#i have been reading altered very slowly cuz it could very well make me too excited to function and i wont know how to calm down

[mihai-florescu]

The part about tsumugi not understanding friendships hurt me enough as it was but then they had to go ahead and mention he's only ever been concerned about his mom... I really can't blame eichi for thinking that to be the reason tsumugi stuck with him.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Ugh. I’ll I’ve been able to think about for days is Kirishima.

Pro Hero Red Riot is always on the move. Always busy. Saving people, doing interviews, kissing babies, the whole nine yards.

When you and Kiri started dating fresh out of UA you knew what you were signing up for. Being part of the hero support course yourself, never afforded you much grandeur or fame, but that was okay. You were trusted with one of, if not the most important part of a hero’s identity- their suit. You were more than happy to tinker away at revisions, or sketching new styles for up and comers, than being out on the field.

You were the only one in the support class, even above Power Loader himself, who Kirishima took his costume and ideas to. You’d made the very first alterations to his hero costume when he first arrived at UA, after the USJ attack. From then on it was sort of a wonderfully professional relationship. As professional as someone like Kiri could be- all large toothy grins, bad jokes, and hands on communications. /Very/ hands on. Kirishima never thought twice about leaning over your shoulder to watch you sketch up the inner workings of other suits, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, always warm and sweet, like all he consumed was candy.

Or sitting next to you, thighs and sides flush as you grew frustrated over his helmet design. He’d snicker and lay one large hand over your own- because by his third year he was already towering over half the staff, let alone the students- to drag your pencil in a different direction, voice soft and secret, just for you.

You never spoke outside of the support class really, especially as the years progressed. Kiri was class 1A after all, and as your own talents started to blossom, the busier you were kept as well. Being consulted to help pros with their designs in just your second year.

But you treasured the hours after school you got to spend with Kirishima. He’d never struck you as particularly male leaning, so while you’d entertain the idea sometimes, in the privacy of your dorm room, of being Kirishima’s boyfriend, you didn’t allow it to mess up the relationship you’d built with the other boy. You chalked it up to your first real crush, and, having always been an overtly rational individual, knew you’d work through it sooner or later. Unwilling to entertain the idea of not even being friends with Kiri. Cuz being his friend would always be better than nothing at all.

But imagine your surprise, the day after graduation, when he arrived at your doorstep. Flowers and chocolates in hand, and a thick envelope nearly bursting at the seams, filled with letters he’d been writing to you over the course of your high school careers.

Apparently, Kirishima hadn’t wanted to trouble you with his feelings when you two were so focused on school, and absorbing as much as you could, and for good reason. But now, he’d stated so clearly- the hesitance behind his wavering grin made your chest tight- you were both adults, out in the world, and if you’d have him, he’d love to take you out.

The rest was sort of history.

Three years later, still going strong.

Though Red Riots newest ranking- from his wavering 7-8, all the way up to 4, had meant an influx in work the last 3 weeks. Kirishima been all over Japan, helping out on various reconnaissance missions, interviews of the rising hero variety, and just generally being kept busy by his agency.

Kiri popped in ever few days, when he could. A quick dinner and cuddle till he had to leave again. A nice long Skype session as he was flown to a new mission, if you were lucky. But the two of you always made things work. You loved each other too much to even entertain the idea of your professional loved interfering to the point of no return, in your personal lives.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, but it did mean it was a manageable. Especially when the two of you tried so hard.

And your combined hard work paid off. Kirishima had been praised internationally, after a mission he was brought in for in Europe went fantastically. The Japanese Hero Commission splashing Red Riot on the front page of anything that consisted of pages, honestly. And awarding him privately with paid time off.

Paid. Time. Off.

That had been yesterday, Friday evening. You’d both returned home late, and despite how tired you both were, it didn’t stop you from fully christening some new sheets you’d bought, before passing out together.

The christening of which you recalled as you sat, sprawled out on the sofa in the living room- one leg thrown back over the back of the sofa, the other extended out towards the opposite end. A book in hand in front of you, free arm cradled behind your head. Trying to focus on the pages, as the bright, early morning sun splashed across them.

Which was hard, when all you could focus on was the blossoming bruises on your inner thighs, and pleasant ache in your ass, and the sting of the bite on your neck whenever you turned your neck even a fraction.

The night previous had been rushed, all teeth, and gnawing, and clawing, and racing towards the end together. It was wonderful, and you’d always loved the aftermath Kirishima would leave on your body. Ever the closet possessor he was.

He’d never been much of an early riser, so it was another two or so hours of trying and failing to read for you, before the familiar sounds of large, lumbering footsteps could be heard slowly making their way downstairs. You smiled, cheeks flushing, despite the many years you’d known the man, as you caught a glimpse of his wild, shoulder length red hair first. Soft at the tips, wild at the root. Kirishima yawned, ducking below the entryway into the living room, and just barely catching you staring, before you lifted your book higher to block his view of your face.

You could practically hear the grin behind his chuckling, as he stalked towards you with more purpose now. His legs in view under your book, and his hair a plum of red above the top as he crouched at the edge of the sofa. Two large hands cupping each of your feet- teasing your toes briefly, snickering at how you giggled behind your book.

Kirishima’s eyes raked over you slowly- noting what seemed to him, as miles of gorgeous, unblemished skin, ready to be marked up. Clad in just a pair of briefs you’d thrown on before coming downstairs, almost every inch of you was bare to your husband. Kirishima drinking it in slowly, as he crawled above you on the sofa. Hardening just one fingertip, and tracing it from your ankle, all the way up to your inner thigh, as he towered over you on the sofa finally. The prick of sharpness on the soft flesh of your thigh causing a hitch in your breath. Which you held, until Kiri’s finger turned smooth once more, and he took a handful of the meatiest part of your thigh into his hand, and /squeezed/.

((NSFW warning ahead, I can’t help myself so continue reading at your own risk ;3))

“Ei-Chan,” you breathed out finally, setting your book down on the floor beside you. Bright red eyes meeting yours, as one of your hands found it’s way into Kirishima’s thick locks, the other wrapping around his broad back, palm settled just between the mans shoulder blades.

“Marked you up good last night, huh pebble?” Kirishima snickered, and you huffed. Faux annoyed as you smacked the mans back, tensing once more as Kiri’s fingers danced along the bruises and bite marks littering your thigh. Tapping each one gently, causing you to flinch with pleasure each time, before he moved to your other thigh. Doing the same, as he dipped his face down into the crook of your neck, and just breathed.

The shaky sigh he let out afterwards was victory enough for you, you reasoned, as even the mans strong shoulders shook as he breathed you in.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Kirishima nodded quickly, nosing along your neck, huffing like a puppy as he went.

“I missed you too,” you reminded him, biting into the mans shoulder gently, as the hand on his back drifted down to Kirishima’s ass, and you shook it jokingly. Feeling the weight of the mans cheek jiggle in your palm, laughing despite yourself as Kiri growled at you.

“Don’t tease me, dude,” Kiri mock cried, pulling back to give you a pout, as the hand on your inner thigh drifted center again, where, unprompted, Kirishima cupped your cock through your underwear. Smirk tugging at his bitten lips- bad habit he’d always had, you’d long since stopped trying to get him to fix it- as he ground his palm against you, almost too rough, and you groaned. Eyes fluttering shit, lip between your own teeth as he bucked up, shifting your hips just right to grind your quickly stiffening cock against Kirishima’s hand.

“So eager,” Kirishima mused, balking suddenly as you moved your hand cupping his ass, into his boxers- palming at his cheek briefly, before two fingers delved into the hot cleft of his bubble butt, brushing just briefly against the tight pucker of his hole, causing the larger man to twitch, and fall flat against you. Tense for all of two seconds, before he propped his ass back up, and wiggled against your fingers.

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed, head tilted back, long enough for Kirishima to latch onto your Adam’s apple, and suck hungrily as he continued to stroke you through your underwear. Lasting all of two seconds, before shredding through them with a finger, and taking your cock in his hand.

“Those were my best Calvins, jackass,” you huffed, brushing Kiri’s hair back out of his eyes as he leaned up- holding your gaze as he let a long string of spit fall from his Mouth- letting it drip down the side of your cock, before he slicked you up, and began stroking you in earnest. Hot, and wet, calloused palm perfectly rough, and you were putty.

Mewling and fucking into Kiri’s fist with quiet, breathy ‘Ei-Chan’s’ rolling off your tongue. Clinging to enough sense, barely, to bring two fingers up to your mouth to wet, before shoving them back down and into Kiri’s ass, teasing his hole briefly, before sinking your middle finger to the hilt in his hole- both of you moaning out, Kiri at the intrusion, and you at the spasming heat of his tight hole, like a vice on your finger as you fucked the man on it slowly.

You both shifted, Kirishima up on his knees, bringing you into his lap to stroke the two of you together, constantly spitting down on your lengths, hot and filthy, to keep you wet, as the larger man began to pant into your face. Morning breath be damned, you finally, /finally/, kissed him. Reaching between the two of you to cup Kirishima’s heavy ball sac as you did, kneading them gently, and tugging on them whenever Kirishima began to breath a little too heavily.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you so much, so so much, love- love- ah, fuck- love,” Kirishima whined, vulnerable in a way no one else would ever get to see him as you took over for him- needing both hands to stroke both he and yours impressive lengths, Kiri’s hands at your back holding you up in his lap- his arms shook with the force it took, especially as he neared his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Ei,” you whispered against a Kirishima’s lips, eating up his whimpered pleas as they ghosted your lips. “Come on, big guy, cum. Cum all over me, Ei, Mark me up. I wanna feel it, on my cock. Come on.” And that was all it took. With a loud shout, Kirishima’s grip on you tightened, and he hun he’d over your shoulder, quiet all of the sudden, before making a sound like he’d been punched in the gut as he began to cum. Cock thickening up, before pump after pump of thick, hot cum burst from the top of it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight long ropes of cum shooting out all over your chest, and combined cocks, before slowing to a dribble every time Kirishima’s cock throbbed.

You overworked him though, his softening cock, and your own hard length making the filthiest squelching noises as you continued to overstimulate your husband- his cries into your shoulder sending you over the edge, as you leaned against his shoulder, and came undone yourself. Adding to the sticky, hot mess in your laps, before the both of you went quiet. Just the deep, heavy sighs as you caught your breath together filling your the surrounding space.

“My dick feels like it’s gonna fall off,” Kiri muttered finally, leaning you both back into the sofa- making a mental note to get it deep cleaned, as he snuggled you deep into the cushions- his spit wet hands skimming your sides, before they slid beneath you , and he settled comfortably on top. Careful of his weight, always too conscious of crushing you- unless you asked for it, that was, he thiight idly. Fondly.

“We’ve got the next eight days all to ourselves, so I’d maybe see if he can hold out till at least then. Though I’d accept an early leave- no earlier than Thursday, I suppose, if he can’t keep up,” you drawled, wiping your cum covered hands on your stomach as best you could, before wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s waist, and closing your eyes.

“Eight days,” Kirishima echoed, kissing your closed eyes, closing his own as he did so, and shifting to lay more comfortably, face in your neck as he felt sleep threatening to take him once again.

“Eight days,” you parroted back again, snickering, and yawning. Ignoring the tacky cum that was going to dry all crusty and gross between the two of you, in favor of hooking a leg around Kiri’s, and allowing sleep to take you.

But not before whispering one last “I love you” between the two of you, Kirishima mumbling contentedly back at you before falling back asleep as well.

[kaminohana]

the meme man full analysis

Yeehaw here we go. Analysis of Mikoto Kayano’s video and song, along with some theories about the many themes and symbols in the video. Note: If there’s any other supplemental material for him out there, I haven’t read it. This is just an analysis with the music video we were given. If I happen to miss stuff that was mentioned before, I may talk about it in another post lmao

I was SUPER invested in this video as I watched it and soon realized “Oh shit, I think Mikoto’s plural”. Cuz, you know, I’m plural too (not disclosing what kind) and it felt SO good to see some actual parallels to stuff I go through- though of course not to Mikoto’s degree.

That said, I feel I should make a disclaimer in passing: yes, portraying your only plural character as homicidal ain’t the best representation. But, you know, we’ve seen other cases like that in Milgram so I’m just gonna leave it at that. Personally, I’m not that offended because the execution is SO top-notch. Though, hey, I totally understand how this can be very frustrating to other systems to see plurality depicted in such an unhealthy light- if it’s not for you, it’s not for you.

Keep in mind the point of the Milgram series is to make you uncomfortable in so quickly incriminating someone; if you’re hesitating to determine someone as guilty, hey, that’s probably intended and good! It’s about personal decision, so I’m not going to judge you one way or the other in voting. I just find it fascinating how these videos can put us in such conflict. This is all just my own perspective, BTW, so if you disagree with some of these points, good! I’m just hoping to share my thoughts since I can make a lot of connections. I’m by no means an expert in plurality or tarot, I just have some background in both and decided to try my hand at this analysis, so I really don’t the final say on what’s going on in the video.

Now, onto the actual video analysis.

I’m sticking with the basic idea that Mikoto is split into two parts; his more loveable, gentler side, which I referred to in another post as Softboy Mikoto, and the more violent side which may be acting as a catharsis to his frustrations. I referred to this side previously as the Devil alter, as he is depicted with the Devil major arcana tarot card. I can see how this could be taken badly, so for now I’m just going to refer to him as the shadow alter. There are many themes of duality in the video, most commonly with the symbol of the half moon which appears so many times. Shadow of the moon etc etc. I’ll be bringing this up several times as I analyze the lyrics. I’ll be breaking down the lyrics as evidence to support the idea that Mikoto is plural, and to show how softboy Mikoto (and shadow alter Mikoto) view this particular relationship and how this culminates in murder. Sometimes I refer to Mikoto (as a whole), softboy Mikoto, or shadow alter Mikoto depending on what I’m trying to describe in the below.

First piece: the title. MeMe. Me x2. A dead giveaway, like Umbilical. Also, it can be a meme, which is interesting taking the definition of the word meme in this context: “an element of a culture or system of behavior passed from one individual to another by imitation or other nongenetic means” (Oxford Dictionaries).  HMMMM. I know memes are generally within the context of a community, but I think it’s interesting to actually apply this to Mikoto. What exactly is being passed on? Could we argue that Mikoto’s frustrations from one of his parts is being passed on to the other? Interesting to think about, though it may not be relevant.

Going into the lyrics:

So from here I’m guessing there was a point in Mikoto’s life where his plurality was not an issue; or, potentially, there was a time before his split. These were the good times.

Playing dead vs. being alive – representing duality. May refer to how, when one side has their way, the other is locked away in the headspace with no control, thus feeling like being dead. In the context of “if only”, perhaps he’s wishing that he just didn’t do anything if only to prevent things from getting this far.

“If” I could end- I believe Mikoto (particularly softboy Mikoto) is saying “Hey, I have no control over my other side. If I did, would things still be the same? Would I still be ‘letting’ this happen?”

“Keep it” and “hide it away” I feel like are both representative of his shadow alter and of the desires that alter represents. Many words related to destruction are tied to this alter, so it could be seen as Mikoto trying to hide those urges as well.

“’I’ will save ‘me’”- this is a very interesting line that I think very well encapsulates the shadow alter’s initial motives; he’s saying “hey, I’m going to take care of us,” I believe to try and convince softboy Mikoto to let him out. As far as if softboy Mikoto can actually “let” him out is TOTALLY up for debate.

Part of the reason I refer to the other alter as softboy Mikoto is because there are softer words I notice used by him in the song; here’s I’m seeing “snuggle”, so I think this side of him is more vulnerable and soft.

SWITCH, shake up that brain- wow couldn’t be any more obvious here

This is where the chorus starts. This I think is from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, PARTICULARLY when he’s trapped in the headspace. There are many forms of plurality IRL in which alters cannot simultaneously front, so one or more are “pushed” back into the headspace. This very act occurs several times throughout the song in the weird minimalist vaporwave shadow realm room, where the tarot cards are. During this time, we can assume that is when the shadow alter is fronting. Softboy Mikoto slowly starts to become more helpless and fearful in this space as the song goes on, and this is where he makes his celtic cross tarot spread that quite frankly defines the whole song. I discussed that in my other post.

Another facet of plurality that is applied here is amnesia, which is common, especially when alters are pushed back to the headspace. Within the headspace, there may be a lack of awareness to the outside world, which Mikoto seems to express in his confused sentiments like the above (in the video, he is also scratching his head, which as a gesture can represent being confused). “Why am I here?” can act as a double entendre, both referring to “Why have I suddenly been pushed to this headspace?” as well as the whole point of Milgram- “Why am I in prison?”. He may not be aware of exactly what he did, hence why he feels it’s a mistake. He may be experiencing amnesia of what his shadow alter is doing, so he doesn’t even know what crime he committed. However, he at least has enough awareness to tell someone else is present in his body doing things, so he begs the viewer “Hey, just watch whatever my body is doing and it’ll all eventually make sense. I don’t have access to this information, but you do.” I thought this was an interesting fourth wall break.

The truth revealing itself could also be the truth coming to light from the particular tarot reading he does in the headspace; note that the cards only seem to be appear in this place and not in the outside world. So softboy Mikoto is trying to figure out what’s going on this way. If he can’t figure it out himself, maybe the cards can give him some direction.

Another duality- “I won’t forgive you if you reveal the truth” vs. “However I know I’m right when I say I’m innocent”. Or he could be right about something else.

I’m wondering if the breaking here is just reflecting the shadow alter or is softboy Mikoto actually wishing he could end the shadow alter. He at least wants things to change; the way things are right now is not something he’s okay with. Though, it sounds like he isn’t getting help with this and has no idea if he can even arrest full control again. It seems at this point, this has been going on for a while so he’s stopped trying.

In the video, the shadow alter is doing a GREAT job hiding the evidence; while of course probably just trying to not get caught, the shadow alter may also be trying to hide his crime from softboy Mikoto so he’s none the wiser.

He’s hoping he can be rid of the shadow alter side, but I think he also is dumping all his difficult feelings onto the shadow alter. Maybe he feels its some sort of release, even if he can’t control it, so he feels a lot of guilt over the shadow alter’s existence, even though that alter is serving a purpose as a conduit for those emotions.

I really really think though that there IS some connection between softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto. Maybe they are both truly aware of each other, hence the scene where they are viewing each other through the mirror. I think here, softboy Mikoto might be admitting that it feels good to let the shadow alter out, like a hug. The “minus energy” probably refers to the shadow alter.

“Maybe it’s okay that we’re separated like this?” he wonders. There seems to be a sense of feeling alive at least that is conveyed through the shadow alter.

SPLIT IN HALF- yeah, again, pretty encompassing.

In the video, I think this is when we have a switch, as Mikoto’s expression changes in the outside world mirror.

The chorus again, softboy Mikoto is shoved into the vaporwave shadow realm headspace. He’s asking the audience to investigate him here, but I also like to joke that he’s like “uwu look at me I could never harm anybody, pwease let me out”, which may be true only so far as softboy Mikoto is out.

I wonder if in “I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me” is directed at the shadow alter instead of the audience? Like softboy Mikoto is saying “I swear to god if you murdered someone im gonna be so pissed, but I also already kinda know it’s happening.” Just another take.

In the video, softboy Mikoto is THROWN into the headspace, where he is gifted with just one hint of what’s going on: The Devil tarot card.

You DARE accuse Miette of murder? Oh! 1000 years jail for Milgram viewer!

Now the vaporwave space starts to turn into a bloody mess; perhaps now softboy Mikoto is starting to put two and two together.

“Hurting it, holding it down, it doesn’t change anything, does it”- I definitely understand this being plural, like if your alters are causing problems, you may try and chastise them, or you may try and lock them away deep inside, but that often doesn’t stop them from existing. It’s really cool how that idea is present here. Like YES that’s how it is quite often. So even if softboy Mikoto TRIES to smother or accuse his shadow alter, that’s not going to change anything.

It being the same anywhere he goes makes me think he’s been putting up with this for a long time, that it’s not about what environment he’s in because his shadow alter is with him everywhere he goes.

“It’s like what’s wrong isn’t wrong”- may be referring to multiple things:

-the shadow alter having a different morality (hence why murder is okay for him, his indulgence in smokes and…redbull/alcohol, etc)

-OR, how softboy Mikoto’s amnesia isn’t letting him understand the full picture so everything is okay when he’s out fronting (shadow alter cleaned the place up and stuff, perhaps hiding all evidence of murder)

-“I’m already the fake one”- a very common sentiment for plural folks, worrying if you as an alter aren’t “the original” or if you’re not actually split and it’s something you’re making up, etc. I think softboy Mikoto is having these feelings. Poor boy, wish we could get you some therapy instead :/ (all of Milgram would be very different if only most of these people could get therapy, let’s be honest)

Now, what’s special here is that BOTH alters are in the headpace, with shadow alter Mikoto looming ominously behind softboy Mikoto.

During this next instrumental, just a side note: we see what’s going on through security footage. The security cameras reflecting a third person perspective is kind of neat in context of pluralism, where someone else fronting can feel like a third person awareness to another alter. I may be thinking too much into this one, but it’s a fun connection.

Another thing many plural folk go through: DISSOCIATION FROM REALITY. Ah yes, my good friend dissociation. Especially like in Mikoto’s case, where the consequences of being split have drastic consequences, he could be running away from the truth which may always be partially concealed to him. Something’s VERY wrong, he knows this for sure, and it may be at this point he really realizes “Oh shit. I just committed murder.” But instead of taking responsibility in any way, he’s trying to imagine that it’s a fabricated reality. I’m not going to say if this makes him bad or not, but it is a known coping mechanism.

I know I mention that the bad habits of smoking and drinking may be the shadow alters habits, but they could also be softboy Mikoto’s own methods of escapism, which definitely fits with the above lyrics. “I need to wake up soon”- but he still realizes that he’s going to have to face the harsh truth of reality soon.

Now this point indicates a marked change in softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto’s relationship: I believe there may be a time when softboy Mikoto expects to come back out to the front, but now the shadow alter is starting to take over fully and keep softboy Mikoto locked inside. This is supported by the Outcome card in his celtic cross spread being The Devil. Not only does this card have its own meanings, but here it may mean that the more violent side of him takes over.

Again, don’t know if he’s talking to the audience or his shadow alter in never forgiving this outcome. I believe softboy Mikoto does have a clearer morality in that murder is NOT okay, and if he were to fully acknowledge that he as a whole was capable of that, I think he’d break down. So he’s like “it better NOT be true” because he doesn’t know how he’d be able to deal with that.

Interesting in the video is when Mikoto snaps and the headspace turns red again; I would think this is when the shadow alter is entering the scene and taking over. The snap here is symbolic of the switch.

Now presumably softboy Mikoto is like “PWEASE WET ME OUT MISTEW OBAMA”, which, again with the double meaning, can refer to letting him out of the vaporwave shadow realm headspace OR letting him out of prison. Both apply.

“That it’s a lie

That I’m right”- a nice duality here. Mikoto is having difficulty separating the truth from reality.

Also NOW he is forgiving. Forgiveness vs not forgiveness (grudge)

I think it’s gotten so bad that he’s like “okay fine. Fine if I committed murder, fine if you’re accusing me of murder, but please help me understand what’s going on. Let me out”. Maybe he’ll forgive the shadow alter if only he fesses up to the murder.

Of note for the scene however is that shadow alter Mikoto is holding up The Fool card, which represents softboy Mikoto in this case. “I’m right” may be the shadow alter’s sentiment.

-THE CARDS AT THE END-

Then, all the cards show up in more detail, all depicting weapons instead of the standard minor arcana that you might see in your standard Rider Waite tarot deck (which these are based off of). The Wands are baseball bats, the Swords are kitchen knives, the Cups are…poison cans? Acid? The Pentacles are….records but I can see these being rotary saws if you squint. The Wheel of Fortune has car wheels with a snake….GTA time baby (the snake being hidden danger, the devil’s temptation, etc). The chariot is a really weird motorcycle death machine. I was thinking how like, people would drag people along behind them while driving a vehicle as a method of torture so there is that.

