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imreallyhereforkataang · 4 years

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I'm unsure about how's the best way to articulate this, but I'm kind of surprised there's not more fan content highlighting the otherworldly aspects of Kataang, and a part of me wishes we could see a bit more of that.

I'd expect that most if not all fandoms frequently have an affinity for glamorizing aesthetics of characters and ships, and content creators who I know often look for ways to convey that sort of thing. I've also witnessed lots of people on this site claim that they first became attracted to a ship for its aesthetic because they saw embellishing artwork that didn't really highlight much about the characters' personalities, but was still gorgeous and impressive to look at.

And yeah, it makes sense that content creators and consumers in fandom engage with works that make epic an idea that may be primarily based off the “what” of the characters, or the situations they find themselves in, rather than the finer details of the “who.” The resulting creation is similar to what happens when the personal elements of a legend get lost over time, while the sensational aspects continue to be retold and glorified. That sort of thing makes for extremely intriguing depictions of the original source material, even if it’s at the expense of some of the subject’s humanity. Though, even when that depiction becomes so far removed from the original that it's totally unrecognizable, I do think it's often still fascinating and creative, and maybe should be its own celebrated thing altogether.

It's just surprising to me, and kind of disappointing if I'm honest, that, based on the relative lack of fan content doing this, many people seem to either not recognize or not act upon how Kataang has that exact aesthetic potential.

If you were to keep the basics of their story intact but tell it through a different lens or genre, maybe dramatize it a bit, it would be so easy to emphasize how Kataang is literally like a demigod and a mortal falling in love. That on its own to me sounds like the premise for the epic love story fandom culture would traditionally find appealing. And it's really not much of a stretch -- that is one legitimate way to look at the pairing if you broke it down to its objective pieces, even if it's not the most focused-on part of their relationship in the original material (though it certainly is alluded to). The source material is much more detailed and personal, like watching a show where Oma and Shu are the main characters versus hearing the major beats of their legend.

For Kataang, we can definitely take it further with drawing out their major beats. The mortal comes into her own and is shown to be a force of comparable measure to the demigod, as she is his self-appointed protectress. She releases him from dormancy, bringing him back into the world to fulfill his grand destiny, and on their quest, she would become his teacher, both in training and in reacquainting himself with the new era. At one point she would even revive him and his line of divinity after watching him be struck down and killed. This mortal is his first devotee, and his personal connection with her makes her his attachment to the world and, in extension, the mortals he protects.

Meanwhile, the demigod is the personification of the mortal's faith, a vessel of the compassion she feels so deeply for others. He takes her places, literally and metaphorically, she never could have gone before, teaching her in turn about lost practices and new perspectives. He can legitimately bring her to the skies with a unique ability that no one else in the entire world possesses -- an ability that also defines much of what he stands for and what her world has been missing in his absence.

Not to mention how the mortal was one of the only people who believed this demigod would resurface, and the only person by his side from the start of meeting him in their warring environment. The two were born nearly 100 years apart, yet their connection and love is shown to transcend both time and space. Their elements and roles to the world and to each other can be represented by synergistic air and water, which are associated in canon with freedom/peace and change/virtue, respectively. And if one were going to dramatize Kataang's relationship and what it stands for, their exchange could reasonably be depicted as the bridge between the heavens and the earth (moon and ocean).

Like, truly, their story is so mythical. The pieces are there. Think about how their theme is called "The Avatar's Love" and segments of that theme are reused for LoK, pointing to Aang's reincarnation cycle and how the love he feels transcends so many lifetimes, but he chooses Katara in this particular one. Think about what Yangchen says to Aang about the reason the Avatar is born a human and not a spirit, that the Avatar must live amongst humans and experience human emotions to recognize how precious the life is that the universe entrusts him with protecting. Think about Aang's chakras in The Guru, and not just the Love and Thought Chakras but nearly all of them, and how truly tied Katara is with his energy, his spirit. That can't be faked -- that's real, genuine influence, her touching his life in ways that highlight his humanity. Think about how Aang has a real-time vision of Katara without even intending to, and the only other being we see Aang do something similar (but intentionally) with is Appa, to whom Pathik says, "You and the Avatar's energies are mixed. You have an unbreakable bond."

Think about the Pietà pose in The Crossroads of Destiny and all that symbolizes about Aang and Katara (honestly that alone should be enough because it speaks volumes), including their world savior/first believer dynamic. How Katara brings Aang back to life and says, "I don't know what I did exactly," thus giving fuel to the idea that saving him didn't just constitute normal healing on her end. Think about the visual parallel between her resurrecting him and her releasing him from stasis in the first episode. Think about Katara's extended opening narration in the pilot and how it evolves to when she meets Aang, with just as much trust in an idea as in what ends up being the real thing.

Think about their relationship when Aang goes into the Avatar State, embodying his most divine form. How Katara is able to speak with and approach him, and how he can hear her and respond to her while in that state, honing all his past lives. Think about when Aang deals the heavy attack at Fong's base that would continue to haunt Aang for so long afterwards, which showcases how out of control he is here, yet his blow from all Avatars completely and deliberately avoids Katara while targeting everyone remotely near her. Think about how Katara is so unafraid of a raging demigod, even when the person underneath hasn't been acting like himself lately, that she doesn't flinch at the output of his anger and just goes to him as everyone else runs. Think about that visual where she grabs onto his arms and pulls him from the air that only he can bend to the ground she's tied to and into her arms. Think about how she always tries to catch him when he falls, because she is adamant about being his cushion to the earth.

Think about how Aang is the reason Katara gets to touch the heavens. Think about how he takes her on an epic journey across the world so she can learn waterbending and make the difference she's always wanted. How being with him, the one person with a divinely granted duty to the world and who will always choose her, puts her right on the foreground for making that difference. Think about how they can still waterbend together even if Katara can't airbend -- no one can besides Aang. Think about their push and pull of the water and how it highlights their equal footing, and that although, as the demigod he is, Aang can master all the elements, Katara is the mortal who teaches him mastery in the one they share between them.

I don't know, to me it's all so cool and awe-inspiring. Obviously the most important part of Kataang's relationship is how their personalities play off each other and how they treat each other, but in terms of this kind of grander depiction, I think of it more like Oma and Shu. We don’t know the details of how Oma and Shu acted towards each other, yet we hear the story about the power of their love and take inspiration from it.

So yes, I unfortunately don’t see this pronounced demigod/mortal iteration of Kataang very often in fan works, but it makes for a pretty dang fascinating legend to contemplate anyhow.

#kataang #kataangtag #aang #katara #atla #avatar the last airbender

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omgitscharlie · 4 years

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𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘

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ɪɴᴜʏᴀꜱʜᴀ x ᴋᴀɢᴏᴍᴇ | ᴘᴏꜱᴛ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ | ɴꜱꜰᴡ (ꜱᴍᴜᴛ)

This is an excerpt from chapter 12 of my long fic ‘Learning to Live’, but I felt it could also do very nicely as a one-shot. So, I hope you enjoy!

Sleep definitely did not come to Inuyasha a few days later, as it never did on new moon nights. He'd made sure he was home well before the sun went down, having purposefully rejected a job that Miroku had heard about. Of course, the monk understood beyond any reasonable doubt the reason behind Inuyasha's decision. He took his usual spot against the wall by the futon, Tessaiga resting against his chest as he sat crossed legged and shoved his hands in his sleeves. Even though the sword did nothing much aside from being a rusty piece of metal on these nights, it was still a comfort to have the sword pressed against him.

"Where is she?" he muttered, finding himself still alone well past dark. Kagome had left earlier in the morning than usual that day, apparently needing to be present for a birth. Kaeda had mentioned the woman who was in labor had a difficult pregnancy previously and would need all available hands. Still, he didn't expect her to be this late. He couldn't recall Sango's deliveries taking that long.

Almost as if he'd summoned her, he heard the sliding door open and the soft padding of feet headed towards the main area of their home. If he'd been in his normal state, he could have heard her from at least at the bottom of the hill they'd lived off of. Right now, it felt like his ears were full of cotton, muffled and dulled - he hated that feeling.

"Inuyasha?" Kagome's voice called out as she threw her blood-covered clothes into the hamper.

"I'm here," he replied easily, though didn't move from his spot. Wearing a spare kosode and wrap skirt, she padded into their bedroom, immediately realizing why he'd been keeping out of immediate sight. The look on his face was lightly cold, eyeing her with his unusually darkened hues as if he were offended.

"You didn't think I forgot, did you?" Kagome asked, kneeling down in front of him and resting her hands in her lap, "I'm sorry I'm so late. The baby was born feet first, so it was a hard delivery," she explained honestly, giving him a welcoming smile in an attempt to brush off the attempted guilt he tried to put on her. Leaning forward, she got down on her hands and knees to crawl towards him, craning her neck enough so she could give him a soft peck in greeting, "It's a good thing you're human tonight, I don't think you'd appreciate how I smelled otherwise."

Returning the kiss, he relaxed some, unable to really stay mad when he knew she had plenty of viable reason for staying out later than anticipated, "I'm sure I'll be able to smell it tomorrow," he mused, keeping his voice low and solemn, as he typically acted on nights of the new moon. A bit more moody and emotional, seeing as he had nothing but a human heart to guide him in his actions, Kagome knew not to take it personally.

