#interested in wish-granting - except she was pressuring him that it made more sense to wish to be human than to lift Daventry's siege.

[thewatercolours]

It's the end of the outline as we know it

and I feel fine!

[redrobin-detective]

Robin Robin what do you mean Sam killed Danny did she just yeeted him in the ghost machine Robin Robin please I need answers

Ask and you shall receive but be warned the answers may not be what you are looking for. (IE they are dumb).

So there's technically two canonical versions of Danny's accident, the OG and Memory Blank (s2e1).

The OG happened sometime late summer/early fall of the trio going into high school. The group has been friends for some time (its part canon/part fanon that Danny and Tucker were initially friends with Sam joining later on) and were comfortable enough Dan felt ok letting them over to see his parents' "failed" ghost portal. Sam was intrigued, Danny uninterested on the surface level but secretly curious. Sam encourages him to looks inside, he presses the conveniently placed on button inside and boom, ghost boy.

This recap is made light of in the season 2 opener Memory Blank (my beloathed) while fanon reallllllly runs with Sam's guilt and grief over sorta/almost killing her friend. But I digress, the episode kicks off with Sam and Danny arguing leading her to wishing she had never met Danny out loud. The wish granting ghost, Desiree, overhears and makes it so. Because of this, Danny never had his accident and was completely human with no knowledge of Sam.

This is where the episode upsets me. Sam is upset about losing her friendship with Danny (and Tucker to a lesser extent but they make it creepy 🙄) but its framed as Sam being desperate to get Danny his powers back. If you almost killed your friend in the past and magically got a do over, would you really put him through that again??? There is no real external pressure to make Danny become Phantom again aside from Desiree continuing to grant monkey's paw wishes. Amity Park looks much like it always has, seemingly unaffected by the lack of Phantom. Hell, the portal is still not working so there's a chance there are no other ghosts in town to cause mischief and mayhem. All we see is Desiree who hardly is the worst villain for someone, preferably an adult, to deal with.

Aside from the fact its a cartoon series called Danny Phantom there is no reason for Sam to do this again. And yet she persists in badgering Danny - who does not know her at all - into doing something he has no understanding of the consequences. The lack of informed consent was something that bothered me all the way back when I was 12 watching it live. So Sam makes Danny recreate the accident, making him Phantom again (this time with a logo that Sam slapped on without telling him bc she thought it looked cool. Again!!!! No discussion or anything). We get a few deeply uncomfortable segments of Danny relearning his powers before he magically remembers everything and its back to the status quo except now he's got a logo.

The literal whole point of the episode was to give him a marketable symbol to make him more like a "proper superhero". Sam's selfishness (a character flaw we see woven throughout the series but never meaningfully explored), the lack of consent, the stupid ass plot all combine to create what I think is a travesty of an episode.

I have gotten off topic but, yes, in both cases Sam's curiosity and overbearing nature combined with Danny's more passive personality and sense of wonder to pssp pssp pssp him into the death machine. There has been some excellent fic exploring (in an actual, realistic, interesting way) of the trio coping with Sam's casual suggestion leading to complete biological rewiring, a changed life trajectory, trauma and injury.

[moonbeambucky]

A Whole New World (Part 4)

Pairing: Genie!Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3109 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: Three wishes open up a whole new world of opportunities to a girl looking for a home but finds love along the way.

A/N: Remember this is an Aladdin AU set in a royal modern world with magic. Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | A WHOLE NEW WORLD MASTERLIST

Bucky paced along the endless land, the never changing pumpkin sky of this universe, contained in a gem that fits in the palm of one’s hand. He doesn’t like to think about the logistics, nothing made sense anyway. Hell, he doesn’t even remember how he became a genie. He knows he wasn’t born one and vague memories of a childhood slip through his mind every now and then. The longer he’s been in here the harder it is to remember. This world has weakened his mind. 

If he wasn’t born a genie then there must be an explanation of how he became one. Was he cursed? Searching for answers is pointless. If he can’t remember how he became a genie he can’t deny the fact that maybe he brought this on himself. He’s seen it happen before; those who’ve wanted infinite power and the stones grant their wish in their own special way. Perhaps that is what happened to him.

He can see why being a genie would seem so appealing, why anyone wouldn’t be able to deny asking for it. People have always sought after power; the power to conquer, the power to rule, the power to… help. He can only think of Y/N when it comes to that. Most people are selfish in their requests, everyone actually except for her. 

From the beginning that’s all she’s ever wanted, carefully thinking about what is in the best interest of the people around her despite her own less than fortunate situation. Even her wish to become a princess was simply for the chance to be able to speak with the prince about what would be best for Midgard. 

Bucky’s head slumped low when he thought of Prince Steve and he isn’t sure why. He’s been a generous host who’s been kind to Y/N. He should be happy for her. Even if she doesn’t wish him free he knows her wishes will be for the greater good of the people and Bucky can’t be upset about that even if he tried.

He’s been walking for a while and he knows he should speak to Y/N but Bucky doesn’t want to interrupt whatever Prince Steve had planned for them. He walked until his feet hurt and finally settled down. His eyes shut with the weight of his thoughts and Bucky was still for hours until a pain in his chest filled him with dread. It felt like he couldn’t breathe and the reality of what this feeling was hit him like a ton of bricks– Y/N was in trouble. 

In the blink of an eye Bucky was out of the world inside the gauntlet, unexpectedly floating in the darkness of the ocean. The panic made his heart race even more. He had to find Y/N! The moonlight barely lit the depths he was frantically searching but she had to be here. 

He reached his arms out, sweeping them all around to try and feel something. He knows she’s near, he can sense it, the faint murmur of her heartbeat that beats within himself. He’s thankful for the connection she has to the gauntlet as the pressure inside his own chest hurts the closer he gets to her.

The pain is worth it because it leads him to a shadowy figure floating lifelessly and the pain grows sharper in his chest. Y/N is dying. She’s dying and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Please Y/N, you can’t cheat on this one. I can’t help you unless you make a wish.” His voice is clear despite his surroundings and he begged, “You have to say ‘Genie, I want you to save my life!’” Her head lolled forward and Bucky fought the indecision in his body, taking her unconscious gesture as a yes. 

Bucky cradled her in his arms around and flew out of the ocean, leaving the ball and chain at the bottom to rot. Gently he laid her on the edge of a nearby shore, tears mixed with the droplets of water on his face as he waited for some sign of life. He was about to intervene before she spit up water, turning onto her side as she choked out the rest.

Her lungs were aflame with life as she caught her breath, her knees pressing deep into the damp sand she was beyond thankful to feel again. Y/N looked up at Bucky, tears burning her eyes as she threw her arms around him for a crushing hug. He was quick to squeeze her back, never wanting to let go. 

“Thank you for saving me,” she croaked against him, and Bucky felt her shuddering against him as her tears began to pour out like a waterfall. 

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her damp hair, running his hand along her back. He would hold her for as long as she needed though Bucky wasn’t in any rush to let go himself. The fact that he almost lost Y/N scared him in a way that nothing ever has before. 

It isn’t the right time but Bucky wants to know who did this. His blood boils at the thought of someone wanting to kill her and he wants vengeance. He would willingly trade his freedom for a wish that would seek revenge on those that hurt her. 

She looked at him, her eyes bloodshot from crying, her lip trembling still and his anger is set aside. He can be angry later, right now Y/N needs comfort. His gaze softens as he looks into her eyes, seeing a tear teetering on the edge of her lashes. He brought his hand up, gently catching the tear on his finger as it fell. 

Y/N let out a slow and steady breath as she stared at him, admiring the lines of his sharp jaw and his eyes illuminated by the night’s sky. Moonlight cast an ethereal glow around him, and she couldn’t help but think he was magical. It was more than Bucky being a genie; he was enchanting all on his own. 

Water dripped down from his soaked strands and she pressed her palm against his chest, dropping her eyes to his petal soft lips and back up again. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips and Bucky noticed, feeling the tension around them as thick as humidity. Her heart was beating rapidly as she slowly tilted her head, moving closer to Bucky. The space between them was diminishing and just as her lips hovered above his she let out a gasp. 

In the distance was a loud voice calling out to another and once again fear flooded through her body. They ran off quickly, knowing it was too dangerous to be seen but at least Y/N knew who was trying to kill her, and worse, they worked for the crown.

“We have to warn the prince.”

The room Y/N was staying in was in complete disarray. A knife had sliced open the mattress, pillows stabbed to shreds with feathers flying everywhere as Rumlow and his men dismantled everything. The drawers were turned over, her clothes strewn across the floor as they searched for the gauntlet. 

In a fit of frustration Rumlow picked up the pile of fabric and tossed it into the burning fireplace. “You’ll be next if you don’t find the damn gauntlet!” he threatened.

It was enough to scare them into working harder, checking the walls for hidden panels, the floors for loose boards, anywhere and everywhere. But no matter how much they searched they still could not find what they were looking for.

“Sir, it’s not there,” Rumlow stated, bracing himself for the backlash of failing his boss. 

They searched Y/N and Sir James’ rooms, not that he needed one anyway. Even if they found the genie pretending to be a man it would be no use, without the gauntlet they could not command him. He had not been seen since Rumlow saw him vanish and he had to assume he was in the gauntlet– if only he could figure out where it was!

Pierce’s gaze does not falter as his lips begin to purse tightly together, his eyes are determined in holding a disappointing gaze that cuts right through Rumlow. This is not the news he wanted to hear. He regretted tossing the girl into the sea, not anticipating this failure. 

“Keep searching,” he snarled, dismissing Rumlow from the room.

His hand grazed along the golden arm of the grand throne, the chair that should be his, and would be if he could find the gauntlet. Like the inner workings of a clock his mind is in constant motion, gears turning, always thinking, needing to find the answers. He was so close, closer than he’s ever been before. The gauntlet is right under his nose but he cannot see it. 

“Rumlow.” He hastily walked back, answering like a dog to its owner, awaiting his commands. “At first light, have your men get the girl and search her body. It must be on her somehow if it isn’t here.”