Now we see some cards not in the original spread- I think this represents shadow alter Mikoto inserting himself into the headspace and changing things to fit his goals. We see a couple placed in the original spread, but some don’t and are just free-floating, but you’ll see below we have enough context to decipher their meaning.

First, it’s the Page of Pentacles, which has taken over the position of the 7 of swords as the current challenge affecting the issue. This card indicates “Manifestation, financial opportunity, skill development”. I think this means the shadow alter is finally learning to take full control.

Then we see the reverse 2 of swords, which represents “Indecision, confusion, information overload, stalemate”. This could probably represent softboy Mikoto not suddenly understanding why the shadow alter is ALSO in the headspace. Maybe his dual presence in the outside world AND the headspace is indicative of exactly when he learned to take full control. This was NOT in Mikoto’s original spread.

Wheel of Fortune again, which was in the original spread. “Bad luck, negative external forces, out of control”. Yup, that confirms it.

Next, the Five of Swords from the original spread comes up. “Conflict, tension, loss.png, defeat, win at all costs, betrayal”. Softboy Mikoto is now being completely taken over. There is a facedown card on the chair. This might be the one that reads as Death later, so it may be that softboy Mikoto is…KILLED OFF?

Cup of Ace, “Love, compassion, creativity, overwhelming emotion”. I think this one is also meant to represent softboy Mikoto, but it could be that the shadow alter sees it as an act of mercy to take full control for softboy Mikoto. Maybe he feels his alter can’t handle reality and he’s going to take over full time. Or more likely he just has ulterior motives.

Reverse King of Cups. “emotional manipulation, moodiness, volatility”. Softboy Mikoto was lead along, thinking it was okay to leave things to the shadow alter or to exist alongside him. Now we see that isn’t a viable solution.

Reverse Five of Wands. “conflict avoidance, diversity, agreeing to disagree”.  I went over this more in the other post.

Chariot is the last one, WHICH ALSO WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL SPREAD. “Control, willpower, success, action, determination”. The shadow alter Mikoto has taken full control. Which is very quickly followed by…

Shadow alter Mikoto drawing Death. Also not in the original spread. Perhaps effectively “killing off” softboy Mikoto and betraying him.

Concluding Thoughts.

Now, I understand I do take most of these lyrics from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, but I’m sure there’s a layer of deception added on by his shadow alter. The Challenge card of the 7 of swords did represent betrayal. So softboy Mikoto’s only context into what’s going on outside may be his headspace tarot reading. If you want to question some of the lyrics, or even think one of the alters is lying, that would add SO much to the complexity of the situation, and I wouldn’t put it past the Milgram team to add something like that.

Common Themes/Symbols:

The mirror, both in the headspace and in the outside world bathroom

The Hanged Man- in a painting in the headspace and on Mikoto’s shirt. Indicative of being wrongly accused or martyred. Softboy Mikoto is likely represented with this, as well as The Fool. The Fool painting probably is there to show that he doesn’t know any better, that he is without the knowledge of what his shadow alter is doing (or doesn’t believe he’s doing anything wrong)

The Half Moon- a light side and a dark side. Pretty self-explanatory. Symbolically, it can also represent life and death. NICE.

Sorry if the conclusions end up being kind of vague. That’s the way a lot of this video is; what’s really going on, as it usually is, is up to viewer interpretation at this stage. I was just hoping to provide a bit of context into the images in the video, plural life, and narrator interpretation. I just really love this video and after this full analysis hope others can at least appreciate the work that went into it.

[psychewithwings]

Let Them Watch: Shika NSFW

The most illegal thing I’ve written so far... oh boi 

NSFW 18+ :  Nasty talk, vulgar speech from third parties, degradation, exhibitionism, breeding, jealousy, revenge fuck, arranged marriage, dub con????? just because the situation is forced. 

Alt. Un.  Very inspired by the fact that when 1700s royals were married people would watch them have sex on their wedding night so they knew the marriage was consummated. 

“I loath you,” you muttered under your breath to Shikamaru. You stood next to Shikamaru at the alter. Your whalebone corset was digging into the flesh of your waist, making this situation, if possible, even more uncomfortable. “Well don’t think I’m happy about this either, it’s a fucking drag.” You rolled your eyes and smoothed the large skirt of your wedding gown. The leader of the ceremony droned on and on, reading the fine print of the agreement. You could feel the eyes of all the observers boring into your back. The royalty from the Land of Fire, the elders, and of course, the Feudal Lord himself, had all come to oversee this arrangement. “You think I asked for this? This is the last thing I wanted,” he added. Your eyes narrowed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you hissed. “Hey, I thought you loathed me, why does it matter what I mean?” You hated  how he always made a point that was difficult to argue. “I’m just saying, you could do worse than me… the last thing… tch-” He chuckled under his breath, as he raised his arm, winding an elaborate gold ribbon around it. He then clasped your hand and wound the ribbon down and around your arm, tying you to him forever. His grip was tight and he pulled the ribbon, causing it to rub and somewhat burn on the flesh of your arm. “It doesn’t matter, we weren’t given a choice.”

Shikamaru had a point there, you weren’t given a choice. You were only told about this union two weeks ago. Your clan informed you that due to your unique abilities, the Feudal Lord had paid a hefty sum to have you married off to the most intelligent man in the village. As soon as you’d heard that, you’d known it was Shikamaru. Shikamaru had been a nuisance since you were classmates with him in the academy. He was always slacking off and being lazy, but he got away with it because he was smart enough. While you were intelligent, you still needed to train heavily to maintain your maximum power levels. Shikamaru excelled without having to put in any effort at all, in fact he slept through most training sessions. It was infuriating to watch, not to mention, he was always calling you a “troublesome woman” because you actually wanted to work hard.

Every mission you ever went on with him, since your days at the academy, was strangely fluid, (even though the slacker had managed to become your boss practically). They were filled with good conversation and even better team work. You were assigned together, just the two of you often enough. You made a very powerful duo, this was true, but he infuriated you constantly, with little things... Like how he made you feel warm when he was too close, examining a map, and how flustered you felt when he would see your expression, smirk down at you and coyly ask, “what?” He knew what, he was being a tease, always trying to play with your feelings it seemed, because he was bored and intelligent enough to pull it off. He was always doing something to get your attention; brushing his hand against yours before giving a half hearted apology; staring at you from across the room with lustful eyes; calling you pet names just to see you sneer. But then he’d suddenly be calling you “troublesome” and criticizing your strategy plans again, and it was back to arguing. The truth was, you didn’t loath Shikamaru, not at all, it was the fact that he was constantly teasing you with his games of push and pull that made it impossible for you to accept how you really felt… you were crazy about him.

You begrudgingly looped the ribbon around the piece that Shikamaru was holding. “And now, with this knot the union is made, and will now be sealed with a kiss.” You could feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, this kiss would have you spending the rest of your life with him. You turned towards him slowly and were met with that Shika smirk you knew all too well. He was always so cocky. His hands brushed down the sides of your face, softer than you’d expected. He leaned in and his lips brushed against yours as he gently enveloped your bottom lip. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss in response. His fingers gripped your waist and you could feel his nails digging into your flesh even through the corset bodice of the dress. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip before he nipped it softly with his teeth. As he pulled away you stared into his eyes. You were stunned and confused. Your breath fell out of your mouth in shallow pants. Part of it was the constricting bodice of the dress, but the truth was that no one had ever kissed you like that before.

~

Shikamaru undid the knot and gave the ribbon back to the ceremony leader. He took your hand, admiring the shock on your face. If you only knew how long he had wanted to do that. Maybe it was too much, kissing you like that when you were already stressed about this arranged wedding. But it was about time he told you how he felt. He didn’t have a choice in marrying you, that was all true, it was just his luck that he was betrothed to the girl who had stolen his heart so long ago, that first week at the academy. You were so powerful and yet you worked so hard, it impressed him; he admired you. He often slept in class hoping he’d dream of you, since you detested him for his lack of effort in school. He in turn called you “troublesome woman” not for your fiery temper, but because you were his biggest distraction. But now, as the fates would have it, you were his, though it was a drag that it had to be this way. Shikamaru had hoped to make you his on his own one day and he kicked himself for not making a move sooner.

He lead you down the isle of the ceremony space, the watchful eyes of the spectators following you both. He made sure to keep his grip on your arm gentle, supportive, the way he wanted you to see him. He lead you out the doors and into the corridor to head towards the second part of the ceremony, the feast. Your silence worried him that you were truly miserable with the arrangement and so he moved his hand from your arm to hold your pinkie with his. He was surprised when you moved to interlace the rest of your fingers with his. You paused just before reaching the doors of the great hall. “Shika… I-“ He waited patiently as you gathered your thoughts. “I don’t hate you,” you said and his cheeks flushed. A sly smile crossed his lips and he spun you into his chest, tilted your chin up with the knuckle of his index finger and kissed you again. This time, he didn’t hold back. His tongue delved between your parted lips, just before he grabbed hold of your bottom lip with his teeth and sucked. You whined and pressed your body closer to his. He growled in response and pushed you against the nearest wall. Shikamaru pulled away and leaned against the wall, his arm resting on the ancient stone. “I wanted to do that without the audience, so you’d know I meant it,” his breathing was ragged through his speech. “I- yo-you like me?” your eyes were wide and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He brushed his hand down your arm and held tightly at the elbow, meeting your eyes. “More than you could know,” he said and then turned to hold open the door for you to enter the great hall.

~

You were confused to say the least, he liked you? Was he playing a cruel joke? You would have thought so for sure, but it was the kiss that had you feeling differently. You watched him closely throughout dinner, and made conversation. You figured, even though you knew him quite well already you should deepen the surface level relationship. You wanted to ask him 1000 questions about how he felt about you but the Feudal Lord was giving a self indulgent toast. “May this couple bear many children and may they grow up to be exceptional ninja for the Konoha…” You rolled your eyes and glanced to see Shikamaru watching your face with concern. “We are just a baby factory to him, aren’t we…” Shikamaru leaned closer to you, “I’m afraid so.” You rolled your head to look at him while the Feudal Lord droned on. “And that massive brain couldn’t think of a way out of this?” You smiled at him finding solace now, in the fact that he was familiar… and being forced into the strange experience. He had hardly let go of your hand since the ceremony, a silent understanding falling between the two of you, and years of buried emotions rising to the surface. “Sadly no, Lord Kakashi informed me that the Feudal Lord threatened to cut all funding from the village if these arranged marriages didn’t take place.” He paused before thoughtfully adding, “I asked him if I could ask you on a date instead, marriage seemed like a lot so fast.” You laughed and sipped your glass of champagne. A date would have been much preferred to the current situation. “Why didn’t you?” you asked. Shikamaru adjusted his posture, clearly he had been waiting for you to ask something like this, although it seemed he still hadn’t found a way to word his answer. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d say yes… I… thought you hated me,” he said it with a smile but you could feel the underlying pain. You widened your eyes in shock,”I thought you hated me!” You both laugh looking at each other, the hatred now boiling down to something else entirely. “Well, tell you what, I’ll agree to the date if you can shut him up,” you gestured to the Feudal Lord with your glass. Shikamaru smirked, “still so feisty, are you this feisty in bed?”

His question caught you off guard and your breath hitched in your throat. You were looking for an answer or clever retort when he added, “cuz’ they’re gonna love that.” “W-what?” the realization dawned on you, “no, wait! I thought that was just a rumor.” Shikamaru glared to where the Feudal Lord continued to ramble on trying to justify his new decree by telling a story about his parent’s incredibly successful arranged marriage. “I thought so too, but Kakashi told me that marriages can be annulled if there is no proof of consummation… they watch for proof… or that’s what they say at least.” Your corset was suddenly too tight, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. You were stuttering, wracking your brain for the best way out of this. “Listen, there isn’t a way out, but I do have a plan…”

Step One was to try and get Shikamaru as drunk as possible in hopes of whiskey dick. However that plan was foiled quickly due to the lack of alcohol being served in either of your direction. Step One revised was simple enough, encourage everyone else to drink as much as possible, in hopes that they would pass out and there would be less viewers to the spectacle. The dancing ensued and large bottles of champagne were uncorked and devoured. It was strange however, that the Feudal Lord refused glass after glass that was offered to him. He was prepared to see this till the end.

Step two, was to make the act as boring as possible for them. They might force it, but they would not get to enjoy it.

The large bed was elaborate, plated in gold, with floral designs winding up all four posts. A single white fitted sheet was the only linen used to drape the bed. The bed sat on a raised platform, with two entrances on either side, like a stage… it was a stage. You had been given a set of white lingerie to wear. It was a corset, but this one left your breasts exposed, cupping them and pushing them up. A strip of fabric they had the nerve to call underwear was the only thing you wore below the waist. You were dressed, hair fixed, and makeup applied by two ladies in waiting, who were absolutely given strict guidelines by the Feudal Lord. The makeup was minimal, but almost too perfect. It made you look almost unreal, but resembling a doll more so than an ethereal being. You were the star of his sick fantasy. But you wouldn’t be alone Shikamaru would be there too, and you had a plan.

Unfortunately, the plan was failing, while you both had encouraged others to drink, the Feudal Lord must have encouraged them to drink water. The crowd was perfectly rowdy and as you entered onto the platform, hoots and hollers echoed around the large room. The seating was raked, and eyes appeared all around, above and below the platform. You sat timidly on the edge of the bed, doing your best to ignore the grotesque words of a few of the audience members.

“Look at her gorgeous tits.” “Fuck that corset is doing wonders, baby!”

Shikamaru joined you shortly there after, dressed in a pair of tight white shorts. You patted the bed beside you awkwardly. Shikamaru shuffled over and sat down beside you, trying his best to ignore the crowd. You took him in, in his designated ceremony outfit. His muscular thighs were showcased perfectly and his abs were well defined. As you examined his body, he surveyed yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the growing bulge in his pants. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, he was big… fuck. You were already rubbing your thighs together in anticipation, but now was not the time to drool over him. You had to look bored, act bored, disinterested.  You sat there awkwardly side by side not sure how to start things off. You swore you could hear the Feudal Lord laughing from his designated seat. He was enjoying your discomfort and the awkwardness of the spectacle.

The jeering from the audience grew louder as the crowd grew impatient, the alcohol in their blood making them fidgety and restless. “Let’s see some action pretty boy!” “Yeah, put your fingers in her pussy… I wanna see her squirm.” You knew it was wrong that their lewd suggestions lit a fire in you, but you couldn’t help imagine Shikamaru doing those things to you. Your desire was becoming overwhelming.

“Lets get this over with,” he said and smiled at you, taking your hand and then squeezing it. “It’s gonna be fine, I’m right here with you okay? And I’ll take good care of you.” You nodded and squeezed back, taking solace in his presence. He reached for your face and pulled you to him. The way he kissed you was becoming comforting, and strangely addictive. You were already wanting more, but this was not the time. He trailed his hand up from it’s hold on your waist to the bodice of the lingerie and his fingertips traced the top of your breast, moving down again to lightly pinch your nipple.

You softly mewled at his touch, grateful that the platform put space between you and the audience and that their shouting was drowning out any sounds that escaped your lips. He moved down kissing your jaw and finding his way to your neck. You inhaled sharply and gripped his exposed thigh, he was far too good at this. “I thought we weren’t gonna give ‘em a show,” he whispered in your ear, then bit down on it. A soft whimper left your throat in response. “I’m not trying to- it’s just, you’re playing with me too much.” “I have to make you wet so I don’t hurt you,” he explained. You could feel him smiling against your neck, “so, you like me playing with you?” He sunk his teeth into your neck and suckled the soft flesh, pulling it with his teeth, creating a purple splotch for all to see. “Shika-ah- now is really not the time- mmhh- to play.”  His hand trailed down your torso and stopped at the waistband of your underwear. “I know, but I like making you make these cute little sounds.” Shikamaru pressed the pad of his finger, rubbing up and down your clothed slit. “Oh fuck,” you sighed, he growled in response and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He was rubbing more desperately, listening to the sounds of your moans. You began to stroke his cock through his shorts and he let out a hiss. Shikamaru pulled the cloth of your underwear to the side and slowly slid his middle finger into your tight heat. You whined in response as he began to slowly thrust and curl his digit inside you. Your hand reached down and you began to palm his dick in return. You could feel the wet patch of his pre-cum on the cloth of the shorts. You moaned into his mouth, he was so hard already, and you were wiggling your hips with need. You did your best to still them, to follow what you’d agreed with Shikamaru, but your resolve was crumbling.

“Just fuck her already.” “Just shove your dick in!”

You pulled away from his lips and moved to his neck. “I guess it’s working,” you whispered relieved. But with the way his finger was curling inside you, you were wishing you didn’t have to be boring. Your eyes glanced into the crowd of drunken rowdy royalty. Something about the sea of eyes you were met with had you clenching around him. “Shit…” he hissed in response and began to pump his finger faster. “I wanna feel you cum all over my hand,” he growled before pressing another finger inside, stretching your walls. You moaned, louder this time than you had meant to. The crowd cheered in response, shouting more of their explicit ideas of what Shikamaru should do to you next.

You pulled his shorts down, and your mouth watered at the sight of his thick cock slapping up against his abs. A large drop of pre-cum oozing from the tip. You used your thumb to circle the head, spreading the pre-cum around. Shikamaru’s breath hitched in his throat, his fingers slowing inside you, your teasing proving to be quite the distraction. “If you keep that up, I won’t be able  to hold back as easily,” he said, his breath moving in and out of his lungs more rapidly. Your eyes flicked to the crowd and then back to him. “Shika… don’t hold back, I need it so bad,” you ground your hips down into his hands, begging for more. “Are you sure? they’re all gonna see…” he questioned before his gaze darkened, “or is that what you want?” The guilt spread all over your face, before you confirmed his suspicions.

He didn’t waste time flattening you to the bed and climbing on top of you. “Shit, I didn’t actually think you’d get off on being watched,”  his tone becoming darker as he lifted your leg and ran his tongue from your ankle to your inner thigh. He bit down on the soft flesh, sucking another dark purple mark into your skin. “You wanna put on a fucking show? You like them all watching you?” He sat up and landed a sharp smack to the bruise he’d just sucked into your skin. “Yes, ah- a show, let them watch, just please fuck me,” you pleaded. He laughed deviously, “oh not yet princess,” his devilish eyes sparked and glowed with lust. He held  himself over you, and licked a stripe across your breast. He settled on sucking your nipple into his mouth, pulling at it with his teeth. He took the other in his hand and began to twist and pull it with his fingers. He released your nipple, “you wanna show off?” Your eyes widened at his implication. “Wh-what are you gonna do?”

Shikamaru climbed behind you and faced you towards the crowed. He held you up on your knees, one hand around your neck and the other on your breast. “Look at her pretty fucking tits huh?” The spectators cheered and began yelling obscenities. He pulled you down on your ass to where you were sitting in front of him and he pried your legs apart with his own. “And see her pretty little pussy?” The crowd was again loud with approval. This was now becoming the show they wanted. “Yeah well take a good long look now because she is all mine.” His tone was filled with lust as he said it and he spread you open with his fingers, allowing everyone to drink in the sight of your exposed core. He began to circle your clit slowly while, everyone watching whistled and cheered, your body grinding into his hand, seeking further friction. You hated how much it turned you on, having all these people watch, but it did. The way their eyes were hungrily taking in your body on display while Shikamaru played with you like a toy.  

He moved to where he was over you and you were laying on your back. “You want this?” You mewled, longing for his touch again. “Yes, I do, I need it.” He laughed over you, “why don’t you ask nicely hmm?” “Please, Shikamaru, please.” His thumb traced your lips before delving into your mouth. “You’re so cute when you beg,” he growled before slowly, inch by inch, easing his cock inside of you. “Ah- ohhh fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Does my cock feel good?” He began to move but teasingly slow. “Oh it’s so good Shika,” you whined. He slowed his thrusts even more, “is it better than Kiba?” he whispered in your ear. Your eyes grew wide, “wh-what?” He started fucking you with deeper strokes, each one his cock is hitting your cervix. “Oh you didn’t think I knew about that? Thought I had no idea you were fucking Kiba all these years?” he growled. His jealousy was pent up, from watching you from the side lines, running off with his comrade into the wood, or sneaking off during missions for a quickie. At the time, Shikamaru was unable to express himself for the sheer reason that he was sure you hated him. But now you belonged to each other… he didn’t have to hide anything anymore. “Do you have any idea how much I liked you?” The way he said it was full of regret and relief. You looked up at him with wide eyes, you’d thought he detested you until today… you’d had no idea how he really felt. “So think of this as revenge… I wanna hear you screaming my fucking name,” he smirked and gave you a particularly hard thrust making you cry out. “And I think they wanna hear you scream it too.”

Shikamaru was aware of the watching crowed and while he wasn’t thrilled with their prying eyes, he was aware of how the humiliation made your cunt clench around his cock. He slowed his thrusts till he was practically still inside of you. You whined and pulled at his shoulders, wordlessly begging him to continue. “You’re all mine now, so I can do what I want with you, right?” he asked, thumbing over the sweat that had collected over your hairline. “Please Shikamaru, it’s so fucking good,” you lowered your voice before adding, “it’s way better than Kiba.” He smirked upon hearing you say half of what he wanted to hear but he didn’t move. You tried your best to push your hips up to get any kind of friction you could but it was no use, the way he lay on top of you, you were pinned. “I’m all yours now, all fucking yours, please just move, I’m begging you.” That was all he needed to move inside of you, and he resumed his long deep strokes. You moaned, your jaw going slack with pleasure. This time when he spoke, he didn’t address you but the crowd. “See how my pretty pussy sucks me back in? Even her body is begging for my cock.”

You looked over to the crowed. You were met with the sight of royal men and women coming undone, fisting their cocks or shoving their hands beneath their silk dresses watching Shikamaru fuck you senseless. You groaned at the spectacle they were now making out of themselves. “I bet you’re all fucking jealous of me, but she’s mine.” His fingers were digging into the flesh of your thighs, leaving bruises in their wake. He held himself up with one hand while the other was sadistically shoving fingers in your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you complied willingly, becoming too fucked out to resist anymore. He pulled his fingers out with a slick pop, still fucking you relentlessly, and he trailed his wet fingers down your body to tease your clit. With the pace he was fucking you, and the slew of onlookers who were now touching themselves to you, you were already on the edge. “Shik-a-ah, I can’t ta-“ “Oh you’re gonna take it, slut, whether you like it or not,” he laughed. The pleasure was overwhelming and it wasn’t long before you could feel the white hot sensation of your impending orgasm. Shikamaru could feel it too, the way you were clenching around him like a vice. “Are you really going to cum all over my cock with all these people watching you?” he chided and then added, “go on, show all these people how much of a slut you are for me, I dare you.” It was then that the coil broke and your nails were scraping down his back in a desperate attempt to cling to reality. But he didn’t slow his thrusts, nor did he remove his fingers from your clit.

“Such a good fucking girl, cumming for me in front of all these people,” he praised. Your eyes were rolled back and your mouth was hanging open. “Awww she’s drooling, look how fucking pretty she is.” He was so sadistic, addressing the audience, getting their attention. He pulled his cock out abruptly and leaned down, licking one long stripe up your sloppy cunt before sinking his cock back into you. “You taste so good, pretty, taste,” he commanded before spitting into your already open mouth. “Good right?” you mewled in response, unable to make words. “I bet you’d like to taste my cum, but that’s for another time, for now, I’m going to cum deep inside this pretty pussy, and claim you as mine.” “Please,” it was a single word but it was all you could muster.