"Maybe from the hamper, yeah. I washed up and changed before coming back, too. I didn't want to come home with blood and birth all over me," she added before moving to take a seat beside him against the wall with a heavy sigh of relief. Leaning her head back, she let her muscles relax for the first time since that morning. Shoulders fell into a more natural position as her head rolled to the side to look at him, "You gonna stay up?" It was a stupid question that she already knew the answer to, but she always felt like she needed to ask.

"Just like I do every time," the response wasn't curt, nor did it make her feel like she was asking a dumb question. His tone was low and even, holding less grit than when he was in his typical form. There was always something softer about him on nights of the new moon, again probably attributed to the fact that his heart was purely human.

"Mmm," she gave a warm hum, pleasant in nature as she rolled her head back to a straighter position, "I used to stay up, too, during the time when I couldn't get back. I'd think about you even more on those nights."

All Inuyasha could do was sit and intently listen - they'd shared five of these nights together now and she'd never mentioned that before. Freeing one of his hands from his sleeves, he rested it on her thigh.

"I'd worry. Wonder how you were doing and hoped that you were safe," she added, turning her attention back to him as she placed her own hand over his, "I got really good at reading lunar cycles because of it," she stated, only half-joking as she offered him one of her contagious smiles. Inuyasha couldn't help but offer one back, giving her thigh a soft squeeze in acknowledgment. Taking his hand in both of hers, she let her attention fall to it, taking her time to explore the differences. There wasn't much; the same callouses housed on the same points of his palm. The fingers themselves weren't any shorter, though they looked to be due to the dull, human nails that topped them.

The curious touch was soft and loving as if trying to memorize them when he returned to his hanyou form. It didn't matter if he were human or hanyou, she loved every piece of him and wanted to keep every detail encapsulated in her memory.

When she was done with his hand, Kagome turned her attention back to his face, seeing him staring intensely at their hands as they remained clasped together. The familiar molten amber had faded into near charcoal, giving him a much less otherworldly aura to him. He was more simple-looking, but still hers.

"I'd always stay at Miroku and Sango's on these nights, not wanting to be alone," he laced their fingers together then, seeing just how much more alike they seemed without the typical talons he had, "Every night without you was hard, but new moon nights were just that much harder."

"I felt bad that I wasn't there for you," she admitted, only to have his gaze catch hers.

"Keh. You shouldn't. I already told you that isn't your fault," he rebutted, knowing that she held a bit of guilt in thinking that she was the reason they couldn't be together for those three years. Taking his free hand, he cupped her chin, tilting it up so he could give her a reaffirming kiss as if to emphasize his statement. Kagome happily sank into it, smiling against his lips as she took one of her hands to cup his cheek. Feeling her fingertips brush against his human ear, she decided to explore more by taking her index finger and tracing the shell of it. The sensation had a shiver run up his spine, taking his hand from her chin to grip her wrist, "You plannin' on staying up with me?" The question was posed almost like a challenge, brows lifted as such as he kept that same vice-like grip.

"I always do," she replied, offering a playful grin as their faces stayed close to one another. Inuyasha's hand released her wrist to run down her forearm and grip her elbow.

"It's gunna be a longer night than normal, y'know," he continued his challenge keeping his grip on her elbow as she let her hand find its place on his cheek. The entire time, their other hands remained laced together, both of them reluctant to break their grasp.

"Is it? Guess we better think of something to do," she breathed running her fingers from his cheek to his lips gently, tracing the lower one with her middle finger, "And take our time with it."

A fangless grin pulled at the lips she touched, showing some teeth as he finally released both her elbow and her hand to move Tessaiga from his chest and lean it against the wall. The only thing that made him feel more comfortable than Tessaiga during these nights was Kagome herself and he would happily spend the night with her against his chest instead.

Though he was human, Kagome didn't find him any less strong, at least when it came to holding her. Yes, perhaps he wasn't able to bound long and high distances with her on his back, but as he lifted her into his lap, it still felt as if she was weightless. He'd pressed her back against his chest but with much less innocent intentions than that position held. Placing a hand on her throat, he tugged the collar of her kosode to place very slow, wet kisses to the skin there. She still tasted like herself, not nearly as potent as he was used to, but she was still addictive to him.

Goosebumps formed all over Kagome's body, effortlessly tilting her head to the side to give him more access to her taste. His lips trailed up to her jawline, nudging his nose against her ear as his hands began to stray. Finding their place on her waist, he ran them up her stomach at a painfully slow rate. With a sharp gasp, Kagome felt both of his hands palm each breast over her fabric. He didn't need to be able to smell her to know just how much heat had pooled between her legs, though he wanted so deeply to be able to. His teeth found her earlobe, nipping ever so lightly in an attempt to get more demure sounds from the woman in his lap. His wish was granted when a soft whimper left her, only to be paired with the sudden feel of her hands gripping his hakama.

"Kagome..." her name was a breath against the shell of her ear, low and wanting.

Moving his hands from her breasts, he pulled at the knot of her wrap skirt, followed by her obi. Thankfully, she'd stopped wearing that weird contraption she wore on her breasts beneath clothes. With her kosode falling open, he was able to feel the warmth of her bare skin against his palm, letting one hand find its place back upon her breast. Kagome let her head fall back against his shoulder, worrying her lower lip as another sweet whimper left her. Even in his human form, he could feel the temperature of her body rise, going hot against his own as he ran his free hand down the front of her stomach with a feather-like touch. It was as torturous as it was electrifying, causing her to release the grip on his hakama and instead grip his bicep.

Lower and lower did his hand trail until he realized she was wearing underwear. A growl left him, not nearly as primal as it typically did, "Why the fuck do you wear these?" he cursed, tugging them upward. The pressure of the tense fabric against her yearning, it had her back arching and a choked moan leave her. Such a reaction was unexpected, causing her husband to pause for a moment before doing the same thing again. A similar sound was his reward, Kagome's grip tightening on his bicep and tugging the fabric of his haori.

"Inuyasha," she whined, trying to press herself harder against the fabric of her underwear.

"That feel good, woman?" he cooed in her ear, "You want more?" Frantically, Kagome nodded, turning her head towards his own.

"Yes," with a heavy pant, the word left her, causing Inuyasha to give just as she asked. Reaching further down, he pushed the fabric to the side before running his index and middle finger through her folds.

"Oh fuck," he hissed, feeling just how soaked she was against his fingers, "What I would give to smell you right now." He cooed, easily curling his hand enough to push those fingers within her without a thought. The intrusion caused his wife to release a cry of need, head falling back against his shoulder once again, "You have no idea, do you?" he added, pulling his fingers from her to bring some of that slick to her clit, circling it slowly, "How good you smell when you want me - how good you taste."

Kagome could feel it now, his cock pressing against her ass, hard and needy. Purposefully, she pushed back against it as she bit her lower lip with a whine.

"Fuck," he grunted, releasing her breast to place his hand on her throat, "You want it?"

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head as much as she could without being hindered by the strong grip of his hand spanning her throat. Without warning, Kagome managed to pull herself away from his grasp, turning to face him completely. It caught Inuyasha by surprise, but he wasn't as possessive as he normally was, which meant that he wasn't about to deny her. Capturing his lips, she began to tug at his obi, slowly and purposefully, not with the typical frenzy that surrounded them in times like these. The kisses themselves were slower, taking the time to explore each other's taste as the priestess' lithe and skilled hands pulled his haori and kosode from his hakama.

When enough skin was exposed, her hands began to wander, fingertips just grazing over his collarbone and down his sternum. Kagome let her own lips trail over his jawline to his ear, "Are these ears just as sensitive?" she breathed against him, causing her husband to grip her biceps and squeeze. A low chuckle left her, taking the lobe between her teeth as he had previously. She didn't need to have the heightened senses that her husband typically possessed to realize his heart rate had increased. If that hadn't been enough confirmation for her, the choked sound of her name struggling to leave his lips was.

Lips trailed down his neck then, her hands following a similar path downward with them eventually wanting to hit the same destination. Each kiss was slow, almost painfully so, as Inuyasha loosened his grip on her biceps to rest one on the floor at his side, the other running into her hair at the back of her head. It wasn't pushing or keeping her from moving, instead hint of subtle encouragement as she continued her trail of kisses over his collarbone. The heat of the wetness her mouth left behind had his skin tingling, letting his jaw hang open as he watched how her lips made contact over and over again. Over one pec and then the other before maneuvering her body closer to the floor as she let her lips ghost over his abdomen.

As her mouth moved, so had her hands, pulling his hakama down just enough to reveal what she had been aiming for since she began her teasing journey.

"K-Kagome-" he stuttered, breath shaky as he tried to keep himself in some sort of control.

"Hm?" she asked, feigning innocence as she peeked up at him. One of her hands wrapped around him then, now having propped herself on her elbows to get to the height needed to be comfortable.

"Damnit," he growled through gritted teeth, pushing his hips up against her hand as if begging for her to stroke him. The way she'd situated herself, with one leg outstretched behind her and the other bent at the knee, had her ass propped up so nicely but still covered by the kosode neither of them had bothered to remove.

