#Vessel bring him on stage just once it would be so fun

[moonchild-in-blue]

Goddamn. Let it rain all over me, Only pain will set me free, How did I hit rockbottom?

[v-ternus]

MUSHY MAY TIME WHOOP WHOOP

Stellar prompts form @forlorn-crows. I cant wait to write about more of them.

im so excited. i havent written in a good, long sec

Day 1-- Cuteness Aggression

MountainDew baby... 700 words of MountainDew below the cut :))))

Mountain hates chores. He’ll never admit it to any of the other ghouls, forever wanting to keep up the image of the oh so serious ghoul. But he loathes the days full of work that isn't in the greenhouse. Today is different though. He’s at the sink washing the dishes from lunch when a certain fun sized ghoul jumps on his back. He’s more than happy to drop the plate and sponge in his hand. 

“What the fu–” He yelps, caught off guard by the weight of Dew knocking his hips into the marble counter. 

“Hi big boy” His voice is gravely, dripping of the sleep that made him miss both breakfast and lunch. He wiggles his grip, wrapping his legs around Mountain’s slight waist and holding himself up by his arms snug around broad shoulders. Their size difference is already so noticeable–during bows on stage, band photo ops, and especially during the late nights they spend wrapped up in each other, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. They both love it, even though it used to get under Dew’s skin to the point of self-hatred. 

In the pit, being small meant being a target. Combine that with being a water ghoul, it was a recipe for disaster. But up here, on Earth with a human vessel he’s found a home in, he doesn't worry so much. Especially with the way Mountain looks at him, the way he always indulges in their glaring difference in stature. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, little spider monkey?” Mountain says as he takes off his wet gloves, turning his head back, angling for a kiss that Dew meets him with. It's slow, easy, and exactly what he needs to take his mind off of the mile long list of chores left for him to handle. But as nice as it is, it's an uncomfortable angle. He reaches his hands back to try and move Dew but is met by a low growl, playful, non-threatening. It makes him laugh, a soft chuckle against even softer lips.

Mountain really starts to wonder what’s going on. And almost like he was reading his mind, Dew answers his unspoken question. 

“Nothing’s up Mount, you’re just–” His words, cut off by him nuzzling into his soft curls and the top of Mountain’s neck, are punctuated with a tight squeeze from his lithe limbs. It’s not like he’s a boa constrictor, but Mountain would be lying if he said it didn't wring out a little more air that he’d like. As rare as Dew is calm, it's even rarer that he’s clingy like this. He’ll press himself up to the curve of Mountain’s back when they sleep, tangle their limbs up, but rarely like this. Unprompted. 

“Need you to finish your sentence there Dewy” Dew huffs, warm breath ghosting over the forming goose bumps along Mountain’s neck. 

“Wanna stay here” His grip gets tighter and it makes Mountain feel warm. “Too cute”

“Are you having that puppy thing with me Dew?” Dew hums, confused.

“That thing… when you see a puppy or a kitten or whatever, and it’s so cute that you wanna squeeze it. Bite it. The youth these days call it ‘cuteness aggression’”

Dew’s lips turn up into the cheesiest grin, human brain shutting off once his hellbeast mind hears ‘bite’. He mumbles a quick maybe and brings his mouth back to Mountain’s neck. This time, finding some flesh to hold between his teeth. Not enough pressure to pierce his skin or hurt, just to hold. Mountain’s stomach swoops with every gentle shift of Dew’s jaw. It's nice he thinks, especially nicer than doing chores too.  The little ghoul continues his onslaught, picking new spots and alternating between biting and worrying sun-kissed skin. Mountain gets lost in the tight feeling around his torso and the soft nibbles around his neck. So lost, that he almost forgets he’s standing. His balance shifts and it's the shortest millisecond but it's enough to shake Dew. He squeezes tighter, whining right in Mountain’s ear. Don't drop us, don't fall with me still on your damn back. He leans forward and mumbles an apology before anchoring his arms under Dew's legs.

He’ll feel this in the morning, the strain in his already bad back. He’ll whine about the ache, but Dew will be there to fix him. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Mountain. For now, he’ll let himself be squeezed and nibbled on until Dew gets his fill.

[dewracle]

How would the ST Boys + V react to you crying because of them? Sorry. I'm in my feels and it popped into my head. -💙

Hello~ I promise I'm not dead. Just been dealing with midterms and all that fun college stuff. Anyways here's this... So sorry if it wasn't exactly comforting. <3 Vessel

Vessel has been stressing over Sleep more than normal

Its gotten to the point no one can stop his studies to make him eat or take care of himself

You’ve began to worry about him and have tried to talk to him about it, but every time he brushes you off

After the 6th attempt it began to get violent and angry.

You had yelled some choice words about him not caring about you or himself, that he’ll end up dead before long

Vessel ends up stopping whatever he’s doing to watch the tears roll down your face

It killed him on the inside to see that fact he caused those tears

“Look at me, love…” He says while wiping the tears from your cheeks, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice just how much you needed me. How much I’ve been stuck up in this…” Vessel sighs and gestures around the room signifying what he meant. He runs a hand under his mask and groans softly, the days finally catching up to him. You watch him quietly, anger slowly leaving you at the sight of how stressed he seems to be. “No Ves,” You sigh with guilt eating away at you, “I didn’t see how much this is stressing you out…”  You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He allows you the touch, maybe to comfort you but maybe it's to comfort himself. Vessel gently rests his head against yours in a loving manner. His hand coming to wrap around your back and pull the two of you even closer than before. You sit in silence for what seems like forever, but an eternity of peace and love. Once you look up, you are able to notice the soft wetness to his eyes. “Lover, are you okay…” He nods but doesn’t trust himself to speak. The stress of dealing with Sleep and upsetting you finally crashed onto the man. You stand straight and place a loving kiss on his jaw line. “Let me help you next time…”

II

Due to the influx of worshippers, the boys have been practicing a lot more then normal

II especially wants to make sure his parts are perfect, wanting to give his everything to the show he loves.

He spends days practcing till his arms are sore and his hands are numb

He has gone through so many pairs of drumsticks and he keeps calling you to get him more

But after so many times of retrieving more sticks, it starts to get to you.

He hasn’t looked at you for longer then 2 secs and haven’t even talked to you besides asking for his equipment. 

You go to hand him the last pair the store has, he doesn’t even bother looking up when you tell him the information.

It hits hard, the pack is meant to bond and here he is isolating not only himself but you. 

Tears pool in your eyes and your nose fills up with snot.

“II, please it's weeks since you’ve done anything but play…” Your voice cracked as you raised the volume. He glances at you before bringing his eyes back to the drum kit in front of him. Frustration and loneliness burning like a wild fire in your heart. “II if you don’t stop fucking playing!” You scream over the beat of The Summoning. Finally he stops playing and really looks at you for the first time in a while. “Fuck baby.. Hey… No stop..” He drops everything he’s doing and stands to rush to you. Tears finally fall from your eyes as a soft sob leaves your throat, “I’ve been doing so much but I don’t even get a simple thank you!” II carefully pulls you into him, placing gentle kisses on your cheeks. He lets you cry all while rubbing your back and holding you as close as possible. Once the tears begin to slow and all that is heard in the practice room is a soft sniffle, “I promise everything you do… I’m thankful for… I love you  I didn’t realize…”

III

Everyone knows the bassist is always bouncing around on stage.

Well he is extremely similar when it comes to his private life

He is always goofy and a ray of sunshine that sometimes gets on people’s nerves.

III will play jokes on you whenever he notices you feeling upset or generally down. 

Sometimes it does help but sometimes you just wish your personal bassist would sit and talk to you 

No matter how many times you’ve tried to have a conversation with him about the relationship, he brushes it off like there is nothing to talk about. 

It is extremely upsetting and finally, you snapped.

Corning III during one of his joking moments and told him everything that was on your mind.

He stared down at you in extreme confusion and slight hurt, his back pressed against the door of your door. “Sugar… What’s going on? Uh, you seem upset?” You exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose while tapping your foot. The little movement does nothing to ease the anger in your system. “Of course I’m upset! I’ve been trying to talk to you about something for days now! Yet you brush me off !” III flinches back at the outburst and watches as tears of frustration fall onto the floor. “I-I didn’t know you were trying to talk to me…” He trails off avoiding your fierce glaze. A soft whimper falls from his mouth when your tears begin to fall faster. “It's like you don’t even care about me III!” He sucks in a harsh breath and makes a rash decision. III pulls you into him and locks his arms around you, refusing to let go no matter how much you struggle. You scream in slight frustration because sobbing into his chest. “Am I just not good enough for you… why can’t you just love me…” The creature lifts his mask above his nose and kisses your lips passionately. “Of course, I love you Sugar… I just struggle with… this,” He motions to the two of you, “I’m not great with feelings but I don’t wanna lose you… tell me everything... Please.” He begs softly while looking into your eyes lovingly.

IV

You loved your goofy guitarist, held him higher than the moon

He was always the calm-ish one out of the group, keeping to himself and whenever he needed to

Sadly sometimes the quietness of IV became worrisome.

His anxiety getting the best of him, his guard staying up to keep the whole “calm and stoic” impression

You tried to talk to him about this, but he would always say he is fine and brush it off

It was clear he wasn’t okay, his normal dancing on stage during into just a small bounce in his step

His kisses and touch becoming short and almost emotionless 

It hurt you to know he wouldn’t talk to you, no matter how hard you try

The ritual had gone well, everyone cheering and obviously having the time of their lives, everyone but IV. Your lover had been off in his little corner of the stage. You sat waiting backstage preparing to help clean and pack up. IV was the last one to join you backstage, his eyes calm but holding a clouded-over look. He ignored you, ignored everyone trying to congratulate him for the performance. You knew how he got, you knew he wouldn’t talk to anyone about this. With a sigh, you walked to him and grabbed his sleeve wanting to drag him into one of the private dressing rooms. He allows you to pull him, not wanting to even cause a scene. Once in the room with the door shut, you cross your arms glaring up at him with worry and anger. “IV, I’ve had enough of this. What. Is. Going. On.” He blinks at you in confusion before patting your head as though you were a dog. “Nothing love, I’m fine there is nothing going on.” You take a deep breath and hug him tightly. You shake in anger and hold him, “There’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing wrong!” Your voice shakes with sad anger, “You always say this and you never talk to me!” IV sighs and pushes you off him carefully as he moves to place his hand on your cheek. “I don’t want to worry you, you are already stressed… I don’t want to add onto it.” You whimper softly, a single tear falling from your face. Your lover stares at the tear falling down your face and gently wipes it away. “Shh it’s okay…” IV places his forehead against yours and hums softly. “IV please just… Tell me what’s going on with you.” You reach out grabbing at his shirt with a tight shaky grip. “It's just…” 

V

V had always had anger issues, lashing out at anyone who was in his way

If someone were to piss him off, he would attempt to walk away but sometimes it’s not enough

Sometimes just sometimes, III loves to push V’s buttons to set him off

The worst you’ve seen from your lover was when he punched 3 fist-sized holes in the wall

Everything was so fast and so loud, his voice raising the more he was pissed

You knew it was best to stay away from him when he was like this, not wanting his anger to be directed towards you. 

But of course, there were times like now when you happened to get in the way

“I swear to FUCKING god! III broke my guitar!” V yells while he tosses his nearly shattered guitar. You look up from your position on the bed, you stare at him in confusion and slight fear. He sighs in frustration and kicks the door closed causing a loud slamming sound. You jerk at the noise and move further back onto the bed. Knowing it is best to stay quiet you say nothing at the man’s rage. V’s eyes catch your movement, noticing the way you flinch at every noise he makes. “Oh so now you’re going to act like you’re scared of me? What the fuck!” You cover your mouth quickly attempting to quiet the soft whimper that falls from it. He smiles angrily and sucks on his fanged teeth, eyes flaring up with emotions. V takes a step closer to you, cornering you against the bed and the wall. Your breath quickens, tears begin to quickly form and fall down straining your face. He pauses, face falling at the sight of you so scared of him. V attempts to reach out of you carefully but pulls his hand back when your crying turns into loud sobs. Your hands tremble as you quickly gather your things and run out of the room. V is left standing in the middle of the room in shock taking in what he has done. Then and only then does he notice he had kicked a hole in the door. “Fuck…”

[failing-to-write-again]

Imagine being a young teenager in this case an orphan Christian girl full of dreams who’s exiting from what’s essentially a cult who’s raised to be slaughter. You get sent to a new house excited for the future just to end up tortured, abused, raped, and killed in a mansion by six vampires…. No cap let’s make these bad boys, S U F F E R 💖

Ahhh That's exactly the vision I've had for a full fanfic. It works for most of, maybe not all of, the boys either separately or all at once. Maybe a series that's occuring in overlapping timelines but for writing sake is in different parts.