But Shikamaru wasn’t forgiving or understanding about your current state. “What was that? We can’t hear you, slut,” he growled addressing the audience. “I think I wanna see you beg again.” Your head was reeling from the intensity of your last orgasm, yet another one was approaching already. The way Shikamaru was treating you was pushing you closer to the edge, and he knew it too, the cocky bastard. But it felt so good that you wanted to oblige him, behave for him, just to get more. You needed more. “Please, Shika, please c-cum inside me, please, deep- i-ah-inside,” you begged and tears started to form in the corners of your eyes. “I like you like this, ya know? Messy.” He rolled his hips into yours with such skill, his cock brushing against your walls hitting every spot possible. “You want me to fuck my cum deep inside you?” He reached down and began to rub at your clit again like he did before. “Please Shika, fuck, please c-cum in m-me,” your breath ragged through your words. “But if I do that, you could get pregnant, couldn’t you?” His tone was painfully sarcastic, you knew what he wanted, and you were going to give it to him. “Yes, but I don’t care, I just want your cum, please, Shika,” you pleaded, meeting his eyes. “You all hear that? The slut doesn’t care if I get her pregnant.” You were humiliated by his harsh speech but you were even more humiliated that those were the words that pushed you over the edge, forcing your orgasm out of your already spent body. Your high pitched cries echoed around the large room and your cunt clenched around his cock. “That’s it, milk my fucking cock,” he praised, “gonna cum deep in your pretty pussy.” It was the last thing he said before he painted your walls white with his cum. It felt warm, pouring out of him and into you and you moaned softly in delight. He stilled inside you and used his forefinger to to turn your head to face him, from where it drooped against the mattress. “You’re all mine now,” he said, but this time he said it lovingly. He kissed your face, paying special attention to the places that were covered in sweat, tears, or drool. It was as if he was appreciating the art work you had become by allowing him to make a mess of you.

He pulled out of your aching cunt and you felt the aftermath of your sex spilling out on the mattress and your thighs. “Oh no, don’t waste it, love,” he chided and used two of his fingers to pick up the moisture off your thighs and push it back into your sopping pussy. “That’s my girl, take all my cum,” he praised as he watched it drip out once more, then repeating the process. You’d not only been wed to this man, but marked by him as well. No one had ever fucked you so good in your life, and now he was all yours. You could have him whenever you wanted and better yet, he wanted you. So many thoughts were spinning in your head but all you could think of was wanting Shikamaru to lay down with you. Instead he got off the bed and undid the fitted sheet, wrapping you up inside of it. “That’s it, shows over,” he announced to the crowd as he redressed in his singular garment. “Can you sit up okay?” he asked you sweetly, and held your hands to help you.

You sat up and your head was spinning but his hand on your face was bringing you stability, especially with the way his thumb was tracing your hairline. He grabbed the edges of the sheet and wrapped it around you tighter, shielding you from the prying eyes. The eyes… you’d been in such a state of bliss this time, you’d completely forgotten. Looking up was a sight to behold. The royals looked just as spent as you felt. Their breathing ragged, hair and clothes a mess. Some having stained their own clothing from their own personal activities.  A few of the royals had paired off and some were still having an event of their own. In the middle of it all though was the Feudal Lord, a horrified look on his face.

Now in all the marriage nights the Feudal Lord hard witnessed thus far, he had never seen such a graphic display of possessive affection. No one had even dared address the spectators, much less spur them on during such an intimate act. Things normally went how he preferred them, an awkward and short lasting session, where the couple are red faced and looking away from the crowed and each other… he got off on watching their embarrassment, a sadist in his own right. The Feudal Lord was not only furious that things hadn’t gone as he planned but that you and Shikamaru had created a show, not only worth watching but worth participating along side. He was seething in his throne watching the two of you caress each other lovingly. He’d been told you both hated each other and figured it would be the most perfect pairing for an awkward sexual encounter. What he didn’t know was that you and Shikamaru equally had strong feelings for each other that were buried underneath a mountain of falseness, built independently to protect against rejection. The sexual tension just building for years without any knowledge until the kiss at the alter had awakened everything. The Feudal Lord could see it all clearly now, and cursed himself for setting up two people’s forever happiness instead of their unending sorrow. Now he couldn’t force a divorce, that would be too obvious, he’d just have to choose better next time, and in the mean time figure out what to do with the rest of his cum soaked court of royals who were still panting in the makeshift theatre’s velvet seats.

Shikamaru smirked as he kissed your forehead, “I guess we didn’t follow the plan but it seems the Lord is even less happy with us now… maybe he will finally put an end to these forced marriages.” You doubted this would stop him from carrying out his will but, what you were grateful for was that you’d been paired as well as you could have. “I’m just sorry it has to be this way, I don’t want you to feel forced or-“ You kissed him then, gently. Shikamaru fell into the touch and closed his eyes. “I also wish we’d started with dating… but I’m just glad that if I’m forced to marry anyone, it’s you.”

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 8 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: some gets physically sick, discussions of death

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 8

"Hey, is it just me, or is the floor moving?" Danny questioned as he stared at the moving stone.

"No, it's not just you," Sam confirmed as she glanced at her friend. Although he was sitting rod straight as he watched, his coloration was still flickering, and there now seemed to be a green tinge to his cheeks.

"Don't you think we should run?" Tucker's question nearly made Sam snort. With Danny getting worse, there was no way he'd be able to escape with them.

Before anyone had a change to respond, the stone completely lifted and shifted to the side, exposing a hole. Seconds later, a furry head popped out. They watched in silent horror as it flicked one of its ears as if hear them and turned to face them.

The face that greeted them was terrifying. If Sam had to describe it, the appearance was like an angry polar bear who happened to have icy horns. Maybe calling it a yeti would be more accurate, but she could argue with herself about the semantics once she was out of this mess.

They just stared at the thing in the floor until it smiled at them. Whatever spell its sudden appearance held over them was broken, and they yelled in terror. There where several seconds of confusion as the three of them tried to escape. Tucker was halfway to the door while Sam tried to help Danny, who had fallen off the table, when the thing spoke.

"Children, please do not be alarmed," it gently requested as it raised itself up from the floor. Its entire body was covered in that same white fur, save for its one arm, which appeared to be made from ice. In an almost bemused afterthought, Sam noted it wore a blue clothing article which may have been a kilt. "We don't have much time before Plasmius returns."

When they didn't respond of move, the creature continued to speak as it tried to look as non-threatening as possible. "I am call Frostbite, the leader of the Far Frozen. I am lucky to have found out about you when I did. Plasmius has killed many humans in his experiments. If you allow me, I will help you return to your home."

"Why should we trust you? How do we know you won't take us somewhere and eat us?" Tucker demanded as he inched closer to Danny and Sam.

It laughed heartily at Tucker's question. "Myself as well as my clan do not eat people. We have made it the goal of our afterlives to try to assist as many wayward humans as we possibly can." Frostbite's smile faded. "However, I acknowledge your concern. This is the first time we have met, and if Plasmius has been your first encounter with the those of us from this realm, then you most likely do not think highly of us." It, possibly he, glanced at Danny as his coloration cycled again. "You are ill, and if you do not leave this place soon, you may not be able to return to the land of the living."

There was a tense moment as Sam and the boys stared at Frostbite. It… no, he… seemed genuine. Although his face was frightening, his eyes were sincere and almost seemed to plead with them.

"Alright," Danny eventually stated as he slowly stood, "but, you have to swear you won't hurt them!"

"I swear it on my honor, young one."

"Psst, Danny, what are you doing?" Tucker angrily whispered as he tugged on Danny's sleeve. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Call me crazy, but I think it's much less risky to go with him then it is to stay here and wait for Plasmius," Danny responded as he tested his footing. "He's a lot more honest than Plasmius, that's for sure."

"You noticed it too?" Sam was impressed he picked up on it. Although, Danny was often clueless when it came to certain social cues, particularly flirting, he did have an amazing talent for picking up on whether someone was being honest.

Tucker looked at both of them for a disbelieving moment before he shook his head. "Alright. I'll follow your lead on this, but if we get eaten, I'm blaming you."

"Young one, do you require assistance?" Frostbite asked as he eyed Danny, who appeared to be somewhat lightheaded as he tried to walk.

"It's Danny, and no, I can handle it."

A frown crossed Frostbite's face for a moment before he scurried forward and scooped Danny into his arms. "I understand your desire to escape on your own, but you are not well, and time is of the essence." Frostbite then instructed Sam and Tucker to enter the hole in the floor first. Once they were safely inside which was revealed to be a tunnel, he handed Danny to them. He then entered the tunnel and carefully replaced the floor's stone.

There was little light in the tunnel save for the slight glow Frostbite and occasionally Danny produced. As if sensing their concern, Frostbite held up his hand (or was it more of a paw?) and created a soft blue light. "This way, children," he instructed as he began to walk. "I am sorry I cannot produce a better light source, but if I generate much more energy, Plasmius may discover our location."

"I was wondering why we were doing things so old school," Tucker whispered.

As Sam rolled her eyes at him. If it wasn't for the fact she and Tucker were both supporting Danny as they walked, she probably would have smacked him for being rude. But, his statement did bring up an interesting point. "So, you could have gotten us out in an easier way, but Plasmius would have caught us?"

"Correct. Most sentient ghosts can easily phase through walls, unless the object is something native to this world or is coated in something that disrupts our powers or repels us. Plasmius' palace is unusual as much of it is created from materials taken from the human realm, but his reputation and the barrier he uses is able to keep most ghosts away. He is very unkind to trespassers." Frostbite glanced back at them. "I know young Danny's name, but I have yet to learn yours."

As weird as it sounded, Sam was embarrassed by that lapse in courtesy. She quickly introduced herself, and Tucker followed suit.

"Sam and Tucker! Such fitting names!" The strange ghost seemed pleased, but after a moment, he stopped walking, so he could turn and look at them. "Please alert me immediately if you notice you are not feeling well or notice something strange about yourself." After they promised, Frostbite nodded and continued forward. "This world can do strange things to those who unintentionally enter it, and there are many ways the changes can occur."

"Can… can I ask a question?" Once Frostbite agreed, Danny continued, "I'm sorry if this is a bit rude, but were you human?"

"That I was." The ghost didn't appear bothered by the question. "While many of my human memories have faded over time, I do remember that I was once an explorer. As for how I came this this realm, I am uncertain, but I do know that by the time I once again found a way back to the world of the living, I appeared much how you see me now. Many of my clan seem were also explorers or those who spent a great deal of time in the woods or mountains. We are not sure why we have taken this form, but we use it to our advantage. We often patrol areas where portal formation is common and try to scare humans away from them. However, more recently we have been finding more and more humans who seem to be looking for us." He seemed absolutely puzzled by the concept.

Sam shared a look with her friends. Did that mean that he and his clan were what people considered Bigfoot? Maybe she was reading too much into it, but that's what it seemed like.

"So, does that happen to everyone who dies? Cuz I don't know if I can handle the fact I might not keep these good looks when I die," Tucker whined.

The soft blue light flickered as Frostbite chuckled. "I don't believe you have to worry. While it is possible, you are unlikely to become a ghost if you expire outside of this realm. However, I am no expert regarding the mysteries of life and death."

"But what happens if you die here?" It was Sam's turn to ask a question.

"It seems to vary. Some die, but their souls do not remain here. For others, their body and soul mingle and change, creating a ghost."

"That almost sounds like a zombie," Sam mumbled to herself.

Frostbite chuckled again. "I understand why you would think as such. However, zombies can only exist in your world. They are corpses reanimated, often through magic, but lack a soul. For us, our earthly bodies are somehow a catalyst for the new form our soul takes, but even though I have seen it happen, I do not understand the process."

His explanation somewhat made sense, Sam mused. It also lined up with what Plasmius mentioned about how his experiments didn't always work. Although, it posed a more troubling question. What exactly would happen to Danny? If he really did die and become a ghost, did that mean there would be no body for his family to bury? It was a troubling thought that wouldn't go away no matter how much Sam tried to think of something else.

However, something Sam also noted was that Danny was avoiding asking questions regarding what was happening to him. Other than when his hands flickered in and out of visibility in the lab, he hadn't brought up the subject. It was possible he was focusing on escaping. However, with the new knowledge Frostbite had given them, he was probably in some sort of denial. She wasn't certain if she'd be able to be as calm if she was the one affected.

What seemed like an hour later, although her sense of time could have been altered due to the darkness, they finally reached the end of the tunnel. It wasn't a moment too soon as Danny had fainted when they had first caught sight of the exit. Once outside, she and Tucker carefully sat Danny down, so they could take a quick break. Once she was certain Danny was settled, she took the chance to look around.

In front of them was a think yet somewhat dead looking forest, like what they first found themselves in when they fled from the first ghost. Behind her was the tunnel which had been cut into what appeared to be a rock outcropping. If it wasn't for the strange coloration, it could have looked like something found in the forests back home.

She started when Frostbite gave a quick whistle. Moments later, four more ghosts who had similar appearances to Frostbite appeared from within the forest. They had to be part of the clan the ghost had mentioned while they were escaping. The group exchanged a few words before Frostbite beckoned to the humans behind him.

"Children, do not be alarmed. These are members of my clan, and they will be assisting us in your escape. However, we need to stop at our realm first as we have an object that will help us locate when and where a portal will open. I would also like to assess Danny's health." The ghost frowned at the form of the unconscious teenager. "You have probably guessed this realm has a grip on him, but he is resisting the change more intensely than I have ever seen."

"That means he'll be able to come home with us, right?" Tucker's question was full of a wary hope.

"I am… uncertain. We may have to seek the wisdom of an older entity to know for sure."

…

The world wouldn't stop spinning when Danny finally came to. After rolling over and relieving the contents of his stomach, he finally was able to think clearly enough to take stock of his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be some type of medical room. Although the walls appeared to be made of ice, there was a light and almost friendly atmosphere about the place.

A sound caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see white creature duck out of the room. Puzzled at the reaction, it wasn't until it returned to the room with Frostbite that he realized it was simply retrieving the other ghost.

"You've wakened, young one!" Frostbite seemed exuberant as he examined him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got spun around in one of those centrifuges at space camp way too many times," Danny replied as he rubbed his head. Although the dizziness had subsided, he still felt somewhat ill. "Where are Sam and Tucker?"

"They are resting in another room. They've been eagerly waiting for news of your awakening."

Danny sighed in relief at the news. "Will I be able to see them?"

"Absolutely, but first I would like to discuss something with you," Frostbite sat down at a chair near the bed Danny was using. Somewhat unnerved by how serious Frostbite seemed to be, he carefully sat up and gestured for him to continue. "Your circumstance is nothing like what any of us have ever seen before."

"My circumstance?" That didn't sound good. Did it have to do with something Plasmius did to him?

"Yes. Before I explain, I need to ask if you've eaten anything while you were here?"

Danny shook his head. "Unless Plasmius fed me something when I was unconscious, then no. Wait," he paused for a moment as he tried to remember what Plasmius had told him, "maybe? Plasmius said something about taking care of me when I got lost when I was six."

"How odd, but as you must have returned home afterwards, it might have something to do with the unexpected results. Did Plasmius explain what he wanted from you?"

"He wanted me as his heir? I think?" Before he or Frostbite could say anything else, Danny felt something clench in his navel. Immediately afterwards, what seemed to be a flash of light momentarily blinded him. Terrified, he yelped and tried to move away. "What-what just happened?"

"This is what I have need to discuss with you." The ghost then rose and picked Danny off the bed before carefully setting him down in front of a mirror at the far end of the room.

It was the first time since he had come to this world that he had a chance to take stock of himself. However, the image looking back at him wasn't what he was expecting. His eyes weren't his usual blue but were instead an unnatural green. His skin had tanned, but the color somehow seemed unhealthy. His hair was now a silvery white instead of his black, and if he wasn't imaging it, he was admitting a slight glow. "What's wrong with me?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

Before he could get his answer, he felt the clench in his navel again. When the light subsided, he was greeted with the reflection of how he originally looked. Uncertain if his mind was playing tricks on him, he checked his hands and what he could of his bangs. Everything appeared normal.

"Usually," Frostbite started, which caused Danny to pause his examination and look at the ghost," when this world claims someone, they can no longer return to their human form. If they do, they often end up dead. You are somehow able to keep your human form, yet you produce a ghost form. In all my years, I have never seen such a thing."

"What exactly does that mean? What am I?"

"Unfortunately, I do no know. From what our tests showed, you have both a functioning human heart and a ghostly core, which is our equivalent of a heart. You've been switching back and forth between forms for some time."

======================================

Notes:

1) So… the Bigfoot mention. This is something that I've heard before. There are 2 major lines of thought regarding the famous cryptid. 1) Bigfoot is a flesh and blood creature, and 2) Bigfoot is an interdimensional, extraterrestrial, or spiritual entity (I seriously had a professor who believed Bigfoot could travel through dimensions. He even wrote papers about it). For this story, I'm going with the concept that people are catching brief glimpses of Frostbite and his people as they patrol areas known for spontaneous portal openings.

Interdimensional aspects are popping up more and more when it comes to paranormal topics, and they're a major theory when it comes to unexplained disappearances and weird creatures. Personally, I find the concept intriguing, but it's not something that can currently be proven. Though… there are a lot of rumors about how CERN is trying to do that. I know that group is just supposed to be studying particles and quantum physics, but there are sooooo many weird rumors about CERN.

2) For this story, I'm borrowing the type of idea where a ghost can't be created unless its former vessel (body) is used as a medium. You see things like this for Revenants, Strigoi Mort (Romanian ghost/zombie/vampire thing), and Gjenganger (Scandinavian ghost/zombie thing similar to a Dragur), and others. For those stories, the only way to get rid of them is to damage/destroy the body in specific ways which vary from region to region.

3) human centrifuges are real things. They are used by to help test the effects of G-forces on people, and astronauts receive training to handle said forces in them. They do, at least used to have, a version of it at space camp.

[extreme-technicality]

Im only messing with you 😘 while im here though could i have some fic recs puh-leaaase - 🍍

Ooh honey, you have no IDEA the can of worms you just opened :D (since this list is so long I’m gonna split it up into SFW Complete, NSFW Complete, SFW Ongoing, and NSFW Ongoing)

SFW Complete:

The Invisible Girl [sonamae]: OK SO it’s Hagakure-centric, with background Hagakure x Shouji and KiriBaku. My favorite part about this is that the romance is important, but not the focus. The focus of this oneshot is on the family she creates with Bakugou, Satou, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Tokoyami. Go read it, it’s great. BIG BROTHER BAKUGOU FTW!!!!!

Ground Zero [sonamae]: Speaking of Big Brother Bakugou, this is the next oneshot in the same series as the above one, but from Bakugou’s pov. Again, the romance is important but not a focus, and that’s so fucking refreshing and I love it so mUCH idk what else to tell you. Just go read these two. The rest of the series isn’t complete, but these two specific fics ARE, hence why they’re in the Complete section.

Lighting The Beacon [M3zzaTh3M3z]: This is one of the first bnha fics I’ve ever read, and I’m so glad this was my introduction to the fandom!! It’s a pretty fluffy oneshot, starting off with Kiri asking Baku out and Baku rejecting him because “who ever heard of a gay hero?” Aizawa hears about that (the basics, no details like names or anything), and things…start to change. Mic says he’s married to a man (its Aizawa), All Might comes out as pan, ace Midnight…and at the end, Bakugou asks Kirishima out very publicly. It’s so near and dear to my heart, and it honestly deserves more attention than it gets.

You’re only relevant until you’re older (they’re gonna talk about you over and over) [futurehearts]: Pro-Heroes Red Riot and Ground Zero are happily married and Baku has a reputation to slowly destroy :D (he’s soft, mainly for his husband, and he knows it…and now so does the rest of the world lmaooo).

Love Notes [PurplePersnickety]: Kirishima gets really, REALLY sappy love notes on his desk for a week or two and works to figure out who it is (spoiler alert, it’s Bakugou being a Soft Bitch). When Kiri asks him about it, he confesses everything and they date in secret for six months before telling the whole class (oneshot).

Sonder [Maplefudge]: I bet this bitch thought she wouldn’t get a shout-out well guess what you write good and there’s nothing you can do about it This is the first work of maple’s I ever read, and it’s perf <3 I’m love. It’s a look at the “totally platonic” (how much sarcasm can I add to two words?) Kiribaku from members of the class, over the course of 13 chapters. It’s full of fluff, useless mutual pining, obliviousness, and “platonic bro kisses”. Read it if you need to scream at some useless gays.

Anger Management [Julietwasanidiot]: The entire fandom is gearing up for S4 by writing hurt/comfort KiriBaku post-raid fics, and I am HERE for it. Because of when it’s set though, there’s going to be spoilers so if you’re anime-only you migt want to steer clear of this one. It’s got an ICONIC rice-and-anger line, though.

Stupid Mistakes [lemxnfox]: Kirishima and Bakugou got in a fight! They fight a lot, but this fight they’ve been fighting for six months and the class is #OverIt. They concoct a plan to lock the two of them in a room and force them to make up– and they DO. Side ShinKami and TodoDeku.

No More Fragments [Ischemia]: Canon-compliant…to a degree. Shinsou takes his place as the Superior Purple in Class A, gets himself a boyfriend (Kaminari) and a squad (the Bakusquad)…and loses it. Or does he???? Canon-typical violence, side Kiribaku, mystery plot.

Caught In My Own Web [anxioussaliorsoldier]: SHINSOU IS IN 1-A!!!!! And he fucks up when trying to use his capture weapon lmao. Kaminari finds him and they recreate the iconic Spider-Man kiss…and then Shinsou passes out from the blood rushing to his head. It’s cute guys.

Be Selfish For Me [A_Reflective_Projection]: WARNING– the entire thing is Aizawa asking 1-A to be careful as pro heroes, by taking them to a hero graveyard. It’s painful. It’s sad (especially when Aizawa brings up a classmate of his who died in their first year as a pro). It ends bittersweet, and there’s some good Dadzawa content in there. The most present ship is Erasermic, and that only really makes an appearance in the last chapter.

Closer [MikeWritesThings]: Fluffy Erasermic, canon universe, where Aizawa starts calling in to Mic’s radio show cuz he misses him. It’s sweet af ❤️❤️

Meaningless Holiday [dysonQueer]: It’s a sweet Valentine’s Day fic, canon-compliant, with established Erasermic for the soul. I highly recommend it if you’re having a rough day and you need some feel-good fluff

Come Back Toe Me [Milligramme]: Aged-up, Pro Hero fic where Kiri has a shit day heroing, but he isn’t physically hurt. Not until he breaks his toe on the coffee table, that is. He can’t stop laughing, and Bakugou can’t stop worrying about his dumbass boyfriend.

Kiss Me Through The Screen [Ischemia]: Aged-up fic with ShinKami as the main focus and some side KiriBaku, but…uh, most of the Bakusquad aren’t full-time Heroes. Kami dropped out of UA completely, and Shinsou never went in the first place. So, Kaminari is working at Jirou’s cafe and works as a SFW camboy at night, while Shinsou is a teacher and watches the stream nightly. Later there’s a plot around a stalker, again please keep yourself safe Pineapple Anon!!

If I Don’t Act… [SilentNorth]: This is gritty and painful, but don’t worry! There’s a happy ending :D (I rarely read/write/recc pure angst, you’re safe here my child). Kiri is a college dropout working two jobs, living with Mina as his roommate, and with a hero complex the size of Texas. Enter art student Bakugou, who can save himself thank you very much. Some mention of depression/attempted suicide, as well as slightly less than canon-typical violence, please keep yourself safe and skip it if that’s going to trigger you, Pineapple Anon.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all [theroyalsavage]: A Kiribaku “10 Things I Hate About You” AU where Todoroki asks Kirishima to fake-date Bakugou so he can date Midoriya. Everything is going smoothly until Kirishima accidentally falls in love *gasp*!!