At last, she was face to face with what she'd been working towards.

With mahogany eyes so full of promise, they peered up at him as she placed that same wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head of him. The tip of her tongue gently flicked against the underside of his cock where the shaft met the head, aiming to keep drawing out the anticipation for as long as possible. No having moved his hand from her hair, Inuyasha couldn't help but tighten his grip, a wanting moan left him. Kagome felt a sense of victory, knowing that she could have him at such a loss for words or coherent thought.

Wanting to hear more, she wrapped her mouth around his cock completely, releasing a hum of contentment of her own as she did so. With the position she'd situated herself in, it was easy for her to take the hand that had been gripping him and run between her own thighs.

Her mouth was like heaven, warm and wet with the added sensation of her tongue circling his head whenever she brought herself up from taking as much as she could. Holding his cock with her other hand, she managed to find the rhythm of moving her head while her fingers circled her own clit. Wet sounds came from her mouth as she continued her motions, his cock becoming slick from her saliva. Gods, she would be the death of him. He felt like his heart was pounding right in his head, grunting and groaning as he watched her, unable to look away if he even dared try, "Kagome - shit. You n-need to stop."

Barely hanging off the edge of the cliff of his desire, he gripped her hair enough to tug her head back. Hearing a popping sound as she was pulled from him, a string of her saliva remained attached to his shaft. A clouded gaze looked up at him, completely overtaken by her need for him. Panting and heady, she whined at the fact that he'd pulled her from him, barely even registering the burn of his grip on her hair.

So desperate they were for one another, that they hadn't even made it to the futon yet, regardless of the fact that it was only a couple feet from them.

Hoisting Kagome to her knees, he pulled her closer to him to catch her lips in a much more hungry kiss. A kiss that had them desiring each other's touch with Inuyasha's hands gripping her waist as Kagome's found his shoulders. Sliding them back to his shoulder blades, she caused his haori and kosode to fall from them. Her hands continued to run down as far as they could before it became uncomfortable, eventually needing to wrap her arms around his neck. Lifting his traps and moving his arms to shrug off the clothes she'd slid from him, Kagome could feel every muscle moving against her arms.

Even as a human, his body held a heat that she happily leeched from.

Purposeful hands gripped the kosode that hung in the dips of her elbows, Inuyasha wanting his wife to be as exposed as he was. As quickly as she could, she unwrapped her arms, one at a time so as not to lose contact with him entirely. All the while, their lips never left one another, keeping them slow but still wielding a sense of desperation in each one.

Strong hands gripped her ass, lifting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist. Moving one hand to her back, he leaned over, having her hanging from him as he crawled the two of them to the futon. It was then, and only then, that he allowed himself to be without the taste of her lips.

Though his aim was to get them onto it fully, he'd only managed to get her back against it causing him to grip her waist and half toss her up farther onto it. The adjustment had Kagome gasping, having little time to make any sort of remark when she realized her husband hadn't followed her. Instead, he remained between her thighs, only sitting up enough that he could tug on the waistband of her underwear, "You're lucky I ain't got any claws, or this'd be torn to shreds," he warned, low and husky with that signature gravel in the low end of his tone. Instead, he simply continued sliding them down and off her legs before tossing them over his shoulder aimlessly.

"You wouldn't dare," she replied with a feigned sense of threat, though it didn't hold up much considering the circumstance. Inuyasha only gave her a challenging smirk, basically asking her to make a bet with him the next time he had claws.

With force, he wrapped his arms around her thighs from underneath before tugging her closer to him, though still keeping her on the futon. The sudden jolt had the woman beneath him give off a yelp, feeling both exposed and surprised. Keeping his right arm wrapped around her thigh, he brought his head closer to her core. Usually, he was practically drooling from the scent of her and now would have been no different if his nose were the same. She was glistening with the slick of her yearning, making it hard for him to keep himself restrained - a sight only he had the privilege to see, only he had the privilege to cause.

Taking his index and middle finger, Inuyasha watched as they slid within her effortlessly. Feeling how tight she was just with two fingers, it amazed him that she was able to take any more than that.

"Mnuh! Inu...yasha!" she preened, only to release a much louder cry as his mouth descended onto her, "Uhn! Yes!" she moaned, reaching for the hand that rested in the crook of her pelvis, arm wrapped around her thigh. The touch of her hand against his had him immediately lacing their fingers together, holding her hand as he continued to lick and suckle against her clit. All the while, he began a very deliberate movement with his fingers, sliding them in and up before pulling out and repeating the same thing.

The pressure of her hips pressing against his mouth only made him want to go harder, fingers picking up their pace as he flicked his tongue against her clit.

His mouth was like a god, bringing her closer and closer to nirvana as his mouth made crude, wet noises in his efforts to bring her to her peak. He didn't just use his tongue or his lips, he used every part of his mouth to ensure that she wasn't able to think of anything but him.

Arching her back off the futon, she realized just how close he'd brought her to that point and quickly. The grip on his hand tightened, the other reaching over her head and gripping the futon beneath her, "Inuyasha! Inu-" she went quiet for a moment, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she climbed up further and further until she rocketed down the other side. A hitched cry left her as a full-body shudder coursed through every nerve in her body.

The rush of her orgasm coated his tongue and fingers, groaning and humming against her core as he felt her writhe against him. Mouth ever relentless, he continued his ministrations until she begged him to stop, only then pulling away with a grin of pride, "Fuck, even now you taste good."

Pulling his fingers from her, he sucked them clean in the hopes of getting every last drop of her he could get. Kagome barely noticed, thighs collapsing in on each other when he released his hold. An arm was draped over her eyes as if she were afraid to open them. Both of them were panting, but Inuyasha wasn't done with her yet - they still had plenty of time until morning.

Climbing over her, he practically covered her completely by their size difference. Holding himself up on one arm, he used the other to first spread her thighs for him to comfortably situate himself between and then used the same hand to pull her arm from her face shortly after. He could see why she'd hidden her gaze from him, seeing just how completely lost she was in their shared euphoria, "Inuyasha..." she whimpered, voice weak from her constant moaning, "It's...too much..."

Like hell it was. He knew she'd taken more and for much longer.

"We're not done, Kagome." The words themselves could have been taken as aggressive, but the way he'd said them, almost gentle and more so coaxing. It only seemed more that way as he dropped to his elbow, turning his arm for her to rest her head on the fore of it. It brought him closer to her, Kagome happily sinking into the added touch. With that same arm, the hand attached was free, managing to take Kagome's within it.

He needn't a hand to guide him, his cock sliding into her effortlessly as he pushed his hips forwards. Sheathing himself to the base, he couldn't help but give out a long, low groan as his wife turned her head to the side with a whimper, "It's...I'm-" There was no coherent thought, no proper words that she could string together, "Nuh! Full!"

His hips began a slow, gyrating motion but still enough to pull himself out of her completely before pushing back in, "Kagome - oh fuck." All he could do was rest his forehead against her shoulder, continuing that same slow rotation of his hips, making sure he pushed in every last inch of him before pulling out to the head, "I can't believe you're mine," he finally managed to say through heated breaths.

"I'm yours. Every part of me," she wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him in closer, "Yours."

He'd been sitting at the edge of the abyss for too long, already feeling the building heat in his core that was soon to explode. Her words only encouraged it.

Digging his head in the crook of her neck, he released a hitched groan from deep in his chest. A release that had come after a few quicker, more erratic thrusts. Kagome could feel how he tensed against her, his grip on her hand holding much more tightly and he spilled every last drop of himself into her. Through every aftershock, he kept himself pressed into her completely while both of them struggled to regulate their breathing.

Somehow, without him realizing, he'd kicked off his hakama completely, leaving both of them equally as nude.

When his mind returned to his body, he pressed gentle kisses to her collarbone and throat, receiving desperate whimpers in return, "Inuyasha...my body-" it was oversensitive, every nerve within her being on high alert. Turning her head towards him with his free hand, he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips with Kagome easily returning it.

Resting his head on her chest, he closed his eyes, listening to the racing of her heart with a smug grin, "We still have hours before the sun comes up," he mused, hearing Kagome's whine of refusal.

"You won't have a wife if we keep going," she teased, taking her free hand and running her fingers through the inky blackness of his hair, "Did I tire you out enough to sleep?"

A scoff was his immediate response, lifting his head to peer up at her before giving a smirk, "Takes more than that to wear me out, woman. I may be human, but doesn't matter much when I know it's you who'll be the one screamin' for me."

"How romantic," the sarcasm seeped from her with a lightness to it.

As resistant as she was towards his offer of another round, she couldn't help but whine at the feeling of emptiness as he pulled from her to lie on his back. That same arm was beneath her head, pillowing it as their hands remained together.

They lay there in silence for a minute, simply panting and trying to catch their breath as they basked in the afterglow of it all. Eventually, though, Inuyasha curled his arm towards him, causing Kagome to roll towards him and end up with her head on his chest. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, making it easier for the two of them to remain holding hands.