He nodded in return, leaving Pierce alone in the throne room with nothing but his frustration. 

Y/N and Bucky moved stealthily back to the palace, keeping out of sight of the Royal Guards. It was hard to know who was corrupt, but they were certain that Rumlow would have told them to be on the lookout for Sir James. Y/N thought it would be safer if she made the journey back alone, with one less person it’s easier to not be spotted but Bucky wasn’t going to hide. The concern wasn’t for himself; he wasn’t going to let Y/N do this alone.

They made it safely to the servant’s entrance that Sam had taken her through. With a little help from Bucky the guards were distracted, leaving their post to chase after a noise that allowed them to sneak in. Carefully, they roamed through the hallways to find Sam.

In the kitchen was where they found him and Sam looked puzzled to see them. His nose scrunched at the overpowering smell in the room. He thought his eggs had gone rotten before he saw the way Y/N’s clothes clung to her body, the dampness evident. 

She explained right away, tripping on her words as they stumbled out of her mouth. There was too much on her mind, so much to say and she hoped he would listen.

“I’m so sorry for lying, Sam but please, you have to believe me.” 

Sam was very skeptical. Y/N broke his trust the moment she arrived at the palace as a princess. She could tell he needed proof so she untucked her necklace from her shirt, holding the small gauntlet out to Sam. The moment her pinky entered the glove it suddenly appeared in its full size and she was wearing it on her arm. 

“It’s all true,” Bucky admitted. “I’m not a Sir, hell I’m barely human, but this gauntlet, my powers… that’s all true.”

What Sam had seen was much more than he ever thought was possible in this world. He had so many questions but there was no time for that.

“Steve is in trouble!”

Y/N pleaded, staring at Sam with a truth in her eyes that resembled the first time they met. He didn’t need to hear anymore, the thought of Steve’s safety being compromised made him nauseous. 

She shrunk the gauntlet back and the three of them made their way to find Steve. His room was empty and the lack of guards that normally guard his door made the hair on Sam’s arm stand up, something was definitely going on and none of it felt right. He feared for the Queen as well, having Y/N and Bucky hide as he went to her room.

Queen Sarah’s guards were still at their post and some of the edge was taken off as Sam saw them. He had no doubts in trusting them, Phil a man he’s known for most of his life while living in the palace and Melinda, who had joined him a few years ago. What she lacked in height she made up for with her intimidating stare. Her arms crossed over her small frame, holding a stern gaze as Sam asked them about Steve’s whereabouts.

Though they did not let Sam enter the Queen’s room the man, worried by Sam’s frantic demeanor, leaned in to inform him Steve had recently visited his mother. “I believe the Prince said he was headed towards the Great Hall,” Phil offered. 

Sam thanked them and turned on his heel, stopping after he took a few steps. He couldn’t leave without warning them if anything happened to Queen Sarah he would never forgive himself. His eyes held a world of chaos behind them. Quick words were exchanged as Sam’s gut told him he could trust Phil and Melinda with what was going on.

“Please keep her safe, I’m going to find Steve,” Sam urged. 

Phil whispered something to Melinda who nodded, taking a firmer stance by the door as her partner ran down the other hallway.

He jogged back towards the deserted hallway where he left Y/N and Bucky. Quickly and quietly, they navigated through the palace, through secret tunnels that kept them hidden from Rumlow and his men until they found their way to the Great Hall. The room was empty but voices carried from nearby and they followed the sound. 

Hidden in the doorway of the throne room Sam watched Sir Alexander and Steve talking from afar. His jaw clenched tight, his nostrils flared at the Royal Advisor, a lying snake that spit venom in every false word.

Anger clouded his judgment as Sam stormed towards them. “Get away from him Steve, he’s not what you think.” 

Steve was shocked at Sam’s unexpected appearance but his jaw nearly hit the floor when he watched Sam physically push Sir Alexander away from him. 

“Sam, what are you doing?!” Steve couldn’t help his immediate reaction, hoping the older man was not hurt as he stumbled backwards. It was unlike Sam to ever act in this manner so there must have been a reason but Steve was unable to see past his bewilderment. 

“Trust me Steve, he’s trouble.” 

There was fear in Sam’s eyes that Steve hadn’t seen since the time he was recovering from a motorcycle accident, with tears that threatened to fall as Sam came to visit him in the hospital; relieved to know he was going to be okay but shaken to the bone with fear for what could have been.

In that realization Steve knew Sam must have had a good reason for charging in but it was too late. They didn’t realize Sir Alexander had called his guards who quickly apprehended Sam and Steve.

“Get your hands off of me, I am your Prince!” Steve insisted but it was no use. 

Y/N was still hidden in the walls watching everything with Bucky. Her stomach churned with unease the moment she saw Rumlow and the other guards enter the room. She bit her lip so hard she was sure it was bleeding, her whole body vibrating with the need to do something.

“We have to help them,” she whispered.

Bucky sighed knowing she was right, if Pierce was so bold to capture the prince himself then there’s no telling what he might do next. Together they tiptoed out from the passage and upon seeing a decorative vase Y/N grabbed it. With Pierce’s back turned for a moment they took advantage and entered the room. 

Their footsteps were heard but it gave enough time for Y/N to smash the vase over the head of one of the guards who was holding Prince Steve captive. The other man lunged toward her but letting go of Steve was a mistake he paid for with a solid punch to his jaw.

Bucky helped Sam, using what little magic he could to get the guards off of him. One unsheathed his sword, moving towards Bucky like a snarling animal. He swung at Bucky who moved out of the way, grabbing a golden candelabra from the corner of the room to fight him off with. Sam felt the blow of a fist to his cheekbone but it didn’t stop him from fighting back. 

Rumlow heard the commotion and ran into the room, locking eyes with Pierce who hid behind the Queen’s royal chair. He whistled sharply and the hallways echoed with footsteps, like a herd of elephants they stomped, the sounds of metal armor clinking the closer they got. 

In the corner Rumlow spotted Y/N, shocked to see she was alive though his eyes bulged wide as he noticed what was around her neck. He ran so fast she didn’t have time to see him coming but she knew what he wanted. She cursed the fact that the necklace had slipped out from her shirt, and clutched the small gauntlet in her palm as Rumlow struggled to grab the necklace for himself. 

Thick arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward Pierce. Steve and Sam were occupied fighting off the new guards that had come in to notice but Bucky saw her from the corner of his eye. He sent an invisible zap through the air that made Rumlow let go of Y/N but it was too late, Pierce ripped the chain from her neck and a sinister grin slowly stretched across his face.

Y/N tried to take the necklace back but Rumlow grabbed her and threw her forcefully against a thick marble column and she crumpled to the ground. Bucky ran to check on her but he never made it. Pierce studied the small gauntlet and accidentally figured out how to enlarge it. His beady eyes darkened with wicked delight as the gauntlet appeared on his arm.

Bucky disappeared from the spot he was in only to reappear beside Pierce, wearing the leather jacket with buckles she first saw him in but this time he was even more restrained with a black muzzle on his face. His eyes were crestfallen as he watched Sam and Steve be taken down again by the guards and worse, he saw Y/N slowly getting to her knees, rubbing the back of her head and grimacing at the pain. Momentarily dazed, it wasn’t until she locked eyes with Bucky that she realized what happened. There was heartache in her eyes when she realized she failed him. 

Pierce didn’t even look at Bucky, but instead he held a taunting gaze with Steve as he grinned. “For my first wish, I wish to be the King of Midgard.”

PART 5 - END

[honey-lemonz]

From Wattpad..

Xmale Reader

3rd Pov

Warning includes sexual content

Includes: dumbification, master kink if you see it rough sex, degradation, barley a praise kink, female form Muzan, squirt, getting eaten out over stimulation

Muzan will still go by He/him

Requested by:maskstudioart

Thank you for the request!

Muzan didn't ever think he would dub down this far. He would every single day, change his form to his more feminine body and go flirt with a demon archer.

The demon knew it was Muzan the progenitor and knew if he did something wrong he would die but...

Muzan had an obsession.

He overly loved the feeling of climax in a female form, it was so different than a males.

You could say he was a virgin with this meaning he was inexperienced but God's did he fucking love to finger himself.

He just wished a certain archer would make him feel the climax himself.  Muzan couldn't lie, he was a strong demon, very useful as well, very strong too. Good enough to be a spot for the twelve kizuki. Not a lower moon of course most likely and upper rank.

But for some odd reason he didn't want him as a servant.

He wanted him as a lover. And he knew love needed to be two sided otherwise it wouldn't work.

So how do you make a lust full demon king make another demon who is a devoted archer and is devoted to his sport and possibly not interested in him or fears him?

Gifts and buy lots of them, bribing.

Muzan wore his most fancy kimono and tied his hair into his bun and made Daki put the pins in. He wore a signature floral style which is famous muromachi period which it the century the archer if from.

He put on a red lip and was out the infinity fortress and walked to the archery park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo gates. No human knew of the hidden places.

Muzan glared at the other demons to open the gate and strolled on in, he felt like a school girl who had a crush on her upper class men. Except he is older and stronger.

The archer was practicing with their bow and was in total focus. He could sense Muzan and smiled vividly that his lord could see him.

"Hello, Muzan-sama. How are you tonight under this moon." His voice made the king's pussy clench on nothing. He bit his lip and walked closer. A pale and touched the grey-ish skin of the archer. Veins throbbing on muscle.

Muzan traced them and hummed, his voice not menacing but suggestive.

"I am well, my archer..My search for the blue spider lilly is going unsuccessful but I grant time will tell. Now, how is my dear, archer. Have any whores here?"

Muzan is a jealous and petty thing. He knew the archer can have whores here and there. Daki has spoken about it. She even said his physical domination is almost more tempting and frightful than Kokushibou. (sexy ass man koku)

The archer inhaled before letting the string of the bow go. "What of it my lord?" Normally Muzan would be angered of the question but he, he made it sound like a challenge.

"Well, I came here to see my beloved and most favorite archer...I didn't come to see if he is fucking another whore. I thought warriors like you were supposed to be poised."