But isn't that exactly what gets the most angst and depth and all the good stuff? You were an orphan from the same place as the Mukamis, you've been through hell and wether or not you're still buying the cult's nonsense is very open to interpretation. Of course anything is better then that hell hole right? Well, yes but also no.

So one route that I play with, really only for the Sakamakis, is they did like you and were like how they are in the games except their mothers are still alive. Obviously not happy at the human fondness they stage something to make it look like, or actually force, you to start sleeping with someone. The boys are too busy being hurt and either they kill you or the mother's play the "I will help" and have you killed. Except Karl has noticed your utility. So one by one the girl who has that effect on one of his sons is revived. You're not a vampire though.

~ With Shu's I imagine Beatrix would have fun with having you hunted down in the woods and tore limb from limb, so you revived leads to you have new metal limbs much more useful for your job.

~Reiji would of course go poison, so your skin may be preserved but your veins are black, the blood vessels in your eyes unable to hold in the black poison burst and so your eyes are coals. Your skin is gray. You have some modifications like your "older sister" but they're mostly just for skeletal additions to make sure everything is getting signals fast.

~Ayato, you were burnt, the inspiration for Cordelia's fate. Yours burns leading to artificial fingers to ensure sensation while you work. As well as a voice modulator from your vocal cords being fried beyond repair.

~Laito, you were drowned. He held you under bringing you up demanding you confess to your sin. You refused to lie and professed you innocence. Except you got held down too long. Minor strengthening to the lungs as well as some new gils for your new life.

~Kanato, it's clear you became a doll. Stitch marks holding you together and a lot of voltage keeping you a hard hitter.

~Subaru, he had taken time to calm himself down. He knew you probably weren't with anyone, but the rumours still upset him. But Christa is hardly stable so you were pushed off the castle balcony only to be impaled on an iron fence spike. Your midriff is rebuilt and legs get similar skeletal adjustments to your sister made by Reiji.

So that's the Sakamakis and to quickly shelf them we turn to the Mukamis. You were killed fast here I feel them having to address you come from the orphanage too would be to easy a solution. So you did fast.

~Ruki it's talking back or escaping. It is very clear you know what your doing in escaping but how he doesn't know. Needless to say you are held by your ankle to taunt you. When you refuse to give up your sister's location you are dropped. Your entire spine was rebuilt, with wings added at your request.

~Yuma, during the escape from the Mukamis you are found expertly hiding in some tree roots. You're left impaled for your sisterly loyalty. Karl can't seem to find you and it takes your sister killed by Ruki to locate you. By then the roots have grown into you. It saves Karl the metal, you are sustained by the tree roots weaving in and out of your body.

~Kou blinded you, you kept throwing rocks at him in anger after being separated while scrambling from spot to spot. When he does catch you he takes the eye you held open as you lined up a shot leaving the other to watch as he ties you to a tree to be left for the wolves. You are rescued alive but amaciated and near delirious from blood loss. A new eye and the gift of eternal life without fangs are your prize.

~Azusa probably tried to show you how fun his home is. By showing you his knives...too much. You're covered in stitches similar to Kanato's doll brought back. You now know exactly which stabs hurt most.

So these 10 plus maybe Carla and Shins' main murder, are brought under Karl's wing at the castle. Maybe you don't even know they're related. You get more advanced tech as you all age, you are Karl's daughters he always wanted but never had and amazing assassin's and political powerhouses. All kept from his son's due to their limited involvement in his life.

Until one day it's impossible to keep you all separated. Maybe they don't recognise you, it's been so long. Maybe they do immediately or it's revealed later on. But they learn quickly what they gave up.

~Shu, you are a natural big sister and a good leader. Having become somewhat jaded but still caring towards the innocent you have no time for Shu. Being sent as his temporary guard sees him so baffled and upset that you aren't angry or trying to hurt him. Hearing only "oh please I'm well above that by this stage," only pisses him off more. You've also grown your body tight uniform showing exactly what his missed out on, especially after your innocence is proven.

~Reiji, this bitch wouldn't ever look into the truth after your death. So you're just as guilty as when he killed you to him, only to then be read to filth as you use what he says of his own mother against him to show how he just blindly followed like a sheep. You are elegant whenever he sees you, refined and able to have men kneel from threats so we'll concealed you'd almost think you were best of friends with those you manipulate. Then he sees you with your sister's, having the bond he may wish for deep down. But you're too above him now to even look his way.

~The triplets see a bond healthier than their own in your trio. Seeing you complement each others skills and move so cohesively. Realising how chosing their mother over you left them without what they would now probably describe as a dream come true to them. But all the smiles, laughs, and performance is dropped the minute they are left alone with you and all you give are glares or simple ignoring.

~Subaru spends the first few weeks trying to work up the nerve to apologise. When he does you only say you forgave him years ago but without therapy you would not be getting burnt again. He's hurt and now has to navigate a system he's never had any experience with alone if his brothers aren't so desperate to attone for you.

~Ruki, you are close with Reiji's kill. You two and Carla's playing an integral roll as three of the 4 underhands of your leader, providing different areas of expertise. Your's lies in grouping and typing, the emotional strategy, in large part. You refuse to even look at him, and when you do those wings seem to get sharper and sharper with each second you glare.

~Yuma you are also one of the underhands. Your powerhouse of a form due to the natural improvements and gift lead to a terrifying enemy. Yuma sees a girl so fucking tough, and you eyes never changed. You were this spitfire back then and he just ignores it and tossed you. Plus your part plant that's his dream, and he's fucked up everything.

~Kou, head sniper, having been determined to have equally strong eyes after struggling when the cameras used to make your current prosthetic did not exist. You are fucking cold, kind to so many until they show themselves to be two faces of cruel. Kou's never had a girl not fawn over him and he hates it.

~Azusa, you are equal parts helpful medic and terrifying assassin. Knowing extensive knowledge on where you bleed most, where you bleed fastest, quietest, cleanest etc. Except you get tense the minute he's in a room.

[kaddyssammlung]

The Apparition – Analysis

I really like that title. It took me a while to understand that this word has something to with “to appear”.

“Why are you never real?”

It speaks for itself but you can read so much into this. Being real as in being honest for example. Or being real in a sense that Sleep was not a real human but maybe only something that he saw in his dreams.

“Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace”

How nice that he is being left with grace. I find that a little bit weird.

“I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear”

It makes me think about Vessel meeting Sleep in the dream world. If waking up is so bad that it leaves him fearful then I can kind of understand the line from Atlantic "anything to get me to (S)sleep"

If this being wants him to stay in the 4-d-realm that this is a bit weird. 4-d does not really exist. It's just all of sleeping and doing things while we are asleep. The next higher realm is 5-d. Whatever. Not that important.

Idk what else to say or what to do with this.

“Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade”

This is highly possible. I once read a book about how our souls made some sort of contracts at some point in the past. I'm not sure if I should write more about stuff like that. I would have to do some rereading because I don't remember much about it. I think that book was written by a Shaman. But it's highly likely that they know each other from an different lifetime and have unfinished business of some sort.

“So let's make trouble in the dream world Hijack heaven with another memory now”

I hope this is fun.

Do you believe that something can influence dreams?

I do believe that. I have to leave it at that.

“I make the most of the turning tide It just split what's left of the burning silence”

In all this screaming silence....what is it about silence my dear Vessel? I really like silence. Absolute silence.....no thoughts, no feelings, no ego, no voice in the head, only my breath and silence.

Idk what to do with this.

“Don't wait, 'cause this could be the last time You turn up in the reveries of my mind”

It sounds like someone was being horribly haunted and I hope it's the last time.

“I wake up to a suicide frenzy”

What I said earlier....I guess. This is weird. Was he hypnotised into doing something to hurt himself? I really don't know. (should I bring up brainwashing? Or my experience with it...grooming....let's not do this)

“Loaded dreams still leave me empty”

I have struggled for so many years with unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sometimes I have nightmares about those times and I dream that I have given into my cravings again.

It's horrible!

I can understand how it makes him feel empty. But does he feel empty because he feels like he does not want to be on planet earth? Or in other words he wants to be with Sleep. Or is it because he has had enough and it's exhausting.

“The shifting stages you follow me through Unrevealed Just let me go or take me with you”

From my experience you need to “throw” entities out yourself. You can't just beg them to leave you alone because they won't. They feed off of you. Someone can guide you to this, though. The guy that I took lessons from about energy work taught me how to get rid of stuff like that.

I'm sure Vessel learned that, too.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

[katsidhe]

could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in. 

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen.  I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters. 

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy. 

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel’s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

[into-the-stratosphere]

Champagne Morale

Arthur x Forger Fem Reader

Summary: Going undercover at a charity ball hosted by one of the richest men in the country was hard enough as it was, but Arthur was certain flying solo would draw more attention than he’d like. If only he knew someone who could act well under pressure and improvise at a moment’s notice... like a top-notch forger. He just hopes she’ll say yes last minute.

A/N: Found this absolutely gorgeous picture (I’m still trying to find credit for it 🥺) and thought the guy looked like Arthur and this came from it. Hope you enjoy!

Champagne Morale

Arthur x Forger Fem Reader

Warnings: None besides brief mentions of some drinking.

WC: 2309

Pre-Inception

This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned to spend her Saturday night.

(Y/N) was dressed to the nines in a gown worth more than all the rest of her wardrobe combined, surrounded by the city’s wealth feigning charity. The older couples stalked the ballroom floor in their finest, eyes catching on anything less than spectacular, staring her down, trying to determine which family she belonged to in order to deserve a place on the guest list. They were like vultures on the hunt, scanning for any sign of imperfection. The only comfort she found was her hand tucked into the crevice of Arthur’s arm, leading her from the prying eyes— her “date” for the evening.

He’d been frantic when he asked her to accompany him earlier in the week, barely letting her get her door open before he’d launched into his rehearsed speech; he’d only just found a way to squeeze his name onto the private guest list of their next target’s charity ball that he’d forgotten to account for the plus one attached to it.

“It would look more suspicious if I arrived alone, plus you’re an excellent forger, so we could better cover each other if we started drawing anyone’s attention.”

She leaned on the doorframe, a bemused smile spreading her lips as he continued to list why it would be mutually beneficial for her to accompany him. He could go on for hours and not list the same reason twice, she thought. Ever the vigilant point man. (Y/N) held up a hand, Arthur falling silent at the gesture, holding her gaze.

“If you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask, Arthur,” she said, throwing a wink his way before closing the door. The last thing she caught was his mouth gaping as he stammered, the tips of his ears hinting pink.

She bit her lip to keep the self-satisfied smile off her face from the memory, reveling at how she of all people could get Arthur to crack. Glancing around, she accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, sipping on it a moment before looking towards her companion. He looked dashing, really; his suit was trimmed to perfection, expertly accentuating his slim but fit figure. A black bowtie sat snugly at the base of his throat, albeit a bit off kilter. She stopped him a moment to straighten it, letting her fingers linger a beat on his lapels before smiling up at him. He grinned, a familiar half tilt of his lips before offering his arm to her again. The only thing he hadn’t changed was his hair: slicked back, his signature.

As they paced around the edge of the room, (Y/N)’s eyes darted from face to face. “Which one is he exactly?” She whispered from behind her champagne glass.

Arthur minutely jutted his chin towards a man standing near the temporary stage, surrounded by laughing millionaires. Whether what he had said had actually been funny was only consequence; anything the surrounding gnats could do to earn his favour, they wouldn’t question.

(Y/N)’s eyes fixed on the man over the rim of her glass, studying his mannerisms. He was at least mid fifties, wearing a mild suit that, while designer, didn’t quite suit his loud voice. He slapped the man next to him on the back with a laugh, the poor recipient buckling under his heavy hand. She tilted her head, watching the target hand his plate off to the staggering lackey. Though he grinned at his boss, she could see the pressure building on him as the night went on. There’s the right hand man.

She turned to Arthur, handing him her nearly drained champagne glass, “Darling, would you mind holding this for me a moment? I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, she was halfway across the room, bee lining for their target.