How Kagome didn't manage to pass out after that, Inuyasha didn't know, though she'd been close once or twice. And when the sun climbed over the horizon, she only had to blink to see her husband in his normal form. Then, and only then, did she allow herself to sleep, only hoping that he did the same.

#inukag fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag smut #inukag oneshot #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fic

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bubble-tea-bunny · 6 years

Text

shadow and soul

[arthur curry x reader]

author’s note: was working on some other fic, wasn’t really feeling it, so then i wrote this. i’ve been wanting to write for arthur again for aaaages and i am so happy i finally have lol

word count: 2,312

More than once he has seen you standing on the shore, gazing out at everything and nothing. It’s usually in the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep. And you stay there undisturbed, toes curling in the cold sand, hair blown back by the breeze. Sometimes it’s braided and the stray strands billow gently. The braids are never done neatly, immaculately, but are, in contrast, of a lazy nature, big and loose and relaxed. He likes the way it looks on you.

He watches you from a distance, in the water, peeking his head up only enough so that he can set his eyes on you. He wonders what you think about, every night you’re out here. Maybe it’s the same thing, or maybe it’s many, and this is the only time you can put the thoughts together without feeling like your brain will melt. He understands the way it feels. He does that too, finds a quiet place to calm down and be able to hear himself think. To be a king is no small matter. Sometimes he wishes the mantle had fallen upon the shoulders of another. But it’s during the moments very much like the ones he finds you in, that he understands it is his responsibility to bear, his duty to undertake the monumental task given to him. He’s playing the cards he’s been dealt. There’s no use dwelling in the what-ifs.

The moon is full tonight, and the light bounces off the water and your face. You’re sitting on one of the large rocks. It doesn’t look all that comfortable to Arthur, for it’s jagged and sharp in some places. It would be entirely too easy to slice skin if one were to place their hands in the wrong spot. But the way you’d settled upon it shows practice. You place your hands in seemingly all the right places as you climb up, and get into a position he guesses might be more comfortable than he assumes. You certainly don’t look bothered.

Even from a distance he can tell you’re tired. More so than usual anyway. You tend to look fatigued when you’re out here to begin with, and he doesn’t blame you, considering the time. But he knows that the exhaustion in your eyes is from stress. About what, he can’t even begin to presume. There’s a plethora of reasons. He has no idea who you are and the sorts of issues you might have to deal with.

Though he hopes to know you, in some way, but he holds back anytime he considers moving closer to shore and revealing himself. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to frighten you. He has no idea how you’d react. The other part is that Atlantis remains far removed from those on land, for its safety. It’s the lost city to everyone else, and it will remain that way because should knowledge spread of its existence, there’s no question it would be invaded. Atlantis has thrived because it remains contained, and as king, it is his obligation to ensure it stays that way. Still, the more days that go by, he’s truly contemplating if letting just one person know of it would have any negative consequences. Because every time you’re out here, and he’s watching from afar, he feels like he’s growing closer to you despite not even knowing your name.

It’s more of an accident than anything, how he had come to finally approach you. He hadn’t anticipated how sharp your hearing would be, hadn’t ever considered it to be something to be wary of until one evening, he shifts around in the water just a tiny bit, and the lack of a breeze makes everything quiet, so when you hear the way the water moves to accommodate him, you know something is out there. He freezes the moment you realize this, wondering if you would let it go. But your curiosity gets the best of you, and so you speak up: Is someone there?

When the words have left your mouth, you seem to shrink a little, seemingly embarrassed. It looks as if you’ve just spoken to thin air. And he contemplates letting it be just that, letting you believe you merely imagined something. Several more seconds of silence pass, and you look like you’re about to resign to it and resume getting lost in your thoughts, but in that short window, there’s a part of Arthur that tells him to move, to go to you. Because he’d always been hoping to and it would be dumb to squander a perfectly good opportunity. He’s his own advisor this time around, and evidently, the right decision is to show himself. So he does, swimming a little closer.

Your head perks up when you hear the water shifting again, and your eyes scan the length of it in search of the disturbance. You spot Arthur rather quickly with the help of the moonlight, and your head tilts as the two of you simply watch each other. You wonder who he is, how he’s gotten there, because you hadn’t seen anyone go into the water in the time you’ve been out here, and it’s been a while. Had he come from the sea? Slowly you uncross your legs and slide off the rock, feeling the sand slide against the soles of your feet as you walk over. You come to the edge where dry and wet sand meet, toes resting on that line.

Arthur can see it in your gaze, the invitation to approach, to come say hello. You don’t seem scared. He comes up to depths shallow enough for him to set his feet down, and he walks the rest of the way, feeling the way the water tries to fight against him as he breaks through it. It sloshes around his legs and drips from the ends of his hair in lonely drops. He comes to a stop when he’s completely out of the water. Neither of you says anything right away. He’s not even sure where to begin if he were the one to speak first. Because what he did just now, is doing, is exactly what he’s not supposed to do. But it just felt so hard to stay away forever, and even he didn’t have the willpower for that.

It’s almost otherworldly, your capacity to do such things to such people as him. From the second he’d first set his sights on you, he wanted to know you. And even if it had gone against his better judgment, deep down, he was willing to deal with any consequences that might follow. He’s not sure he’s even inclined to call it “better” judgement, because maybe coming to the shore to meet you was the better decision. Maybe it means something. Maybe it means everything. When you smile softly at him, the warmth of that curve seeming to brush up against him, like the ghost of a hug, he thinks that yes, maybe it does.

You’re the princess of the kingdom next to the ocean, and he tells himself it’s no wonder you seem so tired when you’re out here. There’s a lot on your shoulders as well, as you protect your own kingdom and prepare to one day assume the title of queen. The word feels as heavy as your chest seems to get when you think ahead to the future. He never expected for something like this to level the field between you two. He hadn’t ever speculated whether you might be nobility as well. But he tries to ease your mind as much as he can, telling you that when the time comes, you’ll be ready. What he doesn’t say is that it never gets easier. He doesn’t have to say it though. You can see it in his eyes, and you understand, and you let the subject go as you lapse into a comfortable silence.

He’s ruler of the seas but you’re parts of the water he’s never ventured to before, the depths even he has not traversed. And he slides his hands along your curves, along the soft skin, exploring, learning. His thumb runs over your bottom lip and he can feel the heat of your breath on his fingers. Some people wonder, in a fashion mostly whimsical, if perhaps those trenches too far down to explore safely should lead to some alternate universe, some other galaxy, as if the secret to propelling through light years’ worth of space wasn’t to go up but to go down, to the portals waiting for them, as they have been since the dawn of time. Arthur swears he can see the twinkling of infinite universes in your eyes, and he’s thinking those speculations just might be right.

No one knows about this, about you two. And you’d both prefer it to remain that way. You can’t tell your father, because Atlantis isn’t supposed to be real. It’s not supposed to be anything more than a city from a storybook. And Arthur can’t tell anyone in his court, even his most trusted friends, because he’s not supposed to be making contact with outsiders, especially not contact of this nature. Love made things complicated. But he continues to love you anyway, in the secret places between the shadow and the soul. You’re always there to meet him.

“Will you ever show me Atlantis?” you inquire quietly one night. The moon is nothing but a crescent hanging in the center of the sky. It reminds him of your smile.

“One day.” Arthur nods and glances down at you. “You can swim with all the fish, and you can find a home in the water.” A home in the water with me.

You grin, and there’s a faraway look in your eyes, as if you’re imagining what that would be like. You’re wondering how far in the future that might be, and wishing it were now. But patience is something you’ve been working on, a virtue emphasized by your father as you learn more and more about how to rule. So you figure you can wait a little longer.

“A little longer” passes startlingly quickly. Because there’s an evening you come to Arthur in tears, and it’s with a trembling voice that you tell him you’ve been betrothed to a prince of a nearby region. The marriage is a means to secure an alliance. Nothing more. Nobility and love don’t usually go hand-in-hand, that much is to be expected when there are political implications to be taken advantage of, and maybe at one point you wouldn’t have much cared, maybe you would’ve come to love this prince in time, in your own way, but now you know you can’t possibly do that. Not when the two of you are conversing politely in the courtyard on a sunny afternoon and your mind is already thinking of the night to come, of the one who will be waiting for you on the shore.

I want to run away. It’s a shaky whisper, and Arthur’s heart squeezes as he holds you close. He promises you will. As he comforts you, running his fingers through your hair to soothe you, he’s thinking how to bring this up the court back in Atlantis. He can’t catch them unawares, but he also knows deliberations about allowing you in would be tedious and lengthy, and that’s time he doesn’t have.

You sit up so you can look up at him when you’ve calmed down enough. There are dried tears staining your cheeks and your eyes are puffy. Your voice is quiet and strained from the crying as you begin to speak, as you admit to him that you’d dreamed of a figure in the water long before he’d approached you that very first night. You dreamed about it and wondered as you came to the beach to think if maybe it was a sign, a telling of what the future had in store for you. You drew this faceless figure in the margins of all your books. Because you were always in the margins of my mind. There’s no skirting around it—he’s the one who’d come to you in your dreams before he’d come to you on the shores of this beach on that night that seems so far in the past now.