The Skeletons Inside Of Us [firelord_zutara]: Erasermic, quirkless AU where Mic was the lead singer of Aizawa’s favorite local band in college. Aizawa has a crush on him, they lost touch after college, and they didn’t meet again…until their nephews (Aizawa adopted Midoriya, Shinsou is Mic’s sister’s kid) meet and by extension, the uncles. Background ShinKami and KiriBaku, written for EraserMic week (7 chapters).

Life’s a Drag(on) [PurplePersnickety]: FANTASY AU!!! You know, the Fantasy AU from the third ending. But altered, juuuuuust slightly. Bakugou lives in(? ish) a village and helps a dragon when it’s hurt. A day or so later, a (hot) new guy comes to town named Kirishima, and the dragon keeps coming around. Shenaniganery follows. :DDD

Space Dust [PurplePersnickety]: Do you like Star Wars, Star Trek, Firefly, and/or Men In Black? Then you’re gonna fuckin LOVE this :DDD It’s got half-alien Kirishima, cyborg Bakugou, mention of a larger universe outside of the planet (outside of the oneshot too, lbr). It is a oneshot though, even if it is a long one, with canon/typical violence and mention of kidnapping and child experimentation. Please put your mental health and well-being above everything else and skip it if it’s gonna trigger you!!!

Achromatopsia [PurplePersnickety]: DID SOMEBODY SAY SOULMATE AU???? No? Well hAVE ONE ANYWAY!!! Kiribaku soulmate AU (oneshot), where you only see in one color until you touch your soulmate for the first time. Fun fact, achromatopsia is the complete inability to see any color!! I’m sure that’s not gonna have any bearing on the story whatsoever…

NSFW Complete:

A Cast for your Heart [KTG]: Heads up, this is LONG. 90 chapters, 268k, it’s magic and sex and drAGONS and angst and almost-dying!! The fantasy system is completely original, set in modern times, and the OCs??? Don’t get me STARTED. Kiribaku, Tododeku, and Seromina are the bnha ships present as well as a lot of OCxOC ships. There’s also a sequel set to come out this month (July 2019)!!

Long Time Coming [Madam_Muffins]: I’ve probably recc’ed this before, but I just. I just love this one so much, ok? It’s massive Kiribaku slow burn, outlining what might happen if Bakugou is just a little bit more emotionally constipated. Baku fucks up, gets help, he and Kiri get together (and fuck a little), and there’s elements of the Reincarnation and Fantasy AUs in there towards the end!! Go read it, madammuffins is my amazing tumblr mom and I love her to bits.

SFW Ongoing:

Engraved In Your Mind [Hejter]: FACEBLIND BAKUGOU KATSUKI!!! It’s canon-compliant, except for that little detail, but she writes it so WELL that now I can’t look at canon!Bakugou without thinking that he’s faceblind. Kiri finds out and starts working to build trust with Bakugou and help him on his path to becoming the top hero, and it’s GREAT. Slowburn Kiribaku. Like,,,SLOW.

Define: Oblivious [PurplePersnickety]: I bet you thought I was done with the Purple reccs. I’m never going to be done reccing Purple. Deal with it. I mentioned, in the summary for Love Notes, that there was a six month time skip? This is what happens in those six months. SeroKami and MomoJirou are side ships in this one.

The Right Thing [TuesdayTerrible]: Established Kiribaku where they’re graduated from UA, and living together, and being pro heroes…and then one day Baku finds a little girl who tried to kill herself cuz she was quirkless. Needless to say, this strikes a chord in Bakugou (cuz…yknow, he kinda told Midoriya to kill himself in like episode one and then it was never addressed again). He can’t stop thinking about her, and while we haven’t gotten there YET it looks like it’s gonna end with him and Kirishima adopting her and Bakugou apologizing for the bullshit he put Mido through. There is mention of a suicide attempt (clearly), skip it if that’s gonna trigger you!!!

Hands Off! [PullingAllMighters]: Much like Kiss Me Through The Screen, Hands Off! is a non-canon compliant aged-up AU where not everyone is a full-time hero. Kiri is, Kami and Sero are his sidekicks, Ochako is in a different agency, and everyone else is doing Other Shit. Bakugou hasn’t revealed his full backstory yet, but it looks like he was a Pro Hero until a year or so ago when something bad happened and now he’s got PTSD. His old apartment building burned down so he’s living in Ochako, Momo, Jirou, and Mina’s guesthouse until he finds a job and another place to live. This has a fresh take on the hero system, and I really really enjoy it so far!! There is, however, a fairly detailed scene of Bakugou being triggered so if reading that would trigger you, please don’t!! Keep yourself safe, Pineapple Anon!!! Endgame Kiribaku

Blood of my Hand [PurplePersnickety]: Is it obvious yet that I LOVE purple’s writing??? This, I believe, was the gateway work, and I’ve dived headfirst in and not looked back. Fantasy AU, slowburn Kiribaku, and it’s. I can’t even sum it up. There’s too much. It’s too good. Game of Thrones WISHES it could be what BomH is. There’s mention of slavery and past child abuse, please skip that if it’s going to trigger you!!

A Boy and his Dragon [VanHan]: Oh look, another fantasy AU. Have you figured out that I have a type yet? Kiribaku but the Kiribaku hasn’t really happened yet, cuz Bakugou is a literal child who got kidnapped and is probably gonna get sold. He doesn’t even know Kirishima is Kirishima, he just knows him as the cool dragon in the cage. This one just barely makes the SFW list, because there’s no explicit mention of fucking, but there’s a really really gross pedophile that shows up fairly early on and hasn’t died yet. There’s also graphic depictions of violence in the first chapter, and once you combine those two things I would absolutely understand if you decided to give this one a pass, too.

Everglow [Maplefudge]: ANOTHER fantasy AU?!?! In MY fic recc list?? It’s more likely than you think. This one just started, and it’s got that enemies-to-lovers shit going on. Dragons plus my favorite tropes = FUCK YEAH!!!

Crimson [Crocodillia]: I bet you thought I was done with the fantasy AU reccs, didn’t you? Well, HAVE ANOTHER!!! This one has strong HTTYD vibes, and I’ve literally never seen anyone try that before with these characters!! So far there’s only two chapters, but I am HOOKED and if you like HTTYD…you’re gonna like this, too.

Becoming Human [FoolishFortuna]: Demon!Bakugou becomes Human!Bakugou when he refuses to take a kid’s soul. I think we’re three chapters in and he just got to earth and met Kirishima, as well as a few holy people (Midoriya, Ochako, Iida, and I believe Tetsu). Now he gotta find his daughter and keep her safe. Kiribaku with some fairly graphic descriptions of torture and cannibalism in the second chapter, don’t read it if that’s gonna trigger you!! Also he pretty brutally rips apart the girl’s abusive parents.

Surviving for Second Chances [SilentNorth]: TWEWY Kiribaku AU!!! There’s some differences between the original game and the fic, for pretty obvious reasons (medium, objective, and character differences being a few), but this got me to FINALLY watch a playthrough of the game cuz I’m too broke to go and buy it myself!! Kirishima as Neku and Bakugou as Joshua, plus Mina as Shiki and TodoDeku as Rhyme and Beat. Canon-typical violence, and we just finished up Week 1!!

Love And Other Allergens [thefrailtyofgenius]: A Quirkless AU where Todoroki is a lawyer with a flower shop underneath his apartment. Todo finds out he’s allergic to one of the plants, buys a different bouquet every week instead of, yknow, asking for help like a normal human being (I say, knowing damn well I’d just buy allergy medication and not even try to figure out what I’m allergic TO), and accidentally falls in love with the cute (and absolutely fucking ripped) flower boy (Midoriya lmao). It’s LONG. The TodoDeku is extremely slowburn, and there’s a fuckload of side ships. An incomplete list: Erasermic, Kiribaku, ShinIida (Shinsou and Iida), and MomoJirou. Bonus Endeavor’s Bad Parenting, Midoriya Hisashi’s Bad Parenting, and both of those assholes getting locked up forever :D (I’m so serious about the length tho, it’s like 40 chapters or something).

NSFW Ongoing:

Mixing Signals [Shippeh]: Kiribaku aged-up, but they’ve tried to date multiple times and every time Bakugou fucked it up. Every time they broke up, they pretended like they’d never tried in the first place (which…oW), but this time. THIS time, Bakugou swears he’s gonna make them work.

Heartbeat Thunder [Shippeh]: This is one of the few ABO fics I’ll recc, because it’s not just “ooh heat sex fun times”. This has THOUGHT put into it. They’re confused kids goddamnit, let them be confused!!! Basically Kiri doesn’t ever want to rut so he’s suppressing everything about being an alpha, while Bakugou thinks that trying to hide from your secondary gender is stupid. They do fuck tho, which is why the fic is in NSFW Ongoing.

Take a Chance On Me [FanficIsMyThing]: The other ABO fic I’ll happily recc. Kiri is an alpha which lets him be a hero, while Baku is an omega so he’s gotta be a vigilante until the laws get changed. They run into each other on patrol a few times, Baku helps Kiri and crew out a few times, and every time Kirishima *mysteriously* fails to catch the vigilante Chemical X. They haven’t actually fucked yet, but there’s been enough sexy times to put this squarely in NSFW territory. And it’s not just sex!! I don’t wanna spoil, but it’s good I swear.

Opposed to the Typical [Heronfem]: A model/fashion designer AU featuring HoH!Bakugou, model!Bakugou and designer!Kirishima, as well as a metric shitload of others. Basically Kiri is an intern with Fatgum who gets called to help another studio with their fitting, gets assigned to Bakugou, figures out he’s HoH and handles it like a champ. Because he does it so well, whenever Bakugou needs to get his measurements taken again, they immediately call for Kirishima. And ofc they gonna fall in love :3c But its more complicated than that, and I don’t wanna give too much away, but make sure that you pay attention to any trigger warnings at the start of the chapters!!!

[my-emotional-self]

His Assistant (Chris Evans/Reader, Sebastian Stan/Reader)

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader, and Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing? Fluff, angst

Request: HiCan I request a chris story where he meets a girl&she becomes his assistant that turns into his best friend& emotional support person. He falls for her but doesn’t want to tell her& she overhears him telling Scott that it will ruin everything between them& he can’t lose her cuz she is the best am&he needs her. She’s sad he wont tell her. But eventually she gets a boyfriend that is chris’s actor friend&he get kind of jealous. You can end it how you want. With chris or the other guy in the end

Requested By: @marvelmakeuplover

A/N: There are two endings to this story! Also, I’m not overly happy with this one, so I’m sorry!

It still felt unreal as you sat in Chris’ trailer on the set of Avengers: Infinity War while he was filming a scene.  Everything fell into place so quickly, happening so fast.  One minute you met him at a friend’s party, the next thing you knew, you had become his assistant.  Talk about perfect timing.  His assistant decided to quit, wanting to start a family, and you were in between jobs.  Never having done any kind of assistant work for a celebrity before, he saw something in you that he knew would work.  

Two years later, not only had you become his assistant, you were now best friends with the actor. The chemistry between the two of you was so compelling, it was no wonder you two were drawn to each other.  You were also a great emotional support system for him.  With all of his traveling and press, Chris tended to get some pretty bad anxiety attacks and you were always there for him, helping him control that anxiety and ease his mind.  

He wasn’t hard on the eyes either.  You were actually kind of shocked as to why he was still single.  Although you did understand the constant traveling around the world, filming for months at a time can be a bit exhausting on a relationship. Naturally, your eyes did wander from time to time, checking Chris out when he changed shirts and outfits in between filming.  Hey, you were a woman, and he was a very attractive guy, it was only normal right? But it was his personality which had you enthralled from the beginning.  

“Stop Y/N!” you quietly scolded yourself in his trailer, looking like a damned fool.  “He may be your best friend, but he is still your boss.” It was a pretty common occurrence, having to constantly remind yourself that you needed it keep it professional, no matter what you felt.  

Your stomach began to grumble and you headed out of his trailer and towards the catering tent. Instantly your mouth began to water as you saw the spread before you.  Grabbing a plate, you started to grab anything and everything that looked delicious before heading back to Chris’ trailer.  

As you got closer, you paused.  His trailer door was open and you heard Chris talking; your name coming from his lips. Slowly you crept closer to the door, eavesdropping on his conversation and realizing Scott was in the trailer with him.  

“You have to tell her Chris. Come on.  I know it’s killing you to hide your feelings from Y/N.  What’s the worst that can happen?” you heard Scott say, nearly dropping your plate of food when you realized they were talking about you.  

“Chris likes me?” you said above a whisper in shock.  

“Scott you don’t think I know that?  Y/N is without a doubt the best thing that has happened to me.  Not only is she the best assistant I could have asked for, she’s always there for me ya know?  When I get my damn anxiety attacks, she’s right there, knowing exactly what to do to calm me down.  I’ve fallen so hard for her and I’m at a loss at what to do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?!”

“Really Scott?” Chris said and your heart nearly dropped, waiting on bated breath for what he was about to say.  “It would absolutely without a doubt ruin everything between us if she didn’t feel the same way.  And what if she did huh?  What if she DID feel the same way about me?  There is still that chance that something might happen and it wouldn’t work out.  I can’t lose her Scott.  I just can’t risk that.  She is unconditionally the best person out there.  I need her, I can’t lose her.”  

Tears wanted to fall from your eyes at his words but you quickly clenched you them shut, taking deep breaths.  Chris felt the same way about you as you did him.  But it was breaking your heart hearing that he didn’t want to come forward with those feelings.  You didn’t blame him, not one bit.  The two of you were like puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly together in this world. And he did need you, just as much as you needed him.  

“I still say you talk to her Chris,” Scott’s voice more calm now.  

“Yeah, yeah I’ll think about it,” Chris replied and you could hear the sorrow in his voice.  

You were stuck, not knowing whether to go inside the trailer or back to the catering tent.  Taking deep breaths, calming your nerves you headed into the trailer.  “Scott, Chris, how is everything?” you asked as if you heard none of their conversation, sitting down on the couch and devouring your food.  

“Great.  Everything is great.  Perfect even.  Nothing is wrong,” Chris began to ramble as your head popped up, looking at him with furrowed brows.  Your eyes wandered to Scott, noticing that he was giving Chris a glare before you went back to eating your food.

You wanted to badly to talk to Chris, to try and get him to come forth with what you heard him talking to Scott about, but like Chris, you didn’t want anything to become ruined. So you decided to wait; wait for Chris to make his move.  

And you waited, waited for three months but he said nothing.  Each time you saw after that day, your heart would skip a beat, ready for him to confront you on his feelings, but there was nothing.  

Since Avengers: Infinity War took so many months to film, you ended up getting really close to many of the actors on set; Sebastian in particular.  He was a really funny guy, always having you doubled over laughing. Sebastian was just as easy going as Chris, if not more and you really related to him.  

While your heart still hoped for Chris to come to you about this feelings, you soon found yourself developing feelings for Sebastian, and after three long months waiting for Chris, Sebastian made his move.  

After a few phenomenal dates with Sebastian, the two of you officially became a couple; everyone, except for Chris, very happy for you two.  Your heart broke each time you saw the way Chris looked at you when you were with Sebastian.  Of course you didn’t let your relationship come in the way of your work duties with Chris, but it still hurt to see Chris like that.  He was jealous, without a doubt but you gave him plenty enough time to confess his feelings for you.  While you could have also been the one to reveal your feelings for Chris, you put your foot down on that idea seeing as he was your boss.  In your mind, it should have been Chris who came forward first.

Chris did his best to hide his jealous stares, but you saw right through him.  You knew him too well.  But you were happy; happy with Sebastian even though a part of you felt empty, you pushed forward.  

~~~

Three Years Later

You were pacing around the room, your white gown heavy on your body but you had never felt more beautiful in this moment.  Taking deep breaths, you calmed yourself as you looked out the window into the vast countryside; there was a knock on the door.  

“Come in,” you said nervously, not knowing who it could have been.  A smile lit up your face as Chris opened the door, standing there looking dapper in his suit.  

His eyes roamed over your body, taking in your wedding gown.  “You look breathtaking Y/N,” Chris said, placing a hand over his heart.  

You felt your face heat at his compliment, bowing your head.  “You’re looking rather dashing yourself Mr. Evans.”

He walked towards you, giving you a kiss on your cheek as he held onto your hands.  Your heart felt a pang but you quickly pushed it aside. After all these years knowing that Chris felt the same way about you as you did him, you had hoped, expected even for him to talk to you, but he never did.  So you had to move on; move on with your life.  

“You know, I still haven’t been able to find a replacement that was as good as you,” Chris remarked with a small grin.  After a year of dating Sebastian, and when things started to become real serious in your relationship, the two of you talked and figured it would be best to quit working for Chris; giving you more time with Sebastian.  It was the hardest decision of your life, but as mentioned, you had to move on.  

“Again, I’m sorry about that Chris.  I truly wish it could have worked out.  But I just….,” you trailed off, not being able to find your words.  

Chris cupped your face, tilting your head up to you could gaze into his eyes.  “It’s alright Y/N.  I understand.  You don’t have to apologize for it.”  You gave him a soft smile, nodding your head.  “Now, are you ready for me to walk you down the aisle?”

Nodding your head, you replied, “I’m ready.”  

You looped your right hand around his left bicep and he opened the doors; your breath hitching in your throat as you saw your soon to be husband, Sebastian, standing at the alter waiting for you.  