He pressed his lips together, watching as she slipped into the inner circle of groupies with ease, throwing her head back with laughter at whatever their target had just said. His jaw clenched at the sight of the man turning his attention her way, bringing her hand to his lips in greeting. He gestured around the room, and Arthur swore he felt a blood vessel pop as the man put a hand to the small of (Y/N)’s back, showing her around the stations he’d had arranged for the ball.

He tried distracting himself, finishing what was left in (Y/N)’s champagne glass as he made a mental note to grab her another before she returned. A passing waiter took the empty flute from his hands, leaving Arthur to shove his hands in his pockets, gripping his loaded die with white knuckles as he turned away from the pair now meandering by the reflection pool, a posse of millionaires trailing slowly after them.

As long as she’s having fun. If he clasped his die any tighter it would surely shatter.

Arthur wasn’t left to his sulking for long; (Y/N)’s laughter drifted by his ear a few minutes later, and he turned his head to see his target walking her to where he leant against the wall. The man eyed Arthur up and down, standing straighter before pressing a final kiss to (Y/N)’s knuckles. She looked up at the host through her lashes, a coy smile gracing her features that made Arthur’s heart pang.

I’m not… no, I couldn’t be jealous.

(Y/N) was his friend, had been for years. Are we really only friends though? All his memories with her flashed through his mind in an instant, flushed cheeks and tentative touches. As he watched her bid their host a far too fond farewell, his pulse raced. Is that all we are?

She grinned until the target finally turned away from the pair, letting the disgust fall over her features when she knew his gaze was elsewhere. “I swear to God if he touched me one more time I was going to vomit.”

Arthur could barely restrain his laughter, the target shooting him a glare that he didn’t care to cower from. He wrapped one arm around (Y/N)’s midsection, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin as she brooded.

“Am I allowed to spend time with my date now?”

“Come on, you know I did that for the intel. Plus I can learn so many new characters from those snobby wannabes.”

“I’m sure you did.”

He grinned as she threw a weak punch into his chest, minding how she just as quickly drew back into his hold. The little green monster was sated for now. In fact, it certainly didn’t mind when she asked him for a dance, to get the feeling of his hands on me out of my mind, dragging him to the middle of the room where they blended in with the swarm of couples roused by the band.

He took her hand, his other falling to her waist, swaying quickly to the jazzy tune, watching laughter, genuine laughter bubble up her throat. Arthur dipped (Y/N) low, breathless by the way her hair fell from its intricate styling. He grinned at her, pulling her back into his chest, their breaths mingling as the tempo picked up again. For a song, they weren’t two con artists studying a target, two friends pretending to be dates— they were a complementary pair, dancing the night away oblivious to the pompous splendor surrounding them. Anyone who looked at them could tell the chemistry they shared— even the jealous host watching from the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest.

When the song ended, their chests heaving from exertion, all the room applauded the quintet situated on the temporary stage, bowing to their audience before starting up their next melody. (Y/N) and Arthur drifted away from the dance floor, locking arms as they sought the cool air blowing over the reflection pool.

They strolled around as they talked, glancing over the small tables of finger foods scattered on their way, careful to keep a good deal of distance from the man of the hour who hadn’t stopped shooting Arthur venomous looks since their dance ended. (Y/N) was pointing out a tray full of exotic caviar worth as much food that could feed an entire household for months when Arthur noticed the security on the edge of the room, eyeing the pair with wary expressions.

He watched from his peripheral as one stepped up behind the host on the stage, preparing himself for his speech to thank all the wealthy donors in the room as the band was packing away their instruments. He stalled as the guard whispered in his ear, his gaze latching onto the pair once more with a newfound suspicion.

Arthur cleared his throat, turning (Y/N) away from the stage with a hand on her arm, looking out over the calm waters. “We may have to leave soon.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, masking her surprise with a pleasant expression. He could tell she was listening into the conversations around them, trying to key in to how long they had.

The security detail became more mobile across the room, moving towards the exits of the venue. Arthur swore under his breath, slowing their pace to be equally spaced from the nearest guards. “We’re going to need a diversion.”

“Already on it.”

Arthur didn’t need to question her plan, feeling her weight drop onto his side as she giggled airily— playing drunk, he realized. An older woman nearby scoffed under her breath, something about minding how much one should drink in public, and Arthur shot her an apologetic smile, draping one of (Y/N)’s arms around his shoulders to better support her. One of her heels caught around the hem of her dress, (Y/N) kicking it away in a mock drunken huff, pressing further against Arthur’s body. Were he not so hyper aware of the extra guards appearing from the exits, he would have taken just a second to appreciate the sensation of her warmth bleeding into him, filling his chest until he felt he could float without a dream.

He tilted his head down next to her ear, “Alright, we’re going to need a better distraction to get out of here— maybe a prior engagement we forgot about that we need to get to right away—“

Arthur didn’t need to finish the rest of his plan as (Y/N) deftly swiped a leg from under him, teetering over to the side—

Where the reflection pool lay waiting to catch them.

Gasps shot through the crowd to see the tipsy couple splash into the water, rushing to the pool’s edge to watch the chaos. While the host hastened to the microphone to call for attention and order, the feedback making all the guests cringe under the volume, under the surface Arthur shook his head incredulously at (Y/N), who only shot him a cheeky wink.

The two emerged, beautiful clothes ruined, gasping for air. A handful of guards reached for their hands, pulling them from the water as some waiters went off to fetch some towels. (Y/N) shivered, clinging to Arthur’s arm as she sobbed, apologizing for ruining such a lovely evening meant for charity.

Arthur had to keep from rolling his eyes at the theatrics. Expert forger indeed, there wasn’t a single face without a pitiful turn of the lip, (Y/N)’s performance tugging at her audience’s hearts. If he didn’t know her, he was sure she’d even get a reaction out of him.

She shivered in his arms, stumbling to her feet as her gown clung to her legs. She sniffled, her mascara dripping down her face— whether from the water still dripping from her hair or her expertly crafted tears no one could tell. As a waitress passed along some warm towels, Arthur thanked her and began to move towards the exit, catching the glimmer of mischief in (Y/N)’s eye as they finally passed through the crowd.

As the wealthy elites finally drew back towards the host on the stage, Arthur risked a whisper to his date, “Certainly not what I had in mind, but you definitely got the job done. You know, if you wanted our date to be over, you could have just asked, (Y/N).”

Arthur could only glimpse (Y/N)’s bemused face as she realized what he said before she pushed him towards the pool again, but not before he caught her wrist and dragged her back in with him.

The host sighed on stage to see the happy couple go under once more, smothering the jealousy at having lost quite a catch.

Before (Y/N) could begin to swim for the surface, Arthur pulled her face towards his, grinning as her lips met his eagerly, bubbles dancing around their bodies as they floated a moment, too caught up in one another to care for air or what waited for them when they’d resurface once more.

They finally broke apart, pulling one another to the surface to greedily drink in lungfuls of oxygen. The only crowd to greet them this time was the waitstaff informing them they would have to leave. The two ducked their heads in apology, rushing out the door before anyone else would think to stop them.

When they burst onto the street in front of the lavish venue, wrapped in one another in a desperate attempt to keep warm, (Y/N) turned to Arthur, teeth chattering, “You know, I think I’d prefer we stayed dry on our next date.”

No, she certainly didn’t expect to spend her Saturday night drenched to the bone with a man who’s kisses tasted like champagne and confessions, but she definitely didn’t regret it either.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Club Takamagahara (Part 4) Rubber Ducky

One of the things that always rubbed me the wrong way about Caesar is his full on dragging you by the ears when it comes to his personal Crusades and the MC never saying a thing about it.

ITT: Caesar and the MC argue again.

Up until now, MC had never thought of herself, her body, as anything more of a vessel to be trained. In the rigid environment of the orphanage, you ate just enough so you wouldn’t starve. You bathed just enough so that you didn’t fall ill, and you trained so you could be the best at your craft and please Dr. Herzog so you could leave the orphanage and go to Moscow.

You cared for yourself the same way like one would care for a potted plant: Not unkindly, but not with too much attention. You felt that way about other people as well for a long time. You ate together at the same time, bathed together at the same time, and trained at the same time. There was no real distinction between male or female until it came time for the Christmas ball where you got together and danced, girls with boys. The older you got, the more importance this was supposed to hold for you. But you didn’t remember desiring to go to the dance, in fact, you were paired up with the forlorn and stuttering Vera for the dance.

Your memory of Christmas was with Renata, sitting next to the ocean.

But that memory had somehow changed. Somehow in the aquamarine haze of The Sea in the Takamagahara, when you were asked about Lost Love, you remembered that moment, your heart burst into bloom, you were flooded with emotion, and you spoke her name like a prayer.

You were in a daze once you got back to the bath area with Caesar, Zihang and Lu Mingfei.

“This is a disaster! A disaster! My poor Little Sister! What are we going to do?!” Mingfei was wailing. “It’s like we’ve thrown her as a virgin sacrifice to the volcano gods!”

Caesar just grinned as he looked down at you. “I’m sure she can handle it, right, MC?”

“I…” You felt oddly nervous. You should agree but now you aren't sure. “What exactly… is going to happen? What did he mean by … pour out their love on me?”

“You’re going to be a client for the most experienced of all of the performers of the Takamagahara! Apparently, they’re going to have some sort of competition amongst each other to see who has the most charm. It’s a shame I can’t be among them,” He sighed, completely shameless. “...but… I’m spoken for!”

Lu Mingfei’s face was black with rage.

“I’m not sure what that means! What should I do?” You suddenly have the urge to chew your nails, again, something you hadn’t done since you were quite young.

“Oh you’ll just have fun with those guys, so just relax! It won’t even be work for you! Anyway, there are no weak performers who can hang out in Takamagahara. Each of them has thousands of admirers and hundreds of guests who are willing to pay for them regularly, or even just pay to sit with them for a while. And just think, the best of them are going to be the ones with you, MC. Isn’t that exciting? This is an amazing result! Just remember to call us by our stage names. I am BasaraKing, Chu Zihang is Ukyou and then there’s Lu Mingfei, Little Sakura.” 

Chu Zihang who had been almost completely silent this whole time suddenly spoke up. “But since she’s doing this for you, Caesar, shouldn’t you be honest with her?”

“What do you mean?”

"You and I have learned wilderness survival. We still have weapons. With your ability and mine we can survive in the Kobe Mountains without rations for more than three months, and you are a good hunter." Chu Zihang crossed his arms over his chest. "You insisted on hiding in Takamagahara because intelligence says it is very close to the Genji Heavy Industry building, only two blocks away. You were looking, not for a hideout, but a base for a counterattack. You didn't really want to disappear." 

Caesar was silent for a moment. Then he pulled the corners of his mouth into a smile and relaxed his body, "Yes, you're right about everything. What was it the philosopher said? ‘The opponent knows you better than you know yourself.’"

Chu Zihang nods. "When the people from Cassell come to Tokyo, they will take over everything, including your leadership. We will be sent back to the academy, and you are definitely going to be sent to Rome to show your family that you are still in one piece.. But you don't want that." 

"Hydra have done me wrong in front of me," Caesar's face was expressionless, "and they will have to pay the price." 

You suddenly understand and a feeling of hurt and disillusionment comes over you. “You mean, we’re not going to contact the College?”

"Boss, I say you don't keep thinking about it." Lu Mingfei sighed, "You worked very hard to protect Ms. Makoto. It would have worked if it weren’t for the accident." 

"Accident? No, there's no such thing as accidents. In the Gattuso family motto, accidents are just excuses cowards make for themselves."

“I thought we were hiding out here so we could go home!” You object, your voice rising.

Chu Zihang’s eyes flick from you to Caesar. Evidently, Chu Zihang picked up early on that you weren’t understanding things correctly and since Caesar wasn’t going to tell you, he would.

“And we will…” Caesar said gently. “But we talked about this. Hydra will have to pay for what they’ve done.”

Your expression has gone back to its cold and wintry air. You take a deep breath and you want to let it out but it catches in your throat and you have to grit your teeth.