You lean into him again and his arms wrap around you as he thinks about the things you’ve just said. You murmur that your heart hurts from how much you love him, that you’re glad it does, because it’s the surest way to get you to understand. You know nothing more confidently than what you feel for him. Everything carries me to you.

It’s those five words that compel Arthur to make his decision on the spot. He looks you in the eyes and says you won’t be stuck here; he swears that to you. You’re not meant for this place. He’ll deal with the court after you’re in Atlantis with him, and he’ll ensure your place within the state and among its people.

And so the night before the ceremony, you run away. He offers you his hand, and you take it, and he guides you into the depths from which he’d first emerged to come say hello. They’ll send ships, sure, to find you and fight for you and get you back. But they will be ships with no destination or target. After all, as far as anyone else beyond you is concerned, Atlantis is nothing but make-believe. Maybe you are too, to some extent. Maybe you’ve escaped from the pages of this tale and have been spending your whole life trying to find your way back. And Arthur is right there, guiding you, until you’re where you’ve always been meant to be.

#arthur curry x reader #arthur curry imagine #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #jason momoa x reader #jason momoa imagine #Arthur Curry #aquaman #Jason Momoa #justice league #justice league imagine #DC comics #dc comics imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

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legitlauracoe · 5 years

Text

Form in Relation to Content

The Fales archive used its form of folders within boxes within collections to very exactly archive a lot of stuff. This made their online catalogue usable, as you could search up any word in the collection basically, and get results for what you wanted to see. This form emphasized time period and relationship of the artist and their work to other artists and their work since you knew almost exactly when everything was from. The very formal structure of the extremely modern architecture of NYU, the excessive packing of all the materials in order to preserve them elevated even the most mundane objects--a pair of shoes, a receipt--to the level of art, worth preserving for thousands of dollars.

The La MaMa archives used their preservation of every play La MaMa has done, and the many different set pieces and awards in such a small space to highlight how many varied people they have worked with, and who has worked for them, and doing what, and with what other famous people. It all serves to highlight how cosmopolitan La MaMa is, how much they have accomplished, and how much diversity and collaboration adds to theater. Ozzy(?) set us up to talk to us as if he were onstage, all of us behind the cabinet, or in a semicircle, or in chairs. No matter where we were, or what we were doing, he was acting and judging what we could do to contribute (e.g. “Nice voice”).

Lauren Yee uses the jukebox form of Cambodian Rock to humanize the terrible experiences of Cambodians during the Khmer Rouge and make their struggle and suffering relatable to an American audience. The jukebox form is used to lighten up the heavy mood of the piece, since it’s music and the lighting for every musical interlude is fun and flashy and colorful as opposed to the much more minimalistic and stationary lighting used for the rest of the play. The type of music (rock) made the play relatable to a western audience, who might otherwise been unsure how to react; since we have that history as well as Cambodians, we know how you’re supposed to react to that music. It also made the few instances when the actors did speak Cambodian possible to be interpreted without using subtitles. Not literal understanding of what the words meant, but the intention behind the words, and what the character was feeling, was communicated since the words were sung or accompanied by music.

Yee uses the plot of the play to structure the action in such a way that you undergo the same experience as Cambodia--not thinking the Khmer Rouge is going to take over but then they do, undergoing torture and learning how to live in such a dangerous precarious environment, finally doing anything you have to in order to save yourself. With Duch as well, not knowing who he is, finding out who he is, having him be in power, and then taking away that power by saying I’m not scared of you taking stealing something from me anymore—I have power over myself.

As they used bodies to root the action around the same characters and their interactions while while changing fluidly in time (between the 1970s and 2008) using lights, the use of music was very striking for me after reading the play without it, as a means of relating disperate parts of the play. Although the rock of course loosely relates the entire play through the tone it sets as a genre, no song is repeated (or maybe Cyclos is? but I think not super intentionally). I really noticed the Bach chaconne being repeated though. At the beginning of the play it’s on the radio. It’s subtle foreshadowing, but I think also significant as Chum reaches over and turns it off. As it gains more and more meaning coming to signify his death sentence, then his guilt for killing Leng—and then thinking back what that means to have him turn off that radio…I almost wish at the end instead of the big climax, he had gone back to the hotel room and turned the radio back on and we had just sat in silence with him while the entire song played and silence came again—maybe it’s even to him falling asleep. I thought it was a mistake to have him not face that guilt, not come to terms to it in terms of his music, when in every other way he does—telling us out loud, going to his torture scene in present lighting...

The Hal Prince exhibit used his memorabilia, and added stuff--like his fake office--to bring you into his life--like you could listen to “his” telephone!--but then use that to tell you about him/give you information--the telephone was historical information, though it was staged as a conversation where it sounded like he was talking to you. It was interactive to try to engage the audience more than simply asking them to view things behind class cases.

The Hamlet we saw relied heavily on lighting and set to comunicate its message. Set in what seemed to be the 1950s or 60s with the machine guns with lights, the military uniforms and roaring crowd of a dictator or perhaps communist leader, and the Jackie Kennedy-esque outfit of Gertrude. The set was incredible, but at the same time I felt like it was so good that it became distracting and kind of pointless at moments. As if they had the lighting and set elements just because they could rather than because it really added anything to the production, or as if they hadn’t quite thought everything through. Like the rain in the beginning--it was beautiful. It foreshadowed Ophelia drowning, establishing her as wet and vulnerable...but they didn’t act out Hamlet being freaked out by his dad asking him to kill his uncle and basically assaulting her in the rain. They didn’t have her stand there and have the lights fade as the rain continued to fall. She just ran through it and then had the scene with Polonius...wet. If you were going to try to make the point that Polonius is preying on her, that would have been compelling, but they didn’t. Also with the plastic sheet. I LOVED the plastic sheet. It was so simple and beautiful and otherworldly, very clearly signifying the veil between life and death. But then to have the ghost just duck out from underneath...so he’s alive again? And why is Hamlet alone at the end and not behind the curtain? He died too.

Their use of green at the beginning felt very calculated. I began to notice all these references to green within the text that I hadn’t before, and the different shades and vibrancy of the greens started to take on a deeper meaning for me. “While the grass grows…” Talking about his uncle as a serpent. Describing Ophelia as a green girl—that completely changed Ophelia for me somehow. It made her Hamlet’s “green light.’ In contrast, when the red came on, I wasn’t impressed. I’m pretty sure they were trying to communicate sensuousness and passion, and perhaps sin as well—i. e. evil—but I didn’t think it worked that well. It didn’t work as well with the lights, it looked gaudy, and it didn’t have the same power of insidiousness the green had for me. There were no red references in the text, and the costumes seemed to get worse--like why did Hamlet come in in a sweatshirt?

One thing I was thinking about with the costumes is perhaps it was an intentional aging forward as the weapons aged backwards, as if to try and communicate as the characters seem to be getting older what they were doing is becoming more and more primitive, since we start out with Gertrude’s blue fifties dress, and then she changes into a beige one more ‘60s, and then Hamlet comes on in the sweatshirt, while we start out with machine guns, go to knives, and end up at rapiers.

All in all I felt it used the aesthetic of that era without really dealing with any of the problems associated with it. (Perhaps this is just because the production is from Ireland and I don’t understand Irish references?) They had such a strong racial message at the beginning: a black man on a gurney surrounded by the predominantly white cast, but then had no illusion to that in the entire rest of the play. There’s such a distinction between the common people (Horatio, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and the grave diggers) and the aristocracy, their discussion within the play about the destruction of the upper class, and how death equalizes all would be incredibly easy to capitalize on, as impetus for a discussion of class struggle relating to Communism/Leninism. But it’s not like they had a USSR flag behind them. In a sene this could be trying to leave it more open to discussion, make it more of an ambiguous message but that didn’t read for me. Toxic masculinity, and gender identity is such a problem of that period as well. The problem of the ghost is basically Rebel Without a Cause, commenting on masculinity by asking the question of what is cowardice? He’s asking Hamlet to prove himself, and kill to prove this. Hamlet doesn’t want to kill someone--he just wants Ophelia. He knows if he kills Claudius, he’s not just going to be able to happily marry Ophelia. But the only way for him not to kill Claudius is if he kills himself, which if he does brands him a coward. There’s so many other parts. When Laertes is trying not to cry. When he hugs Horatio for a moment too long and says enough of this. But they didn’t choose to emphasize that either. So this Hamlet tried to use set and lights to give the audience a new way to interpret Shakespeare, but was semi successful with this form of communication.

This Hamlet emphasized religion in a way I really liked as a form of communication: ritual. I thought beginning the play with the censer in the center of the stage, starting off not experiencing the play through sight but rather smell was such a compelling choice. The special which the censor starts out in at the beginning seemingly ordained that space as holy, as afterwards all the things in the play ordained by God or in some way holy--both Hamlets, the throne--occupied that space, while the action of the flawed characters carefully avoids being there. The scene in which Hamlet doesn’t kill Claudius because he’s praying was an interesting interpretation because it’s usually just Claudius kneeling peacefully in a circle of light. This production chose to show the inner turmoil which Claudius is going through. However, I think there’s a reason that Shakespeare saved the turmoil in the dialogue for afterwards—because in the moment Hamlet doesn’t kill him, he does it because he feels very profoundly how holy that moment is. I was all ready for him to be within the special at that moment. And yet instead of using that space, and sanctifying that moment until he falls out of it, realizing it’s useless, they had him on the other side of the stage wrestling with God. It emphasized in a way I hadn’t noticed in prior productions I’ve seen how unfeeling God as a concept or a character (embodied by the priest) in Hamlet. It’s not a concept which will give the characters guidance, but one they ask for help with no hope of reply, kind of like the ghost. It tells them what to do, and then leaves them very much alone.