The archer's fist clenched, snapping the bow in half. Muzan let out almost a moan at the sight of his strength.

"Yes my lord. I am poised, who ever told you of these lies must want to anger you. I haven't had a woman nor man at my side since the Sengoku."(making the archer older than Koku)

Muzan gazed at his split eyes, cat like with the gold color shining through. He wasn't lying, so either Daki was or whoever told Daki lied. Either way Muzan will deal with it later.

"So, my archer if to say you did have a whore what would she be? What would she looked like? Would she be rich? Poor?"

Muzan stepped behind him and pressed his womanly breast against his stern and muscular back. A thing kimono separated the skin to skin contact. The archer prepared his stance again. He inhaled and held the strong and tight bow. He pulled his back to his cheek.

"She, or he would have to learn how to speak of what they want." Muzan hummed and wrapped his hands around his waist from behind. Moving his hands up and down slowly, taunting him. His nails circling around his peck and the faint lines of his abdomen.

"What about her mouth? Should she speak like a whore or more of a queen? Or do you want to shut her up yourself..."

Muzan's hand dipped down to the hakama pants, the white fabric holding and slowly untying them. "Or do you want her to do all the work, my archer.."

His other hand curled around the arm that was holding the arrow. Holding onto his bicep. Leaning up to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me my archer..what kind of whore do you want me to be for you?"

(M/n) sighed and rested his arms and set the bow down. He sighed and let his head fall down to look at the ground. The sweat off his body made it shine slightly underneath the moon light. he looked so delicious, it made Muzan restless.

He wished he could see him during the sun or wake up beside him and just let him fuck the shit out of him or eat him out.

"Muzan-sama." The king in question hummed and smiled devilishly at his favored archer. "Yes (M/n)?" he answer as his long blue nail was tracing the outline of his cock.

"One thing."

He hummed again, he could read his mind and knew what he was going to say and it made him drip with slick.

"Whores that ask to many questions are just begging to be fucked." He dropped the bow and turned around the see Muzan. He smiled and blushed.

Muzan lifted his arms making him carry him. He didn't want to be in control he just wanted him to fuck him deep into the ground. His pussy was aching it.

Muzan was laying in his shoulder. If any demon saw him, they'd be killed.

They walked into the large estate, the house had been a gift from Muzan. He was so happy he decided to kill of the family here and give it to him.

He dropped Muzan on the engawa and stripped himself of his thin kimono but not the hakama pants. His chest that housed that baritone voice, a voice he wanted to her moan his name and name alone made the demon lord almost finger himself then.

"But since my king is here I believe it is best to pleasure him first than myself." He got onto his knees and stomach and rested on the wooden flooring. The white curtains only showed their shadows but neither cared.

He pushed the layers of cloth out of the way only to see no underwear or anything. A bare pink pussy dripping with cum.

"My lords pussy is dripping..did he plan for this? To be eaten out like a slut? How disgusting you pig." He breath fanned his clit. The anticipation was harsh but the impact was so enjoyus.

"Yes, I am your little slut, now please my archer eat me out like one." Muzan's head tilted back and spread his legs wider, his clit twitch waiting for the intense sensitivity to send it over and beyond.

"Yes, my master." His cool tongue circled his clit and spread his labia. Muzan moaned loudly and gripped the archers head. His attention to certain spots was so endearing and so careful.

"More, please! More my archer!"

His tongue dipped into his tight entrance and pushed deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger entrap his clit. His thumb circles it roughly. Muzan felt the blood from his teeth digging into his lips dip down onto the floral patterned kimono.

"Fu-fuck. More! Please my archer give me more!" He was arching his back and pushing his head deeper. (M/n) removed his tongue, Muzan missing the contact was about to yell at him to continue but his three fingers replaced the rage with more pleasure.

He moved his hand in and out at inhuman speed. He reached up to lick away the blood from his lords lips and bite them. His thumb moved harsher and harder. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the air.

All coming from the demon lord.

His hands gripped the arches forearm and dug into it, drawing blood with his nails. He was whining and moaning. The pressure built more and more. More lewd and rude comments were whispered into his ear.

"Who knew the demon king wanted to get fucked like a whore..so fucking wet for an archer. Was it your plan to have a good fuck? To act like a such a slut and pig. Your dripping all on my hand."

With the words Muzan's pussy gushed. He had never felt so disgusting but it felt so good to feel like a sloppy whore.

He panted and clenched on his hand.  But then Muzan felt another finger being added. (fisting) The pressure came back and made the demon lord fall back out of over stimulation. Begging and begging for more. His own hand playing with his clit and slapping it too.

His kimono was drenched by the second orgasm, he squirted father this time and more. The engawa was soaking with his delicious fluids. The blood on his lips were lapped away. (M/n) pulled his hand away and liked his digits clean of the others juices.

"So tasty my lord, you did such a good just squirting like a whore."He stood up and lifted his fucked out demon king to farther into the estate.

He rested Muzan on the futon. He stripped himself and then Muzan. His breast were round and plump, his nipples hard.

Kissing and biting them, also playing with his clit made him scream at over stimulation again.

"Pl-please, my archer..fuck me..fuck me until I cannot think.." He begged, his lipstick smudge covering his cheek, hair a mess and his bun not as perfect. The decorations were falling out. This obsession he had was growing and growing because of his dear archer.

"Yes my whore lord."

He untied the sash of the hakama and revealed his thick and long cock. Muzan felt like he was going to fucking squirt again.He pulled (M/n) down to kiss him and to force him and let their body's run against each other. His cock rubbing against his clit made him arch his back.

"Please, my archer just fuck me!"

The archer pushed no slammed himself into Muzan. Letting the demon lord get a taste of what he wanted.

But he pulled out and flipped the demon on his hands and knees. He pushed back in and growled as he clenched tightly around him. His chest pushing into Muzan's. Fucking like a wild animal.

His cock pushed pass his G-spot and made the demon lord cry out about how he is going to cum again. His mind as he fucked him wandered off. Just blank and white all he felt was his pussy gushing and squirting. His arousal dripping down his legs and (M/n)'s cock and balls.

He was drooling and crying, not even having proper speech. When the archer pulled out and showered his back and ass with cum, growling and grunting.

Muzan felt his whole body just become sore. He was the strongest demon but got fucked like the weakest.

"T-this i...is..w-whhy yo-your myy favorite..m-my archer..."

The archer chuckled and wiped the cum off Muzan and the liquids off himself. He waled away to grab a kimono for the demon king.

"You'll ma-make a great King.."

The demon king relished in the feeling of being pampered. He liked how much attention he was getting and how much care was put into it. He smiled as he was place into the warm pool of water and treated perfectly.

By the time the sun rose, the archer and him retired to their sleeping quarters and sleep in the large western style bed. Muzan cuddled close to (M/n). While he was a sleep, which proved he was a hard worker. Demons don't sleep unless anything they do is put with 100%.

Muzan pushed him nail into his temple and pumped his blood into him. The archer growled in pain but kept his eyes closed. Muzan's curse was still in affect but it would not be death just a sting.

"Yes, you would make a great King, my favorite archer.."

He fell a sleep too. His new demon king was going to be perfect, he knew it. 

That is why he was the favorite, he made his obsession grow day by day.

He was truly satisfied.

[galvanizedfriend]

👀

Hi, other nonnie! Or is it Ennie again, will never know!

- This is a snippet of my King Arthur/The Guinevere Deception retelling, where Caroline is Guinevere and Klaus is Mordred.

The knights have been nothing but a mask of professionalism since they showed up at the convent to fetch her and escort her towards her destiny. They're respectful, if not exactly warm. She is fine with their apparent indifference; in fact, she prefers it that way. To them, she is nothing but a simple woman, a beautiful ornament, dressed and polished to perfection, that they are meant to take from one place and deliver to another, into the hands of her new master. A valuable property, to be certain, but a property nonetheless. That's exactly how Caroline was instructed to behave. Polite, affable, delicate, incapable of braiding her own hair, like any dignified princess. On top of being doted with unswerving tenacity, she is also a competent actor, and so playing the part is hardly challenging. So long as the men have nothing to suspect, they'll never look close enough to see the small chinks on her meticulously constructed façade. The complications ahead of her are hard enough without the added pressure of suspicion. And at first, she thought herself lucky. The knights did not care for her at all, no more than out of a pure sense of duty. All, except for Sir Niklaus. The intensity in his midnight eyes brushes up against Caroline's every sense, setting off alarm bells inside of her. It is hard to keep straight when he is near. Harder still to avoid him. She can feel his gaze burning holes onto her back or her face. He was hell-bent on watching her from the very first moment, and he did not care much for concealing it. She told herself that it made sense that he'd show the most interest. He is, after all, the king's half-brother. The king is notoriously close to his knights, his closest circle of allies being more like brothers than assembled warriors, but by every account Caroline has had access to - granted, not nearly as much as she would've wished in order to prepare herself for what awaits her - no one has the king's ears and trust quite as much as Sir Niklaus. Their history is a winding one, full of twists and turns and nebulous slivers, but it seems to have done nothing but bring them closer still, that much is clear. There is a reason why someone who rejoices in as much prestige as him would've been sent on such a mission: to assess her. Consider the worth and class of the deal his half-brother - and indeed his kingdom - is about to close. It's a test. And he appears to take his job quite seriously. He is a handsome man, not much younger than the king himself. He wears his hair shorter than the other knights, honey-colored strands only beginning to curl around the edges, wind-swept after days on horseback. His features are almost delicate - full lips, long lashes, high cheekbones - but the steel in his dark blue eyes gives him a stroke of mystery and severity. She gets the strange impression that he's constantly trying to see right through her, as though he expects to unearth some hidden truth. And therein her problems lie. She must be extra careful around Sir Niklaus.

[epicspheal]

Heya! I hope your doing well!