"Caesar, I'm not going to debate with you about the reasons for doing what you're doing. The only issue I have is that you always assume that things are going to go well, and we're all going to go home, and be heroes. Well, I have something to say to you. I got visited by my guardian angel about what happened in Chizuru. He said I had a close call. That there were limits to his power and things could have gone the other way. And he made me promise him to watch out. For him to come all the way from heaven to tell me that, when he's never done that before, tells me the level of danger we're in.  I'll follow you and I'll do what you ask, but I'm counting on you to make good and sure that you've thought of everything that might go wrong and that you're not going to underestimate anyone again." The words come out slow and clear in a low snarl.

Caesar listens quietly and then blinks. “Guardian angel? Don’t worry, MC. It will be alright.”

His platitudes only enraged you further! If your bleeding out on the street and nearly dying wasn’t going to be enough of a deterrent to keep him from suddenly changing the mission and doing whatever he wanted to, then why would your words do anything? But you can’t stop talking.

“Nothing you do will bring Ms. Makoto back! You lost, Caesar, just admit it!”

Lu Mingfei backs away but Caesar just shrugs. “I haven’t lost until the game is over.” 

“As far as Ms. Makoto is concerned it is Game Over!” You shoot back.

Caesar goes completely expressionless. “So you just want to go home? Just forget everything? What happened to not being afraid to die?”

You don’t respond back immediately because you’re not sure what to say. He’s right, you were scared that you might not make it out this time. Before, you didn’t care what happened to you so long as you could die protecting the people close to you.

“Lu Mingfei mentioned the fact you were different after you woke up…” Caesar rubbed his chin. “I’d like to talk to you after the champagne party.”

“Champagne party?”

“Yes! To celebrate the fact that Ukyou and BasaraKing are the fastest ticket winners of all the interns in Takamagahara!”

“Oh…” You barely hold back your disgust and look away. It’s like he didn’t even hear you.

Now that you were an official guest of the Takamagahara, there was no need to stay cooped up in the room. On the second floor, you visit the restaurant and eat more sushi alone on the terrace. You tell yourself that you can’t see Caesar as anything more than what he was, a guy who was playing the world like a game and didn’t mind risking the lives of others if it meant playing by his rules. But it wasn’t like you could go anywhere or do anything about it.

“MC, you’re here too?”

Lu Mingfei stood in the entryway to the terrace, even though it was late, the waiters were still serving food and not packing up. “Weren’t you at the party?” You ask.

He was still in his waiter's uniform. “Yeah but… technically I’m not really part of the party. I earned my right to stay here based on the interview, but I still have to get enough tickets to actually be one of the performers. I just… couldn’t fit in.” He ran his hand through his hair shyly. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Not at all. Take a seat.”

Lu Mingfei sits across from you, staring over the bright lights of Tokyo while you finish eating. “That’s Genji Heavy Industries, right there.” He points over. “It’s hard to believe that just a few days ago, we were in it, having tea with the head of Hydra.”

You turn and look. The building was like a black spire stabbing upwards at the sky and the lights on in some of the office windows looked like rhinestones. “I don’t want to do it but… I don’t feel like I have a choice.”

“I understand how you feel, MC. So much time has passed for me. I enrolled in college, met the world's top rich and handsome people, and escaped death several times.” He paused for a bit, his voice trembling and soft. “...but I still feel that the world does not care whether I actually exist.”

 He folds his arms on the table. “Everyone here is an adult, I’m stumbling and running behind everyone like a kid. I’m constantly learning to speak and study like everyone else, but I’m always half a beat slower than others. When I finally start to follow them, they are already gone.”

“You didn’t know what Caesar had planned either did you?” You asked.

“No. And… I never agreed with what he’s okay with doing with you.” Lu Mingfei twined his fingers. “Everything about this is wrong. I can’t do a thing about it. I wanted to get out of here too.”

You take a deep breath and let it out and go back to eating. “Don't worry for me.”

Mingfei shifted slightly in the wire outdoor dining chair and a soft squeak noise came from below. You snap your head up and then try not to choke on your laughter. Mingfei blushed. “It’s a rubber duck! A rubber duck! I didn’t fart!”

You swallow what’s in your mouth and laugh. “Why… why do you have a rubber duck? Do you bathe with it?” 

“No!” Mingfei stammered. “I’m not that much of a kid! I have it because… well, the person who saved me from the Trieste gave it to me!”

“Someone saved you?” You lean forward immediately interested.

“Yeah you’re not the only one with a guardian angel.” He held it out for you to see. It was just your typical rubber duck, yellow with an orange beak and painted black and white eyes. When you squeezed it, it chirped. 

“Who saved you?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I remember she had long red hair and she put a diving helmet on my head. It was too dark to see but she’s surrounded by light. Like an angel. I thought it was a hallucination, but when I woke up on the beach… I had the rubber duck. So I knew it wasn’t a dream. MC, do you have something you can hold on to from your guardian angel too?”

You look down at the duck, recalling the dream of Z. You tried to think of substantiating the dream to Caesar, that he really was the one who had plucked you from the sea, who had called the dolphins from the water, and who had brought you to Takamagahara. But you didn’t have anything like that.

The guardian angel dream was probably just a fantasy. You wished that they were still alive, that Renata had really made the wish come true and brought you to the Whale in the office called The Sea in the Club Takamagahara. But the more you thought about it, the more unbelievable it seemed, like a fairy tale told to children. You squeezed the rubber duck and when it chirped, it almost sounded like it was laughing at you.

You hand him his rubber duck back and as you do, the wind on the terrace picks up and brushes his hair across his face.

Hairline. They had the same hairline. You read somewhere that even though a lot of things could change your hairline over time, your natural borne hair line- - that is, how your hair grew on your head -- was strongly hereditary. It was just one of those random facts one grabs as they go through life and read magazines and books. Most of the time this knowledge is useless, but when you saw the way his hair fell on his face and over his eyes, all you needed was golden eyes to say that you were looking at Z and not Lu Mingfei.

The night gradually ended and you all returned to the bathhouse. You pause and Caesar looks at you but you only wondered briefly if they all just slept in the bath. You decide you’re too exhausted to stay and talk, you return to your bed in the closet without talking to him.

But before your door can close his hand catches it. “Don’t run away from me.”

“I don’t want to talk. You’re not going to listen anyway.” You growl.

“I am listening!” He says, his voice is calm and it annoys you.

“You can say you listen but you never change!”

“I’ve moved up the plan’s timeline. I found out that Hydra is moving out against the Devil Clan tonight, which means their forces are spread out. We get in, wreck Kaguya, get out and contact the college. You’ll be back on a plane to Chicago in a day. Alright?”

You suck in air and stop trying to close the door. “Alright.”

“I know it’s hard to trust me right now. I just need a little time to figure something out. Alright?”

“Alright.”

Caesar smiles a little at you and you turn away from it.

“Thank you... Rest up a lot, as soon as your shift is over, we’re leaving.”

You shut the door and he lets you.

[dingoat]

[SO MANY fun prompts to work with, haha, and once the idea popped into my head for this one I couldn’t shake it!

So Crow is alive and well in werewolf au, and I was given very gracious permission to give him a life of his own and he’s managed to play a much larger role than I ever originally anticipated! The following is rated... something, for alcohol, back massages, and general good times with a cyborg and shapeshifting monster agent. 1,600 words]

No Hands in the Galaxy

First run Heritage Alkasan Cognac Grande Champagne…

Thirteen’s fingers drifted over the bottle, the gold and jewel encrusted vessel worth almost as much as the sparkling liquid inside. Perhaps, perhaps....

No, not this one tonight. His gaze drifted upward, and he contemplated the tall, slender bottle of five-hundred year old Kaminoan burgundy, who he was reasonably certain Five hadn’t collected through any legitimate means. One day he’d get to try it, he was certain, but that would probably be more appropriate to share with Five himself, wouldn’t it?

Maybe… ah, yes.

The bottle didn’t look like much, square and dark, its lettering discreet swirls in gold on a single side of glass, but the ancient bottle of Tarisian scotch whiskey had passed through more hands than likely anyone really knew, the history of the liquor adding value in and of itself. Stolen, stolen again, lost and found, traded and put up for wager, stolen once more, confiscated and held for decades before finally being auctioned off and promptly stolen again… how much of the galaxy’s wealthy elite had at some stage had it nestled in their private collection, as a display of wealth to the privileged few permitted to view it?

What a waste of a good drink.

Thirteen took the bottle and carefully locked the cabinet back up, amused at how much Five liked to use physical keys for these things in addition to the electronically coded mechanisms.

And then he promptly broke the bottle’s seal, and had already taken several hearty swigs by the time he found Crow sprawled in one of the smaller lounge areas of the mansion. “You look terrible,” he laughed, dropping onto the plum velvet chaise beside the weary cyborg, squeezing his backside between Crow’s thigh and the armrest and letting his legs settle where they may. Crow groaned, but there was amusement in his tone as he spoke through the silk cushion his face was planted onto. “I ain’t the one dressed in a bedazzled aqua bathrobe.”

“It’s seafoam blue. And I think it brings out my eyes.”

A snort sounded through the cushion. “Whatever you say.” He tried to turn about to properly face the lanky agent, but Thirteen’s positioning made it difficult, and the way he tensed and locked his legs against Crow’s wriggling made it nigh impossible.

“Damn you, Hawkbat,” Crow laughed, managing to half-twist his torso and awkwardly spy him for a moment, before flopping face-down again with a grunt of defeat. “I hope you’re at least planning to share that…?”

“What this?” Thirteen pretended to notice the bottle in his hands for the first time. “Oh. Yes. Actually I thought you’d have wrestled it off me by now.” His words were teasing, but also truthful; it wasn’t that Crow had an insatiable appetite for alcohol, so much that he usually relished an opportunity to pit his strength against Thirteen’s.

“Mmrgh. Not today. Maybe once I’ve got some of that actually in me…”

Thirteen snickered, and clenched his legs tighter as Crow gave another half-hearted wriggle. “What’ve you been doing to get yourself so weary, then? A lesser man might wonder if he needs to feel jealous…” Helping himself to another swig of whiskey, he set a hand to the small of Crow’s back, and let his fingers press against his spine.

“Stars!” Crow yelped and bucked as Thirteen found a tightly knotted bit of muscle, but his response only encouraged Thirteen to knead harder, making him wince, even whimper once, and then finally let out a long groan of relief as that sharp little knot was finally smoothed out. “Ugh. Yeah well, all that museum paraphernalia ain’t gonna pack and store itself now, is it?”

Thirteen’s fingers travelled a little further up Crow’s spine. “Your back is so tense…” he murmured, momentarily absorbed as he found another tender spot and wasted no time in pressing hard, first with fingertips and then with his knuckles, making Crow writhe against the pain that he knew was ultimately doing him good.

And then the agent paused. “You’ve been clearing out all the Spirit of Kaas nonsense?”

“Yeah. I mean, your Watcher- ow!”

Thirteen’s fingers pressed deep. “Our Watcher.”

“Hmmh. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the type that would react altogether well to being reminded of his fail-- ahh, ow, stars, damn, I mean, being reminded of things that haven’t gone entirely to plan. Figure the less he has of that, the better.”

“But why do you care? I didn’t think you thought… especially well of him.”

Crow shrugged where he lay. “I don’t. The man’s an arse. But he matters to you, and I guess that’s… enough.”

Thirteen’s touch softened into gentle swirls against Crow’s skin, and he made a low sound, a contemplative warble at the back of his throat that wasn’t quite human. Then he leaned across Crow’s back and pressed the bottle into the man’s cybernetic hand. “Get some of this into you.” He drew his legs up and folded them neatly beside Crow, giving him the freedom to prop himself up and drink properly. “Do you want a massage? I think you could use a massage.”

Crow drank heartily, taking in almost a third of what remained in the bottle at once, and gave a very satisfied sounding sigh when he finally withdrew the bottle from his lips. “Kriff me dead but that’s some good stuff. Is this from his good cupboard?”

“His best. I really think you aught to get yourself comfortable though…”

Crow had another long sip, then shook his head up at Thirteen with a rueful grin. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but there ain’t no hands in the galaxy that can smooth out the muscles in my back that really need it, not with all the metal that’s over the top of them these days. Best I can do for myself is find a good stretch and hope I sleep comfy through the night.”