~~~

ALTERNATE ENDING

~~~

Three Months Later

Things with you and Sebastian were going well so far.  A few dates had been spent between you two over the time, but nothing too serious as filming was still being done.  Sebastian was great, and you meshed well with him together, but there was still a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, reminding you of Chris.  

Chris was jealous of your relationship with Sebastian; you could read it all over his face.  And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he could never hide anything from you.

There was a knock on your hotel room door one night as you got up from bed, clad in your comfy pajamas and opened the door.  

Chris didn’t even hesitate at the door, instead barging right inside your room as you shut the door behind you.  Turning around you noticed he was pacing, his hand anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “Chris?” you called out feeling suddenly worried about his anxious behavior.  

At the sound of your voice, he paused, turning to face you.  When his eyes locked with yours, it felt like the world stopped spinning.  He was hurt, it was obvious in his eyes and you quickly moved your feet, rushing to his side and wrapping your arms around his torso.  “Talk to me Chris.  What’s going on?” you begged, your voice a hushed whisper.  

“I can’t keep doing this, living like this,” Chris’ voice wavered.  His words made you worry and you snapped your head upwards to face him; taking his face into your hands.  

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t keep seeing you with Sebastian, Y/N.  It’s breaking my heart and it’s all my fault….all my fault.”  By now Chris had tears streaming down his cheeks as your thumbs quickly wiped them free, your heart breaking at his admission.  “I should have told you sooner.  Months ago even.  Scott even urged me to do so.  I love you Y/N and it’s killing me to see you with him.”

Your eyes met his and you didn’t even need a second thought to do what you were going to do.  Leaning up on your tip toes you lips met his in a startling kiss.  Chris didn’t respond right away, feeling caught off guard but luckily he soon realized what was happening and he kissed back.  You melted into his warm embrace; your heart pounding frantically as you relished in the kiss.  

Chris pulled away, his face scrunched in worry.  “What about Seba…,” he began to say but you cut him off with another kiss.  Tilting your head to the side, the kiss deepened as his hands tangled into your hair.  

This time you pulled away, a coy smile on your face.  “My heart has always belonged to you Chris,” you acknowledged.  “And Sebastian always had a feeling about that.  Things haven’t gotten far enough along between him and I for it to be a bad breakup.”

Chris smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Shaking your head, you placed your finger to his lips, hushing him.  “All that matters is that you did tell me.”

Tag List: @patzammit @missfirstavenger @wildestdreamsrps @miss-cap21 @pumbibaby @princess-evans-addict @marvelouslyme96 @remember-that-one-blog @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @the-real-kellymonster @kanupps06 @zohoffman @mustbenot @srgntjbarnes @marvelmakeuplover @projectxhappiness @libbitinasdeath @01asianista @hispeculiartreasure @guera31 @ssweet-empowerment @sfreeborn @sophiealiice @jjlevin @badassbaker @supernatural-girl97 @crushed-pink-petals @coffeebooksandfandom @esoltis280

[bigskydreaming]

You seem like you know what you’re talking about in regards to net neutrality, so, how is this even a bill that can be proposed? How does it not infringe on our rights as American citizens? I’d like to think I’m not somebody who blindly believes in our “freedom,” but this seems so far fetched. It would affect daily life for everybody to the extreme. Internet would become a privilege—not a right. How would we have access to multiple sources regarding current events? Etc etc.

Hey anon, this isn’t actually a naive question at all. In fact, it cuts right to the heart of the matter and is why net neutrality has been so hotly contested back and forth for over a decade now. However, breaking it all down takes some doing, because it gets pretty complicated, so bear with me please. Also, I want to be thorough here, so I’m not sure how much of this is stuff you already know, but better safe than sorry.

So thing is, historically our country is big on the idea of the free market - the idea that businesses will regulate themselves via competition. Economic Darwinism, survival of the most profitable. It’s why the GOP talks so much about being anti government regulation despite being meddlesome as fuck in everything from birth control to gay marriage and so on. Really, the only government regulation they’re against is the kind that interferes with the free market, because the GOP (backed by Big Business), WANTS unfettered access to American consumers because the Holy Grail for Big Business is to get a monopoly, to be the only source of supply for something the public demands....and thus be able to set the prices and availability to whatever they want it to be.

And (in theory) our government is meant to say nope to the idea of monopolies. This is where they regulate, they step in to prevent businesses from gaining a monopoly at the expense of the average American consumer, and they put rules and safeguards in place to encourage competition. In particular, they step in and regulate when a natural monopoly forms. And this is basically where the importance of the FCC comes from.

A natural monopoly is when a new resource or technology emerges that’s so costly to produce infrastructure for, by the time widespread demand for it happens, the sole supplier of this new resource/technology is so far ahead, no competition could ever catch up WITHOUT the government stepping in and regulating things. This is what happened with telephones. AT&T basically pioneered telephone technology, and by the time people realized how universal the need for this new technology was, AT&T was so far ahead of everyone else, nobody was ever going to catch up if someone didn’t do something.

So the FCC passed what’s in shorthand referred to as the ‘Title II regulation’, referring to an act it passed in the 1930s I believe (I’d have to look up the exact year, I wanna say it was ‘34 though, if you want to read up on it in detail, cuz its important). What Title II did is kinda what you’re talking about with your question. It basically declared that ACCESS to telecommunication services was equally essential to all Americans and thus no service provider (aka AT&T) was able to deny or restrict access to any Americans on the basis of discrimination, etc, nor were they able to price the services high enough that poor Americans would never be able to afford them. So while of course you don’t see anything in the Constitution declaring telephone access a fundamental American right, because of Title II, its treated that way all the same. And in time, this regulation paved the way for competition to grow until AT&T was no longer the sole provider of telecommunication services and the government stepped back a little as the market began to regulate itself. But Title II still exists at the root of it all, ensuring that this competition can never be undone.

The problem with the internet is that it’s such a rapidly changing technology. What it is now is not what it was when it first emerged, and its a matter of getting the law to keep up with the changes in technology, while the creators of this technology (the ISPs) keep trying to widen the gap as much as possible in their eternal quest to come out on top.

So when the question of regulating the internet first came up under the Clinton administration, it was classified as an information service, which was NOT deemed an essential American right because let’s face it, our country is classist as hell. It’s the same logic as with say, college. And so for the first couple decades, we didn’t have any form of Net Neutrality and the market (and competition between Internet Service Providers) did most of the regulating themselves. However, this doesn’t mean the FCC didn’t do any regulating as well. It did. A lot, actually. But it was haphazard. It was on a case by case basis, an ISP would pull some shit, consumers would complain to the FCC and the FCC would run over and try and put out that fire while the ISP shifted to starting another one over there. This is what started the conversation on Net Neutrality, in the aims of applying more uniform regulations across the board. Meanwhile, there were still entire communities with no or limited access to any kind of broadband services at all, because they were priced out of their range.

Now what all this has to do with your question is what the Net Neutrality Act of 2015 actually did. Obama’s administration pushed to reclassify broadband services under the Title II regulation I mentioned above. Essentially, they argued exactly what you expressed in your question....that equal access to internet services was fundamental to the civil rights and liberties of the American people. And so broadband services were reclassified as utilities rather than commodities, and now, under Title II, the FCC could regulate them the same as any telecommunications services and thereby enforce that they couldn’t deny or restrict access to any group or community on basis of discrimination or price them so high that only the wealthy could afford them.

This is what Chairman Pai is attempting to undo - underneath all the other language of his proposal, the basic heart of it is this proposal will strip the Title II regulation from being applied to broadband services and thus limit how and why the government can step in to counter the actions of ISPs on behalf of American consumers.

Which means that yes, all the horror stories you’re reading about the internet becoming exorbitantly expensive with bundled packages and content being censored and fast lanes....they could all come to pass.

HOWEVER.

This is where I differ in opinion from a lot of posts we’re seeing out there right now about the doomsday scenarios. It’s not that I don’t agree that they’re possible. It’s that I don’t agree that its likely what happens will look like the very vivid picture these posts are making.

This doesn’t mean don’t worry. It means worry for the right reasons.

What I mean is....after reading all these posts about worst case scenarios, IF Pai’s proposal passes on December 14th, people are going to be on pins and needles waiting for all that to come to pass, for the internet to dramatically alter between one day and the next as all these predatory ISPs immediately pounce on the now defenseless consumers and jack up prices and ban sites wholesale.

That’s not what’s going to happen, IMO.

What people are forgetting to factor in is that even without government regulation, the market DOES regulate itself, via competition. Government regulation is largely meant to foster competition, and it already exists among ISPs just like it did before Net Neutrality, which is why the internet before 2015 didn’t look like these posts you’re seeing now either. I don’t think its likely that any of the big companies are going to immediately switch to obscene pricing packages and censoring content, because they’ll be too busy watching each other. Because they know with as many eyes on the internet and the ISPs as there are right now, the second some ISPs make visible shifts in that direction, they’re going to lose customers in droves as people flock to whichever ISPs declare they’re keeping things the same as always, even if only to undercut their competition.

So instead, I think what’s going to happen if the FCC votes yes on December 14th....is nothing.

Because the ISPs are going to wait.

They’re going to watch what kinds of legal responses the public demand of Congress - because even without Title II regulation, the government CAN STILL REGULATE internet services at the demand of the public. It just would be more like the FCC’s regulation before 2015...less across the board and preemptive, and more in response to specific scenarios. But Congress absolutely will still have the power to pass what are called bright-line rules, which are clearly defined rules based on objective factors with little room for interpretation. Basically, rules that dictate what an ISP can and can’t do in a specific context.

So even with Net Neutrality abolished, with enough outcry, first things first we’ll see new bills put before Congress to demand new, more specific strictures be put in place to limit what the ISPs can and can’t do even without net neutrality. And before they make any big changes, the ISPs are likely going to want to wait and see how big the outcry continues to be, what new rules are put into effect and how much support there is for them or not, so they can see where they can start testing limits and pushing the boundaries without getting much pushback.

They’re going to wait and watch the 2018 elections, the 2020 elections, the tenor of the public. They’re going to watch to see when the vigilance over the internet dies down as people start focusing on other, more immediate issues. And they’re going to make changes, yes.    

But they’re going to do it SLOWLY.

IMO, the real danger isn’t an immediate changeover on December 15th. It’s a slow rollout of changes so subtle that most people don’t notice as the ISPs start shifting things towards those worst case scenarios in inches and increments rather than leaps and gaps. Because its easy to muster opposition to an immediate threat. But when two years down the line, people are trying to mount opposition to an incremental change in how the ISPs as a whole do business, and the biggest change people have seen in their internet bills so far is an added five dollars here or there, how much opposition can you count on, you know?

So this is why I think some of the more immediately alarmist posts are doing more harm than good - because I think it has people preparing for a certain visible change the instant Net Neutrality is repealed....and when nothing dramatic seems to happen, I think people are going to relax and go, oh thank god, its not as bad as I thought it was going to be.

And THAT would be the mistake.

So as I said before, yes, please, KEEP calling your elected officials, but do it with the long game in mind. Don’t do it with the end goal of stopping the proposal on December 14th - if we can manage that, FANTASTIC, but if we can’t, it’s just the beginning. Express to your congressmen and congresswomen just how important our current internet freedoms are to you and ask them what they plan to do next IF Net Neutrality is repealed. Make sure they know that you consider this a priority, and the lawmakers that continue to have your support in future elections are going to be the ones who continue to make this a priority, who aggressively push through Congress further restrictions to limit what the ISPs can do to censor content and price access to the full spectrum of the internet out of the range of the average voter.

[qtsp00k]

Any way, the woman on the bench outside the office asked me what was wrong and i shared with her that people think it's ok to be addicted to marijuana, but it's not. It makes people throw their lives away, throw themselves away.

She agreed and told me to put myself first. I was already doing that but the reminder and the encouragement was good.

I told her that i won't need him very soon, but i will still want him.

She left with the little old lady from the elevator.

And the anger and all of the upset from him just washed away. I was spun. I sat there trying to muster a smile but that's a moot point with masks. I wanted to greet people but didn't know if i should be saying good morning. I then didn't remember their names or recognize their faces well enough.

Everyone felt familiar and every one felt like a stranger and pain was crawling up my leg, every slight movement of my head hurt it as did the sound of my own voice.

I sat waiting and getting looked at. I didn't want attention but you'd never expect so considering im wearing a candy pink onesie (kigurumi) with hair big and wild in a big power chair loaded with jackets and bags.

I could cry quiet for awhile. Fearing my neighbors would see me on a non functioning day and stop seeing me when I'm feeling well. Like people do. Like people have.

And i kept doing things too. Water on the floor, i went and got paper towels and cleaned it up myself. It was almost certainly bleach water and my heart went to the 30 dogs that walk on these floors.

I saw Barbara not recognize her ride fully and not want to risk a fall by going out to the vehicle, so i zipped out to the car. The woman waved me away but i just stared at her through the rolled up window of her car until she got out. She told she wasn't my ride and she's sorry before i got the chance to ask her who she was here for. She said Barbara and i knew that was Barbara even though i couldn't recall her name on my own during our pleasant chat about palm sunday.

Which i do not understand. Palm leaves as in palm tree. Thru the street? For church? Ok

I led her to Barbara and the friend giving her a ride shared that she helps residents out here on top of caring for her severely add bipolar husband. I blessed her heart and wished them a good time.

A hand cart was stuck up on the dirt outside and i took that in. They fold apparently.

When i finally got outside i cried hard, just sobbingban inching along. Last night at the bar my leg was feeling strung up and today it was definitely going to be a pain day of not fun, not doing anything besides sitting still while tv does it's best to keep my attention off Sean & Sean.

The good Sean because i don't want to lose him and exposure to me seems to do the trick .

And because he's sick and Travis is sick... I'm interestingly not all that concerned about having contracted a flu. Just worried at the flighty nature of an unburdened soul. I worry that if i imagine too many things then no future will be left to be had. As if by thinking of a scenario crosses it off a list of possibilities.

And so too do i fret that my thinking about them will be perceived and they will be thinking about me without understanding why. Mistake it for being in love with me maybe?

This is all very profound.

Along a paths crossing i there did meet a woman who asked if i was ok. I replied that i was not and she wanted me to talk to her. I voiced my concerns that this was overstepping bounds of a stranger, but she assured me it was ok.

I told her my water problem and that I'm distraught that im unable to get water for myself because the pain but then also getting water for several days home on my chair is a challenge.

She asked if she could do anything. I don't recall now (hours, that's how fast it goes) if i said "pray for my friend" or she suggested. But she said the prayer out loud. When i gave her the name i couldn't say my exes new name because i had to say Sean. And in that moment i didn't know which of them i wanted. But as the prayer went on the wording became more specifically for me, concluding with her stating that we should be reunited if it be the will of the universe.

I felt the flag pole type of sensation. Light briefly.

Then i thanked her and esp I'm grateful because i don't know how to pray really. And i explained that i call it Christ Consciousness and she suggests i open up the bible and read it in order to connect with that presence.

Sean O was speaking of the random open read method. This was also how I'd choose to read any book or not. This was also what i did to make it thru my stint in OSH. When i became the church leader and led worship, helped patients find clarity and exorcised demons according to some testimony.

She offered to help me read the Bible.

I was looking for it last night cuz Sean O , then again cuz Edward (which is a nother christ consciousness share as well) and that's ok.

I'll find it. She prayed that jesus give me a sign of hope i think and she was it.

Her name is Mary.

She offered to get me water.

To my shame i didn't even pay her.

I said oh no and was kind of shocked that she offered.

After Sean O bared his soul about his Gramma and it lined up eerily with my own Gramma ship to the point i just wept and he continued sharing. Mary was is my Gramma's name.

I am not fully expecting Mary to follow thru with her delivery.

But she does.

And i thank her. I'm out of sorts for a number ofv rains.

one being that I had to take a legal Delta 8 gummy for my pain and it still makes me feel like my consciousness has been altered and another being that the post-it notes slowly scaling up my wall are not adhesive anymore and I need to find my poster putty ASAP or I'm going to lose the pieces of my puzzle. The third being that I'm back in my home and my home is not in order and I cannot do a single thing about it at all today. And then also the fact that I could be in for a pain storm and just struggling to get through every next moment and stay silent and not worry people and not be a negative presence and not have the police called on me.

I still do not offer this woman any money and I'm not even sure I hardly even say thank you because she hands me her business card as she tells me to let her know if I need help and I take this card from her and she's a pastor.

I tell you if I could get out of the loving embrace of Christ I would stop talking about being in the loving embrace of Christ but this is where I'm at right now.

I have wonder if Mary's unnerved that I answered the door out of my power chair because I was seated in it when she met me and I have wonder if she thought anything about my apartment despite knowing that I just moved in and I'm not unpacked. And then I don't really care and I just think that oh that church I've been looking for found me.

And then occurs to me that I've made plans on Sunday and I might have to reschedule those plans because I don't know if a Catholic man would want to accompany me to church and now my plan is to go to church on Sunday.

[cherryblossomcheesecake]

God & His Priests & His Kings: Chapter 6 - A FFXV OC Fanfic

Hi guys, this chapter is a behemoth for me. It might not be entirely interesting for some of you cuz I know some people are just waiting for Soo and Noct to reunite and that is coming I promise. This chapter is setting up for the climax of this part of the story, and we will eventually get to hear the voices of other characters in regards to events happening in the story. Also this trilogy will be expanding into a four part series since I feel like I'm starting to bring God & His Priests & His Kings to an unintentional close.  I mentioned this in the last chapter when I posted it on AO3 but I did some research into age of consent and marriage laws for my country, and minors as young as 16 can consent to sex with no more than 5 yrs older than them and is not in a position of authority (like a cop). You can also be legally married at as young as 16, with the permission of a legal guardian or parent. I'm sort of basing certain aspects of Goryeon law on that of my country since I'm familiar with it. I feel that I should also clarify how old characters are rn, so Ravus is 24, Luna 20, Soo is 17 (although she can be considered 25 since she lived 17 yrs before coming to Eos 8 years ago), and Noctis is 16. This is mainly done for anyone who may be concerned about underage situations that occur between characters throughout the fic. As always, find me on ao3, ff.net or twitter under CherryBlossomCheeseCake/Cherry Blossom Cheese Cake/CherryWrites.

Words: 3,154 Uploaded: 06.14.18 Master List Previous Chapter

Light of the Seven - Ramin Djawadi

I had spent plenty of time with Gyeong-Hui and Se-Hyeon as the wedding was organized over the next two weeks, numbly moving through life as time moved on. The princesses were attempting to put together a ceremony and reception that would reflect both the cultures of Goryeo and Tenebrae.

"The ceremony should be held in the grand temple at the heart of the city, allowing the people to see their newly wedded princess, and for them to be married before all the Astrals." the first princess suggested, a scribe taking down furious notes as we spoke, "How should the alter and pillars be decorated?"

"Perhaps in garlands of holly, and white cherry blossoms mixed with forget-me-nots? White and blue are the colours of the Nox Fleurets after all." Se-Hyeon offered, looking to me for approval.

I nodded in response, absently thinking that the two flowers would complement each other well amongst the green.

"The reception could be in the forest garden to the east, there's plenty of room there for the entire court to gather." I offered, remembering the tall trees of Tenebrae that slightly resembled those in that garden.

Gyeong-Hui hummed in agreement, gesturing for the scribe to write it down, "And of course you will wear the hanfu that was designed for you some years back. The court ladies will also retrieve some of the bride gold from the vault so that you are adequately adorned."

I nodded lightly, sighing as the two continued on with planning. Realizing that I was a touch more distracted than usual, the first princess dismissed me from the room.

Court ladies fell into position behind me, following me through the palace as I made my way back to the third princess' apartments. I strolled through the halls at a slow pace, not really focusing on my surroundings as I knew the way without thinking.

"Ah, Princess. How lovely to see you outside of formal meetings for once."

The sickeningly sweet tone of the chancellor came from the hall to my left, the man coming to a stop just steps away from me.

I shifted uncomfortably before bobbing in a small curtsy, avoiding his gaze.

"Chancellor Izunia, I hope all is well with you and your party. Are you enjoying your stay in Goryeo?" I inquire politely, suppressing a shudder as I felt his gaze lock onto me.

"This trip has certainly proved more fruitful than expected, your highness. His excellency was pleased to hear that you had accepted the proposal, and looks forward to meeting you after the wedding." Ardyn boasted, his tone changing slightly at the mention of the emperor.

My brown eyes finally locked onto his golden gaze, seeing numerous emotions swirling within them, specifically one of satisfaction as he looked down on me. I couldn't hold back the shiver that crawled down my spine then, forcing a smile that surely resembled a grimace.

"I shall anxiously await our meeting then. Good day, Chancellor Izunia." I replied, curtsying once more before bustling off once again, catching the faint tip of his hat towards me as I left. His golden gaze never straying from me until I was out of sight.

I sat at the desk in the third princess' bed chamber, playing with the letter that was addressed to the third princess in Eun-Byeol's handwriting. I carefully opened the letter, unfolding it to read its contents.

My Dear Friend,

Word has spread beyond Goryeo of your marriage to the high commander in a bid for peace. I think you are so brave to sacrifice so much for the kingdom and its people. I hope that you and your intended grow to have a marriage where you are both content with the life you will have together.

I wish I was able to attend the wedding but duty on the mainland keeps me from wishing you well in person. I will join you in Tenebrae after the wedding, to help ease the transition from one place to another, and to make sure the high commander keeps to the terms of your arrangement.

If there is any business I can conclude for you on the mainland before my departure, do not hesitate to contact me.

Sincerely,

A Thankful Friend

I smiled fondly at the third princess' neat characters, tracing them on the paper with a finger. I set the letter down on the desk before pulling out some blank stationary, an inkwell and pen.

My Darling Friend,

Thank you for supporting my decision. It was not easy to make but I was willing to sacrifice everything for our home and the people I love.

The high commander has been very kind to me, even when the decision of future peace remained uncertain. I certainly do not oppose to this match from what little he has shared with me.

Enclosed you will find a letter addressed. Please mail it to the designated individual as soon as you get this.

I look forward to our reunion in Tenebrae following the wedding.

Sincerely,

Lee Eun-Byeol, Third Princess of the Elected Council of Goryeo

I set aside the first letter, taking a deep breath and began penning the next.

My Dearest Noctis,

I know my last letter may have only just reached you, but here I am writing another.

Goryeo has fallen on hard times, and each and every one of us are making sacrifices to keep our country thriving. We have been able to reach a formal peace with Nifelheim, however it deeply impacts our friendship.

Please know I'm completely heartbroken when I say that from this point on, I can no longer receive or send letters to and from you. My duty to my country has grown exponentially in the past few weeks and I can't jeopardize the progress made by continuing our correspondence. I'm so deeply sorry, if I could avoid this, I would. But this peace is too new and fragile to risk it.

Do know that I love you and I'm so proud of who you're becoming. Keep your friends close and treasure them. You need someone to watch your back since I am no longer able.

Goodbye.

Yours,

Soo

Tears fell from my eyes as I folded both letters together, placing them in a single envelope. I addressed it to the room the third princess resided in at Galdin Quay, wiping tears away before they stained the paper.

I stood from the writing desk, walking over the the burning fireplace with the princess' letter in hand and tossed it into the flames to remove the evidence of its existence.

I watched the fire eat away at the paper, hearing the door to the bed chamber slide open and closed. I could tell it was Myung-Hee who entered the room, the movement of her skirts spreading the smell of the floral scented oils she used for her hair and skin.

"Am I doing the right thing? Throwing away the life I've built for a shred of peace?" I questioned, continuing to look into the fire as if it could provide me with answers.

"You are doing the honourable thing, and that is the bravest choice of all." my mother replied calmly.

I turned towards her, tears filling my eyes and spilling over once more.

"Then why does it hurt so much?"

Myung-Hee walked over and pulled me into a tight hug, allowing me to cry into her chest like I was nine years old again. She slowly lowered us to the floor, holding me tightly as I cried myself to exhaustion.