The most meaningful thing in the production for me was the choreography. This to me was the most unique way this play used form to communicate with the audience, because a lot of times in Shakespeare productions, the word is so revered that there is little to no movement at all. It’s like they think the closer they can come acting it out on stage to sitting there reading you the text, the truer they can be to his words, when the opposite is true! Claudius in this production is one of the best actors I’ve seen, and it’s because he didn’t sink to trying to pronounce every word like gospel. He spoke it naturally, moving around and using the words to interact with the other characters!

I never thought action could be so choreographed! The doors and the set pieces all moved/were moved so that they would continue to create strong shapes onstage, stretching the diagonals, of perfectly symmetrical cubes, or triangles in order to shape the action you saw, and the dynamic of the stage. It not only cast each scene by where the characters where in the scene in relationship to one another and how they would interact not just through dialogue but physically—like maybe their physicality would contradict what they were saying—but directed focus and created a tension I haven’t seen before through the use of stillness. One moment where Hamlet is standing still thinking and the scene is changing around him was particularly amazing for me. It was exactly how I feel like my life is right now, like everything’s just going rushing past as I stand rooted to the spot. Also little moments which gave the play so much more meaning than just the words. Hamlet’s monologue which is usually to the audience as him ranting to Ophelia. Gertrude playing out a whole scene as she realizes what Claudius has done and her son is in danger barefoot and then taking charge by literally stepping into her shoes. I’ve never seen a better example of how much more you could add to a theatrical production by adding choreography. How much was missing from the plays I’ve seen before, since without this choreography the play is only what the characters say. This adds subtext, or irony to the story, an extra layer of dimensionality which you can read in the text, but by acting out says more. I could write more...

Coal country used country music to bring people together around an issue. They used country music because it’s the people’s music, it is easy to sing so everyone can sing it without feeling ashamed or awkward, and of it’s tradition coming out of blues as well of suffering and wishing and being together. It presented a complicated topic as a common problem. Through their use of the benches, they could demonstrate to some degree the menial labor within the mines, and the rustic-ness of their surroundings. This really worked for me because the guitarist was so skilled and clearly felt so much while playing, and all the actors felt believable—they never seemed hammed up or one dimensional. They were regular everyday people just trying to understand. They used the lights behind the curving wood of the background to demonstrate the exploding tunnel, and the lights to represent the lives lost which I thought was very powerful. I thought the big central set piece wasn’t as effective, as well as most of the other lighting which seemed a bit disjointed. We brought up in discussion how much more powerful the similar moment in Cambodian Rock Band (when all the pictures of the victims light up) could have been if they could have taken two million lights and have them light up one by one.

It’s not original, many New York City based artists have said it, I think the most performative part of the City for me is the side walks--the walking signs, people starting and stopping and the flow of people passing by and through each other. It’s beautiful in an ordinary way.

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drabblesfromthemoon · 7 years

Text

Serene, Chapter III - Down the Rabbit Hole

Serene

Chapter III

Down the Rabbit Hole

Disclaimer: I don't own A Court of Thorn and Roses and all characters in the series. All of the characters are the property of Sarah J Maas, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

By the time he opened his eyes, the silver sparkling lands were no more. The realm is now pitch black. He heard a vicious growl from the distance, along with white eyes in the dark, whatever it was, ready to pounce him any minute. Tamlin went into his battle stance, preparing himself to kill whoever it is on sight. But soon he felt his magic taken away. Something was ripped from him and he roared to the night, refusing to accept the second experience of being stripped from his power.

The chilling growl turned into an otherworldly voice, echoing inside his head, unlike the gentle caress that had been guiding him earlier.

I saw greed.

And the High Lord collapsed.

Two Fae girls, not look older than 10 springs sat beside the comfy bed, with tree roots sustaining it and gentle shades of silver canopy up above. Their soft midnight haired head moved once in awhile, curiously inspecting the person in the bed. They have sat there for so a long while, fascinated by the creature who was sleeping soundly. Both of them had took him here because of the Queen's order, and it was no easy task. The man is so heavy! And the Gollum weren't so helpful either.

"Is he dead?" one with the shorter hair said for the umpteenth times, attempting to poke him.

"No, Milla, he's not," the other retorted, slapping her sisters' hand, "Her Majesty told us to keep an eye on him!"

"We have waited here for so long, Nalla, and he doesn't wake up at all!" she cried, "I want to go bother some Gollums! I'm bored!"

Nalla clicked her tongue. She despise her infernal twin of hers. So immature, so childish. Unlike her, Nalla take pride being one of the Queen's apprentice. Even though all she did was taking care of the old tree. However, Milla apparently doesn't care about it. All she did was chasing down the Tree younglings and Gollums, bugging them until they snapped and left her giggling.

"Fine, you go bug that Gollums, I'll watch over him alone," she retorted, emphasizing alone to make Milla catch the sign of how she try to guilt trip her sister.

"Really? Wooohoooo!" she exclaimed loudly, her feet stomping the wood under her, causing the tree house to shake.

"Milla, keep your voice down!" the older hissed.

Tamlin quietly open his eyes after all the noise, wanted to make the girls noticed him be releasing a groan. He had been aware of his surroundings for awhile, but refused to open his eyes to scanned the place by pretending to be asleep.

"He woke up, Nalla, I did it!"

"All you did was jumping around like a little monkey, you..."

"Hello, Sire! Are you awake?" little Milla exclaimed, putting her hands on the bed, excitedly looking at the man in front of her.

"Yes, yes I am," he groaned, getting up as he rub the back of his neck, "where am I?"

"We took you from the tree, Sire!" she continued her babbling, "you are really heavy and you must have upset the elder, didn't you? To have them knock you out like that? You shouldn't do that, Sire, you shouldn't! The Queen was..."

"Shhh!" the older hissed again, covering her twin sister, "go outside, I'll explain things to him!"

Milla pouted.

"Now," her sister finished.

The short haired girl stomped outside, muttering words as she went. Nalla turned her focus from her sister to her guest, who is sitting with his sleepy eyes and confusion.

"So, what is this place?" he asked again, eyes still wandering around. The room was so small compared to his chamber, with some silver light go through the windows. Dolls scattered in one corner while other place has a desk full of papers and maps. That, and a huge picure of a woman on the wall.

"This is my room, Sire," young Nalla answered, "we found you fainted by the Elder Tree. How did you get there?"

"Someone told me about that tree and I try to find it," he muttered, "the damned thing took my magic from me."

"You have angered him, then," she said.

"No idea how it got pissed off, I did what the voice told me."

"Voice? What voice?"

"A girl's voice led me to the tree, telling me how to find it. But when I said my wish the tree knocked me out."

Nalla held her breath.

"What? You know something, Brat?"

"No, nothing," she shook her head, "would you like to take a bath or something? The Queen is expecting you but she's away at this moment."

"I need to go back to my castle," he replied.

"Later, after you meet the Queen," she said, her voice stern. Tamlin eyed her for a good minute before he sighed.

"Fancy a tour?" she asked, her face uninterested, "this village isn't much, but I think you'll like it."

Is there a limit of how many times a man can be surprised in a day?

Tamlin had trouble keeping his mouth closed the entire time as his eyes scanned the sight before him. They just go passed the girls' door when he gaped at the city, it was a sight to behold. Something he never seen in the Spring Court. Everything was covered in different shades of silver and blue, the houses looked like they're carved out of the sturdy trunk. The realm is full of tree houses, with bridges connected one across another. Every bridges has roofs, graced by bright lantern ever 1-2 meters.

Up above was a night sky with endless stars and an unusually big moon graced the castle far, far away. Countless stars fell , some houses were made of glass on top of the hills and mountains.

Beneath the land was the turqoise colored water, just like what he saw earlier around the Ancient Tree. He can see a stairs twirled down from one house to the land below, giving them access to gether the water they needed.

"The water... isn't a magical one? It.. doesn't grant.. wishes...here?" he stuttered, feeling stupid.

"The only water that grant wishes is only the one close to the Elder."

"The Elder?"

"The tree that knocked you out," she replied.

"Ah, right."

"The water around here was the one the Queen provided. Although still magical, it won't grant any wishes. The Elder has the power, and he choose who he deemed worthy."

"Any specific criteria?"

"No lust, no greed, no anger," she answered, her index finger emphasizing each words, "you got the greed, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"The one with greed will have something precious taken away from him."

"My magic...," he sighed, "is there any way to retrieve it?"

"You must ask the Queen about that," she replied, "now where is she...?"