A slow and calculating smirk spread along Thirteen’s lips. “No hands? Now there’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

Crow’s cybernetics were sensitive, to a point. He could shut off the nerve receptors if he wanted, give himself an edge of pain tolerance and built-in shielding if he ever thought he needed it, but in truth he preferred to be able to still feel with his arm, with his foot, he liked to know when someone else’s hand was resting against his metal hip or running their fingers across his back and shoulders…

“Hmmh,” Thirteen murmured, letting his fingers follow the grooves in the metal, prying here and there at the exquisitely delicate and yet profoundly strong sheets that folded in on themselves again and again, slotting so neat and tightly together and enveloping the entirety of Crow’s upper back. He spread his hand across where Crow’s shoulderblade must be, and pressed with his palm, first gently, and then leaning in with all his strength. There was absolutely no give, all his pressure distributed neatly across the sleek metal.

“Yeah, yeah that’d be the spot.” Crow spoke around the lip of the whiskey bottle. “If I didn’t have layers of SIS tech plastered all across it.” Thirteen’s hands were nice, even if they did nothing to smooth out his shoulder muscles. “Don’t worry about it, it’s something I’ve learned to live with…”

“Oh. I’m not worried,” Thirteen whispered against Crow’s cheek, his voice dropping to an unearthly rumble as the pressure against Crow’s back changed completely. “I think I have a workaround, just do me a favour and relax…”

It never ceased to drive a little spike of nerves into Crow’s chest, seeing Thirteen change into the monster hawkbat. It was a welcome thrill, these days, but there was no denying that little gut reaction, that flush of adrenaline that reminded him just what the creature was capable of. The spread of the hawkbat’s wings utterly dwarfed him, blocking out all the light from the oversized chandelier, and the savage hooks at their tips could skewer him easy as a hunk of dewback at a Tatooine barbeque. It was still with somewhat mixed feelings that he remembered the time he had been seized and tossed by one of those hooks.

Those jaws, that could snap him in two, that beak that could crush his skull, now pressed and nuzzled against his back, and the beat of his heart was anything but relaxed. He didn’t struggle when the end of Thirteen’s beak closed gently over his metal shoulder and tugged him down on the floor, nor did he try to wrench himself free when he felt one of Thirteen’s massive taloned feet pin him against the ground. It was all he could do but stop the whiskey from spilling, and just let Thirteen… try this, though he held onto his doubts.

He dropped them promptly.

The hawkbat was strong. Absurdly strong. Crow knew that well enough, but he wasn’t prepared for just how much control Thirteen had over where he rested the pressure in his foot. Or just exactly how it would feel to have a talon hook over his shoulder and hold him still, while the balls of the hawkbat’s foot rolled and kneaded over the metal surface. For a moment Crow wondered if his ribs were going to pop, but Thirteen’s efforts were precise, and slowly, gloriously, he actually felt the muscles beneath his cybernetics being worked. It hurt, but stars above it was an exquisite pain, and bit by bit tensions Crow never even realised he’d had were unwound and melted away.

“Gods,” he uttered, still clutching the whiskey but in no position to have another sip. “Okay okay, you win. You can do that all day.”

Thirteen rumbled his deep satisfaction in response.

Of course I win. I always win.

[xmanicpanicx]

Romanticized Things That Aren't Actually Romantic

1) The "shut up" kiss

It happens in more movies, TV shows, and novels than I can even count. One half of the couple (usually a woman or girl) will be talking, and the other person (usually a guy) will suddenly lay an ol’ sloppy one on her mouth. Often times, she’s rambling about her insecurities, so some people think it’s cute when he kisses her, symbolically laying her worries to rest. Don’t worry, hon! There’s nothing to be insecure about! He likes you! There are two big problems with this. The first is that when someone is speaking, you shouldn’t cut them off; best case scenario, it’s rude. Of course, people cut each other off all the time in conversation, so that’s different. But when a character interrupts another character’s speech to kiss them, they are essentially prioritizing their sexual desires over the other person’s need to express themselves. It’s an action that has an agenda. Everyone wants to be truly listened to when they speak. So if, for example, we have a female character babbling about her insecurities, the male character should hear her out, and then respond to what she says. There is plenty of romantic potential in words — even more than in kisses, in my opinion. His response could still be a kiss after she’s finished speaking (as long as it’s not a rattlesnake-strike type of kiss that doesn’t give her a choice). However, we still have another problem: the female character’s self-confidence shouldn’t be contingent upon the male character’s opinion of her. In other words, a kiss from a guy, no matter how much she loves him, will not and should not heal her negative perception of herself. Not healthy. Real people and characters should accept themselves on their own terms rather than on the approval of others.

Sometimes, the sudden kiss will come in the middle of a female character’s angry rant. The male character thinks she’s cute or sexy when she’s angry, which can be frustrating and patronizing for anyone who voices their anger because they want to be listened to and taken seriously. But regardless of why the character is talking, the other character should stop kissin’ and start listenin’.

2) Female double standards

Women and girls often feel really uncomfortable when men objectify them and make comments on their bodies, so they call these men out — and rightfully so. They also call male authors out for only describing women in terms of their bodies and giving them very little, if any, personality. Once again, rightfully so. Unfortunately, in real life and in literature, there is a double standard here. It’s one thing to write an erotic novel in which bodies of every gender are described in explicit detail and with an express purpose. But I’ve read novels without any sexual content that go into so much detail about guys’ looks. And these male characters are often not well-developed, either (think of the stereotypical jock with a hot bod and no brain). Authors — especially female authors, who are usually the ones perpetuating this — need to do better than this. If it's not okay to do that to girls, it's not okay to do that to guys, either. Also, what is up with that scene from The Notebook? The one where Rachel McAdams repeatedly slaps Ryan Gosling because he’s breaking up with her. How on Earth is that okay? The Notebook is widely considered to be a super-romantic movie, but there is nothing romantic about that scene, and it should be a deal-breaker for their relationship. If the tables were turned and Ryan Gosling slapped Rachel McAdams for breaking up with him, the entire plot of the movie would be different. It would be a thriller, a story about a woman trying to escape a scary ex. We would never root for the two of them to get back together.

3) Overly-metaphorical sex scenes

Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Would you like some crust and tomato sauce with all that cheese? So many novels shy away from the anatomical details and favor metaphors for how the sex makes the characters (or just the narrating character) feel. In theory, there is nothing wrong with this, but I personally tend to roll my eyes more often than not at the actual execution. The narrator will say something too dramatic, like “our bodies became one and the universe opened up before me.” Or “and then we were flying, soaring with and through one another.” Or something else that is just… not sexy. As far as being poetic, there isn’t anything special about those phrases, either. There is nothing wrong with describing sex as it really is. I realize that novels featuring sex that are aimed at young adults probably cannot describe things too explicitly, but there’s no need to replace dirty details with flowery language. Go for whatever sincerity you can in the situation. There are plenty of different emotions to mine and sensual details leading up to the actual sex that read more thrillingly than the sex scene itself. 

4)  Instalove

It's simply not as much fun to see characters fall for each other right away. And how could they possibly fall for each other right away, anyhow? Is it all about looks? If so, both characters are instantly less likable because they're shallow. And that's not real love, either. You need to actually know someone in order to feel a such a deep emotion for them.

It's also important to note that making the characters "love" each other at the outset of the story does not heighten the emotional stakes. It actually cheapens them. Because how can we take this so-called love seriously when we don't get to know, don't get to care about, the characters as individual people before they fall for each other?

Now, if we get to know each character and watch them get to know each other, and slowly fall for each other, that's much more rewarding.  It's character growth, and it's a whole process that we, as readers, get to experience vicariously though them.

This may just be a personal preference, but I think it's best to even avoid phrases like “my heartbeat skipped” or “my skin tingled when our hands brushed” in the beginning stages of the story. Even though the declarations of love and outright displays off affection may come later on, statements like these reveal instant attraction, which still isn't as rewarding as attraction that grows over time and through events.

5) Love interests being obsessed with each other

From approximately 2005-2015, YA literature saw a horde of books featuring teenage girls and boys who are everything to each other. I almost mean that literally. The first really popular book like this was Twilight, but it had a huge influence on everything in YA that came after, especially YA fantasy. How romantic, some people think, that hero lives for the heroine! And vice versa! Perfect! Meant to be! Everyone wishes they could have that one, true, perfect love! 

Listen. Go back to Britney Spears’s first album and play the song “Born to Make You Happy”: ”I don’t know how to live without your love, I was born to make you happy.” Solid 90s bubblegum pop, but with unhealthy lyrics. An unhealthy mentality. Most of us are familiar with that heady, all-consuming feeling of falling in love, how it feels like that’s the best and happiest part of life as it’s happening. There’s nothing wrong with portraying that. It’s relatable. The glorification of it beyond all else is the problem. The hero and heroine have scares throughout the story during which they almost lose each other, and that brings to light just how strongly they feel each other, to the extreme that nothing matters except each other. Then, of course, they ultimately end up together, happily ever after, never having to part again. But in real life, people break up, or sometimes even die. People have no choice but to be apart from the person they loved so much from then on. And it’s devastating, but it’s not the end, even if it sometimes feels like it. That’s why it’s so important for books to give some indicator that there are other things that matter besides (and dare I say even more than) the one person the hero/heroine is in love with. The characters have to have some sense of self-love or resilience. They have to have other people they care about, or at least values/principles and goals. They have to be an actual person, not just a vessel filled to the brim with love for just one other person. Romanticizing a co-dependent relationship can be hope-crushing message, especially for teenagers who haven’t had enough time to grow, to weather the storm of life and toughen up and become wiser and more self-aware and self-confident. 

7) The super dominant male love interest 

Okay, I’m not trying to kink-shame anyone because I know there are people who absolutely love this trope. I want to say it’s fine, as long as it remains in Tropeland. But even if women want to keep these love interests solely within their fantasies, I do worry about the message it sends to men, if it makes them think that they can be abusive douchebags because women are into that. I already know of far too many men who think that women are only into assholes. 

Personally, I’ll never understand the appeal of a man, fictional or otherwise, who dictates what a woman should wear, her food choices, where they go and what they do for dates ALL THE TIME. And jealousy! Sure, jealousy indicates that someone cares, and it’s a normal human emotion, but I’ll never understand the appeal of a guy who gets so jealous, he won’t allow his girlfriend any freedom. I’ll never understand how cruel, disparaging words could ever be on the same sexiness level as dirty talk. And I really, really will never understand how a man physically harming a woman could be considered sexy. It’s weak and cowardly, hurting someone who doesn’t stand a chance of fighting back because they’re nowhere near as strong.

I get the appeal of a guy who sees a woman as his equal and isn’t afraid to spar with her, challenge her, and maybe even be a little bit rough with her, knowing that she can handle it. I see the appeal of a confident man who isn’t afraid to tell a woman what he wants. When his presence becomes legitimately threatening and completely selfish, that’s when I personally see a problem. But hey, to each their own.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 26

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: N/A

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 26: You’ll See (Reprise)

The perplexed look on your face made Krennic laugh some more. He was having entirely too much fun, reveling in your confusion, and it was starting to piss you off. You were about to abandon your plan of being cooperative so you could indulge in yelling at this man instead, but he spoke before you could.

"In the meantime," he said, nodding at the food in front of you, "have a bite to eat. I'm sure these bounty hunters don't serve proper meals to their quarry."

You looked down at your plate full of colorful vegetables and meat and bread and silently agreed; you hadn't had a proper meal in a long time. Boba only kept rations on his ship that were meant to be purely nutritional but tasted rather like cardboard. Your stomach gave an involuntary growl, and having no reason to believe the Empire would want to poison you after all the trouble to capture you, you went ahead and dug in.

It was only after you'd cleaned half the plate did Krennic speak to you again. He was nibbling at his own food, but seemed much more interested in your music player.

"Curious device." He turned it over on the table beside him, rubbing his fingers over the stickers on the back. "What is it?"

"It just plays music," you explained between bites. "Or at least it did. Doesn't work anymore."

"And it's yours?"

You nodded your head. "Boba took me to meet the other buyer but found it there instead. It was really weird. I packed that old thing away years ago. I don't know how that guy got it, whoever he is."

You'd decided with Boba there would be no harm in giving out the details of your failed quest to find the other buyer; it would only help sell Boba's choice to turn you in to the Empire. You did, however, exclude the parts about Maz, not wanting to drag her further into this mess.

Krennic was looking at you through squinted eyes. "So you don't know who placed the other bounty on you?"

"No," you said with a slightly dramatic sigh. "Like I've told literally everyone that's been after me, I don't know who the guy is. I don't know why he wants me, or how he got my stuff. I also don't know why you want me so bad, either."