The day before the wedding I was a complete bundle of nerves, fidgiting more than what was considered appropriate in polite company. Ravus appeared to be more calm than I, however I could see a hint of nerves within his eyes as we ate lunch in one of the private gardens. We sipped at our tea and ate, content with looking around the garden and sharing each other's company for the most part.

Ravus broke the silence first, clearing his throat as he shifted.

"I was in contact with my sister, Lunafreya. She requested that I extend her well wishes to you and that she looks forward to meeting you." he began, "She was worried that our match would be unhappy for us both due to both its political nature and our gap in age."

"I hope you informed her that her concern is appreciated but unnecessary. I knew going into this arrangement that it would not be my ideal scenario, but I am willing to be kind and respectful if the same courtesies are extended to me." I replied, sipping at my tea.

"I did tell her of that and informed her that we have been getting to know each other without difficulty." the former prince confirmed before retrieving a box from his coat, "She also sent along a gift for you."

I took the heavy box from him, setting it on the table in front of me before opening it carefully.

Inside the box rested a pendant and chain made of white gold, flowers and vines twisting around the pendant, holding a sapphire in place at the centre.

"It's beautiful…" I murmured, lightly trailing my fingers along the vines and flowers.

Ravus smiled faintly as he caught sight of the gift.

"That has been worn by every Nox Fleuret woman on her wedding day. I believe this is Lunafreya's way of accepting you as a part of the family." He offered, watching in amusement as I stared up at him wide eyed.

"I shall take good care of it, high commander." I promised, drawing the makings of a smile from him as I carefully closed the jewellery box once again.

I could hear the excited the chatters of the court gathering within the main hall from the side room I had been sequestered off to early in the morning.

I sat in front of a mirror as my mother and other court ladies twisted and pinned my hair up into a style suited for weddings and married women.

It was a strange sight for me, the style so particularly different from how I wore it as a court lady, and even more so than the let-down style unmarried women wore. There were minimal decorative pins due to the size of the head piece, only one which accompanied the piece that was settled in the hair pinned to the back of my head.

The head piece was the last to go in my hair, the swirling piece of gold decorated with butterflies, flowers and birds, with fine gold chains hanging down in front of my face and other parts of the piece. The chains matched the simple gold earrings I wore that dangled just shy of brushing my shoulders. The pendant given to me by Luna was tucked between my breasts, the long chain allowing it to be placed securely under my bindings.

They had powdered and painted my face lightly, covering my lips in red that matched the colour of the hanfu I was to wear. I stood from my chair slowly, allowing the court ladies to remove my robe and replace it with the various parts of my gown.

My mother and Chae-Ryung assisted me into my skirt, holding my hands as I stepped into the opening, allowing the others to pull it up and fasten it above my hips. Both women release my hands to slide the top over my arms, pulling the front closed and wrapping the tie around my waist. An overcoat was placed on top of it, the heavy scarlet silk embroidered with golden thread and beads lining the hems and collar.

Mother held my hands gently, pulling my attention towards her. Her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her expression a mix of both joy and sadness.

"This may not have been the way I envisioned your wedding, but I am glad to have seen the woman you've become and to have been a part of this moment in your life. I love you, my darling, do not hesitate to reach out to me if you need to." she whispered, hugging me tightly, "You have made both your father and I so proud."

I nodded in response, the chains of my head piece clinking lightly as they brushed against each other.

Myung-Hee released me slowly, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles as a eunuch called for us from outside the room.

"That's your cue. Be brave, my daughter." mother murmured, brushing a hand against my cheek before exiting the room quickly.

I followed her at a much slower pace, stopping in the open door to face the bowing eunuch.

"Your highness, they are ready for you. You will be unaccompanied as you requested." he informed me, rising from his bow to catch my nod.

"Very well. Lead the way."

The eunuch gave another short bow before hurrying off, leading me towards the main hall of the grand temple. We stopped short of the entrance, the eunuch signalling for me to wait before he ran to inform the head eunuch that I was ready.

"Announcing Her Royal Highness, Third Princess Eun-Byeol."

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before walking into the main hall, the court proclaiming my good health and long reign as I walked past them up the aisle. I could see out of the corner of my eye my mother trying to hide her tears from her position behind the first princess.

My gaze focused on Ravus' figure situated at the foot of the altar, turning slowly as to offer me his hand. I accepted it with a slight tremor, allowing him to guide me up the small set of stairs to stand before the high priestess.

The old woman nodded politely before raising her hands up into the air.

"We have gathered before the gods to witness the union of not only two individuals, but of two great nations. May this union not only bring happiness to these two houses, but to these nations being united in peace."

The high priestess lowered her arms slowly, looking between us with her cloudy eyes before speaking.

"Ravus Nox Fleuret and Lee Eun-Byeol, have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"

We answered in unison, "I have."

"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to respect and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?" she questioned, her eyes falling onto Ravus at this point.

"I am." we confirmed, the blonde gritting his teeth slightly as he replied.

The priestess shifted her gaze over to me, "Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from the Astrals and to bring them up according to the teachings and faith of the Hexatheon?"

"I am." we answered once more, a small tremor making its way down my spine.

The priestess paused for a moment, as if weighing the honesty of our answers before continuing, "Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your hands, and declare your consent before the Hexatheon."

Ravus took my right hand in his left, staring into my eyes with utmost seriousness before proclaiming our decided upon vows.

"I, Ravus Nox Fleuret, take you, Lee Eun-Byeol, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will respect you and honour you all the days of my life."

I took a deep breath as I prepared to say my own vows, my hands gripping the blonde's tightly out of nerves.

"I, Lee Eun-Byeol, take you, Ravus Nox Fleuret, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to respect you and to honour you all the days of my life." I swore, my hands shaking slightly in Ravus' grip as I looked into his eyes.

"The vows have been exchanged before the gods and it is only by their hand that this marriage can be undone." the priestess proclaimed, sealing our fates in that moment, "You may kiss the bride."

The inclusion of the kiss was of the Tenebraen tradition and obviously took Ravus by surprise as he stood there for a moment in shock before leaning forward slightly to close the gap between us. The kiss was simple and short, but long enough to be deemed appropriate for the court.

"Go in peace before the Astrals and have a fruitful union." the high priestess said, dismissing us and closing the ceremony.

The applause of the court was thunderous as we walked down the aisle, the tolling to the temple bells adding to the celebration. We walked directly out of the temple, presenting ourselves to the public for the first time as husband and wife.

The guards allowed us a few moments of waving to the common folk before ushering us towards the palanquin so we could return to the palace for the formal presentation.

The return to the palace was silent, the only sound being the cheers and cries of the people as we went past. Ravus assisted me out of the palanquin and continued to hold my hand as we were guided into the palace and made to wait until the court had gathered in the throne room.

The blonde turned to me, staring down at me as I stared back up at him.

"I'm sorry that it had to come to this, your highness." he said quietly, mismatched eyes reflecting his sadness clearly.

I shook my head in the negative, "We all do things that we may not necessarily want to in the name of love. But I could think of far worse men to be married to, Ravus."

The former prince had a hint of a smile on his face at my use of his name, nodding before turning to face the closed doors.

"I promise if you do not wish to perform the traditional duties expected of a wife, you will be provided a space for you to call your own when we reach Tenebrae." he swore, bringing a smile to my own face.

"Thank you." I murmured, turning to face the doors as well.

The large wooden doors slowly began to open, allowing us to be seen by the court. Ravus and I stepped into the room hand-in-hand, diplomatic smiles in place.

The court and noble families clapped at the presentation of our marriage, the first and second princesses standing on the dais with the Nifelheim embassy standing at the base.

My brow furrowed in curiousity as I couldn't find the chancellor's figure among the brigadier general and the small amount of human soldiers they had brought as an escourt.

The thought was fleeting before the deafening sound of gunfire and shattering glass filled the air.

Next Chapter

[ostrich-on-a-rampage-blog]

Sprace-- • Character B bleeding heavily while Character A tries to staunch the blood but Character B is more concerned about the fact that stoic Character A is sobbing and panicking

So, I’m finishing up that Spot and Crutchie as brothers fic, but until I posted that, I figured I should at least put something else out there. Sorry I haven’t been posting as much. College started back up and that Spot and Crutchie thing has gotten hella long and in-depth and has been taking most of my time. Anyway, without further ado, some Sprace.

TW: Blood, stab wounds.

He wasn’t supposed to have had a knife.

It wasn’t as if Race had been doing anything wrong. Not this time, at least. There were countless times that he had deserved to be beat up, where he deserved the black eye or the split lip that the rest of the newsboys would mock him for–though, Race could always hear the concern in their jabs. If he had actually been fooling around, swindling someone, then maybe it would have made the attack moderately okay. But, Race hadn’t been in the wrong this time.

However, it only took one time for the past, the future, to be carved into cold, unyielding stone. One millisecond, one split-second of hesitation, and suddenly–change. There are innumerable moments, indiscernible from their harmless counterparts, when the entirety of history rests, uneasy, on an apex. Only the slightest breeze, the softest breath will alter the course.

October 15th, 1899.

The sky thrummed with tension, with expectancy. Events brewed together, smoking and scalding. Danger, inescapable. Fate turned her head and held her breath.

It would not be her that stirred the future forward.

He wasn’t supposed to have had a knife.

Race glanced up at the gathering storm clouds, before hurrying forward. He had just sold his last pape, but it was still early afternoon. The headline had been a sure sell–something about a murder near the edge of the Bronx–but Race hadn’t purchased as many papes as he knew he could sell. He wanted to be off early. Free. Besides, he had a meeting–as they were apt to call it.

For almost a month, Race had been meeting up with Spot. It had started with a bet, like most experiences in Race’s life. Race had taken the bet confidently; very rarely did he lose bets made on the races. And this one was a sure thing. Or, rather, it was supposed to be a sure thing. He recalled the complete disbelief that had nearly dropped the cigar from lax lips. His horse had lost. His horse had lost and… And Spot’s had won.

“Pay up, Higgins,” Spot had said, his voice triumphant. “I think you owe me a dollar.”

Race had turned to Spot, quickly recovering from the shock. “I don’t think so. I don’t even have a dollar!”

“Then, why’d you make a bet for a dollar?”

“Cuz I was planning on making one,” Race had explained, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Spot had crossed his arms against his chest. “Yeah? Well, maybe I was planning on making one. Pay up.”

“I ain’t gonna pay you no dollar,” Race had said.

“Fine,” Spot had said, pressing his pointer finger into Race’s chest. “But, you owe me one.”

Race had felt the warm pressure of Spot’s finger against his sternum throughout the next couple days, firm and familiar. And, it hadn’t faded until Spot showed up at the Manhattan Lodging House one afternoon. Race had paused, his chest tightening with some indescribable feeling at the sight of Spot, leaning leisurely against the Lodging House. Although he had appeared to be relaxed��posture somewhat slumped, a deck of cards flicking between nimble fingers, a smile tightening his lips–Race had recognized the tension that could spring the leader of Brooklyn into action. “You’re with me, Higgins,” he had said, motioning for Race to follow him.

And, he had. There had been hesitation, of course. Race hadn’t exactly known what to expect from the Brooklyn leader. But, there was something calming, something reassuring and constant about Spot, that Race didn’t want to risk by not following the shorter, stockier boy. That first night, they had stopped at a deli, ate cold-cut meat and sharp pickles, sat on a curb and talked until the flickering lights of apartments faded into darkness. Race had left him, reluctantly admitting that he needed to get back to the Lodging House and catch, at least, a couple hours of sleep. Spot’s mouth had twitched, as if he were holding something back. He had grunted a farewell and they had parted ways.

But, two days later, Spot had shown up at the Manhattan Lodging House once again. It became a habit of theirs. Sell papes, head out to Brooklyn, grab a cheap meal, and talk long into the night. There had been one night, only a week later, when Race had stood up to return home and Spot had spoken up. “Oh, come on, Race,” he had said, his voice gruff–an effort to hide some sort of emotion, “why don’t you just stay at the Brooklyn House? It’s closer and it ain’t like we don’t got the room.”

Race had regarded Spot carefully, trying to read into Spot’s actual intentions behind the offer. “Okay, maybe I will,” Race had accepted, still watching the Brooklyn leader for some sort of indication.

Spot had smiled, the motion as relaxed as Race had ever seen it. Once they had reached the Brooklyn Lodging House, Spot had offered his own bed for Race, choosing to take the ground. It had been a surprisingly kind gesture, and the thought of it had warmed Race throughout the entire night.

The next night had been the same, and the night after that.

And, then, Spot had completely upended the entire game. They had been walking to the Brooklyn Lodging House. Race had noticed that Spot had watched him all afternoon, his eyes lit with something that Race still couldn’t place. Then, Spot’s jaw had tightened with what Race recognized to be resolve. Spot had grabbed Race’s wrist and dragged him into a nearby alley. Before Race had even been able to ask what was going on, Spot had grabbed Race’s head, his fingers threading through Race’s sweaty curls, as he kissed the other boy with a desperation that shocked Race. It took a moment, before Race had shaken off the immobilizing surprise. “What… the hell,” he had hissed, once he had backed out of Spot’s grasp.

Spot had glared at him, as if Race were in the wrong. He had swiped at his mouth angrily, before backing up. “Never mind. Maybe you should go back to Manhattan, Higgins.” Spot had reverted back to using Race’s last name, and that offended Race more than he cared to admit.

“Whoa,” Race had said, holding his hands up in defense. “Let’s slow down a bit. What was that? You just kissed me, Spot.”

“Yeah, I did. And if you go around telling, I’m gonna make you wish you hadn’t been born.”

Race had rolled his eyes, suddenly able to see past the hardened exterior that Spot wore as a shield. “Calm down, Conlon. You just took me by surprise is all.”

“So?” Spot had asked, and if Race had not known the other boy as well as he did, he would have been unable to detect the soft fear underlying the word.

“So,” Race had repeated, before surging forward and grabbing Spot, pressing him up against the alley wall. That night, they had shared Spot’s bed.

Everything else had fallen in place easily afterwards. There had been more rendevous in Brooklyn, more in Manhattan. More secret trysts in darkened alleyways, more insistent, frantic kisses. More intertwining fingers, more soft whispers, more tender kisses. More, more.

There had never been enough.

Race grinned at the memories. It had only been a short month, but it still felt as if he had always had Spot in his life like this. Race couldn’t imagine not having Spot around, couldn’t imagine a life without Spot’s lips against his.

“Hey, Race!”

The call interrupted Race’s thoughts and the smile slipped. “Jack, what’s up?” Race asked, turning to face the leader of the Manhattan newsboys. “A great headline today, wouldn’t ya say?”

Jack smiled briefly. “Yeah, it really was. Where you off to in such a hurry?”

Race jerked his thumb in the direction of Brooklyn. “I got a meeting.”

“A meeting,” Jack said, his voice flat, as if he didn’t quite believe Race.

“Yeah, a meeting. You got a problem with that?” Race watched Jack carefully for his reaction, searching for any suspicion on the true nature of his constant “meetings” over in Brooklyn. Jack’s eyes narrowed only slightly at Race’s carefree question, but the Manhattan leader didn’t rise to the bait Race had flung out. There were some mornings, when Race would meet up with the rest of the Manhattan boys at the Square, and Jack would stare at Race, his eyes dark with what Race could only categorize as suspicion. Race couldn’t be sure whether Jack actually knew what occupied his time in Brooklyn.

“No, but, Race, you seem to spend an awful lot of time over in Brooklyn.”

Race shrugged. “Yeah. Spot and I’se good friends.” He grinned cockily. “Besides, I’m making sure the Manhattan-Brooklyn relations stay good. Ain’t that a good thing?”

Jack nodded slowly. “I guess. Just wanted to make sure you was doing okay. And that you was being careful, too.”

“I’m fine, Jack. Anyway, I’ll see ya later tonight. Or tomorrow. Depending how late the,” he snorted softly, before continuing, “meeting goes.”

With that, Race continued to Brooklyn, a grin on his lips and a bounce in his step. The sky was thickening, electricity thrumming through the whirling, portentous clouds. Race figured that he wouldn’t be returning to Manhattan that night, no matter how long their “meeting” would last; Race didn’t exactly want to be walking home in the rain. Which meant, Jack would probably even expect him to stay in Brooklyn. Especially, if the storm raged harder than expected. Race glanced back, trying to determine if Jack was still watching him, or if the older boy had headed back to the Manhattan Lodging House.

He didn’t see Jack, but Race did notice a group of boys trailing behind him. They were big, burly, sneers splitting their faces. Race slowed to a stop, turning to face the boys head on. He raised a brow in their direction. “What brings you fellows over here. Aren’t you Richmond boys?” Race asked, crossing his arms against his chest in an apparently casual manner. Beneath the relaxed stance, however, Race was coiled tightly, preparing for what he expected would turn into a fight.

“Yeah, and what of it?” the first boy asked. He had blonde hair that stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps, his cheeks flushed.

“Nothing,” Race replied nonchalantly, discreetly checking for ways out if the situation got hairy. “Just trying to make some friendly conversation.” There was an alley just to the right of him and he was pretty sure that, from there, he could edge his way behind buildings and out to a side street down the way. Or, if he bolted, he could probably make it, either to Brooklyn, or the Manhattan Lodging House. Race was nearly at the halfway point between both places.

The bigger boys moved closer and Race instinctively took a step back. “You’re Higgins, right?”

“What’s it to you?” Race shot back. Four on one weren’t entirely hopeful odds. Race figured he could probably take two down relatively easy, and then he would be able to focus on the other two. Hopefully. Race took a second step back, maintaining the distance between himself and the boys.

“We’ve got some debts to settle,” the blonde boy said, and Race took him to be the leader of the gang.

Race scoffed, “I don’t gamble with Richmond boys. You got the wrong guy.”

“Maybe you don’t,” the blonde conceded, “but Conlon does. And we heard the two of you was close. Real close,” he said, drawing out the “s” as his mouth twisted into a grim smile.

“Oh, I see,” Race said, lightly, wondering just what the hell Spot had done to send this gang after him. “Well, seeing as I’m not Spot, I still stand by the idea that you’ve got the wrong guy.” He forced out a chuckle, before backing up even further. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I’ve got to get going and–”

Race cut himself off as the gang surged forward, towards him. He ducked out of the path of the first punch, sidestepping out of the reach of brass knuckles that Race hadn’t even seen the boys slip on. However, his retreat landed him in the path of the fourth boy, a short, robust red-head with a scar splitting his chin. The first punch to his jaw had Race stumbling backwards, but he quickly shoved the throbbing pain to the back of his head as he maneuvered away from the brass knuckles that glinted in the afternoon sun.

This wasn’t going to end well, Race already recognized this. While he had plenty of faith in his abilities to hold his own in a fight, Race wasn’t stupid enough to miss just how pissed the gang of Richmond boys were. And anger could be fatally dangerous, Race knew all too well.

The boys weren’t letting up, though Race glared at them, mentally daring them to continue the fight. They took the unspoken challenge to heart, and Race found himself narrowly avoiding a pair of brass knuckles. Race stepped in quickly, dodging the redhead’s fist’s range, punching him soundly in the nose. He followed the punch with a knee to the boy’s groin, grinning when the redhead fell to the ground.

Without pausing for even a momentary relieve, Race spun on his heel, landing a harsh left hook against one of the boy’s cheek. The boy stumbled backwards, pressing a hand against his cheek and glaring at Race. Race didn’t bother to relish in the small victory, already focusing on his next assailant.

Despite his focus on the fight, Race still couldn’t completely hold his own against the four boys, especially with the other two returning into the fray. The punch to his gut winded him, and Race edged back, realizing that he had to get out of there, damn his pride. A kick to the back of his knee–and when had they managed to circle around him?–and Race collapsed to the ground, instantly pushing himself up to continue the ever-hopeless fight. One of the Richmond boys kicked him in the ribs and Race barked out a hoarse cry of pain, fighting the instinctual urge to curl up around his bruised ribs and wait for the pain to abate. Instead, he pushed himself to unsteady feet, throwing himself at the nearest boy, who nearly tossed him to the side, hurling him into the arms of another waiting Richmond boy. This one, the blonde leader of the gang, grabbed Race’s arms, pinning him.

Race tugged against the leader’s grip, trying to maneuver his arms in order to elbow the Richmond boy in the stomach. “Not so strong now, eh?” the boy asked, chortling. Before Race could come up with a suitably witty response, the leader continued, “We’re gonna show Conlon not to mess with Richmond.” He nodded to one of his lackeys, tightening his grip around Race’s arms.

The gleeful leer was what first alerted Race to his danger. The sharp spike of pain confirmed it. He gasped at the sudden searing across his stomach, bending forward reflexively. The leader laughed cruelly, shoving Race to the ground. He couldn’t manage to catch himself, his jaw taking the brunt of the impact. Race grunted, twisting to face his attacker. Whatever retort he’d been preparing died on his tongue at the sight of the knife the Richmond boy held. The bloody knife. Realization flooded him and he couldn’t think past a constant stream of knife, blood, pain, knife, blood, pain, knife, blood, pain. It grew to a roar, and Race choked out a sob, grabbing at his stomach, trying to stem the blood.

“Don’t really know what Conlon sees in you,” the leader spat. “Give him a message for us, will ya? Tell him he ain’t welcome ‘round Richmond no more.” The leader kicked Race in the stomach, before waving his boys off.

Race gasped around choking sobs, working to even out his breathing, but he couldn’t manage to completely fill his frantically pumping lungs. He arched his back, groaning at the pain that suddenly lanced through his abdomen. Fingers pressed desperately at the wound, which only spiked the pain further. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but Race couldn’t just lay there on the grimy, blood-soaked street, just waiting for Death to take him. He couldn’t give up this easily.

Gritting his teeth, Race pushed himself up to a sitting position. Harsh breaths tore from his mouth, but he refused to be cowed so easily. Race stood, immediately finding support against the brick wall to his right. His legs trembled, but Race was determined to not give up. He glanced back, in the direction of the Manhattan Lodging House. Race could return and Jack would help him, would take care of him. With a snort, Race turned away, beginning the long walk to Brooklyn.

He was no fool. Race didn’t know how much longer he would be able to fight the darkness edging at his sight. But, he did know that, at this time, it wasn’t Jack’s comfort that he yearned for. With a firm resolve, Race started towards Brooklyn, ignoring the way each step jostled his wound further, ignoring how warm blood spilled between his fingers, dripping, dripping–

Dripping. There had been one night, a couple weeks ago, when it had started storming, thunder and thick clouds swirling around the darkened sky. Rain had dripped off the rooftop, endless and momentarily eternal. Spot and Race had sat there, watching the growing storm, listening to the dripping rain. And, if Race closed his eyes, he could hear the constant dripping, sonorous in the deep silence; he could feel the familiar pressure of Spot’s shoulder against his own, could feel the soft warmth that radiated from the boy that only exuded cold hardness around everyone else.

Race stumbled over the uneven sidewalk, his hand inadvertently digging deeper into the stab wound. He cursed at the sudden pain, but continued doggedly forward. It couldn’t be that much farther now; Race felt as if he had already walked miles upon miles. Early on in their relationship, Spot and Race had decided to rendezvous at a small deli, nearly exactly halfway between the two Lodging Houses. The walks there had always seemed brief, but as Race stumbled slowly forward, he realized just how long and tortuous the distance was. It couldn’t be much longer, it couldn’t be much longer. It was a mantra, an anchor. The only repetition that kept Race moving.

That, and Spot.

Race could clearly picture the shorter boy, a soft smirk twisting his lips; his skin dark, his hair darker; eyes that smoldered with humor and strength. He could hear Spot’s laugh: the way it started out soft and gravelly, before growing, rolling, like thunder in a summer storm. He could feel Spot’s hand, pressing insistently into his own, their fingers intertwining roughly.

Only a few steps more, and Spot would be there.

The air seemed thick, muggy, and Race’s breath came in sharp gasps that punctuated each jolting step. Sweat slicked his forehead, itched at his underarms. There had been a summer day, only the week before. The sun had beaten down relentlessly, a cloudless sky offering no relief. They had crept beneath the dappled shade of a tree, and laid there, swimming in sweat, dreaming of fall. Race wanted to be back under that tree, when the future seemed filled with endless opportunities and nothing could harm them.

How much farther could the deli actually be?

“Race?”

With a soft sigh, Race smiled weakly. He had made it. He had found Spot. Race had a couple of witty retorts planned out, either “This is why I’m the gambler in this relationship” or “Boy, those Richmond boys aren’t afraid to bring a knife to a fistfight”. Instead, Race only managed to groan, “Spot,” as he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Spot’s hands were immediately on Race’s shoulders, helping him into a sitting position. “What the hell, Higgins,” Spot hissed. “What did you get yourself into?”

Only because he had known the shorter boy for so long, Race could recognize the worry thrumming beneath the words. “It’s–” Race cut himself off, coughing. He grimaced at the blood that now spattered the pavement. “It’s…” he considered his words. Race wouldn’t be able to convince Spot that he was fine. Hell, he couldn’t even convince himself he was fine. “It’s pretty bad,” Race explained.

“No shit,” Spot muttered, studying the bloody pavement. “Where are you hurt?” he demanded, tearing his focus from the ground.

“Mostly just my stomach,” Race explained.

Spot was silent, as he gently pushed Race’s vest aside. However, upon seeing the blood-soaked shirt, Spot could no longer keep his peace. “Race,” he said, and his voice wavered only slightly. “Race, you gotta tell me what happened.” His hands hovered for a moment, above the injury, before pressing down–hard–to staunch the blood. “You gotta tell me.”

Race groaned at the sudden pressure, trying to push Spot’s hands away. Spot remained insistent, and Race gave up, recognizing that he was too weak to win a fight against Spot’s stubborn nature. “What do you think?” he asked sarcastically, grinning. His teeth were stained with blood and Race wondered if he would ever manage to get the sickly iron taste out of his mouth. “Got stabbed.”