Nalla scanned the land around her, trying to find the one she looking for, that immature twin of hers. She found her chasing a group of tree younglings, which shrieking in annoyance as it ran from Milla.

"Milla! Leave them alone!" she shouted as he rolled down a carpet which turned into a long stairs. Tamlin went to the edge of the bridge to see what's the fuss, and catch himself muttering 'the hell is that? Those are trees, aren't they? But they are running around'.

"Aww, you're ruining the fun!" the younger pouted. Her eyes soon stare into Tamlin's as she smiled brightly again, "Hey, Sire! Having fun?"

The young lord found himself in a very confused state. This place is not an ordinary place, indeed. Running little trees, silver leaves, Elder tree sucking his power within seconds... this place is filled by great amount of magic.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, "and what is this.. place?"

"Oh, you finally got curious, aren't you?" Milla jumped, excited, "I'm waiting for a long time to say this!"

The girls stood before him, Milla's eyes round and bright, Nalla's face remained impassive as always, the younger tried to hold her bubbling happiness within her.

"Welcome to the Court of the Moon," she giggled, "We are Milla and Nalla, the Queen's apprentice."

"Court of the Moon?"

The twin nodded.

"There's no such thing as the Court of the Moon."

Milla gaped and Nalla shook her head in disapproval, looking at him as if he'a dumb fool.

"The Court of the Moon is one of the ancient Court ever made. We were the the ancestor of the Night's," said Nalla as she walked, motioning the rest to follow her.

"Yeah, the Night, one with the perverted, audacious High Lord, you know him, right?" Milla added.

"...of course," he muttered.

"Our Court has always been hidden, because of the Elder Tree. The former King of the Night was obsessed with it, especially on its ability to grant wishes," said Nalla, "he would come to the Elder Tree over and over, but never find his path, because of the overwhelming greed inside him."

"After many failed attempts, he became a bit.. destructive...," Milla chimed in.

"He burnt the entire woods in an attempt to find the path, that old fool. That one last attempt angered the Queen."

"Her Majesty sealed the whole Court with a spell to conceal it, away from all malice; and she cursed the wretched King to live with his greed all his life, until an heir came, that's strong willed enough to not inherit his amount of hatred."

"...Rhysand."

"The High Lord has been faring well, or so I've heard," Nalla smirked slightly.

Tamlin snorted.

"The side effect is thes realm never see other view than the night sky, but it's not that bad."

"I hate night sky," he grumbled under his breath.

"So.. how did you get here, Sire?" asked Milla, "because the Queen herself made sure that no one ever heard of our story."

"A maid in my castle told me," he said, confused, "she told me a story about a pond that can grant wishes."

Milla and Nalla exchanged glances.

"That's impossible, Sire, no one would ever know about this place, unless..."

"You were talking about a voice, too. What voice?" Nalla cut her off.

"There's a voice talking to me, saying that I should beg to find my path or something."

"Milla, go to the castle, immediately. We should request an audience to the Queen as soon as possible."

Milla nodded eagerly as she ran with her little legs, whistled as she went, calling a little fat bird. She hop onto it and flew.

"What is it? Explain to me!"

"Listen, Sire. No one, no one ever know about our story after our Queen sealed the realm. But the sealing doesn't came out perfect."

"You Queen made a mistake."

Nalla nodded.

"One of the royalty, a rebellous girl left out of the Court, the Queen has been terribly heartbroken ever since," she continued, "The Royal Princess were out there, trying to stop the damned King army."

"And she's the first Guardian of the Elder. She's the only one who can bend the Elder onto her will, a rare being that she was, at least enough to open the path. I am now understand why the Queen brought you here."

"You are saying that my maid is..."

"A Daemati and the first Shadowsinger master, Her Highness Sara Endear."

"You are saying my maid is a Daemati and Shadowsinger master."

Nalla nodded.

He roared a laugh.

"She can't even bring a tray properly," he chuckled.

"Oh yes, she's clumsy at times but she's still the Royal Princess of the Moon."

"Does that imply anything?"

Nalla sighed.

"The people of the Moon Court are masters of shadow, although with that amount of perceptiveness Her Highness won't need a Shadowsinger and Daemati skill at all to understand others."

"That princess of yours love to gossip with the rest of the maid, how unladylike."

"She did?" Nalla raised her brow, "but we made sure that she doesn't have that habit..."

"You think too highly of your master."

"You love to underestimate people, aren't you?"

Tamlin stiffened.

"Arrogance will not bring you anywhere," Nalla smirked, knowing that she hit the nail.

As the last word spilled from Nalla's mouth, horns were sounded, and Nalla found herself gripping the edge of the bridge. There, tens of boats came from afar, in the middle was a silver boat and in it stood a regal woman, whose face Tamlin had seen in Nalla's room. Silver hair, and eyes as dark as the haunting night sky, identical to the sky above.

"The Queen has arrived," said Nalla, "Pray that she like you enough to give back your magic."

#tamlin #fanfiction #after acowar #acowar #acomaf #acotar

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leonard-cohen-the-second · 8 years

Text

Blood Repaid: Chapter 13 of Serenity Falls

Summary: Time to pay a visit to Odin the Allfather. Or as Tamsin likes to call him: dad.

Pairing: Tamsin x Lauren

Info: AO3 --- FF

The air around Lauren was stale yet charged with anticipation. It was hard to breathe in this space even though the ceiling was yards above them and the room was massive. Tamsin was strained, Lauren could see it in her muscles as they tightened, and the doctor slowly slipped her hand into her lover's from behind. The rigidness of the valkyrie softened slightly, her green orbs still pinned on her father's crystal, and she nodded her appreciation to the human-fae.

Lauren continued to take in her surroundings, but most notably Odin's. He had a long proper beard that stretched to his chest and in his hand he carried a dangerous looking spear. His left eye did not move with his right, and it had many veins protruding from all around it. It was as if someone had torn the muscle from its socket before the great god plucked it from the ground, uncaring of the ruined home for it, and returned the eye to its original point of being. Lauren was not as researched as she should have been with the god, and thus she could not tell why or what had caused such an injury to the man though she doubted she truly wanted to know.

He wore a wizened cloak, similar to old rags, but Lauren guessed it was to downplay his power. Odin was in his home after all, there was no way someone who looked so tired could possibly be the ruler of the vast kingdom of Asgard. The huffing of breath drew the doctor's attention to either side of the giant throne where she saw two enormous wolves, their eyes bright purple and yellow respectfully, glaring at the newcomers. Likewise Lauren heard rustling above her and saw two ravens coming from some hidden doorway in the ceiling to perch on either side of the chair Odin sat upon. Their claws made a soft tinging sound in the room, proving its wonderful acoustics, and the woman wondered if there were large banquets or other charades the throne room had seen over the millennia.

Everyone's coming to see the new arrivals, she thought to herself, holding back her scowl. Lauren continued to look around the room, the silver tones, stone, and wood were so at odds from Freyja's home of gold and metal and it made the woman think of what other changes these two locations had. Freyja received half of the warriors that die on the battlefield into her home while Odin had the other, presumably meaning there should be a plethora of valkyries- or at least warriors in general- crowding around the halls to see the newcomers. But as the doctor looked about the room, there was no one in sight- a strange occurrence seeing as there was talk of Ætta being here already.

A gasp left her lips as she looked behind her finally towards the area closer to the door. Lauren's hand slipped away from Tamsin's as she bolted elsewhere towards one of the many columns in the room and dropped to her knees. Tamsin didn't even look back, still staring at her nonspeaking father, as Lauren's fingers brushed delicately over a throat. She waited a moment before cursing under her breath, looking at the wound that made the woman's body slick with blood. Her eyes darted back towards the woman's face, her hands hovering in the air just above the figure, before closing her eyes and gulping.

"Not going to say anything, dad?" Tamsin said, finally cutting the charged air with her sarcastic quip. She must have known her physical form laid just a few feet away but she never turned to acknowledge the corpse.

Odin hummed out an answer, the walls seeming to reverberate with its resonance, before his long fingers tapped about his spear. "You left to be with your mother, Thomisina. A hard strike against me, if I may confess."

Tamsin's shoulders rolled in a shrug, her head cocking to the side in an uncaring manner. "Your morals are pretty, let's just say, fucked up." She raised her hand and pointed a thumb behind her. "Letting a girl whom you personally clipped into your throne room and then letting her kill my body kinda speaks for itself."

"You speak as if you wished for the Shadow Soul to continue to live in your body. Your pet can stitch and heal the flesh at your command."

"She's not a pet," Tamsin interjected. Her voice was low, forceful, and it made Lauren look up from the corpse in front of her. Even now, against her very own father, the valkyrie was trying to protect her honor. She continued, "And you know as well as I that thing was not just a Shadow. It was my valkyrie disconnecting from me and decided to go on a rampage with my body. You know, the body you refused to help me get control of."

"And your mother did?" Odin questioned.

"She helped more than you!"

"So, in other words, not at all. If this lesser fae had not acted upon her own will, you would have never come this close to your body."

Tamsin paused at that, her fist clenching. Turning her head slightly, she spoke to her lover, "Lauren, your fae has the ability of resurgence. Just concentrate and bring my body back to life, would you?"

"That would not be wise."