You looked back at Krennic with a pointed expression, hoping this would segue into the conversation where you finally got some answers, the one you'd come here for. But Krennic's interest seemed to have now wandered elsewhere. He stared at the music player for a bit before placing it in a pocket along his belt and going for another swig of his drink.

You cursed internally. It had been a long shot, bringing that device with you. Boba had warned you it'd probably be confiscated but you'd hoped that maybe Krennic would let you be sentimental and hold onto it anyway. Not only had Boba replaced the inner workings with a tracker, but he'd also programmed the signal so that if you selected a song, it would play it aboard the Slave I. There was a song to let him know you were okay, one for when you were ready to be extracted, one if there was an emergency.... If you weren't able to play him anything by tonight, then he would only wait one more day before coming for you, regardless of whether you'd found your answers or not.

The door suddenly opened from behind, letting in a stormtrooper.

"We've arrived, sir."

Krennic nodded knowingly, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth napkin. "Take her down. I'll meet with them shortly."

Them. You gulped at the word, your mind racing between countless possibilities. Were there other prisoners you were being taken to? Did the Empire want you to work on something and you were going to meet your new coworkers? Did Krennic have a boss who'd be interrogating you instead - perhaps the Emperor himself? Or maybe you'd be walked out onto a stage with your friends and family, and told this was some elaborate game show and that everything you'd experienced the last couple of months was only to test your grit on live television? At this point, no idea was too far fetched for you to believe.

You were, however, secretly relieved that you were being taken elsewhere, rather than staying on this Imperial ship. It meant Boba wouldn't have to enact back-up plans #4-7 to get you out. You hadn't realized the ship had been flying this whole time, not being near any windows or having felt any of the usual movements that came from being in a smaller vessel. You were ushered into a shuttle, and it was an odd experience to then fly down toward this new planet. It was like the Imperial ship was a mini planet of its own.

"Where are we?" you braved asking the stormtroopers around you. There were three, one of them in darker armor than the others, and it was this one who answered you.

"Eadu," was all it said. As if the name alone told you enough.

The planet only had a faint blue hue to it, otherwise you couldn't distinguish any land or water features from the small shuttle window. Once you broke through the atmosphere, you realized it was due to the thick, tumultuous layer of storm clouds that blanketed everything. The shuttle shook and jerked as it moved through, the internal lights flickering spastically. The troopers around you didn't seem perturbed so you tried not to be worried, either, despite it seeming like you would surely crash or be electrocuted by lightning.

At last the shuttle made it through, pulling up abruptly at a landing platform in front of a complex built into the side of a jagged stone ridge, one of many that jutted up across the planet's surface. It was dark as you were ushered out onto the platform, only a few flood lights lit the way toward the facility doors. The air was thick with mist and a few sprinkles of rain began tickling your skin as you walked along. It also stunk, like soil and sulfur mixed together.

You inherently picked up your pace, not sure what was waiting for you on the other side of the doors, but needing to get away from this stinky, damp air. The darkly clad trooper swiped at a keypad and led you inside, the two other troopers flanking you just behind. The facility's interior was as stark and cold as the Imperial ship, lit with the same harsh fluorescent lights. You passed several other people as you followed the winding hallway. A few were in dark green military uniforms with smart looking hats. Others wore more plastic-y looking suits, almost like lab coats. They all looked at you curiously as you passed but did not interact.

The dark trooper eventually pulled up at a door on the side of the hall. It swiped at another keypad, the door swooshing open with a soft hiss. It stood to the side, indicating you should enter.

"The Commander will be with you shortly," it said.

You went inside, assuming this was like a waiting room until Krennic showed up. It was a moderately sized space, like a little apartment, with simple furnishings and supplies. You rounded a corner to get a better look at everything, to maybe see if there was a clue about what the Empire wanted with you. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw there was someone else in the room, too.

Every function in your body seemed to freeze. You couldn't feel your heart beating, couldn't feel yourself take any breaths. You weren't sure if there really was a deafening silence in the room or if you simply couldn't hear any sounds in your shock. Time seemed to stand still as you struggled to process the woman standing before you. You weren't sure you could speak, but you needed to acknowledge her, you needed to know she was real. So after a few beats, you choked the word out, a forced and hollow whisper.

"Mom?"

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 53

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 53: Day Drinking?

Adlez led you all to a door that you, of course, had never seen before. “After you m’lady,” she said with grandeur.

You entered the room and were rather stunned at the sight. A full-fledged bar. There was a bar on the First Order’s capital ship, a military ship. Not just one in your private quarters. “Adlez isn’t it a little too early for drinking,” you asked, still shocked and taking in the fact that there were people here in the A.M.

“It might be m’lady but it is a change of sight. I assume that if this is rather a shock for you, that you probably don’t want to return here on the Delta shift? It might be a little too risque,” she said as she sauntered over to the bar and was greeted by the bartender with a strange familiarity.

You followed her, Olivia-Rose sat off to her right at the bar, you to the left, and the lieutenant to your left. Kuruk and Trudgen were seated in a booth close to the door, and a waitress came to take their orders. The bartender asked if you wanted a drink, to which you declined.

“This is supposed to be fun, m’lady. Loosen up just a little bit,” scolded Adlez.

“I don’t know, for some odd reason, I feel like I shouldn’t be here,” you explained. It honestly felt like something Kylo wouldn’t approve of and you felt rather conflicted. You shouldn’t need his permission to be here, but at the same time, you wanted to know if he was ok with you being here. If this was something acceptable for you to do.

“As I said, it isn’t like we are here on Delta shift, we are here when things are appropriate for a lady of your status,” said Adlez.

“What happens here on Delta shift,” you were curious.

“It turns into a gentleman’s club of sorts, nothing too uncouth, more dancing than anything.” Adlez took a sip of her strong-looking drink.

“More burlesque than striper,” interjected Olivia-Rose quietly. She was babysitting some overly neon thing.

Your mind rather raced at the thought. Of course, you knew the men and women on board needed entertainment, and would probably seek something like this when they came to port, but to actually have something like this on board sort of blew your mind. “So the First Order employs people specifically to do something like this,” you ask.

“No ma’am, various officers and enlisted members. No one is paid by the First Order, they do it of their own free will,” responded Mitaka trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

You only nodded in response. Somehow it made you feel better. That they weren’t employing/forcing people to do this against their will. You were just shocked that it was something the prim and proper First Order would allow.

“Do any of you partake in this,” you ask looking at each of them.

Adlez responded first, “Yes, but not as a dancer, only as a spectator. It can be a rather good place to find a willing partner for the night, or a great place to bring one, they do half of the work for you.”

The lieutenant vigorously shook his head and gulped while he looked towards the stage. Somewhere his mother would probably be proud of him, but you didn’t look down on Adlez either.

“I’ve only been in here once so far, Adlez dragged me here last night,” said Olivia-Rose.

“You say that as if it was a bad thing,” rebuked Adlez. She then took a big swig of her drink, which was rather impressive. “I was only trying to broaden your horizons.”

Broaden her horizons. Olivia-Rose was rather pretty, but you were pretty sure she wasn’t as suave as Adlez and probably didn’t need to go to a bar like this to find someone. You were pretty sure you saw the lieutenant sneaking glances at her the last few days.

Of course, she was a bit older than him, but they would be rather cute together if you did say so yourself. Maybe that was something you could help with, but you wouldn’t force them into anything, seeing as they would be with each other too often. But they would be cute.

As if on cue you received a message from Kylo on your phone, ‘It would be preferred if you were not in the Officers’ bar. Find something else to fill your time.’

“Well, this is a no go option ladies and gents,” you said to your group.

“Why is that m’lady,” asked Adlez looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“The Supreme Leader has asked me to not spend my time here,” you explained. You properly showed her your phone.

“He said it would be preferred, it doesn’t mean you have to listen,” she said finishing her drink.

“I know, but I would rather not put him in a bad mood at the moment. We have been going back and forth at each other’s throats, and I am too tired to start right now.” You were honest, you hoped you could go a few days without fighting. It was all becoming rather disheartening and exhausting.

Her eyes traced along the love bites marking your neck, “You’ve been at each other’s throats all right.” She put down a handful of credits and got up to leave. You all followed. Olivia-Rose knocked back the rest of her drink and hurried up to follow, to which you see the lieutenant tried to stray a bit for her.

You all left the bar with the knights following behind. “There really isn’t much to do m’lady unless the Supreme Leader would allow you down on the surface. Which I doubt. This is a military vessel. They set most of the entertainment up in the living spaces, so the bar was really the only option we had while your chambers were being cleaned up. Unless you want to go sit it on various training or observe people working there really isn’t anything to do. They designed your chambers to keep you entertained,” said Adlez.

“I could ask him but I doubt that he would allow such things.” You then turned to the lieutenant, “Do we know how far along they are at cleaning up the mess?”

He nodded and quickly pulled up the work order on his data pad, “They should be wrapping up now. It seems you might be without a few things for a few days while one of the workshops start on them, one couch wasn’t able to be repaired and it may take a few days to get some of the bar items imported from across the galaxy.”

“That seems fine, why don’t we head back. I would like to lie out in the simulated sun for a bit.” With that, your party seemed content on returning to your chambers.

There were a few technicians finishing up when you got there, but you paid them no mind as you headed straight out to the patio to lie on one of the lounge chairs. Adlez set the temperature and sun strength for you. You felt like a cat laying out in the sun, you even took a quick cat nap before you heard a commotion coming from ‘inside.’

You turned to look through the windows that looked into the living space. You saw Adlez yelling after a male technician and you saw Kuruk take him into a headlock before dragging him out of your chambers. You were curious, so you went to investigate.

Adlez was clutching her pearl necklace and yelled to Trudgen to, “Make a sweep of the whole place! We don’t need another pervert in here!” You then watched him move throughout the place, taking time to open up every cabinet and door.

“What is going on,” you ask her.

“Oh, nothing m’lady. Just a lonely technician who thought it was a good idea to go through your intimates. Nothing we can’t handle. I am just glad it was me in your dressing room and not you.” She held your shoulders reassuringly. She seemed a bit shaken up, but still so well-grounded.

You saw Trudgen come back from somewhere in the bedroom. He just nodded at both of you which prompted Adlez to ask, “So everything is all clear?”

He nodded, and you answered for him, seeing as he was the least talkative of the knights, “Yes, I believe everything is all clear. Thank you, Trudgen.” You then turned to the lieutenant who had followed you ‘inside,’ “Can you report this to the Supreme Leader? Possibly have him transferred off the ship?”

You heard Adlez laugh at that, “Good luck with that, he’ll be lucky if the Dark Lord allows him to live let alone have the capacity to be transferred someplace else. I wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow there is a public execution in the main assembly hall.” She was still holding her pearls as she walked around behind your bar and poured herself a drink of some amber-colored liquor.

“Well, let’s just hope that the Dark Lord takes my opinion into account and just demotes and transfers him.” You were really hoping you would not have to watch any public execution. You knew they were a thing that the First Order did frequently, but you were hoping to avoid ever seeing it.

She did a sort of surrendering bow to you as she drank from her drink. You weren’t standing there more than a few more seconds before the doorbell rang; the lieutenant reached the door before you did. It was the general to which you now remembered that you were to have etiquette lessons during lunch and after.

“Good afternoon, m’lady.  Are you ready to start on your dinner etiquette,” asked Hux.

“I suppose I have to be, I don’t want to waste either of our time. But can you answer something for me first? How likely would an execution be for rifling through my things? I mean that female officer got injured and demoted for stealing my things, along with propositioning the Supreme Leader. What would rifling get?” You hoped that the technician would just get demoted without the beating.  

“Well, m’lady I hate to inform you but both of them are on the schedule for tomorrow morning’s assembly. The Supreme Leader would like to make examples of them now that there is a pair. One for propositioning him and one for attempting to proposition you.”

You turned to Adlez in shock, “You said he was just going through my things, not that he was attempting to proposition me.”

“Well, m’lady I don’t think that there was going to be a proposition if I am being honest. He did ask me to fetch you but there was a look in his eyes that told me otherwise, that and he held a pair of your underwear like a savage beast. As I said, you are lucky that it was me that was in the dressing room and not you. We should probably discuss with the Supreme Leader to give you some self-defense courses,” she said, all of this rather matter-of-factly. She wasn’t messing around and probably hoped to avoid telling you.

You turned to the general, “Will I have to be there?” You loathed the idea, but you had a feeling what the answer might be.