Ever since swsh gave the rivals something to do after the fact( something that I believe only happened to Blue), I can't help but think of the rivals prior who haven't. What do you think they end up doing? I know that Blue ends up becoming a gym leader, but would still be interesting what you plan for him too! :3

Hi there @ihopethisendswell! So actually, it's the norm typically for the rivals to have something to do, even if it's just continuing being a roaming trainers. Being a roaming trainer is still just as valid of a career path as other routes given the way the Pokemon world works, it's just not as solid of a career path as say gym leader or research assistant. Pokemon Sword and Shield is one of the only main games that really puts emphasis on the rivals' alternate careers paths as part of the plot outside of the gen 5 games. So like you have Blue who becomes gym leader and also helps his grandpa with his research by still be a roaming trainer (much to the frustration of anyone trying to challenge his gym). By the time of Sun and Moon/USUM he has ditched the gym to become battle facility which ultimately given his status as a former champion ends up being a much more fitting role. Granted he needed that time as a gym leader as long standing humbling exercise so it wasn't a bad call at all. Then we have Silver, who remains a roaming trainer, though he kind of mainly sticks around the Dragon's Den because he really wants to avenge that loss to Lance and show how much he has changed. Then we have Brendan/May (when not the protagonist) who end up going back to being full time assistants professor Birch. Wally on the other hand, is much like Silver in that he continue to be a roaming trainer, with him staying around the Battle Resort in ORAS with him eventually going to the Battle Tree by the time the SM/USUM events occur.

Barry also follows the roaming trainer route with him staying Stark Mountain in Diamond/Pearl and with Platinum he hangs around the Survival area.

Gen 5 is where the rival's future goals get the most attention, and was the best well done (SwSh in my opinion failed hard on the rival's goals bar Klara and Avery's). Bianca is still my favorite "how to do a future career path" ending in the entirety of series which is she really doesn't know. She ends up taking up a position as Professor's Juniper's assistant. However it's this linefrom Bianca in Pokemon Black 2/White 2 that I really enjoyed:

"Actually, I'm not sure being a professor's assistant is really what I want to do... But when I do the work, I have lots and lots of fun!" I really appreciated that they allowed Bianca to have doubts that this is her final career path. She's still a child and I can remember when I was her age (God, I sound so old) how many career paths I thought about in that time frame...and only one of those comes even remotely close to what I'm attempting to go back to school for. I liked how she's just trying to things and aiming for experiences while not trying to commit herself to one specific path. Now obviously this could theoretically be true for any number of the rivals as with the exception of Blue (and Wally although for some odd reason they didn't give him an aged up model considering he'd be just as old as Red and Blue are) we don't see them as adults and their ambitions could very well have indeed changed over the years. Then you have Cheren who after that scolding from Alder really begins to question his pursuit of strength and what he really wants to do. Cue 2 years later in BW2 where we see him as the Aspertia City gym leader as well a lecturer at the trainer's school. Fitting as it shows his desire and capabilities as a trainer but also allowing a more concrete goal than just pursuing strength but actually overseeing the future generations. And Hugh, another one of my favorite characters, concludes his story arc on forgiveness (since he had absolutely none for Team Plasma at the beginning of the story) ends up a roaming trainer but also helping the good side Team Plasma in Driftveil City reunite Pokemon that were stolen during the events of Black/White to their original trainers. So he has a goal and really touching one I might add, one of the few that doesn't revolve around battling or researching.

Then there's the XY rivals who were admittedly the most shafted. They all pretty much end up as roaming trainers except for Trevor who already had the aim of completing the Pokedex for Professor Sycamore and he continues to do so.

The no specific aim works the best, in my opinion, for Shauna as she really didn't have much of a goal to begin with outside of travelling/making memories, and much like I said with Bianca, it's okay for characters to not have a specific end game (although I personally see Bianca's route as better as although she isn't quite sure what she wants to do, she does take initiative and actively pursue a goal to gain experience and see if it's for her).

Serena/Calem (again when not the protag) having no set aim also works because they were most competitive of the group and continuing to be a trainer makes sense, but since they get hardly any development it just feels hollow and not satisfying. At least with characters like Wally, Silver and Barry who are roaming they all went through some major development. Lack of major development plus no end game just makes Serena and Calem unfortunately just not stand out.

Then Tierno...poor Tierno. He's my favorite XY character and I hate that screwed over so poorly. He actually a goal but the game doesn't allow us to see how a dance team would work. Kalos really could've benefitted from a Pokemon Contest/Musical like sidequest where Tierno shines in. So him being a roaming trainer is just...meh.

Now moving on to Gen 7 and best boy Hau (Hau's up there with Blue and Leon as one of my favorite Pokemon characters PERIOD). In both Sun and Moon and USUM he's a roaming trainer but I argue that Sun and Moon actually wrapped up his character better, despite USUM giving him much more in the way of development. By that I mean he explicitly mentions to the player that he wants become strong enough to find his father who fled Alola because the pressure of being the Kahuna's son was too much. So yeah he is still just a regular trainer, but he does have an explicit goal that goes beyond just trying to continue to measure up to the player. He also helps to train the reforming Team Skull grunts in the art of Alolan SuMo. In USUM this is erased for a more generic roaming trainer scenario unfortunately. Gladion's fate also changes depending on what version of the Gen 7 games you play. With Sun and Moon he ends up taking over as Aether's president but also still trains on the side as he is one of the challengers that can come for your title in the post game. In Ultra Sun and Moon he actually takes the "I'm going to Kanto" route instead of Lillie although he actually back and is essentially a roaming trainer since Lusamine's villainy was nerfed and therefore allowed to stay as Aether's president

Then there's Trace who ends up champion then loses it, but keeps on going in this endless circle of trying to reclaim it from the player. And then finally the Gen 8 rivals where we have Bede, Marnie, Klara and Avery all become gym leaders and Hop is a professor. Despite this cast having the most focus on their future paths since the gen 5 rivals I don't think they were done that well. Like Klara and Avery's worked, really well and they're probably the only rivals bar Trace and Blue who actually their goals (with them actually maintaining there dream status because their goal didn't involve becoming champion).

I've talked about Hop's on this post before but the lack of genuine foreshadowing just made his sudden declaration of wanting to be a Pokemon Professor just come out of nowhere. And honestly considering the fact that he had just come out of a depressive stage and still hadn't quite addressed his idolization issues I think he would've been served better with the Bianca route where yes he becomes Sonia's assistant, but it's clear that he's still trying to find his new path and that he's just open to trying out research rather than making a rather bold claim that this was his new career path. Either that or do better in the foreshadowing where he shows he has a much clearer interest in academia but feels like he needs to be a champion like his brother.

Then there's Marnie who I've also stated was kind of screwed over. Because she made it rather clear to Piers she didn't want to be gym leader (which makes sense given that she saw how that position screwed over older brother that she admires). She's pretty much doing this because she still has the motivation to save her hometown which is extremely admirable and mature. But also it's sad, like if she didn't have to do this, would she honestly still be gym leader. I think not, at least not immediately. Considering that gym challengers can still compete on the big stage with the champion's cup rematches and some even can be invited to the Galarian Stars Tournament, I think if I had of written that I would've focused on how with Leon as the head of MC he's going to actually work with Spikemuth to revitalize without shouldering the responsibility on one single person, especially a minor. And let her be a roaming trainer and live for herself and not continue to be Spikemuth's martyr.

Then there's Bede who quite vocally states when crashing the Champion's Cup that he was ready to retire. Like poor boy goes from being used as Rose's wishing star collector and fall boy to Opal's reirement plan. Like yes it's great that Opal actually remembers his name and gives him a support system and teaches him some discipline. But still it's kind of sad as he was very much okay with retiring but more or less gets goaded into staying because of the stadium audience.

So this post got way longer than I what it was going to be but hey that happens. But yeah too long don't read, all of the rivals do have a goal, even if a lot of them end up as roaming trainers. If I'm honest in most cases (bar the gen 6 rivals because they lacked developent) the roaming trainer thing works. Because they're kids and they still have their whole lives ahead of them and they don't need to have concrete job just yet. Especially because in some cases the concrete plan just doesn't always fit the character. It works best when it feels like an organic part of the story and not just trying to wrap things up for the sake of wrapping things up.

Finally, to answer your question about how I deal with Blue. Well in my Pokeverse (dubbed cactusverse in case you see me refer to my AU as this), I tend to be fairly canon compliant to the games. So after he loses his champion title to Red he becomes Viridian gym leader, slightly patches things up with grandfather by helping with the research and eventuallya head of the Battle Tree as an adult once he gains the Battle Legend Status (which is an actual legitimate title in cactusverse held currently only by him, Red and Leaf, although one of my OCs gets this designation as well). So nothing that really deviates from canon except for some offscreen events. Basically the battle legend status is bestowed if a major event happens that is taken care of by an already established powerful trainer. So there's a rather major plot thing the Kanto Trio gets involved in that once they take care of gives them their status.

Also for cactusverse there's the whole issue of the Viridian City gym. So it eventually it gets passed down to Trace as Blue has shown that he's become a bit too powerful to be a gym leader. He was honestly when he first got it probably still a bit overkill for an 8th gym leader, but he also really needed an attitude adjustment. And with Lance being a far better father figure to him than Oak could ever dream of, with the help of Agatha tried to rein in his egotistical and self important ways by giving him the position. Which worked very well. Still in cactusverse there's rules on the win percentage a gym can have and that's determined by position. Win too many for your rank and you get moved, vice versa if you lose too many, and sometimes you might even lose your position. The first and last gym leaders are always the most at risk of losing their status. This actually happens to Wallace, Iris and eventually Raihan because they just end up exceeding the strength of most challengers who try to challenge them. Hence why all three of them end up champions at some point cactusverse (Raihan does not become Galar's champion, but Johto's champion since I really like the idea of him spreading his wings beyong Galar).

Blue between the time of BW2 and SM had ended up getting to a point that no one had gotten a gym badge off of him in a couple of years which is unacceptable by league standards and he would've gotten booted out sooner had Lance not personally asked my OC Terra to come kick his butt and get a badge off of him. And cue possibly the most iconic and brutal gym battles to have ever gone down in a region of outside of Galar because two heartbroken champion tier trainers, who broke each other's heart is a recipe for a frightening battle. Lance happened to referree that match and might be a little traumatized. Terra won and he was able to give out his last badge before Red came back from his latest global trip and said let's go to Alola.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Bloodstream (Vampire AU)

Summary: Small towns usually hide big, dangerous secrets. Dolan twins thought it would be a perfect place to lay low...until they meet her.

