enough to start agitating for ice cream. I think we’re going to do that.

Good night, my darling,

Yours,

John

Dear Mary,

It’s a quiet autumn night here. I was-

Okay, hold on. Rosie wants to write something. Here she goes:

(The handwriting changes here from black ink in Palmer-method cursive to red marker in the blocky print of a small child)

Dear Mume

I love you I hope you like it in hevin I drew this picture of you

Love Rosie

(Said picture is of three figures, all with impossibly long legs and large eyes. The largest one has grey hair and is labeled “Daddy,” the smallest one has yellow hair and is labeled “Rosie,” and the medium sized one has long brown hair and is labeled “Mume.” The Palmer-method cursive resumes.)

Shit, shit, shit.

The thing you’re supposed to do with a child to help them adjust to the loss of a parent is to maintain a space where they can feel free to talk about it and come to their own conclusions. And so every bloody day I talk to her about you. Just enough that she knows it’s not a secret and that she doesn’t have to hide her feelings about it from me.

But I haven’t looked at your photos with her in months now and, well…

I don’t know who she’s thinking of, in that drawing. Based on the hair I’d say Janine or Molly. They were both around a lot back then, Molly especially. Even though she’s off in Sussex now she still visits and skypes with Rosie a lot.

She does remember you, at least a little bit. I asked her about that tonight, and she thought about it for a minute and said, “Mummy said not to hurt the spider.”

And my jaw literally dropped because I had completely forgotten about you and the bloody spiders. You would never let me swat them. You’d always trap them under a glass and take them outside.

You said, once, “There’s a difference between ‘can kill’ and ‘should kill.’ I’m clear on that one now.”

That’s a good thing for her to remember about you, isn’t it? Kindness?

Though seriously, woman. Spiders.

Rosie made me completely forget what I was going to write about, tonight. So what else do I have to tell you? The ‘hevin’ bit? Yeah, even after rowing with you about whether we’d get her baptized and whether we’d raise her religious, it turns out that when your beautiful daughter asked me, swimmy eyed, where you are, I lied like a fucking rug.

And hell, maybe I’m wrong about this being all there is to it. We go down to the little church in our neighborhood from time to time. She likes to play in their playground. And I’ve prayed for you. Even if I don’t have faith I figure it can’t hurt. Maybe somewhere you’re actually reading these letters.

I’m not sure if that idea makes it better or worse.

She’s so bloody brilliant, Mary, and it kills me that you aren’t here to see it. She asked me how to spell ‘picture’ but the rest of that she did all on her own. She’s the best writer in her class, and she’s always emailing everyone little stories and letters.

Yes, we give kids that age email addresses now. We live in the future.

I think she gets that, the writing, from me. I’ve been writing again myself… fiction, this time. It may actually be a novel, though it’s still coming to me. It’s a good yarn, I think, a Victorian detective story. I’ve got a lot of raw material to use though obviously I have to change the details around. I gave one of Anderson’s lines to the genius detective character. The actual genius detective read over that chapter for me and I thought he was going to murder me with a toasting fork. It was great.

I don’t know exactly what Rosie gets from you. Some of it’s obvious… her fine bones, her big eyes. But I never knew you when you were young, and there’s nobody I can ask what you were good at in school.

I have to look for the other stuff. She’s got your kindness, anyway. And your courage.

As a legacy, I don’t think you could do much better.

Sleep well, my dearest,

Yours,

John

My Mary-

It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these. And the reason for not writing and the reason for writing now are the same.

I’ve met someone.

I think you’d like her, actually. She’s funny, and smart. And I think you wouldn’t want me to be alone forever, though… I truly don’t know. You could be possessive of what was yours.

And I was so yours. Mind, body, heart, soul.

But Rosie needs a mum. No, that’s not true, though Gemma will be a good stepmum. She’s got two girls of her own, thirteen and seventeen. All of them get along really well. What Rosie needs is you, and the rest of the mum stuff can be handled by anybody, including me. I’ve got this “single parent of a daughter” thing down to a science, now. I can make three separate types of plaits and I’ve already got the menstruation talk queued up for… sometime next year, probably. I want to get it out of the way before she’s likely to need it.

I need somebody. And so I joined a “Parents without Partners” meetup group and went out to do just that.

It’s not like it was, with you. There’s an element of calculation to the whole thing that I’m not entirely happy with. I need someone to help me get through life. And she had been a stay-at-home mum for fifteen years when her husband died and they’ve been scratching ever since. She needs someone with money, which is, actually, me now. “A Study in Scarlet” stayed on the bestseller lists for twelve weeks. I’ve got a three-book contract to follow it up.

Neither of us are going into this with any illusions it’s a grand love story. But we get on well and I think it’ll be happy enough.

This is going to be the last one of these I will write. Gemma deserves for me to freely give whatever of my heart I have left.

So here’s the truth. Let the record show that when John Hamish Watson married Mary Elisabeth Watson, nee Morstan, nee Rosamund… it was because he couldn’t bear not to. And even though I’ve been your widower far longer than I was your husband, even knowing how it would turn out-

I would do it all again tomorrow.

I’ll write you into a love story. Sharing your life was the greatest privilege I will ever get. I was so broken when you found me and I don’t know why you bothered putting me back together but thank you for it. Thank you for my life. Thank you for my daughter.

Forgive me for all the wrongs I ever did you. I forgive you, absolutely and completely.

I dreamed of you last night. This time I wasn’t even in the dream. You were walking on the beach and the wind was blowing your hair and you were smiling. I wish you would talk to me when I dream of you, but you seemed… happy.

If you are anywhere, be happy. Please. I’ll try to be happy too.

Always,

Yours,

John

#Quarto's fics #sherlock spoilers

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