“I believe it might be for the best that you would be m’lady. As they both committed crimes against you, and therefore the Supreme Leader himself.” You could see that he saw that you were rather displeased with this statement. “You could ask the Supreme Leader if you could be there before while their crimes are being read off and then leave before the execution itself.”

“Thank you general. I suppose I will just have to ask him tonight,” you relented. You then followed the general into the dining room, as did the lieutenant and your ladies-in-waiting. You were rather dreading having a lesson while you ate, but it had to be done.

A/N: To those of you reblogging I do see your tags and commentary and thank you for them. You know who you are, I just don’t know how to best respond.

 And thanks for being patient with today’s upload!

[caranfindel]

What are 10+ headcanons you have about Sam, Dean and Cas respectively? (Like they never let a battery drop below 30%, never dot I's or cross T's, etc.)

Oooh, I’m so excited to get an ask! And this is a fun one! Thank you!!!

I’m not sure I actually have 10+ headcanons, but here’s what I’ve got. I’ve posted some of them elsewhere...

Sam:

Does not think of himself as particularly attractive. He knows he’s not ugly, but he doesn’t really consider himself handsome. And how could he, with everyone (everyone) constantly pointing out how gorgeous Dean is.

His long hair started out as a tiny fuck you directed at John. He imitated Dean in all other ways as a youngster, but the hair is his rebellion. And then he got used to hiding behind it. Even now, when he’s not concerned with rebelling against his father or hiding behind his fair, he would feel uncomfortably exposed if it were shorter.

Doesn’t really like whiskey all that much, but it’s Dean’s drink so he drinks it with Dean. Or when Dean’s gone/dead.

Is the one who always carries an external phone battery. Dean, like the guy who uses what his girlfriend carries in her purse, counts on Sam having it. Sometimes Sam wants to pretend he doesn’t, just because he’s so tired of Dean never carrying his own.

Still has very complicated feelings about Ruby. Hates her, of course, but also accepts that she kept him alive (albeit for her own reasons) and okay, maybe still misses being with someone who he wasn’t afraid to hurt.

Sometimes thinks in Enochian.

Thinks of himself as “angry all the time” only because he doesn’t think he has the right to be angry at all.

His “heaven” wasn’t really his best memories at all. That was all staged by Zachariah, trying to convince Dean to accept his destiny. I mean, look at it. Everything that happened in heaven was meant to convince Dean that (1) Sam would always run away, (2) when Sam was dead (i.e., after the apocalyptic battle in which Michael!Dean killed him) they would share a heaven and Sam would never leave him, and (3) everyone who died because of Dean was happy in heaven, so there was no reason to be concerned about all the people who would die if he let Armageddon happen. (Does this mean Ash saying they were “soulmates” was also Zachariah’s fiction? Quite possibly, in my headcanon.)

Dean:

Really truly does not want Sam to cut his hair. If I were writing wincest, I’d say it’s because he likes to grab it. But I’m not, so I’m going to say it’s because the hair is an essential part of Sam. If he were teasing his brother about it and Sam said “you’re right, I should just cut it, where are the clippers?” Dean would be horrified and would not let it happen. He couldn’t admit he wasn’t letting it happen; he would just have to “lose” the clippers, but it would not happen.

Blames himself for Sam going to Hell, because if he’d just let him stay dead at Cold Oak, he would have been safe. He never would have met Lucifer. Dean will not ever mention this to Sam, because he’s afraid Sam will agree (I put this in a fic, if it sounds familiar).

Is still surreptitiously keeping an eye on Lisa and Ben, and allows himself to indulge in an occasional “what if” daydream. Not very often, and not for very long, and then he packs it away until next time.

Is never going to admit to the secret thrill he gets when Sam likes what he cooks. Or anyone really, but especially Sam, maybe because of years of trying to get little Sam to eat something.

Throws salt over his shoulder when he spills some while he’s cooking. Feels a little silly about it.

Kind of wants to talk to Sam about the whole archangel vessel experience, but also really doesn’t, because he’s afraid Sam’s will be so much worse than his. And also, it would be too close to talking about Gadreel, and he’s not ever gonna bring that up.

Cas:

So, it’s canon that Naomi has had to “reset” Cas more than once. My headcanon is that this is why he’s so stilted and awkward compared to other angels. He doesn’t have eons of experience around humans, because he keeps having his mind wiped.

Wishes Sam would speak to him in Enochian, because it might ease the homesickness, but will not suggest it.

That was fun! Now @galaxythreads1 you need to share your headcanons!

[whitewitchdani]

Laters, Baby: Chapter 10

Read Chapter 9 Here

Word Count: 2598

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of sex, language

A/N: Chapter 10! Let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged!

Later’s, Baby Masterlist

You were pleasantly surprised that, although you had slept in Hell and on the way here, you felt tired almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. You had gotten more sleep in the last 24 hours alone than all three Winchesters combined got in a week. Though, with everything that had happened, could anyone really blame you? 

You snuggled deeply into the sheets of the bed and took a deep breath. Flipping over to your other side, you pulled the silk sheets up to your... Silk sheets? You opened your eyes to see red silk sheets in place of the white cotton ones that had been there before. What the hell? you thought to yourself. You were facing the door of the bedroom at Bobby’s house so you hadn’t left, what was going on? You returned to your left side and gasped as you were met with a pair of deep blue eyes. 

“I know you said red was cliché, but these are so much more comfortable than the drab that was on here before, aren’t they?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Lucifer?”

“In the flesh. Well, sort of.”

“But, how? How’d you find-” you paused and let out a small laugh, “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“‘fraid so doll. I know you’re disappointed you don’t get all this in person but since my annoying little bro carved that warding into all of your ribs, I can’t find you physically. This is the only way we can talk.”

“Talk about what? Are you finally going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Lucifer sat up against the headboard and you followed suit. He took a deep breath and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. It may have only been a dream, but it felt so incredibly real to you; you felt his hand touch your face and the chill that went down your spine as a result. 

“I suppose it’s only fair that you know as much as I do. This involves you too.” He sighed and rose from the bed, beginning to pace in front of it. “You know, this whole thing is just as weird for me as it is for you. You’re... human. Your whole race is broken, flawed. And for some Dad-forsaken reason, I can’t bring myself to kill you. I’m developing feelings. It’s terrible.”

“Okay this is getting a little insulting...”

“But it’s not terrible, that’s the thing. I like it. I like you. I was there when Father created the soulmate connection for humans. It was beautiful, one of the only things I envied of your kind. It’s incredibly rare, but deep and powerful when it happens.” He moved to sit back beside you on the bed. “Why Father brought you to me, I am unsure, but I am glad he did. I am eager to complete the connection, because I know that once we do we will be incredible together. Powerful.”

“Complete the connection? What do you mean? And powerful? Lucifer I’m so lost right now.” 

He caressed your face, “Right now, we are only in the beginning stages of the connection. I miss you, but it’s tolerable. After we complete the connection, we will truly become soulmates. Our souls will intertwine and become one. The mixture of your humanity and my grace as a result will make us extremely powerful, BOTH of us.” 

“How do we complete the connection?”

Lucifer smirked, “That’s the fun part. I’ve never had intercourse with a human, but from what I’ve seen it looks extremely enjoyable.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What?? Okay, number one; please don’t call it intercourse. Number two; we complete the connection by having sex? Seriously??”

“Yes, angel. And when we do we will be inseparable. You will receive some of my grace, and I will receive some of your humanity, making us two of the most powerful beings in existence.”

“This...this is insane.” You leaned back and rubbed your temples.

“Trust me, I know. It won’t happen immediately, I’m not a monster.”

“You’re literally the devil.” 

“Yes, but like I said, I’m nothing if not one for the classics. All that old school romance stuff looks fun. Plus, it’s a rule of the connection, it cannot be forced in any way.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For some reason you trusted Lucifer, but knowing those things put you more at ease regardless. You were lost in your own head when Lucifer suddenly stood, “I have to go.”

You stood as well, “Wait what? Why? Lucifer, I have so many questions.”

He walked towards you and brought you into his arms. It was strange; you kept forgetting this was a dream because everything felt so real. You could feel his cool arms around you and how safe you felt in them; you could smell him, although you couldn’t place it, as it was something completely Lucifer. You only knew two things in that moment: how much you missed Lucifer and how much you wanted him to kiss you right now. Both of those things were equally amazing and surprising to you. 

“You will wake soon. Come find me out there. Find Castiel, he will tell you the proper way to summon me. Knowing him, he is somewhat supportive of this since it’s Dad’s plan and will help you. The pain of the separation will get worse the longer we’re apart, so try to hurry,” he said with a smirk. 

He looked down and cupped your face in both of his hands. You swore your heart stopped; he was going to kiss you. He leaned in slowly and you closed your eyes, waiting for his cool lips to meet yours and...

You woke up abruptly, shooting up into a sitting position with a gasp. You sat forward so suddenly you almost knocked foreheads with Sam who was sitting next to you on the bed. Thankfully he was able to scoot back in time to avoid the collision, but you woke up so abruptly that even Dean and Bobby, who were standing at the foot of the bed, took a step back as well. 

You were sitting there breathing heavily for a few seconds before Sam broke the silence, “Y/N, what the hell just happened?”

Turning to look at your twin, you tried to come up with a deflection on the fly, “What do you mean? I took a nap and had a nightmare, not exactly a new occurrence.”

Sam turned to look at the two men at the foot of the bed before turning back to his sister, “Y/N/N we’ve been trying to wake you up for over an hour, nothing’s worked. When we finally gave up you woke up on your own.” He handed you the glass of water he’d placed on the bedside table when he first came upstairs.

“Yeah, so you wanna try the truth this time?” Dean snapped, folding his arms.

After taking a long drink, you dropped your head into your hands; everything that was going on your life was starting to give you a migraine. The last thing you wanted to tell your family was that you spent your time in dreamland with Lucifer. You rubbed at your temples while contemplating on how to explain what had happened, reluctantly deciding on the truth.

You looked to your family and began, “I came up here to lay down and must’ve fallen asleep because when I rolled over, Lucifer was there.”

Dean cursed and ran a hand over his face, but Bobby was confused. “I don’t understand. How exactly did that happen?”

“Angels can enter our subconscious mind while we’re dreaming. Cas has done it to Dean before and Lucifer did it to me soon after he took Nick as a vessel. Y/N, what did he say to you?”

“He explained the soulmate connection; what it takes to complete it and what will happen afterwards.”

“Yeah you complete it and you’re like, officially soulmates. Being separated from you wouldn’t weaken him,” explained Sam.

You looked at Sam and sighed, “That’s part of it.”

Dean walked forward, “Wait, part?? What the hell else is there? Cas only told us about the completing part.”

You looked at your brother incredulously, “Good to know you knew more about this thing that affects me than I did,” you fidgeted with your hands and took a deep breath. Telling your brothers the next part was not going to be easy, you partly expected Dean to actually explode. 

“According to Lucifer, we complete the bond by, well, having sex,” you continued, causing everyone in the room to cringe at your statement. “But after that, apparently something happens, something mystical. He said that once the bond is completed, I will receive some of his grace and he’ll receive some of my humanity, causing us to become two of the most powerful beings in all of creation.”

You looked up from your fidgeting hands to see three pairs of wide eyes staring back at you. It wasn’t really surprising; you did just drop a huge bomb in their lap. You were having trouble believing it yourself. 

Dean suddenly swiped the books that were on the desk across the room onto the floor. You flinched at the sudden outburst. It wasn’t too surprising though; you knew Dean would be pissed.

“Hey, some of them books are one of a kind boy. I know you ain’t happy but if you ruin one of them books, I’ll put a boot in yer ass.” Bobby moved to pick up some of the books off of the floor, “I was buildin’ up a collection of books on archangels and this is what I got so far. How about instead of getting all hot and bothered, we do some research and try to find out what to do about this?”

Before anyone could move, Dean exploded. He turned to you, looking madder than you had ever seen him. “How are you so calm?? You just dropped that giant bomb on us so nonchalantly. Are you, like, okay with this or something?”

You stood from the bed, “Of course I’m not okay with this Dean! I don’t think any of us are okay with anything that has happened in the past year. But after talking to him, I think that I am Lucifer’s main focus, not the apocalypse. If we become as powerful as he says we will, we can strengthen Nick and he won’t need to take Sam as a vessel! 