The valkyrie sighed, looking back at her father. "And why is that?"

Odin shifted in his throne. The ravens seemed to jitter slightly, their claws clacking against the chair, before they settled back in. "Your valkyrie is still rife in that body. To mend the flesh, to reach into the space between worlds and breathe life back into that shell, would also bring the First back as well."

"Then I'll just have to kick her ass now won't I." It wasn't a question and Tamsin glared daggers at her father.

"Do you really want that, daughter?" Odin's voice became melodious, more so than it was, and it was so smooth it practically glided over the women's eardrums. "Do you truly wish to return to a mortal shell to live out your days to die? You are on your last life time in that walking corpse but here... here you are free."

"I'm in a state or constant death here!" Tamsin retorted hotly. It was as if every thought she had been thinking for the past few days had exploded out of her as her arms began to move to emphasize her words. "You've beat it into me a valkyries entire life is to live, serve, and die only to be pulled from the ashes and rise again. And now you beg for me to stay here! No, dad, my life is on Earth."

Odin's massive form rose from his chair slowly as Tamsin spoke. Through his ragged appearance you could see real power underneath, swirling and aching to be released, but the man held it tight to his hidden bosom. "My daughter, you are beautiful, strong, agile. Your brothers and I have trained you well as such, but down there... down there you are weak, slow, ugly. I know I have done wrong in demanding my own beloved to dawn such a shell, but sweet child I am trying to rectify it now. You cannot die here. You cannot grow old and haggard. You may sweep your precious feet along the Seeing Lake and look upon your humans and lesser fae. Your place is here by my side, not down there to a world doomed to strife and destruction."

Green orbs looked towards the spear in her father's hand with care before she glared into crystal eyes. He was right, of course he was right. It would have been a lie to say she had not thought of the same thing countless times while with her mother, but she also knew it was impossible to keep Lauren and all of her friends up there with her. She would doom them to death while she watched them, and that just didn't sit well with her. The valkyrie would rather destine herself to their same fate if only to show them all wrong. She wasn't just an asshole who only cared about herself. No, she was a valkyrie and she was strong. She loved just as she wanted to be loved. And Tamsin resigned herself to fight with her allies not to prove just how great at dying she really was, but to show them how to truly live...

The blonde crossed her arms, sighing deeply, as she coalesced her thoughts. Where once a grimace was on her face now was a soft smile as she looked back up towards her father. Her breathing seemed slow and deliberate and for the first time since being next to her father, Tamsin seemed calm. "Father," she began, unfolding her arms, "please do this one thing for me. When Lauren brings back my valkyrie, my body, subdue her for me so that I can get back inside. Don't let her run amok anymore in your kingdom. Don't let your daughter risk her life again to reign her in. Use Gungnir to overcome the First and give me a chance to reclaim that power. With it, it doesn't matter if I'm on my last life or not. Her power, the power that has always been inside of me, will be able to keep me alive for centuries to come. If you truly wish to see me happy, to see me healthy, then do this for me, father... please."

Silence fell upon the room again though unlike when they first arrived, it seemed palpable. Lauren felt as if she could reach out and simply touch the soft energy resonating from either gods but as Odin took a step off of his throne, she was snapped out of her daydream.

The rags he bore shimmered with silver light as he walked slowly towards his daughter. It was so blinding Lauren thought if she had not been inscribed with fae DNA she could not bare to look directly at it. There were moments of piercing sound as the man's spear hit the ground, almost as if it was also his walking stick, before the light faded and in the place of his robes was a marvelous set of armor. It was so otherworldly Lauren could not describe it, though it reminded her of Dyson's old armor and her own when they were in the make-shift Dawning plane to save Tamsin. That seemed like ages ago, the human-fae thought lightly as she watched the events unfold.

Odin was right in front of Tamsin in no more than a few moments. His spear was at his side, his long cloak running away from him as the train was long and billowing, and he looked down to his daughter. Clearing his throat he finally spoke, "Then, my daughter, tell this human-fae to get her hands to work."

There was a twinge at the side of Tamsin's mouth but no more than that as she looked back to Lauren slowly and nodded her head. "Thank you, father."

"You should not thank me, but your prodigy."

As quickly as it took Tamsin to soften, her walls were back up again. She glared at her father, then about the room, as she said, "Where is she?"

Odin witnessed Lauren's ability first hand as the human-fae lowered her hands inside of the shell and a bright light exuded from them. "After betraying the First, she realized she could not defeat me even with the power she held." Lauren's hands moved inside of the fae's body, almost as if she was a mortician and she was required to remove the organs from the body. "Thus she resigned herself to travel back to Earth with the key of unlocking the Abominations. By the time you are done here, you will be greeted with the downfall of mankind."

Lauren's delicate hands lifted themselves from the shell's body, they strangely not being coated in any blood, as she looked down to the closed wound of the valkyrie. As instantly as the stab wound was healed, however, purple eyes flared to being from the valkyrie's body and her throat was squeezed tightly. The dirty blonde tried to speak, hit the woman's hand away from her, but before she could do either a golden spear came raining down into her vision. The prongs of the spear came to rest on either side of the valkyrie's head, trapping her on the ground, and Odin swiftly did his business.

A flash of light.

Disorientation.

The doctor tried to blink away the sun spots from her eyes as her hand was clasped gently. Centering her attention, she finally saw a sight for very sore eyes. A sigh of relief escaped her as she lunged at the green eyed valkyrie and was pulled into a large hug.

Looking up to the man, Lauren breathed out a, "Thank you..." before closing her eyes again and hugging Tamsin- who was now rightfully in her own body.

Odin nodded kindly, looking at either women. "You make her strong, human-fae. Or perhaps she is strong for you; time will only tell. Thomisina, you have your body back and still retain the power over your First valkyrie. I will not be there for you always, girl. You must learn to control it by yourself."

"In time," Tamsin said through gritted teeth. She was trying hard not to cry, it seemed.

"I'll help her," Lauren offered. She was definitely crying a little.

"There will be a time where you will resent that answer, doctor," Odin said, his voice sullen. Raising his hand so that Lauren could not retort, he continued, "If you wish to stand beside your loved ones as the end of the world is unleashed, you should go now."

Tamsin sniffled, blinking her eyes rapidly so as to try to get her emotions together. "Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death is come, we are not..."

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent," Lauren began, nodding to Tamsin and smiling slightly. "Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?" She stopped and looked to the great god beside her. "Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?" Turning back to her lover she allowed a gentle smile to pass over her lips. "I didn't know you knew Epicurus."

"He was a pretty chill guy." Tamsin bellowed a laugh as Lauren's eyes grew wide. "Come on," she said, patting the doctor on the back and looking back to her father. "We've got the end of the world to catch.

+++

Kenzi moved just a little closer to Hale as they both stood with their backs against the wooden bar. Her hand was clasped in his, their eyes watching as Bo went over their defensive tactic yet again. Trick sighed as Dyson stepped from his lair with a weapon in hand. The man pointed toward the table already filled with numerous sharp devices and the wolf-shifter shuffled to put down the heavy contraption.

Crystal orbs again flowed over Bo as she sighed deeply, asking once more about the defenses against the Abominations that were definitely coming.

"The door to the Dal," Trick explained for the third time, "is barred by sigils and runes of the highest caliber. Any who mean harm to this place cannot just walk in, Bo."

The succubus sighed heavily, thrumming her fingers on the pool table as she looked over the weapons. Kenzi had a feeling she wasn't actually looking at the axes, swords, and clubs on the greenery as she watched the woman bite her lip.

In truth Bo was thinking about Lauren and, of course, Tamsin and deep down she wished there wasn't a living army about to knock on her door and instead pick up a game of billiards with the valkyrie. That life seemed so far behind them all. She longed for it again, realizing how laughingly it was only a few days ago that it was the case, and she wondered how many days they would have to live this life now. How much stock could the succubus put into one day of killing if it felt like an eternity? Or worse, years passing and it feeling like so much longer. She couldn't just allow this to happen, she wished there was something she could do to stop it. Not for her own sake but for those standing all around her now. They didn't deserve this, hell, she didn't deserve this.

Bo had opened her mouth, trying to speak of the plan again, before the crack of the air caught all of their attentions. It seemed as if lightning had entered the room, coupled with a tornado, because whatever was forming on top of one of the pool tables was not of this world. In fact, Bo surmised, it could have been one of the Abominations coming to attack way sooner than they all had predicted. It was this reason why the succubus picked up a spear and aimed it toward the whirling vortex in the middle of the room, and it was the reason why before she knew what was going to come out of it she threw the weapon with all her might.

There was a surprised holler from the portal, something that made Bo's heart sink, before two blondes came into view with all the suave and pose like Arnold butt naked. They both rose from the table as if they knew they were in some Grade A action flick and looked at everyone there.

Lauren gave a happy, yet dorky, wave while Tamsin air gunned them all.

"So," the valkyrie said, "you miss us?"

#Copdoc #Lost Girl #Tamsin #Lauren Lewis #fanfiction #Bo Dennis #Kenzi Malikov #Hale #Dyson Thornwood #here it is #back by popular demand of still faithful wonderful people #thanks guys

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