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, violence, angst and fluff

Word count: ~ 3000

Vampires are bloodthirsty creatures, past redemption, their humanity long gone. Y/N knew that even in the moment she stayed with Ethan and Grayson while everyone else ran. She stayed, her eyes hyper focused on the blood dripping from their chins, their hands drenched with no trace of human skin - all red. She didn't know what happened, why they lost control, but she believed they wouldn't hurt her. Perhaps it's naive, wishful thinking or even her overconfidence in skills she was granted after they first arrived in town, but she stayed put, actually provoking them.

"Why did you do that?" Trying to keep her voice even, calm, Y/N almost forgot they could hear her frantic heartbeat, smell the indescribable mix of emotions oozing off her skin, undiscovered by human senses.

"You know why." Grayson rolls his eyes, wiping his mouth and chin against the sleeve of his once white hoodie, looking at Ethan for justification.

Regardless of his silent plea, Ethan simply shakes his head, turning around to avoid her questioning glare, almost relieved with her presence. A part of him craved for her in every possible way - from a primal human way to a primal vampire way and it's an overwhelming tension around his dead heart that makes him take a step back.

"No, Grayson! I don't fucking know why and I want to understand, I do! But how can I when all I seem to get is dead bodies dropped at my feet as if you're a damn cat showing off a kill!" Voice echoing around the now empty woods, Y/N realized she has to tone down her anger.

She wanted them to suffer for what they did but she didn't want them to die. If anyone found out a vampire slayer is in love with two vampires who kill mercilessly, she'd likely lose her life along with them.

Before she could blink, she found herself gasping for air, not because of the sudden change in her position or the tree she found her back pressed against, not even because of the way Grayson's bloody hand held onto her neck, but because of the intimacy of the way his lips lingered right above her carotid.

Applying a little bit of pressure only to release it had made her arteries run wild with turbulent blood-flow, the kind that played on Grayson's control issues, the kind that made him want to do something he would forever regret - if he could have just a taste and stop, to let her blood warm his heart and make it beat again even if its for a few hours, he might do it, but he couldn't risk her dying. Not now. Not ever.

"I did it for you. To protect you." Drawing the words out slowly, carefully, Grayson leans back and away from her neck, letting her breathe again. He could sense she wasn't scared, not even when he held her at inch length of death, she trusted him and that scared him. He has never been as scared in all his miserable days as he's been scared since the day she walked into his life. For once, Grayson Dolan had something to lose and he wasn't about to let it happen.

"I can't tell you how many people I killed since I came to this town, but I know why they're dead." Swallowing thickly, she watched his lips press together briefly, just for a moment - as if he's contemplating his next words and the impact they might have.

"They're dead so you could live. And I don't feel sorry. Not even a little bit. Maybe that makes me the monster you think I am but I can't regret saving your life." Leaning his forehead on hers, Grayson almost forgot about Ethan who was so clearly growing anxious, frustrated and most of all - jealous. Sadly, to Grayson's greatest dismay, he wasn't the only Dolan in love with a human - a slayer - his Y/N.

She didn't utter a word; she didn't have to. In a blink of an eye, Ethan and Grayson, as well as the bodies of the people she once considered her townsfolk are gone. Shaking, leaning back on the tree, Y/N wondered why she ever got involved with the Dolan twins - why couldn't she leave this particular mystery alone?

To understand that, we'd have to rewind this to the day she first met them, a few months earlier.

There are three things you need to know before you read this:

1. Vampires are real,

2. Their thirst for blood is unmatched by anything but the love for their mate,

3. Humanity is fragile and to love a vampire is to court death.

The sun-rays lit up her pale skin, her favorite season finally chasing away the winter snow she hated more than anything. She wasn't particularly happy about being forced to walk to campus so early in the morning, a cup of tea warming her frosty fingers, reminding her winter's still got a hold of her little town, the kind of town you'd see on postcards. It's easy to feel at home in towns like these, the kind where nothing bad ever happens except for a few college students running wild during rush week.

Smiling, she nods at the car letting her pass the road, recognizing one of her old high school teachers, the one that used to favor her for her "exceptional kindness and talent". She always felt like she disappointed him, her pristine grades and record were supposed to take her far from that town and for a while she was willing to do anything to get out of there, but life always has different plans for us, doesn't it?

Regardless, Y/N wasn't bitter nor did she resent the circumstances forcing her to stay behind when all her friends left. She still found happiness in small things - watching the sunrise that reminded her there was a fresh start every day if we're willing to take it, in the beautiful scenery - nature always calmed her nerves and it reminded her of her late father who always took her camping and taught her basic survival skills, and then there was the very college she goes to - the place her parents met for the first time, giving her a feeling of closeness to the ones she loved the most but had to say goodbye to.

Nostalgic, half lost in her thought, Y/N didn't pay attention to her surroundings, a daydreamer as her friends uses to call her. Perhaps that's something she would have changed, that day and that moment she was too lost in her own head to see she was seconds away from colliding with a force of nature - Grayson Dolan.

She didn't register the moment of impact, rather the moment a strong pair of hands gripped her waist and left arm, holding her in place with a sturdiness she didn't possess on the best of days. She heard her books fall on the pavement, one of them breaking at the seams and she didn't bother looking up, rather down at her precious books.

Quickly, she bent down to collect her books and assess the damage on her favorite book, the man doing the same, managing to take the books before her, forcing her to look into his eyes without escaping it.

Grayson could see wind-stirred waves in her eyes and he knew if one were brave enough to enter their depths, the world would blur and he'd fall so deep in love that he'd choose to stay there – right in the midst of her storm, no matter what. Of that, he was completely sure.

"The Vampire Academy? Really?" His almost mocking tone made her snarl, narrow her eyes and force the books out of his hands. If there is anything she hates, it's someone judging a book by its covers and she really hated when people deemed her a vampire fanatic because of her favorite series. The Vampire Academy is so much more than a story about vampires and that's a hill she was willing to die on.

"You bumped into me and the first thing you want to do is mock my choice in literature?” Standing up, she raised her chin defiantly high, perhaps because he's a lot taller than she is or because she simply hated being perceived as weak and naive, but she was ready to hand his ass to him and in the most merciless manner possible. “Seriously?" She humphed, swallowing thickly as she held his gaze captive.

"You're right." Raising his hands in mock surrender, he chuckled at her attitude. Licking his lips, he raised an eyebrow before speaking again. "I'm Grayson Dolan and I'm very sorry about your book." Putting an emphasis on very, Grayson smiles too, hoping his usually disarming smirk would make her swoon like all the other girls do.

Shrugging, she pulled the books closer to her chest, her gaze falling to her feet inadvertently, wishing she could rip him a new one but he's apologetic. After all, she felt guilty about the small incident anyway and while he may be a closeted asshole, she wasn't about to chew him out for being decent enough to apologize. Every asshole needs someone to show them they are capable of change, right? Well, she certainly thought so.

"Alright." She shrugs again, a nervous tick Grayson realizes but reserves that observation to himself, deciding it would be best not to antagonize her much more though he wants to. Y/N certainly peaks his interest and it's not just about the fact he can sense her blood type just by the smell of a recent scratch on her forearm, but the fact that she's awkwardly, innocently feisty but also beautiful in the most effortless way possible, the kind where she's absolutely blind to the little things others notice and adore about her.

"Not gonna tell me your name?" Grayson steps in her way, stopping her from leaving him high and dry, effectively making her heart skip a beat loud enough that his brother heard it from the football stadium. Those earthly hues he enchanted everyone with, rimmed with thick, long, dark lashes that brushed his cheeks every time he closed his eyes, seemed to bore into her every time she looked into them and nearly lost herself. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; his eyes held all those deep seated emotions and for a moment she had to physically restrain herself from placing her palm on his cheek and softly asking him who hurt him so deeply.

Shaking her head, she pushes those thoughts down and reminds herself she’s probably seeing this comely man through the eyes of her wild imagination, her reality check lost somewhere on the ground ever since he bumped into her. "No. You haven't earned that yet." Smiling, she winks at him cheekily, enough to cause him to change his initial opinion - there is nothing innocent about her and he's more than willing to find out what hides in every dark corner and crease of her complicated mind.

He inhaled her scent as she passed him by, sauntering toward the entrance, purposefully too. She knew his eyes never left her form, she could sense his gaze taking her in, and usually she'd feel overexposed, making her self-conscious of every step she makes but she wanted to leave a lasting impression on him. For some unfathomable reason, Y/N found herself glancing over her shoulder at the grinning man, rushing inside faster to hide just how fast her heart is beating and how blushy his attention made her.

Shaking her head, she wondered why him. She wondered why would he be the first man to make her feel like that after years of never even looking at any man. One thing was certain - Y/N wanted to know every single part of Grayson Dolan's heart and soul.

He's not perfect as he seems, but she wants to know him, all his virtues and flaws and she wants to love and hate him and argue and cuddle and go on adventures and stay at home being lazy. She wants to hype him up and have him be her cheerleader too. It doesn't even have to be romantic in any sense even though she couldn't deny the spark she felt just by the way he looked at her. He would be a part of her life and she would make sure of it.

**

Rumors fly in small towns, there is nothing surprising about it. That's how Y/N had found out more than a few things about Grayson Dolan and apparently, he has a twin brother. When two guys manage to switch universities in their senior year and at the beginning of the summer semester, it’s bound to create a buzz.

From what she remembers, Grayson Dolan is very tall, muscular and from her vantage point, all she could say for certain is how sharp his jawline is. Of course, she managed to memorize his smirk and gaze, both intimidatingly intimate, the kind that grips your soul and haunts your dreams. He oozes charming confidence but also arrogance she'd usually frown upon. All in all, in few minutes she knew him, Grayson Dolan had left an impression worthy of an afterthought, the kind that turns into a daydream where your mind makes up scenarios that are highly unlikely to happen.