“And I’m human! Don’t you think maybe loving and being with a human will cause him to maybe not hate us as a species so much? Angels are real, Dean, which means God is real. I know this is a concept that both of us have struggled to come to terms with, but now? I don’t think we have a choice. He apparently made me for Lucifer and I can feel it. It’s not something we can just ignore and hope goes away. Being away from him much longer is going to start to be physically painful. We’re running out of options.”

Dean’s face was stone; he always was hard to read. You couldn’t tell what was running through his mind and you were worried. Bobby and Sam were silent near the door, watching the scene unfold before them. They had learned long ago to not get in between a Dean-Y/N fight; it was how Sam earned his first black eye as a kid. 

The stone face was beginning to turn red, “No. No we are not out of options. Our original plan could still work. We can still shove the Devil back in the box!”

“And how do you think that would affect me, huh? I can already feel how being away from him is affecting me. Imagine if we put him back in the cage, what would happen to me? We’re Winchester’s, this is apparently our destiny!”

Dean scoffed, “Destiny?? God can take destiny and shove it right up his ass. You shouldn’t have any part in this, Y/N. I should’ve made you stay at Stanford when Dad went missing. This isn’t your fight; you aren’t even really a Winchester.”

“DEAN!”

You barely heard Sam’s exclamation. Your eyes went wide and your chest tightened as your worst fear became reality right in front of you. Ever since you found out you weren’t really their sister this was your greatest fear, that they’d drop you like yesterday’s newspaper. 

The room was silent as they awaited your reaction. A single tear slipped down your face as you finally met Dean’s gaze again.

“Get out,” you said quietly. 

You were too calm. It would’ve been better if you had started screaming at him. Bobby started herding Dean towards the door while Sam remained in the corner of the room. Dean had immediately regretted what he’d said as soon as it slipped past his lips. He turned and paused in the doorway, “Y/N/N-”

“I SAID GET OUT!” You grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table and launched it towards your brother. It impacted on the wall near his head, Dean ducking out of the doorway in the nick of time. 

You were breathing heavily as the door closed. You walked up and leaned your forehead against it, tears streaming down your face when a hand landed on your shoulder. Spinning around you came face to face with Sam, who you had forgotten was still in the room. 

“Please, just go Sam.”

“Dean didn’t mean that, Y/N. He’s just upset and worried. You ARE a Winchester, no matter if John and Mary are your parents or not. Obviously, you were meant to be in our family and as Bobby always says, family don’t end with blood.”

You smiled at your twin who returned it. In that moment you knew what you were going to do about the situation at hand. But you knew you couldn’t without saying something to Sam.

“Sam, you’re the best twin any girl could ever ask for. You’ve been my best friend my whole life and you were there for me through everything. I love you, Sam. So much. But you can’t be there for me through this. I’m sorry.” 

“I love you too, Y/N/N. What’s going on? What’re you sorry for?”

“For this.” You opened the door and shoved your brother through, closing and locking it after he was out. To ensure your twin’s six-foot-four frame wouldn’t bust through, you shoved the dresser in front of it as well. 

Standing there for a second, you just listened to Sam bang on the door, calling for you and then for Dean and Bobby. You knew you didn’t have much time before the three of them would be able to get the door open.

You closed your eyes and for a minute the room was bathed in silence. When you opened them again, you waited expectantly. Suddenly, there was a whoosh sound and you turned to the figure that had appeared in front of the window.

“Y/N, your brothers are on the other side of that door and very upset. What is happening? Why have you barricaded yourself from them and called me?” Cas squinted his eyes and tilted his head at you, a trait you had always found endearing. 

“I need help Cas and I know you’re the only one who will help me.”   

“What is it that you need?”

You took a deep breath and took a step towards the angel, “I need you to help me summon Lucifer.”  

Read Chapter 11 Here

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[letterboxd]

Watching John Malkovich.

To understand better why Letterboxd members set out on quests to watch specific actors’ entire filmographies, we invited Tim Rod to describe her dangerous and seductive journey through John Malkovich’s screen history.

For many film lovers, 2020 has been a year of catching up: on franchises, on directors’ filmographies, on historical gaps and top 100s. But for some Letterboxd members, the year indoors has been an opportunity to hyper-focus on a single actor and their work.

Jeremiah Lambert is on a Bacon Fest, Naked Airplane has embarked on a wild ride through the works of De Niro, Hackman, Hoffman, Nicholson and Pacino. Joey is preparing for next year’s centennial of The Kid by churning through Charlie Chaplin’s catalog (with David Robinson’s biography Chaplin: His Life and Art in hand). A quick Twitter survey found others churning through a performer selection as wide-ranging as Burt Lancaster, Parker Posey, Maggie Smith, Nicolas Cage, Cary Grant, Kevin Costner, Robin Williams, Adèle Haenel, Alan Arkin, Sam Rockwell and a Seth Rogen thirst project.

It can be a bumpy journey. In one performer’s oeuvre the quality will range widely, the genres too. But the rewards are many in a close study of craft, and there are revelations, whether it’s that Australia’s Miranda Otto deserves more recognition, or it’s “the total acceptance, lack of judgment, and vulnerability with which Alan Arkin has played so many of his flawed and wonderful characters”.

With Christian Bale in ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987).

In 2020, no fewer than three movies and two television series starring John Malkovich have been released: Arkansas, Valley of the Gods and Ava, as well as The New Pope and Space Force. The legendary actor has kept himself busy, and I know this because I have seen most of his filmography—41 films and two series—in the span of a single month. I adore Malkovich, always have, and I came out of this experience with a deeper admiration for him, and with some thoughts about his unique, remarkable skills as an actor. (And, I had a really good time.)

Allow me to begin by saying that John Malkovich is the best part of every movie he is in. No matter the movie, Malkovich will always steal the spotlight, and he can turn a good movie into a masterpiece, or an average movie that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention into one worth watching, if only to see him do his thing.

He’s starred in movies that are considered masterpieces by many: Being John Malkovich (1999), The Killing Fields (1984) and Empire of the Sun (1987). Movies that may be considered the opposite of masterpieces, like Supercon (2018), Eragon (2006) and the most recent Ava (2020), and he’s also starred in some gems that I knew nothing about but am glad to have discovered, such as The Convent (1995), Eleni (1985) and The Ogre (1996). Malkovich has brought to life iconic characters including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Tom Ripley, Hercule Poirot (in BBC’s The ABC Murders), the artist Gustav Klimt, and several of David Lynch’s people, in the short film Psychogenic Fugue (2016).

As Mitch Leary in ‘In the Line of Fire’ (1993).

Malkovich has received two Academy Award nominations, for Places in the Heart (1984), in which he played Edna’s lodger, the solitary yet kind Mr. Will, and for In the Line of Fire (1993), where he played the complete opposite: the psychotic Mitch Leary, determined to kill the President of the United States. Though Malkovich is not a classic action-film actor, his work in that genre is driven by logic, intellect and emotion, and the delicacy that he employs to challenge concepts of masculinity and keep us guessing. His soft and collected voice threatening Clint Eastwood over the phone is scarier and more effective than a deeper one would have been.

That voice. Malkovich has admitted that he hates the sound of it, that he would always avoid listening to it, just like so many actors avoid watching their own films, but I’m bewitched by his voice and I could never get enough of it. It can be tender, sweet and calming, seductive when the role requires it, and terrifying. With that versatility, it’s not surprising that he has done some narrating work as well, for films including Paul Newman’s The Glass Menagerie (1987) and Alive (1993).

Malkovich is at his best when seduction and villainy combine, as they do in Dangerous Liaisons (1988). Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont has been performed by many actors over the years, but I find Malkovich’s take to be the most memorable and exquisite. He captures perfectly the depravity and evilness of Valmont, but also the nuances, his journey from womanizer to man genuinely in love and, ultimately, his tragic redemption. He even brings a comedic aspect to the character that adds more depth and dimension.

With Glenn Close in ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ (1988).

Valmont is an awful human being, a monster even, and yet, every time I watch this movie, I find myself fascinated by his mastery of the deception, his sensuality and complete control of the situation, until the situation is “beyond his control”. In her review of the film, Catherine Stebbins calls John Malkovich “a sexual force of nature”, and I completely agree. If you want to see more of Malkovich’s sensual side, other notable mentions include The Sheltering Sky (1990), The Object of Beauty (1991) and Beyond the Clouds (1995).

And then there’s Being John Malkovich (1999), in which ‘John Horatio Malkovich’ displays so many facets of his craft. The fictionalized Malkovich is possessed by different characters, one of them a woman. Catherine Keener’s character falls in love with a subtly different version of Malkovich, when he is a vessel for Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Even though Lotte doesn’t have full control of Malkovich, he uses his femininity to bring the character-inside-the-character to center stage, delivering a subtle-yet-perfect performance. Even when we don’t see Lotte, we know she’s there.

John Malkovich as John Horatio Malkovich possessed by Lotte, in ‘Being John Malkovich’ (1999).

Not many actors could pull this off as brilliantly as John Malkovich does. To be fair, not many actors have been given the chance that Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman gave Malkovich: a film with his own name in the title.

I’ve discussed some of the most well-known of Malkovich’s performances, but I’d like to mention an overlooked one that I found heartbreaking and noteworthy. I didn’t know of the existence of The Ogre (1996) until I took a closer look at Malkovich’s filmography. It’s not without its flaws, but I found myself absorbed in the fairy-tale story of Abel, a naïve French prisoner of war who is taken to Nazi Germany and used to recruit children for Hitler’s Youth. Once again, the actor’s duality is on display, as Evan writes in his Letterboxd review: “Malkovich is both queasy and endearing as the (ig)noble simp who just wants to save the babies.” The Ogre tells a tragic story, but thanks to Malkovich’s tenderness, we can’t help but have sympathy for his character. At times it reminded me of the innocence of Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1992), another of the actor’s more noteworthy performances.

One of Malkovich’s great contributions to cinema is elevating an average movie just by being in it. One such role is as English conman Alan Conway in the bizarre true story, Colour Me Kubrick (2005). Malkovich admitted in an interview that he thought his performance was good, and I agree. If there’s one reason to watch that film, it’s to see Malkovich playing an eccentric conman who poses as Stanley Kubrick, using different voices and accents. As TajLV writes, “if there were anything to commend this film other than Malkovich, I’d happily rate it higher”.

As Alan Conway in ‘Colour Me Kubrick’ (2005).

One fun fact: I sometimes forget John Malkovich is American. Maybe it’s because he has starred in many European productions—out of the 41 films I watched, 18 were European. Malkovich is of European descent, has lived in France for a decade and speaks fluent French, which allowed him to star as the mysterious Baron de Charlus in Time Regained (1999), with entirely French dialogue. He also delivers lines in French and Portuguese in A Talking Picture (2003) by Manoel de Oliveira.

You’ve probably heard Malkovich use words, expressions and even entire lines of French dialogue on more than one occasion. He does this often, which gives him a certain European vibe, consistent with his own character, mannerisms and dress sense—elements that he sometimes brings to his characters. Maybe that’s the reason he has played so many intellectuals and artists: professors, scientists, detectives, painters, writers, a scientist and a robot, and even the Pope… It seems there’s nothing John Malkovich can’t do, including directing.

To end my marathon, I watched his directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs (2002), an assured movie adapted from a novel about the Maoist uprising in Peru in the 1980s, starring Javier Bardem. It was a nice surprise, and a strong start to what could have been a career as a film director, if not for the fact that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. I recently read an interview where Edgar Wright revealed advice he always gives to directors, which is to make their second movie the one that will define them. I wonder if we will ever see John Malkovich’s second film, but for now, I hope he keeps gifting us with more unforgettable performances. At least we know that in the distant future, along with all the movies he has already appeared in, people will enjoy a never-seen-before performance when Robert Rodríguez’s short 100 years is released in 2115.

If there’s one thing I have learnt after watching most of his filmography, it’s that John Malkovich is one of the best and most versatile actors of our time, with the most unique voice I have heard in cinema, and with a rich filmography that encompasses every genre. And he’s not only a brilliant actor, but also someone I find personally fascinating. I truly find comfort in him. I hope we all get to enjoy his art for years to come, because his talent is limitless and I know he still has so much more to give. John Malkovich deserves all the praise for being a force of nature in the theater and film industry for over 40 years.

Tim is a Letterboxd member based in Spain, who has recently moved on from her John Malkovich marathon to a Sacha Baron Cohen quest.