“Who?” Spot ground out.

Race attempted half of a shrug, before giving up when the movement tore at his stab-wound. “A buncha idiots.” Spot continued to glare at him, silently demanding him to provide the information. “Just a buncha Richmond boys. Thought they were all high an’ mighty.” Race snorted. “Boy, did they show me.”

Spot shook his head, anger tightening his features. “They’se gonna pay.” His eyes shot up, dark and vicious, as if he were searching for the aggressors. “Trust me, they’se gonna pay.”

“Mm,” Race agreed. His body was beginning to feel leaden. Already, Race struggled to move his arms, didn’t even bother to attempt moving his legs. Sluggishly, he blinked at Spot, watching the Brooklyn boy’s eyes flicker with an emotion that Race was, simply, too exhausted to interpret.

A sharp slap to his cheek had Race’s eyes jerking open, even before he had recognized that they had slid shut. “Stay awake,” Spot commanded, his voice strained.

“M’s’rry,” Race apologized, slurring the words into two weak syllables. “D’n’t mean ta.” He watched Spot, long, languid blinks interrupting his vision. Something odd struck him about Spot’s eyes. Something… different. Weakly, Race lifted his hand up to Spot’s cheek, brushing at a couple of the freckles there, streaking blood across his cheek. “Are ya… are ya cryin’?” he asked, ashamed at the effort that the small sentence cost him.

“I ain’t crying,” Spot immediately shot back. The words were gruff, as was his entire demeanor. The shorter boy seemed to bristle with an energy that Race didn’t initially recognize. “I ain’t crying. You’se just… not seeing right. It’s probably ‘cuz you ain’t even able to keep your eyes open, huh?”

“Oh,” Race said softly. He brushed limp fingers against Spot’s cheek, before allowing his arm to fall, motionless to his side. “Ya know… I’se real glad ‘at you’se here… with me. D’n’t want’a go… ‘lone,” he said. His slur was growing even more prominent with each word, vowels swallowed in tangled consonants.

Spot jolted at those words. Race groaned as Spot accidentally pressed even harder into the stab wound, but Spot ignored the pained sound. “Listen here, Higgins. You ain’t dyin’. Not on my watch.”

Race smiled weakly, the corners of his lips barely lifting. “You may… be stub’rn, but, Spot,” Race clearly enunciated Spot’s name, but paused to catch his breath before continuing, “Spot, ya ain’t… ya ain’t stupid.” He coughed again, frowning at the seemingly ever-present taste of iron in his mouth. It coated his cheeks, caked his tongue, stained his teeth. “It’s… gonna hap’n. Whether we want’a or… or not.”

“No, Race. You can’t think like that. You can’t just… just quit. Not now, not ever. ‘Kay? Promise me you’se going to pull through this,” Spot demanded.

“I ain’t gonna just… lie ta you… like that.”

Spot’s face twisted and his breath rushed out in a tight gasp. “Race, no,” he managed, finally removing his hands from the stab wound to pull Race into half of a hug onto his lap.

Race leaned into the touch, allowing his eyes to slip shut. Spot rarely initiated contact, and Race had grown accustomed to bridging the gap. But this afternoon… This afternoon, he was far too exhausted and couldn’t reach out, could only hope that Spot would reach for him. Spot’s body shook, and, though Race felt as if he should recognize the motion, he couldn’t place it. Instead, he wrapped numb fingers around the hem of Spot’s shirt and allowed the only boy who had ever truly mattered rock him into oblivion.

He wasn’t supposed to have had a knife.

[shockcity]

Bagginshield #14 - in a fairytale

Rating: M

Summary: for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Detective Inspector Durin has been trying to put Smaug behind bars for years, but something almost...supernatural keeps getting in the way. Bilbo Baggins has been running since he was a kid, but no matter where he goes he can't escape his curse. Maybe they can help each other. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/Magical Realism

Part II

Also on ao3

second note: ummm I think this was difficult for people to read cuz it's like 18k words and the app dies when you try to bring it up (/ω＼) so im reposting this in two parts sorry for the technical problems~ this is part II!

It was tempting to simply besiege the warehouse right that very moment – to run out and recklessly challenge Smaug with their oh so intimidating team made up of one magical hipster, a sort-of-but-you-had-better-not-ask wizard, and a disgraced detective inspector. But food and rest could not wait, and took priority over even the destruction of a great evil.

Bilbo was more than happy to just sit back and eat, and Thorin couldn't help but goggle as he gorged himself on an entire loaf of bread, three thick chunks of cheese, and a whole sleeve of chocolate digestives.

"Don't stare," Bilbo said, swallowing his mouthful and giving Thorin a bashful look. "Doing magic makes me hungry!"

"Do you do a lot of magic then?" Thorin couldn't help but tease.

Bilbo's jaw dropped. "Are you calling me fat?!"

Thorin bit back a smile. "Plump," he said. "That's what I thought when I first saw you...that you were pleasantly plump."

"Yeah, sure," Bilbo said skeptically. He finished off his cup of tea and leaned back in his chair a bit despondently.

And now Thorin felt bad.

"It's true!" he said, before pausing to find the right words. "I...well, to be honest, I thought you were lovely. And I...was very disappointed that you were a suspect in a murder."

He made a face at his own awkwardness but Bilbo was extremely amused. "And now that I'm not a suspect?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "And now that I know that you're just a magic man with a guitar, you mean?"

Bilbo smiled. "Yeah," he said, motioning for Thorin to answer.

"I...." He blew out a breath, realizing that Bilbo was just teasing. "You're a menace."

Bilbo cracked up. "A pleasantly plump one, though!" he cackled. "Hey, I'm flattered. Sincerely flattered. Still, I don't think it's a good idea to start dating each other while people are trying to kill us."

Thorin nodded sardonically.

"But once this is over I think we should probably have lots of sex."

Thorin's eyes widened, which only set Bilbo off again. Thankfully Gandalf decided that they were all in need of quiet time and herded Bilbo into Radagast's room to sleep. The wizard came back a little later and joined Thorin at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea with a sigh.

"You should sleep too, you know," Gandalf told him, watching him intently over the rim of his teacup.

Thorin considered him for a moment. "You knew my father well," he said, after a short silence. "You know about our...ancestry. About this whole world I'm supposed to be apart of."

Gandalf hummed in agreement.

"Why did my father never tell me?"

The wizard shook his head. "That I cannot answer, Thorin. I don't know why he kept it a secret from you. Perhaps he sought to keep you away from the danger that comes with knowing. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't want to know. I can only guess."

Thorin stared at his hands. "Then can you tell me this," he said, looking up and into Gandalf's eyes. "Who really killed my father?"

"Ah." Gandalf rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. "I suspect you met him tonight."

"After you get me what I want, I will kill you slowly."

Thorin raised his gun.

"Like I did your father."

"His name is Azog. He is the leader of a Warg pack, one of the many that work for Smaug on occasion. Now be aware, I am not entirely sure what happened, but Azog's kin fought your grandfather at one point, and many of them were wiped out. Azog swore an oath that he would destroy the line of Durin, and avenge his fallen pack. That is why he hunts you now, and it is likely what killed your father, in the end."

"Azog," Thorin said, repeating his name like a curse.

"Don't let vengeance cloud your judgement," Gandalf warned him. "You will meet your father's killer in battle soon enough."

He took the advice to heart and nodded. Gandalf pulled out a pipe from his robes (the man looked absolutely ridiculous in them, and Thorin wondered what normal people would have to say about it if they could see him) and packed it with tobacco. He puffed until the leaves smoldered, looking tired but peaceful.

A bit like Bilbo, in that he was excellent at pretending to be unfazed. Which reminded him....

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

Gandalf eyed him amusedly, chewing on the end of his pipe. "You want to know about Bilbo," he surmised.

Thorin dipped his head somewhat sheepishly.

"You would not be the first, nor will you be the last, to be fascinated by Bilbo Baggins." Thorin started, having not known Bilbo's last name. "He is truly a one of a kind creature that never fails to surprise me."

Thorin's mouth quirked. "I don't know him that well," he admitted. "But somehow I understand what you mean."

"Yes, I dare say you do." The old wizard winked at him.

Trying not to blush, Thorin shook his head and turned serious again. "What I want to know is what his connection to Smaug is...why does he want Bilbo?"

Gandalf, whose face had grown more and more resigned as Thorin spoke, let out heavy sigh. "It's rather a long story."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," he said, accidentally sounding a lot like his bobby alter-ego. "I want to know."

"Alright. I suppose...I suppose it starts with his power."

Thorin leaned forward.

"Bilbo's power is quite singular," said Gandalf. "Words have weight, and with the right words, well – you've seen what he can do; call up storms, ward off enemies, cause terrible destruction – I have also seen his influence on the mind. He can...persuade people to do things. Sometimes without him even realizing it. The point is, Bilbo has an extremely useful gift. Useful...but dangerous if uncontrolled, and Bilbo struggles with restraint."

"What about that other minstrel in England?" Thorin asked. "Bilbo said there was two. How do they control their powers?"

The old wizard sighed again. His favorite thing to do tonight, it seemed. "There is no second minstrel," he revealed. "There's not another minstrel in all the world. I made it up, to convince our kind that Bilbo is not as special as he truly is. I thought the existence of another would lure Smaug into seeking this fictitious person out, but alas, I underestimated Smaug's obsession with the boy."

"What is that obsession? Why does he want Bilbo so much?"

"Partially for his power." Gandalf shrugged. "But also because of his mother."

He frowned. "His mother?"

"Yes," Gandalf paused and relit his pipe, his expression reluctant. "What happened was this: one day, Bilbo's father got very sick, and Belladonna, Bilbo's mother, could not cure him. They had only been married six months...and here was Bungo at death's door. She was heartbroken. Bella worked night and day to find a cure for him, but nothing helped. It wasn't until another apothecary told her of the healing power of dragon scales, that Bella considered approaching Smaug. Unwilling to lose Bungo, she took the risk and begged the dragon for his help. Most likely finding her amusing, Smaug gave her one of his scales and simply told her that all he asked for in repayment was the fulfillment of a request at a later date."

Thorin winced.

"Yes. Terrible mistake. Bella returned home, and of course the scale worked, and Bungo was back on his feet in no time at all. Three months later, Bella realized she was pregnant with Bilbo, and he was born a healthy baby in late September. As the years passed little Bilbo was a delight to his parents and his extended relations; a bright star in an otherwise murky sky, one might say. And then one day, when Bilbo was six years old, Smaug finally called upon Bella for his favor.

"I think that he probably meant to ask her to do something cruel and humiliating for him. Yes, he no doubt had some form of torment in mind. But then, of course, he met Bilbo, and immediately knew that the boy had immense power. So he asked Belladonna for repayment...in the form of her firstborn son.

"As you can imagine, this didn't go over well. So Smaug made her a deal (he likes his games, if you recall). He would give them three chances to find a better form of repayment than the little boy. Once a year, he would visit and ask what they had for him instead. Three chances. Three years.

"The first year they presented him with their wealth. They'd worked endless hours, and saved and scrounged for months, feeding only Bilbo, until they'd collected a good sized fortune. This they offered to Smaug, but the dragon only laughed, and kissed and hugged Bilbo, who did not know any better and showed Smaug open affection (and I must say, I have always wondered if that had ever affected him; there were many times the dragon could have simply killed the boy, and yet...) in any case, he did not accept their offering, and went away until the next year.

"When he returned the second time, Bella and Bungo offered him something far more precious: their blood. Magical blood is extremely potent, and with it other magicals can, for a time, harness the other's gift. It cannot be donated by the very powerful, I'm afraid (and Belladonna was indeed, quite strong) so it was Bungo who stepped forward in exchange for his son's freedom. Smaug claimed that he would first try a taste of the man's blood to see whether or not it suited him. But a taste was not what he had in mind. He killed Bungo; tore him limb from limb as his wife watched, and after it was over, he announced that the blood was not good enough, and warned Belladonna that she had but one more year before she lost her son forever."

"He killed Bilbo's father."

"Yes. Now it was in the third year that everything changed. I never learned what Bella had planned to offer Smaug, for in the end it didn't matter. Smaug had something he wanted this time. A request that would void out his earlier claim on Bilbo. He had heard from some other calamity – some evil whisper somewhere – of words that could bring him unimaginable power. Of words that would give him dominion over the entire world. All Smaug needed was a wordsmith, a minstrel – a creature whom, at the time, was considered only a myth. But Smaug had suspected for a while that Bilbo was of the Words, and so he came to the Bagginses with a plan...and a curse.

"What he had with him was unspeakable. They were Words that should never be said aloud; should never be read, or even written down. Words that only Bilbo could invoke. But what Smaug did not realize was that though the power was within the Words, it also came from the wordsmith. That is to say, unless Smaug himself possessed Bilbo's gift, it could not be transferred. And it could not be stolen."

"So Bilbo has this...unimaginable power?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf muttered noncommittally. "Perhaps not. All that is known is that after it was Said, Smaug went off believing that it had worked. By the time he realized that he had been given nothing, Bella and Bilbo had already fled. From then on they moved about the world, helped by me and other enemies of Smaug. Kept secret. Safe. Smaug took her defiance very personally, and part of the reason he has searched so obsessively for them was because he believed that he had been tricked. They were truly lucky to have lived undetected for so long. Then, when Belladonna fell ill and died, Bilbo wanted more than anything to return to his home. And well, you see how that turned out."

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment. "Then he is in great danger.”

"We all are," Gandalf agreed, and then gave him a pointed look. "But that's where you come in."

In the next room, in a dream that he would not remember come morning, Bilbo stood in front of a roaring bonfire on a white cliff that overlooked an endless black sea.

"Alright, little one, you know what to do."

Bilbo smiled up at the nice man and turned to face the fire. He inhaled, slow and deep, and with considerable power collected on his tongue, he said,

"One ring to rule them all...."

"Do we even have a plan?"

"Of course we do, weren't you paying attention?"

"Yes, but I thought you were joking."

"Quiet."

They fell silent as Gandalf glanced around the warehouse from their hiding place behind a shipping container, his eyes roving over the men that prowled around the yard. Bilbo fidgeted beside Thorin, his guitar on his back, and Thorin almost laughed aloud when he realized that, in this case, his gun was completely outclassed next to a acoustic guitar. Bilbo caught him staring and gave him a 'what?' look.

"There," Gandalf suddenly spoke. He pointed his staff at a large tower crane just as its engines fired up. Lorries beeped as they backed up out of its way, and a man in a hard hat suddenly shouted and made the universal sign for OK. The crane rose, and on the end of it was...a rock?

"What the hell is that?"

But it wasn't Gandalf that answered. Instead, Bilbo got a queer look in his eye, and whispered, "there hammer on the anvil smote, there chisel clove, and graver wrote. There forged was blade, and bound was hilt; the delver mined, the mason built."

"Durin's axe," said Gandalf.

Thorin frowned at the rock attached to the end of the crane, until suddenly, he caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. He then realized what he was looking at: it was a hilt. The hilt of an axe – which was firmly lodged in stone.

"That belongs to you," Bilbo told him, turning to him with a smile.

Thorin smiled back fondly.

"Now is our only chance," Gandalf interrupted, getting to his feet rather nimbly for an old man. "Thorin, you must get to the axe. No matter what happens, this is your task. You cannot fail."

"What am I supposed to do after that?" Thorin demanded, rattled by Gandalf's intensity.

The wizard stared into his eyes gravely. "You will know," was all he said. "Bilbo, with me."

"What? Wait!"

Bilbo put a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he told him. "We're just going to cause a distraction. It'll be fun."

Thorin wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Be careful," he said worriedly. "I mean it, Bilbo."

"I will," Bilbo promised, and then flashed him a wicked grin. "After all, I'm looking forward to all that sex."

Thorin blushed, and Bilbo laughed into the back of his hand as he moved away and ran off after Gandalf.

He turned his attention back to the axe. The workers were slowly lowering it onto the back of a flatbed lorry, and it didn't look as though they were in any sort of a hurry. As he waited, he checked his magazine before clicking the safety off his gun.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as a cacophonous screeching sound suddenly split the air. Forgetting what he was doing for a moment, he looked about wildly until he spotted the source of the commotion. A stack of shipping containers had toppled over, hitting another stack and causing three more to fall like dominoes. And there...there was Gandalf standing on top of a high platform, his staff glowing white.

Thorin heard a deep and guttural growl, and saw that the workers had abandoned their human skins for fur. Wargs. At least thirty of them. They snarled at Gandalf, half-crouched like sprinters at the starting line, ready to tear the wizard apart.

But then something sweet whistled through the air – something soft like a slow breeze at dusk, whispering:

come and see come and see what's hidden underneath come and see come and see my great big teeth.

Bilbo. Thorin spotted him on another container, perched like Gandalf and glowing – a smile on his face.

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

The ground exploded. It cracked and rose like a rocky wave, striking out at the Wargs and knocking them off their feet. Thorin himself was unaffected, and he knew that it was now or never. He tore off toward the stone as fast as his feet could carry him.

Rock and dust flew up around him as the Wargs yelped. Another pulse of Bilbo's guitar ripped through the air, propelling a Warg away from Thorin. He managed to get a few shots off, taking out two men coming for him head on, and then he made it to the lorry and slid behind it for cover.

His breath caught as he looked up and saw the axe in the stone. His birthright.

He knew what to do.

With a grunt, Thorin climbed up the side of the lorry and onto the bed. Around him the fight carried on, but he paid it no mind. He could not tear his eyes away from the axe.

Thorin reached forward. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He lifted.

The axe slid out, and the world trembled.

For a time Thorin wasn't aware of where he was, of what he was doing, or even who he was. There was only light; the light of the axe in his hand which shown bright enough to blind him. But it wasn't only coming from the axe, for it also grew out of Thorin's own body – enveloping him in warmth, and in courage, and in strength. It was a feeling reminiscent of being reunited with a long lost love. Of becoming whole.

This light had been in him all along, and all that was needed to summon it was his ancestor's call. A call he could hear now. And this time, he didn't need Bilbo to craft the words for him.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk; Beneath the mountains music woke: The harpers harped, the minstrels sang, And at the gates the trumpets rang. 5

Thorin could see something above him, hovering in and out of his mind's eye, and real, if one chose to look. It was bright and big, and strangely familiar to his heart.

It was a crown of stars.

The image shattered, and in its place was a shining helm, slowly descending toward Thorin. When it came close enough, he instinctively straightened his neck, letting it fall onto his head with gentle finality. It was then that Thorin came back to himself. He looked at the axe in his hand and touched the helm on his head, and felt content for the first time in a long time.

There was a growl - too close - and a Warg pounced on him, throwing them both over the side of the lorry. Viciously it snapped in Thorin's face with its sharp teeth and putrid breath. He struggled to get the thing off of him, using both hands to push the hilt of the axe into the Warg's neck to keep it from biting him. Thorin managed to get a leg underneath him and he shoved as hard as he could.

The Warg fell, but another one came for him from the opposite direction. Thorin breathed hard, glancing down at his weapon. He brought it down to his side, took a deep breath, and sliced upward.

The ground rose with it, summoning hot rock and spitting magma. Black stone bloomed at his feet, cracked with crawling lava. He suddenly registered the screams – the Warg, blinded by Thorin's strike, was now writhing in the dirt. He turned to see the other gain its feet and charge him, and this time Thorin made contact. The axe cracked into the Warg's chest and sent it flying.

Before he could marvel at its strength, he was being attacked again, and this time he noticed that Bilbo and Gandalf were facing the Wargs too, and that their numbers had grown.

It was a veritable army that marched toward them now, all of them glaring with bright eyes full of malice. Thorin fought off the Wargs closest to him and stopped to think for a moment, breathing hard.

His wandering gaze found the tower crane.

It was risky, but there were too many for Thorin to take on by himself, and Bilbo and Gandalf had to be tiring.... He made his decision and sprinted over to its base, quickly judging where he should strike.

Please let this work, he thought, before using both hands to draw back the axe and chop at the base of the crane, almost as if it were a tree.

He'd figured it would take a couple of hits, but this was also one hell of an axe.

The base exploded as if Thorin had launched a rocket at it. There was an ungodly, groaning screech – one of the strangest and most frightening sounds he had ever heard – and then the crane was coming down. The Wargs in its path didn't stand a chance, for there was nowhere to really run. The steel rained from the sky and landed with a tremendous crash.

Thorin watched, wide-eyed, as the dust cleared. He caught a glimpse of Bilbo hopping up and down on his container, cheering, and couldn't help but smile.

They had won.

And then there was pain.

"Thorin!"

From far away he heard Bilbo call to him, but there was something wrong...his arm –

He opened his eyes just in time to dodge Azog's mace. Rolling to his feet with a pained moan, Thorin held his axe and his aching arm close to his chest. The pain was horrible, and he could feel warm blood trailing down his fingers.

Azog did not wait for Thorin to gain his bearings. He charged, swinging his mace toward Thorin's head. He let go of his arm and brought the axe up to parry, dragging the mace to the side. Thorin backed away swiftly as Azog moved to swipe at him again. He heard a frightened yelp coming from where Bilbo was, and he turned to see...he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Giant...trolls?

The earth trembled as they moved toward Bilbo and Gandalf, the wizard raising his staff high into the air. But then Thorin had no time to watch his companions, because Azog was lumbering toward him with a cruel smile on his face.

"Durin," he growled, and there was amusement in his voice. "Durin the Deathless. King Under the Mountain."

Thorin frowned, keeping his axe up as Azog circled him.

"That right is mine," said Azog, pointing his mace at Thorin's helm. "That is my crown."

"This is the right of Durin's folk," he snapped, angry that Azog was even looking at the weapon of his ancestors. "Not filth like you!"

"Durin's folk," Azog laughed, his scarred face deforming grotesquely. "Dead folk. Unworthy. Not even Thrain's pride could inspire your ancestors to crown a new king."

Thorin went very still. "You killed him – " he said, shaking with fury. "It was you, wasn't it? You bastard – "

"I thought the old fool would pull the axe from the stone, and then I would harness its power." Azog eyed the weapon and helm with envy. "But it seems your father was not good enough for the crown. It seems he wasn't a true king."

Thorin attacked, bringing up his axe and striking at Azog over and over. The Warg managed to block, but something else was happening – heat rose from the ground, blackening everywhere Thorin stepped, and embers rose from the hot blade of his axe, creating a burning gust as powerful as the strongest bellows in the largest forge.

Rage raised the fire higher, and rock and ash burst from the ground and pummeled Azog from every side. Still Thorin pressed him, roaring as the earth shook and flames leapt from the edge of his blade. Azog cried out and smashed to the dirt after a particularly hard strike, and Thorin stood over him panting.

Azog cackled, blood on his teeth.

Father, thought Thorin. He raised the axe....

There lies his crown in water deep, i> till Durin wakes again from sleep. 

....and brought it down.

"Whoa, there," he said, catching Gandalf as he swayed from side to side. "Alright, old man?"

"Old!" Gandalf coughed, giving Thorin a one-eyed glare. "Old enough to take care of those!"

He waved his staff in the direction of the giant, ugly....

"What are these exactly?"

"Trolls!" said Gandalf, stretching his back with a pained groan. "Dimwitted creatures with terrible hygiene."

Thorin's mouth twitched. "Well done, then," he said. "Where's Bilbo gone?"

"He's around here somewhere." Gandalf waved a hand vaguely.

"I'll get him." Thorin moved off once he was sure the wizard wouldn't fall over, and walked toward Bilbo's container. He looked up as he came to it, but didn't see him.

"Bilbo?" Thorin called, but there was no answer.

Frowning, Thorin walked around to where he'd last seen the man, standing tall and invincible and laughing in the face of an army. But Bilbo wasn't there.

Thorin squinted, catching sight of a trail of blood. His eyes followed it from the top of the container to the bottom, where it pooled sickeningly. He quickly followed it  around to the other side, and then gasped.

On the ground beside where Bilbo once stood – was his guitar.

Thorin plucked at a few strings listlessly, staring off into the distance. He heard Gandalf arguing with someone in the next room, but couldn't be bothered to listen. He kept seeing Bilbo's quirky little smile, and he swore he could hear his sweet, understated voice singing words filled with affection and good humor. It was strange how much Bilbo being gone affected him – Thorin not only felt paralyzed with guilt and worry, but his heart was hurting too.

" – matter of great importance! I would not ask otherwise!"

There was a low murmur as whoever it was they were talking to responded to Gandalf. Then there was silence. Thorin looked toward the door as Gandalf came thundering out of the room. He caught a glimpse of a glowing orb and a timid looking Radagast, before Gandalf's terrible temper demanded his attention.

"They refuse to help! Insufferable creatures!"

"Who?"

"Your subjects, that's who! Our fellows who are too scared of calamities to fight them, and much too stupid to understand that they haven't a choice! Evil such as this can never be left to its own devices!"

Thorin scoffed. "And they won't answer to me? To the king of...whatever?"

"They need proof first," explained Gandalf, his face stormy. "And they will get it, but not now. Now we must rescue Bilbo from Smaug. Do you remember what I told you, Thorin, of Bilbo's story?"

He met Gandalf's eyes, recalling the details now...realizing that things were a lot more dire than he thought. "Bilbo's power...."

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed gravely. "Which is why I must go with or without the help of my peers. Without you, even. I cannot leave Bilbo to this horrid fate, nor allow this world to suffer the spread of so great a darkness. Smaug must be stopped."

Thorin swung the guitar around his back and stood up. He faced the wizard determinedly, jamming the helm onto his head and holding onto his axe with both hands.

"Let's go," he said.

But Gandalf did not move, and instead looked down at Thorin gravely. "It is very dangerous," he warned. "We may very well die."

Thorin shook his head. "I don't care."

The wizard nodded. "Good, nor do I," he agreed, and they set off into the night.

Thorin had never technically been to Smaug's penthouse. He'd certainly staked out the outside of it, but he didn't think that counted. Getting a search warrant from the magistrates had always been like pulling teeth, but in Smaug's case it was nearly impossible. He was a man of means and shamelessly unethical, and approaching the courts with a blank cheque was not above him, nor would it be a surprise. All this meant was that storming the flat, as it were, was made doubly difficult by Thorin's not knowing the place he was walking into.