As it will turn out, she wasn't nearly as imaginative as she thought.

Taking her seat, relieved it's the last class for the day, Y/N glanced at the door, her eyes catching a striking man as he enters the room, his presence alone enough to make her question reality, pinching herself only to groan under her breath. In that very moment, his eyes met hers as if he could hear the silent pained 'ouch' she mumbled under her breath.

Averting her gaze, she sat up a little straighter, clearing her voice nervously before looking into her bag for a pen, anything to avoid eye contact with a guy she could easily tell was the fated twin of the man who was still taking over her waking thoughts and she was certain he'd be there when she closes her eyes too.

"Need a pen?" The low, dark voice makes her turn sideways, noticing the guy had taken the seat next to her without hesitation, his brown eyes focused on her with interest she truly wanted to squash. If anything, Y/N didn't want a guy too close to her, especially with what her father told her: "You're going to change the world one day. It's in your blood - our family blood."

Anyone would think it's just delirious talks at the end of a man's life, but there was something in his eyes when he told her, something she couldn't disregard.

"I got one." She shrugged, looking back at her bag, trying to remain calm despite feeling his lingering gaze on her.

Heat washed over her, the kind that comes when you're both embarrassed, nervous and extremely uncomfortable. The main reason for it all wasn't just Ethan but the fact that her pen was missing...and her back up pen too.

Ethan knew that too. She had no idea he had swiped them during lunch, aware he'd need a conversation starter with the girl his brother had decided was worthy of his attention after centuries of ignoring romance and love in any form. Ethan had expected a little more if he were completely honest, especially since Grayson spoke about her alluring blood and enticing personality, but he figured there's more beneath the surface.

Unlike his brother, Ethan loved making women giddy, enjoying every bit of attention his immortality gifted him with and what most humans never understood, it's that vampires have more than the gift of immortality kept by human blood.

Vampires have strength unimaginably greater than any human as well as speed no human eye could follow. Their skin isn't always cold, as long as they drink hot beverages or human blood, even their hearts might beat again. The sun won't hurt them, crosses and holy water and garlic wouldn't cause any damage either, but fire might - as well as their hearts pierced with a wooden stake or their head being chopped off? That’s a sure way to rid oneself of a vampire.

"Just take it." Ethan pushed one across the table, winking her way when she dares to look his way once more, enjoying the pink tinted cheeks barely covered with her hair way too much not to crack a smile - a smile that could melt a hundred hearts.

"Alright." Taking the pen, she clicks it eagerly, pressing her lips together to hold back a smile from him. "Thanks." And that's when the longest hour of her life began, completely unaware she became prey and not just in the eyes of the handsome twins that recently joined the campus, but of many more who'd come looking for her - a direct blood relative of Buffy Summers - the last vampire slayer and her power had finally awakened.

Completely unaware of her destiny, Y/N went about her day, falling asleep just a few minutes before midnight strikes, a certain vampire sitting nearby, listening to her breathing evening out and her heartbeat slowing down.

"Are you really going to stalk her now?" Ethan clicks his tongue, watching Grayson roll his eyes. "Don't be a cliche, brother. Either kill her and get it over with or leave her alone. It's not that hard."

Cracking his knuckles, Grayson narrows his eyes, a few dark, blood filled veins becoming increasingly prominent on his face and his once brown eyes are now clouded with darkness.

"Someone is here." Grayson whispers and Ethan chuckles.

"Yeah. Us."

"Are you really that dense? There is something creeping on that girl and it's not just us. And it smells foul." Scrunching his nose, Grayson whips his head around to her window, noticing a speedy shadow moving up the wall, and before he knows it, Grayson's instincts take over.

It only took a moment, but the next thing he knows, Grayson’s primal nature had acted for him and he was grateful. He couldn’t exactly sit by her bed and protect her all night – he couldn’t even enter her home without an invitation, but Grayson could at least protect her home.

Why?

Even he wasn’t sure on the actual reason.

"What the fuck did you do?" All he hears is her heartbeat, even as Ethan whisper shouts in his ear. All he can feel is her scent invading his senses once more, the foul stench of the creature he just beheaded no longer standing in the way.

"What I had to." Grayson spat on the body of the creature he killed without a second thought and he couldn't help but smile. As he did, the temperature fell a little. Even in the dim light of the streetlight Ethan saw his bared teeth.

"This is what will happen to anyone who dares touch her."

[mysterious-prophetess]

Age of Calamity feelings and thoughts

I did a review but this is going to be even more all over the place and full of speculation and theorizing. 

Tl:Dr about the review-I liked the game despite a few things here and there that frustrated me. Like the divine beast sections. 

So Feelings? The game did make me happy and I’ve had a really terrible setback in what I thought my life would be and that occurred two weeks before Age of Calamity was released. 

I failed my Comps and therefore was dismissed from my doctoral program. I used this game, Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom, and Hades to cope somewhat. 

So...if I’ve attached a little more of my emotions to this game, it’s because it’s helped me through this shitty time of my life. 

Anyway. This game really made my inner ZeLink shipper so very happy. Yes, I know they’re never really going to go as far as they did with Skyward Sword, but it was still enough to get my little shipper brain going. 

I also feel they made Revali more belligerent towards Link without him already starting as the Hylian Champion/Knight Who Wields the Sword that Seals the Darkness, and I think this is Revali’s own inferiority/superiority complex coming into play. 

From what I’ve read into this, it seems like Revali thinks Link is just a knight sworn to protect the Princess and therefore doesn’t even compare to Revali-who is the best Rito Archer, invented his own quasi magic technique (Revali’s Gale), and is the Rito Champion chosen to be Divine Beast Vah Medoh’s pilot. Yet, this nobody is in the thick of it and being trusted to do stuff that challenges Revali’s image of himself at the top of the pile.

Never mind the fact that one of his fellow Champions is the Chieftain of her people nor another is a Princess of hers, Revali sees Link the Knight as a threat to his own perceived view of things where he-Revali-is top bird. 

I think it’s because Link can used any weapon he come across, including the bow, with proficiency. Revali can’t stand Link because he thinks Link is a threat to his own perceived idea he is the BEST. In canon BotW, at least he could take solace in the fact that Link was a fellow Champion from the start and therefore, while not as exceptions as himself (from Revali’s perspective), he at least was the Hylian Champion. In Age of Calamity? Revali doesn’t even have that much for half the story.

Daruk doesn’t get much of an expansion beyond what we learned in the Champion’s Ballad. He’s steady and willing to indulge in some sassing at Revali whenever the Riot Archer’s arrogance gets to be a bit much. 

My favorite moment was  in the story Mission “Freeing the Korok Forest” when he made the comment “If only there was someone who could fly ahead and scout it out.” in the midst of Revali’s bitching. 

His interactions with Yunobo were cute too. Honestly both Gorons got the short stick in this as far as their characterizations were concerned. 

Doesn’t help that of all the Future Champions, Yunobo is my least favorite to play, tied with Teba. So, I was less inclined to do much with him. 

On the other end of the scale, we get Mipha and Sidon. Mipha’s interactions with Daruk helped flesh out her crush on Link more as well as her own motivations for helping others AND seeing both baby Sidon and the adult he was in BotW was interesting too. It’s not often we get to see that in a game. Sidon’s desire to save his big sister resonated with me a bit more than the two descendants- Riju and Yunobo- saving ancestors they’d likely never have met regardless of them dying then or dying of natural causes later. Sidon, on the other hand, as a Zora is part of a very long lived race and knew her and this adult Sidon has lived longer mourning his sister’s death than with her alive. Mourning her and wishing he’d been bigger or stronger to save her. Seeing them together made me so happy because I’d always wished he’d gotten closure, even if all he’d seen was her ghost from a distance. 

Teba? Aside from being tied with Yunobo as my least favorite future champion to play as, he only showed that he grew up idolizing Revali and was shocked to see Revali was a bit of a jerk. I remarked to my friend that it was sad to me that the only legacy Revali seemed to have was his flight range, but now with Teba’s hero-worship (and shock that Revali is a jerk), perhaps the legacy was also the legend of a fantastic archer and hero of his people too. 

Teba does seem to understand Revali isn’t what he portrays himself to be, and that is what I think he means by “seeing the face behind the Champion.” He sees through all of that posturing to see Revali as he is: deep down a hero who does care about others and not just himself and his own glory but also has an image he likes to project (which is why I think he has both an inferiority and superiority complex a la Bakugo of BnHA). 

Now to the character I have the most feelings about: 

King Rhoam Bospharmus Hyrule.

Learning he married into the royal family, and therefore, is not of the blood of Hylia does make his lack of knowledge of how to raise an heiress to the golden power make a lot more sense. This was something I gleamed from across the two games and the DLC. If Zelda’s mother had the golden power, she is the blood of Hylia, ergo, Rhoam isn’t and married into the family. 

I’ll go one step further. I think that despite being the “Kingdom” of Hyrule, the bloodline of Hylia is matrilineal and therefore only daughters of the royal family can inherit this power. Though, for some reason it’s still a patriarchal society. 

Zelda’s dead mom died before she could start to teach Zelda, and therefore Rhoam ever saw the external stuff that his wife might have done. He also seemed to have little patience for the metaphysical despite knowing a lot of that was real (at least when he was alive). 

His approach to it was wrong and it damaged Zelda to the point that her powers awakened too late to stop them. 

Also, Rhoam was trying to be too clever by half. In trying to just replicate what their ancestors did, he missed the point that the ancestors had a full understanding of what it was they were up against and what they’d created. Rhoam thought Calamity Ganon was just this beastial force and that underestimation was why he had all his plans blow-up in his face and the collective faces of Hyrule. 

This is where my theories come into play. 

After playing as him in Age of Calamity and finding his move set surprisingly effective, I’ve come up with a theory: The Magical Queens of Hyrule tend to choose men with extremely good Martial Skills as their husbands to create a balanced pair to reflect the first Zelda and Link who were Goddess incarnate and her Knight. 

No, this isn’t just my Zelink shipper talking. Ok it IS partly but it would make sense. From a traditional standpoint (and Hyrule is steeped in tradition), the pairing of Goddess and Warrior being reflected in the Queen and her consort King makes sense. 

It would also explain why Rhoam is so very military minded in attempting to get things done. I think he was nobleman who was either a general or captain or something similar. Which is why he’s so focused on training and getting rid of “distractions” from Zelda’s training (even if she’s a FUCKING CHILD and you shouldn’t do that to a kid who isn’t ready for such a regimented lifestyle). 

Now, I don’t know that they were a love match or not, but either way, I think his prowess as a warrior was part of what drew Zelda’s Mom to him. 

I’m saying it outright: I think Hylia, her incarnations, and her female descendants have a type and it’s men who kick serious ass. 

Now I touched on this in my review of Age of Calamity but the story was very AU because in Creating a Champion it was revealed Link was TWELVE or THIRTEEN years old when he pulled the Master Sword free of its pedestal in the official canon BotW timeline and Link being around eighteen during the events of 100 years before and Age of Calamity, therefore should have had that sword but didn’t. It’s on page 376 btw. 

Ergo, something affected this timeline and Link didn’t go into the Lost Woods and pull the sword. 

In my review I speculated that this might have still been in part of Zelda’s wish that helped the little guardian go back in time. It might have had a ripple effect that allowed Link more time as just a knight and not THE Knight Chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness.

It also allowed them to have a much better relationship without Zelda’s resentment of Link achieving his destiny so much faster, and easier, than she was with her training amounting to nothing. 

I also think after she and Link grew closer in BotW and she found out how much bearing the Master Sword for so long affected how Link viewed himself, she might have also wanted to grant him more time as another knight without the pressures that come with his destiny. (not that Age of Calamity really played that up).

Not going to lie, I loved the parallels between their awakenings in Age of Calamity. His with silvery-white light and hers with golden light. Both reaching for the other because they care....ah, that pleased the shipper in me. 

I know Link doesn’t talk because reasons but I almost wish he did because I’d have loved to have seen a scene where the Future Champions all talk to him and he’s like “Uh.....do I know you?” or even some sort of silent version of that scene to preserve the lack of speech on his part.

The time travelers present a lot of funny moments of them speaking about stuff BotW Link did that his HWAoC counterpart didn’t. 

The Future Champions, on the other hand, also present an avenue for angst. They’re from what is essentially the darker timeline. Their predecessors died lonely deaths and were trapped as ghosts for a century while Link awakened alone, without memories or his sword and Zelda lingered in divine form keeping Calamity Ganon at bay. They have to go back to that darker timeline after having gotten a moment to meet those they’d have-likely-never met or really knew well, with the exception of Sidon and Mipha. 

It’ll hurt worse for Sidon knowing a version of him will get to have his big sister and all he has is some closure in knowing that in a version of events she got to live and he saved her. Sidon is a blinding beacon of positivity after all. 

Plus, how would that conversation go down in the future?

“Hey, we’re back. We time traveled and saved our predecessors in a different timeline.” That just seems like a way to rub salt in the wounds of Link and/or Zelda depending from when they were pulled from into the past. Post-Game or just before Link defeats Calamity Ganon. 

Again, there is potential here with this. It’s just not the angst a lot were expecting since we all thought this would be a prequel to BotW, major character deaths and all. 

Instead it was an AU Time Travel Fix-it Fic full of everyone lives, no one dies except the bad guys. 

Considering my personal circumstances, I needed a story like this where the past can be changed for the better even if it is in an alternate timeline.

Also, this being an AU Time Travel Fix-it Fic gave them more wiggle room than just following the events of 100 years pre-BotW. There they’d have to had either made the build up to the Calamity longer (and less fun) or just had a much shorter story. What they did instead was what was needed for a full game. 

Maybe when I get some inspiration, I might play with these ideas in fic form. 

Maybe I won’t. Either way, this game gave me a lot to work with.

[moonlightreal]

Winx Club season 8/16

In which we get a large terminology retcon and some Trix of a different color.

16 The Sparx Festival

Sparx like the starlight or have we timeslided back to 4kids when Domino was named Sparx?

We open in what must be the Winx common room.  The festival hasn’t been mentioned except in the title, we jump right in to the girls’ planning.   Aisha wants to do a gymnastic dance competition.  Musa’s ready to provide the music and Tecna the special effects.  Of course Stella thinks it should be a fashion show, and Flora’s more keen on a rare plant show.  Stella transforms her look into a lil blue dress with flowers and a very questionable hairstyle and conjures a red carpet… which is pulled out from under her by the chompy carnivorous plant Flora brought in.  Girls, you’re perfect, never change.

Bloom, though, is moping and everyone shortly realizes it and does the “you can tell us about it.”  thing.  It’s Sky, of course, he’s not answering the phone and nobody knows where he is.

Where he is, is climbing a cliff with Diaspro.  Even though they can both fly, and have a spaceship.  They’re looking for the lost medallion of Eraklyon, which changed its name between episodes.

Sky’s phone rings and he says it must be Bloom, and Diaspro does an evil grin and… throws herself backwards off the cliff, falling to her doom! O_o

Sky catches her of course, even though he was above her on the cliff and there’s a definite animation fail as Diaspro sort of kneels in midair with Sky supporting her on one arm.  Props to Rainbow that this is the first glaring mannequins-in-weird-poses I’ve seen this season!

Diaspro: oh, you saved me! <3

Sky: Be more careful next time!

Sky, she has wings. She would’a been fine.  Unless Diaspro’s no longer a fairy because Season 8 timeslide, that is a possibility but it’d be a damn dark one because that would mean Diaspro is willing to risk her life to get Sky’s attention.  I foresee a lot of this episode will probably be me microanalyzing all of Diaspro’s actions trying to put together a coherent picture of what she’s really like as a real character rather than the caricature that Rainbow is meaning to give us.  I think the final picture will be of someone who should maybe be in some kind of inpatient mental health place getting counseling instead of out alone with the object of her obsession.

They get to the top and there’s this great Indiana Jones temple with arches and waterfalls.  Sky’s phone rings again and Diaspro pops up with, “Look over there!” and when he’s still keen to check his phone, “Our mission can’t wait!”  Sky grumbles but follows her without contacting Bloom.

Back to Alfea, I swear the approach shots of the school just get better and better. We may have just had a weird mannequin moment but the settings are really quality cg.

And here’s Miss Griffin!  Still looking like herself, I think her hair is more lavender but I think the artist made her one-horn hairdo make a little more sense.  Griffin and the witch students came to perform in the festival that still hasn’;t been named, and some of the witches have conjured a friendly green slime.

Stella’s here too, she bangs into an adorable witch with Stormy’s exact hair but in pale pink.  In fact here are three witches who look just like niceified versions of the Trix!  The not-Icy has pink and blue hair and a kitty purse.  The Winx do not notice these lookalikes, but Stella does notice not-Icy’s purse.

Not-Darcy’s hair is brighter green than actual Darcy’s, it looks really good, and she and not-stormy both have kitty t-shirts.  Why kitties?  Anyway once the Winx have gone on their oblivious way Stormy says, ‘i’m gonna crush her!” revealing that these are the actual Trix.  I think it would’ve been more fun if they just randomly looked like them.  I hadn’t been spoiled with images of these undercover Trix and I love their looks.

The two groups of students gather in I guess a big classroom, it has tiered seating even though average class size at Alfea is twelve girls.  A fairy student is showing off her talent, she conjures a bubble around herself and can float in it.  The Trix can’t resist having a little fun.  First icy pops her bubble, and when she conjures it again stormy blows magic wind sending her bouncing around the hall. Undetered, bubble-fairy goes up again.  Darcy is about to prank her wen the students are summoned to the courtyard to begin their performances.

Faragonda and Griffin do this great setup, “Everything in the universe has its opposite.  Light… and shadow.  Fairies… and witches.  But the same magic spark unites us all.  The sparx!  Sparx is the energy that created the magic universe!  The sparx granted powers both to us, the fairies, and to our guests for this very special day, the witches.”

Ok, FG and Griffin, that was so awesome… except, retcon much?  Great Dragon?  Backstory of your whole universe?  Ringin’ any bells?  I mean, it would be an interesting change to have Bloom be less like maybe-an-avatar-of-the-source-of-all-magic but… I dunno.  The Great Dragon legend is so… legendy.  Solid.  I like the idea that witch magic and fairy magic are from the same source and I always assumed it was, that source being the Great Dragon.  This whole change, just to explain why Valtor needs the Trix to get the wishing star for him?

Stella: “I wouldn’t mind if the Sparx had skipped the witches.”

That wasn’t very nice, Stel.

Now it’s time for everyone to perform… but the Winx haven’t settled on what to do! Panic!  Bloom says they should pick something they like doing together and Musa suggests they like playing music together.  Bloom glows like this wasn’t a totally obvious thing.  Of course it was gonna be a concert, what else could it have possibly been?

Sorry, I snark, I’m loving this episode but I kinda want to see Aisha go off and join a gymnastics group and Stella join a fashion group and Tecna join maybe a hologram 3d art making group and Flora join a gardening group and Bloom and Musa stand there looking confused.  It’d be funny.  And I still wonder if the other girls feel pressured by Bloom and Musa into all this performing.

But then the star box appears!  The compass spins!  It has decided it’s time to chase a prime star!  The girls run off, assuming the star is in running distance I guess.  The disguised Trix follow them.

To another part of the courtyard!  The compass is pointing to the well.  didn’t they find the Sirenix book down there or something, a few seasons ago?  I kinda remember, there’s some cool stuff down a well.

The box speaks! The star is here, but there will be “tests and traps” and also, ‘You can reach your goal all alone or reach the stars joined as one.”

The Winx look down the well and there’s pillars and vaulting and all sorts of architecture down there, I guess there’s a big cave under the courtyard.  They walk down spiral steps, following the floating box, until at the bottom there is a round pool of water with light shining up from it.  A “door of light” apparently.