"What should we do? Is there a way in? Should we climb up the lift shaft?"

Gandalf stared at him dubiously. "Don't be ridiculous, we need only convince the security guards to let us pass. I don't imagine it will be very difficult. Though your appearance leaves much to be desired."

"My appearance?" Thorin said. "You're wearing a dress and a pointy hat."

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at him, but Thorin pressed on. "Can't you do a spell? Make us invisible? Bilbo mentioned that he could do something like that."

"Yes, but that is Bilbo," the wizard told him. "My magic is quite different from his, I'm afraid. Spells like invisibility are too subtle for me to do with any sort of precision, I would only blow you up if I were to attempt it."

Thorin did not want to be blown up.

"Right." He nodded. "I'll hide my axe and take the helm off if you'll at least give up the cap. I'm assuming the staff is staying?"

Gandalf scowled at him – so yes.

Without further delay, Thorin and the wizard made their way to Smaug's building. His flat was at the very top, and Thorin eyed the lifts behind the front desk determinedly. A security guard stood by, watching them.

"Can I help you?" said the concierge.

"Yes, I'm afraid I've locked myself out of my flat," Gandalf lied, and not very well. "I'll just be going – "

"I'm sorry, sir." The concierge frowned. "May I ask your name?"

Gandalf looked from side to side, as if thinking over his options. Thorin covered his eyes with his hand.

"Smaug...?" said Gandalf.

The concierge raised both eyebrows and looked the old man up and down. "Sorry?"

The security guard was stepping forward.

"No, no," the wizard said hastily. "I mean that Smaug is my nephew. Yes. My favorite nephew. Although perhaps not."

"I'll go ahead and phone Mr. Smaug, sir, and see if we can't clear this up," offered the concierge, his expression bemused.

"No!" Gandalf said. "There's no need for that, surely? Can I call you Shirley?"

Thorin groaned aloud this time.

"It's a surprise visit! Yes. For his...birthday."

The concierge hung up the phone. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, but...." The security guard was coming over now, and there went their chances of remaining inconspicuous. The doors to the lobby suddenly crashed open, and Thorin and Gandalf turned to look.

Blocking their exit was a group of truly bizarre looking creatures. They were humpbacked and bald, their pallor a sickly grey and their eyes too big for their face. They snarled, showing off rotted, blackened teeth, and began to prowl closer.

"What are these things?" asked Thorin, slamming his helm on his head and taking the axe out from under his coat.

"Goblins," said Gandalf. "Very fast. Man-eaters. Quite unpleasant."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, and then prepared to defend himself as the daywalkers shot toward them. Thorin swung his axe and two of the creatures went flying. He saw the wizard point his staff, sending three into fits of pain. They screeched and drooled on the floor, but their fellows did not stop to help them. There were so many, coming from out of nowhere – Thorin struck out over and over but saw no end to them.

"Enough!" said Gandalf, clearing a space around himself. "Keep that helm on your head, Thorin Durin, or perish with them."

"What?" Thorin shouted, but Gandalf was already raising his staff.

He brought it down and a blinding light filled the room. Thorin slammed his eyes closed, listening as the snarls abruptly stopped and a car horn went off before there was a loud crash. Then everything went silent.

Oddly, it was difficult to reopen his eyes, but he managed with a great deal of willpower. He immediately saw that Gandalf was surrounded by collapsed goblins. Then he looked at the security guard and concierge, who were similarly knocked out.

"Have you killed them?" Thorin yelped.

"Of course not!" Gandalf denied defensively. "They are merely asleep."

Thorin saw now that people on the street had passed out as well, a few at the wheel but miraculously crashing without hurting themselves or others. Thorin gaped at Gandalf accusingly.

"How many people did you do this to?" he demanded. "And why wasn't I affected?"

Gandalf turned toward the lifts impatiently. "Your helm, of course. There is little that can penetrate it. I am unsure just how many people were put to sleep, but I wouldn't worry so. It's a relatively harmless spell, I assure you."

That didn't reassure Thorin at all, but there wasn't time for getting angry at Gandalf. "I doubt the spell managed to reach the upstairs," the wizard said. "We'd best hurry."

They quickly sprinted for the lifts and crammed in, awkwardly adjusting axe and staff so as to not hit each other. Then they pressed the button for the top floor. They had just made it past the sixth when they stopped and the doors popped open. Thorin quickly pressed for them to close again but nothing happened.

"Bugger," he said when a horde of Wargs appeared in the hallway.

"I suppose we'll take the stairs," said Gandalf, a bit sadly. He quickly left the lift, his staff held high, and bowled over the Wargs at the front of the pack. Thorin followed with his axe, striking down the second wave.

The last two were bigger than the others, and Thorin faced them warily as they stepped up and over the downed members of their pack. Then they transformed, and Thorin saw a true Warg for the first time.

They were massive, rather more the size of a bear than a wolf, and their jaws looked so powerful that Thorin was sure they could cut him in half with one bite. Their fur was a thick brown and a bit mangy, and their eyes were yellow-red.

As they prowled closer, Thorin raised his axe and wished he knew more about using it in combat, and just more about combat in general. So far he'd been holding his own, but these were also really big wolves.

He had no time for fear, however, because the Warg was coming for him, and he was suddenly using his axe to keep those teeth away from his throat.

The Warg snapped and spat, and then clawed down Thorin's side. He yelled out in pain, cursing as he used his upper body strength to shove the thing off of him. He felt something strain in his already injured arm when he did it, and seeing as the Warg had to be over three hundred pounds, it was no wonder his arm felt useless when he managed to get back on his feet. The Warg came for him again and he cried out in agony as he raised his axe and brought it down on its head.

There was no strength behind it, Thorin's arm was shot and his speed was dismal, but the moment it touched the Warg's head the axe seemed to sense its master's desperation and gathered its own power. It slammed into the Warg and drove its head straight into the ground, breaking apart the carpeted floor and leaving a Warg shaped hole. Its bum and legs stuck up a bit, and Thorin couldn't help but laugh a little.

He turned and helped Gandalf finish off the last one (nearly getting singed by one of the wizard's spells for his efforts) and by the time the pack had been defeated they were in pretty rough shape. Thorin panted, checking his bleeding side and moaning every time he moved his arm.

"Come, I can help with the pain," said Gandalf, motioning to him.

Thorin gazed at him skeptically, but handed over his arm for inspection anyway. It hurt too much not to. "You said you couldn't do subtle magics."

Gandalf sent him a disgruntled look. "You may be a bit giddy afterward, possibly even for a day or so, but you shan't be in so much pain. Now which is it? Yes or no?"

"Yes."

The wizard's spell did indeed make Thorin feel giddy, and also extremely refreshed. With a new energy he took his arm from Gandalf and hefted up his axe.

"Your arm is still injured, Thorin, so mind how you use it," Gandalf warned him, watching as Thorin tried the lift again. They made for the stairs when it refused to work.

They climbed as quickly as they could, the axe heavy and the miraculously unharmed guitar bumping against his back. He counted the seventh, eighth, and ninth floors before losing track. The penthouse was on the fifteenth, and to Thorin that seemed thousands of miles away.

It was on the thirteenth floor that something strange started to happen; there was an odd scraping and tapping noise, as if thousands of needles were falling onto metal. The unseen thing hissed like something slithering, and Thorin slowed in order to listen closer.

Then something came down the staircase. It was black and spindly, and made of what looked like tendrils of writhing vines that slowly inched toward Thorin and the wizard.

"Don't let them touch you!" cried Gandalf. "They are probably poisoned."

Thorin swallowed around a groan of frustration and began to hack away at the vines, but like a hydra, the more he cut the more they seemed to multiply.

"How exactly am I supposed to kill this thing?!" Thorin asked as the thorns continued to advance.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Gandalf said unhelpfully.

Thorin continued to hack and slash, getting nowhere. "Can't you use light or something? Like from the movie?"

Gandalf's head shot up. "What movie?"

"Harry Potter!" Thorin yelled.

His expression grew thunderous. "That isn't real magic!" he snapped. "And I am not that Dumbledorf person!"

"Oh for god’s sake!" Thorin shouted in frustration.

He purposely recalled the sensation he had felt the first time he had used the axe – the moment when he'd called up the hot rock and flame – but this time he wished for searing light to accompany it.

The axe came down and flame spread out in a fan, electricity running ahead of it like foam on a wave. It crashed into the thorns and incinerated them, sending a strange sulfuric stink into the air.

Thorin coughed and looked around at Gandalf. "See?" he couldn't help but needle. "Are you a wizard or not?"

Gandalf scowled. "Yes, well, fire tends to work most of the time," the old man grumbled.

They ascended once more, climbing up to the fifteenth floor at long last, but wary of what they would meet there. The door to the stairwell swung open easy enough, and Thorin saw a long hallway before him. At the very end was a door made of textured glass.

Thorin and Gandalf walked toward it cautiously, the eerie silence of the hall a large difference to the chaotic noise of before. Thorin's ears were even ringing.

When he reached the end, he hesitated.

Despite his fear for Bilbo and the adrenaline coursing through him, he had to stop and take a deep breath before touching the handle. When he finally did it clicked open easily.

"This is absolutely a trap," Thorin hissed, looking around.

The room was painted a deep gold, with red neon lights lining the high ceiling. A large tube-like structure made of the same textured glass as the door sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

Thorin moved forward cautiously, peering around it. That's when he saw the opening, and that's when he saw Bilbo.

Thorin immediately ran to his side, calling his name. Bilbo was laid out on a gold colored bed, looking just the same as when Thorin had last seen him. His ugly yellow cardigan and maroon knit cap were slightly askew, but otherwise...he was completely unhurt.

And yet Bilbo would not wake.

"Bilbo? Bilbo?" Thorin shook him a little. "Bilbo, wake up."

"An enchanted sleep will not hold his power for long," Gandalf suddenly said. Thorin turned around quickly, spying the wizard looking at someone standing in the doorway.

"No, but it will keep him quiet," responded Smaug, and of course it was him.

Thorin stepped away from Bilbo, removing the guitar from his back and gently placing it on the floor beside the bed. He left the glass circle, creeping out until he caught sight of Smaug.

The dragon faced them calmly, his sharp gaze finding Thorin before flicking back to the wizard. He wore a fitted black suit, and his long, chiseled face, was as hard as stone. As usual, his full lips were turned up in a cruel smirk.

"You cannot take the power of the ring for yourself. It is lost to you now," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff.

"Then I'm sure I can...persuade him to work for me," Smaug replied, shrugging. "He's always been such a gullible little thing. So eager to please...."

Thorin's face grew hot with fury. "You'll have to kill us first," Thorin snarled. "He's a wizard, and I'm a king. How good do you think your chances are?"

Smaug raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"A king, are you?" he said silkily. "So quick to take up that honorable mantle, Detective Inspector! Could it be you enjoy the power that axe gives you? It feels good doesn't it? To destroy. To command. To be more than just human. What makes you so different from me?"

Thorin glared. "The biggest difference is that I don't do monologues," he replied, and raised the axe. To his satisfaction, he saw Smaug's eyes widen as the weapon came down, striking the floor with a boom.

The dragon was thrown off of his feet and into the door, which shattered on contact. Gandalf shot a bright, pulsing light from the end of his staff, and it slammed into Smaug, who screamed in pain. As Thorin advanced, he felt the hilt of the axe heat and looked down as sparks came off of its straight edge. It must have been hot enough to burn, but Thorin's hands remained unharmed.

Gandalf's spell ceased, the old man seeming to tire a bit, and Thorin stepped forward and slashed his axe across his body with one hand. The ground rumbled and turned to hot black stone, from which bright orange magma bubbled and hissed to the surface. He marveled for a moment at the magic it took to summon a veritable volcano in a penthouse flat, before he was distracted by the liquified floor. It had turned to lava, and Smaug was sinking into it with an ungodly screech.

And then those pained eyes focused on Thorin, and his porcelain skin began to change. Black vines, reminiscent of the thorny creature that had attacked them on the stairwell, crawled out of Smaug's eyes, which had turned the color of fire.

Then Gandalf stepped back. "Oh, dear," he said.

Thorin looked at him quizzically, not liking the sound of that, but he understood why the wizard was wary when the strange vines around Smaug's body began to pulse.

"You will burn," the dragon hissed, and then exploded into darkness.

Writhing clouds of pure black smoke flew up into the air, congealing to form a hulking, massive shape. The roof groaned and broke open, and Thorin tripped over his feet to get away from the falling debris.

Smaug the dragon, the actual dragon, came out of the smoke head first; his snake-like neck curving back as if he were stretching after a long time trapped somewhere small.

"Our little game ends here," Smaug rumbled, his voice was like thunder. "Now you die."

Thorin dove out of the way just in time as Smaug let loose a ball of fire. He moved quickly out of the dragon's reach, stumbling into the far wall, and too late realized that he was close to the sleeping Bilbo and probably putting him in terrible danger.

And yet Smaug did not attack. He eyed Bilbo as well, his head swaying from side to side in agitation, and Thorin understood that the dragon would not risk hurting the minstrel with his fire.

That did not stop his teeth, however, and then Thorin was moving again – this time away from the dragon's snapping jaws.

As he dodged and ducked, he heard Gandalf call out from above, and Thorin looked up and saw that the wizard had escaped up to the roof. He seemed to be chanting and slowly gathering light at the tip of his staff. Smaug narrowed his eyes at the wizard and slithered through the hole in the ceiling, completely distracted by the foreboding shine of the spell.

Thorin followed, nearly tripping over bits of plaster, and managed to pull himself up to the next floor with the help of some stacked debris. On the next level he immediately saw a stairwell to the roof, and he sprinted toward it and up to the outside. And just in time too – for Gandalf's spell had only made the dragon angrier.

The night was brisk and windy, and Thorin could see twinkling stars behind Smaug's red-scaled bulk. Gandalf glowed a bright white, and in solidarity the axe in Thorin's hand pulsed with heat. He watched as Smaug reared back, the scales on his chest beginning to ignite, and did something he had never done before. He held the axe securely by its hilt, reached back, and let it fly.

It was aimed straight for Smaug's chest, but the dragon had seen him prepare to throw it, and brought up his wing just in time. Miraculously, the axe did not bounce off of the armor-like scales, and instead sunk deep into his hide.

Smaug roared in pain and fury, clawing at the axe until it fell to the ground. Thorin watched it with despairing eyes, swallowing as the dragon angrily crouched and made ready to pounce.

Thorin had no choice but to run, but where to run to? He took off for the other side of the roof, listening as Gandalf shouted in some other language and the wind suddenly grew stronger. He had to find his weapon –

The floor cracked beneath his feet and collapsed, and Thorin's stomach dropped as he fell, his hands reaching out desperately for something to grab. He landed bum first on the next floor, which crumbled apart but thankfully slowed his fall, and before he knew it he was crashing back into Smaug's penthouse.

He groaned, feeling blood roll down his leg and side, and reached up to wipe the dust out of his nose. The ground shook as he crawled blindly toward the wall, frightened of falling again.

He heard the dragon roar and knew he should get up – he knew that the wizard needed his help – but his axe was gone and though his helm protected his head it didn't do much else. He took a second to catch his breath, riding out the pain from his injuries. He turned his head tiredly, looking around at the destruction, when his eyes caught sight of the large glass circle.

"Bilbo," he murmured, starting to panic. How had he forgotten about Bilbo? The room was trashed, the roof was falling down, and the dragon was crashing around and setting fire to everything and poor Bilbo was, was –

Completely fine.

"You lucky sod," he laughed, quickly moving to Bilbo's side. It must have been some magic spell that kept him from harm, for everything within the glass circle was relatively unscathed, though a bit dusty. Thorin put his hand over Bilbo's, feeling tired and sore. He needed to finish this, for Bilbo's sake.

And apparently Smaug agreed; the dragon crashed through what was left of the ceiling and braced his forelegs on the floor, the rest of his large body coiled on the roof.

"Thief!" rumbled Smaug. "You will take nothing from me! I laid low the warriors of old, and now you shall meet the same fate, o' Son of Durin!"

The dragon opened his jaws, showing off his terrible teeth, and Thorin looked around desperately for something, anything to use as a weapon.

His eyes found Bilbo's guitar.

He dove out of the way of Smaug's reach, wincing when he heard his huge jaw snap closed, and crawled quickly toward the instrument. Thorin picked the surprisingly heavy guitar up just in time, swinging it around to hold in front of him as Smaug thankfully bit into it instead of Thorin.

The guitar splintered and then broke apart, the wooden top separating from the whole, and Thorin felt bad for a second until he realized that there was nothing else to use to defend himself but the remains of the guitar. It wouldn't do much, but he grabbed the wooden top anyway and held onto it by the hole, using it to cover most of his arm and face as Smaug attacked, and this time with his skull.

And surprisingly, the top didn't break. Instead, the force of Smaug's head butt pushed Thorin back, his feet sliding along the ground until his heel caught on a chunk of concrete. He went down hard but forced himself to keep moving, to keep rolling away and to run, run, run to who knew where....

The axe.

He spotted it underneath a large piece of the fallen ceiling, and he ran full tilt for it. Smaug slithered after him, but Thorin was faster now, for there was at last an end in sight. He crashed into the wreckage and reached beneath it, feeling the hilt and wrapping his hand around it. Smaug took a breath.

The world was fire, but Thorin wasn't burning. He had thrust the guitar top and axe in front of him without thinking, and the flames crashed into the shield and axe and fanned out around him. Thorin knew then that this was his only chance; that his body simply could not take much more of this. So he closed his eyes and listened to the call.

The King beneath the mountains. 6

....began a voice not unlike Bilbo's. The dragon's deadly fire ran out, and Thorin brought his axe close to his lips. He said the next verse, this time.

The King of carven stone.

Smaug was preparing another strike, but Thorin knew what to do. Thorin was ready. He reached back with his axe in hand, feet staggered and spread apart.

The lord of silver fountains.

His whole body twisted forward, and with stunning accuracy, he threw the axe straight for Smaug's heart.

It met its mark.

...shall come into his own!

Smaug roared and writhed in pain, the axe lodged deep within his breast. From where the blade had punctured him, cracks soon appeared – Smaug's chest glowing as the axe worked its destructive magic. Then the great lizard bellowed one last time, and his body cracked like broken glass – and finally shattered.

Golden sparks burst from where the dragon once stood, and Thorin covered his eyes as they went every which way. When all was done and the room had fallen silent, he looked up cautiously...and saw that the dragon was gone. That Smaug had at last been defeated.

Out of breath and hurting worse than he ever had in his life, Thorin stood there in disbelief. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he couldn't help but laugh when he realized that the danger had passed, and that against all odds...he had survived.

Then he remembered Bilbo.

His breath caught and he spun around, seeing Bilbo there still fast asleep. Thorin stumbled over and leaned heavily against the bed, wondering if Bilbo should have woken by now. He heard grumbling and the sound of falling concrete as Gandalf jumped down from the floor above and back into the room.

"Why isn't he awake?" Thorin said, turning to glare at Gandalf.

Gandalf brushed off his robes and glared back. "How would I know? The enchantment should have ended. Perhaps if you give it a moment? So impatient!"

But Thorin was remembering something. It was a wild theory and unlikely to do much of anything, but all he could think of was leaning down and kissing Bilbo lightly on the lips. And so he did it.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it was the sweetest few seconds Thorin had ever known.

And then Bilbo's eyes fluttered open.

"Hmm?" he inquired, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.

Thorin flinched backward, putting up empty hands in surrender should Bilbo be cross. But the man only yawned and peered at Thorin happily, looking for all the world like he had just woken from a rather pleasant siesta.

Then his smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hold on," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Was that a kiss? Were you just kissing me right now?"

"No!" Thorin answered automatically, and then he winced again. "Yes. Sorry."

Bilbo stared at him for a moment before grinning slowly. "That's alright," he said cheerfully. "I'm just sorry I missed it. But where on earth am I? Was I asleep? Holy shit, what a mess! Ooh, wait – "

Bilbo leaned into Thorin's space excitedly. "Was that true love's first kiss?"

Gandalf, who had been shuffling around in the wreckage, threw them both an irritated look. "Of course not," he said crossly, kicking a piece of broken plasterboard away. "This isn't a fairytale!"

Bilbo made a face. "Spoilsport."

"Another gas leak! The world is just falling apart," said Bilbo, slapping down the front page of the newspaper. A picture of the ruins of Smaug's penthouse was on the cover, and Thorin couldn't help but shake his head. Had he truly been that oblivious once? How many gas leaks had really been gas leaks, anyway?

The morning after the battle with Smaug was horrid for both Gandalf and Thorin. Gandalf was still asleep, snoring away in Radagast's room, while Thorin had been up at the crack of dawn as always, unable to ignore his internal clock. His whole body protested any and all movement, but he'd made it to the loo and the kitchen well enough, and then couldn't find the energy to slouch back to bed after that.

Bilbo had taken the initiative and had made him some porridge and tea, and then happily hovered around him like a mother hen.

"At least no one was killed," Bilbo said thoughtfully, popping a piece of toast in his mouth. "You two got the worst of it. How's your arm by the way? Should I change your bandages?"

"In a bit," Thorin told him, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're alright, you know."

Bilbo nudged him with his shoulder playfully. "Me too! And thank you for saving me," he said. "I can't believe you defeated a dragon all by yourself! It's very cinematic!"

"Stupid more like," Thorin scoffed, taking a sip of his tea. "We nearly died multiple times. But it was worth it, in the end, to see you safe."

Bilbo looked at him for a moment, his expression terribly fond. Then he leaned over and kissed Thorin on the cheek.

"Finish your breakfast," he said, and got up to refill the kettle.

Thorin took a few more slow bites, his gritty eyes fixing on the axe and helm leaning casually against the wall. And next to it was the remains of Bilbo's guitar....

"Bilbo," he began, feeling positively wretched. "I'm so sorry about your guitar."

But Bilbo only smiled. "Oh that's alright!" He waved it off. "I can make another. I didn't much like using oak for it anyway. Too heavy...."

He cast a curious glance at the splintered pieces. "Made a great shield though," he added cheekily.

Thorin snorted. "That it did."

After he finished eating he let Bilbo pile gauze and sterile pads on the table, watching as the man bustled around the kitchen. He carried over a round bowl full of hot kettle water, and Thorin obligingly removed his shirt. Bilbo hissed in sympathy when he slowly removed the soiled bandages.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said, and began to clean the wound.

Thorin's arm would need to be re-wrapped, as well as his leg, and he felt a bit guilty about enjoying Bilbo's ministrations, despite the pain it brought. He liked having Bilbo close, and he especially liked the coddling. Who knew Thorin was so fond of being fussed over? He couldn't help but gaze at the man affectionately as he worked.

"So, I don't mean to be that person," Bilbo began, his attention on Thorin's wound. "But someone has to say it: what now?"

Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Smaug is gone, and half the hunstman in England are dead. All that's left are people like us. And we still don't have a leader."

Thorin looked away.

"Once word gets around that Smaug isn't in charge anymore, someone or something is going to rush to fill that void. I'm not saying it should be you – "

"But shouldn't it be me?" he interrupted, meeting Bilbo's eyes. "Aren't I...king now?"  

"Well, I didn't vote for you."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said in amused disbelief.

Bilbo shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Couldn't help myself. But yeah. I guess you are king. King of...I don't know, a load of people with bizarre talents, probably. But hey, you know what? I think you'll make a splendid king for us. Best we've ever had."

"You haven't had any."

"Exactly!"

He shook his head at Bilbo, but he was smiling. "What about my life, Bilbo? I don't...want to leave it behind. I like my job. I worked hard to get where I am. But most of all I just still want to help people."

Bilbo bit his cheek and looked away thoughtfully. "Well, there's no reason you can't be a king and a cop."

"You're not serious," Thorin laughed, though he didn't find it funny.

"Why not? At least for now you can keep that part of your old life."  Bilbo secured the gauze around his chest and sat back with a sigh. "We've got lots of work to do before you're even considered a real king anyway."

Thorin nodded at the table. "That's right, whose to say the magicals will ever acknowledge the crown? Might be a lost cause."

"Not at all!" Bilbo wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders, hugging him. "People talk, you know, and they'll be talking about this battle for a long time. 'King Thorin' they'll say, 'wielder of axe and broken guitar! A most excellent detective and surprise kisser!'"

Thorin groaned. "I'm never going to live that down."

"Aww, but it was true love!" said Bilbo, giggling. "You woke me from an enchanted sleep and now we're obligated to give it a go! In fact, we can just skip the courting and get right to the se – "

He cut Bilbo off with a kiss. Thorin had to live up to the legend, after all.

"Got one for you, detective," said the desk sergeant, poking his head into Thorin's office.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Thorin pushed aside his paperwork and slipped on his blazer, walking idly toward the interrogation room. "What's this?" he asked Bofur.

"Lady come in asking for you," Bofur shrugged. "Said she wanted to speak to you alone."

Thorin sighed and nodded, taking the case file Bofur handed to him. He opened the door and slipped inside.

"Heard you wanted to talk to me," said Thorin, cutting to the chase. "What seems to be the problem?"

The red headed woman sitting at the table had an earnest look about her, and her green eyes were bright as she solemnly said, "I'd like to report a crime."

Thorin frowned. "Alright...?"

"It's to do with...one of ours."

His stomach swooped nervously, and he titled his head at her in confusion. "One...one of ours?" he repeated.

"Yes," said the woman. Then she eyed him speculatively. "You...you are King Thorin Oakenshield, aren't you?"

Thorin inhaled, mouth moving but nothing coming out.

"The detective?" she pressed.

He let out a long breath. King Thorin Oakenshield, he thought with an laugh. That was Bilbo all over. And...she had called him a king and a detective. She knew of him. Bilbo was right...word was spreading. 

And now it sounded like she needed his help.

He turned his attention back on the woman, who had been waiting very patiently.

"Yes..." Thorin said, smiling a little. "I suppose I am."

Notes:

(1) The Old Walking Song (original)


(2) derivative of “or so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world’s end.”


(3) “Down the swift dark stream…” from The Hobbit


(4) literally what the legend says


(5) “Song of Durin” from The Fellowship of the Ring


(6) “The King Beneath the Mountain” from The Hobbit