Cosmix up to go through the door!  Did the song get a new stanza?  Maybe I just didn’t notice it before.

They fly through the door.

Into a similar looking underground room hung with overgrown bushes and things.  A ruiny sort of place.  Flora asks a flower what they should do in this room, but the plant doesn’t want to talk to her.  The girls do some magic and the plants recede, revealing each wall of the room has a giant lock and key in it.  Six locks, six Winx, obviously.  But the flowers are snappy and won’t let them turn the keys.  The flowers have quite long stalks and Aisha gets the idea to fly around so the flowers will tangle up trying to catch them.

The Trix have reached the door of light.  They switch to their Trix selves with no transformation sequence, too bad, then Icy and Darcy start fighting over who should go through the door first.  Stormy beats them to it.

Stormy appears in a room with nine circles on the floor.  One lights up, then another, and Stormy seems to automatically know she’s playing Twister.  She has success, when a cloud slurps her up and dumps her back with her sisters.  You can’t do it alone!  

The Winx turn their six keys.  Nothing happens.  Stella realizes the keys and locks don’t match in color.  The girls carry the keys to the matching locks and another door of light appears.

Which leaves them in another cube room with round medallions on the walls and a floating cube with mystical symbols on it in the middle.  Tecna recognizes it as a die, and stella gives it a shove.  The die bangs against some walls and the symbols on the die and the walls light up, but it’s clearly not the right sequence.  Tec says all games have rules, they just have to figure them out.  Time to experiment!

Trix stand on three twister circles and another door appears.  they’re not exactly working together, Icy and Darcy keep shoving each other and stormy keeps rolling her eyes at them.

Tec figures it out, they have to match the symbols on the die to the ones on the wall. So they all together push the die to the matching wall and another door opens.

Now they’re in a room with shelves of what look like potion bottles.  A round skylight and shelves of magical implements.  This room looks like a place people might use instead of just another trick room.

Flora is delight.

Bloom seems to think the prime star is one of the objects, but there are so many.

Aisha finds an aqua ball that looks like the sphere protecting the star compass, but of course it isn’t that easy.  The ball splits into two and then into many balls that go bouncing away.  The Winx keep catching them and they keep multiplying.

The Trix find the die but can’t push it the same direction and it rolls around the room and squishes them.

Darcy figures out what to do, they have to move it together.  Her sisters are having none of this ‘together’ stuff.  Darcy uses magic and a mirror to reflect the symbol from one side of the die to the correct wall, opening the door.  Darcy is the smartest Trix.

Now our villains are also in the magic item storage room.  They go straight to finding the prime star-- wouldn’t they want to grab a bunch of magic items??  Here comes the aqua ball!  They also recognize it as the prime star and all garb it at once… and here come lots more balls!

The Winx are trying to figure out which of their balls is the real one, I guess.  They know they have to work as a team.

They do a very cool Elements of Harmony thing, each grabbing a ball and speaking words of teamwork.

Bloom: friendship

Musa: unity

Aisha: loyalty

Stella: sincerity

Tecna: collaboration

Flora: mutual understanding

They fly into the air and all the balls come back together into one ball which has a lil green star charm inside.  Bloom puts it in the star box and the girls poof away.

Meanwhile the Trix are still drowning in balls.

The girls appear back at Alfea to Miss F announcing it’s time for them to perform. Wait, what about the other performances?  I’ve seen a million Winx concerts, I wanted to see something else!

Concert!  Minor fairies dance1  the boys except for Sky are there.  Faragonda and Griffin clap along.  Even witch students seem to be enjoying themselves.

Back with sky and Diaspro, they’ve found a big door.  Diaspro says this mission is thrilling, but Sky can’t wait for it to be over and what does the map say so we can get on with it already?

Diaspro unrolls her map and it’s just emojis of her and Sky in a heart. Pffffhahahahaha!  Oh that is so weird and dumb!  Diaspro, yer off your nut, why do you even want a dude who can’t wait to be out of your company?

Ok, we didn’t get as much Diaspro analysis in this episode, but it was still a good one!  Maybe next time!

[jojotier]

Jojotier Fic Masterpost

Just a lil masterlist of the 18 Golden Kamuy fics I currently have on ao3, just in case anyone has anyone wants to have a read! There are 11 gen fics and 7 ship fics (5 OgaTani, 2 TsukiKoi, 2 SugiShira - one fic is a multiship project with all 3)

All will be underneath the cut, divided into complete and incomplete, so I don’t clog up the tag.

Completed:

Excuse You - Tanigaki/Ogata - T - Fluff, Romance Quick Summary: Local Sniper Gets Jealous of a Literal 5 Year Old Because She Says She Wants To Marry Tanigaki. Osoma is literally five. She doesn’t realize that Ogata is taking her actions as rivalry. She just wants to play Angry Birds. Has a quick, sweet ending.

The Cat Came Back - Tanigaki/Ogata - T - Angst, Slowburn Quick Summary: Set primarily in the same modern au that Excuse You is, which is a modern au owned by @xenongazella and @wormgata ! Basically, after Ogata fails to assassinate Tanigaki and is patched up, he spends time in his apartment, dealing with a strange thing called “loneliness”.

Evil is He Who Claims It - General - M - Angst, Violence, Supernatural TW: Character Death, War Quick Summary: Sugimoto, a newly made wen kamuy, has come to terms with his existence as an evil god and punishes himself by fighting on the battlefield. A fellow soldier talks sense into him and shows him that he’s more human than he gives himself credit for. This AU, which was originally going to be a Guardian Kamuy au, has been abandoned, due to my inability as a college-aged American writer to have access to resources that would allow me to tell a primarily Ainu inspired story with the respect that it deserves. 

Happily Ever After - General / Igogusa/Tsukishima - T - Angst, Canon Compliant TW: Mentions of attempted suicide, but kept extremely vague Quick Summary: During the events of Karafuto, Koito and Sugimoto pass around lingonberry wine. Tsukishima, tipsy and pressured to tell a ‘fairytale’, tells the story of two lovers who never see happily ever after.

Human Eyes - General - T - Modern Magic, Superheroes Quick Summary: Sugimoto and his bionic fists investigate the sounds of a creature that’s seemingly killed and eaten Tsukishima. Based on a vaguely unsettling dream where events are more or less the exact same as are written here.

Law of the Mountain - General - M - Horror, Gore, Canon Compliant TW: Character Death, Gore, Blood Quick Summary: A story from the perspective of one of the thieves that stole from Nihei, detailing his attempt to escape and subsequent, brutal death.

Love This Dead Man Walking - Tanigaki/Ogata - M - Humor, Modern, Romance Quick Summary: It’s time for the theatre department karaoke night! After Ogata loses a bet with his weed dealer, Shiraishi, he’s forced to attend alongside Tanigaki, leading to general shenanigans and to Tanigaki having to sing a certain sexual number from a certain musical about three girls with the same name...

This is Fine - General - T - Modern Magic, Fantasy, Humor (Part of my Sinfonietta Papers and mine and @xenongazella ‘s Siren Au) Quick Summary: Everything is on fire because Koito is both a genius and a complete disaster of a fire mage. Tsukishima, resident water mage and tired babysitter, deals with it.

Shadows on the Wall - General - Angst, Surreal (Part of the Sinfonietta Papers and shared Siren au) Quick Summary: Ogata’s grandmother died that day. Or she died yesterday. Who’s to say. Ogata goes to a funeral for the first and last time. This fic was inspired in large part by Albert Camus’s The Stranger, and I certainly hope it shows...

The Red Sea - General - T - Mystery, Fantasy, Suspense (Part of the Sinfonietta Papers and shared Siren au) Quick Summary: Mishima, on behalf of Koito Heiji and the council of mages, investigates a cargo ship crash near Otaru. The cause of the crash? A siren. Here’s a story told in the style of an audio log, and the only Mishima fic in the tag to date!

Spy Outing - Tanigaki/Ogata - T - Humor, Fluff Quick Summary: Tsukishima gets dragged by Koito onto a “mission”. The mission? Their mutual acquaintance from boxing is apparently dating a shady dude, and Koito is worried for his safety not wanting to be out of an interesting boxing partner! Then, Tsukishima recognizes Tanigaki’s apparent new boyfriend- Ogata Hyakunosuke, a delinquent he once knew and beat the shit out of.

Ice Nabe - General - T - Angst, Surreal, Psychological Horror Quick Summary: Ogata wakes up, cold and weaponless, held captive by Sugimoto and his allies. He needs to find a way out.

Incomplete:

Not All Sunshine - Tsukishima/Koito - G - Parody, Crack Quick Summary: Literally all this is is Tsukishima being put in the role of a happy go lucky protagonist in various anime genres, except his personality is the Exact Same as canon. For the moment, there’s only one chapter, and it’s basically Ouran High School Host Club, but the rest of the fic after this will just parody entire subgenres instead, like magical girl animes, or slice of life, or idol...

Faces - General - G - Slice of Life, Family, Light Angst/Humor Quick Summary: Just a little collection of snippets from mine and @xenongazella  ‘s shared ageswap au, focusing on two main groups- First Lieutenant Koito, Superior Private Tsukishima, and Second Lieutenant Tsurumi; and an adult Asirpa and Osoma, and children Sugimoto, Tanigaki, and Ogata.

Vainglory - Sugimoto/Shiraishi - T - Fantasy, modern/historical, humor, angst (Part of shared Siren au) TW: Character Death, body horror Quick Summary: Sugimoto is a ten thousand year old storm spirit who loves humanity with all of his heart. The years can be lonely, but he lives anyway.

Starchasers - General (with a SugiShira bonus epilogue!) - space opera, action/adventure TW: Character death, some gore Quick Summary: In the year 2060, humanity has begun to slowly travel beyond their galaxy. In the decades before, as technology advanced, the Embassies of the Moon and Sun were established, housing the personification of celestial bodies which wanted to send diplomats to the humans. After the son of the man in the moon, Hanazawa, makes an ill advised wish, seven stars are hidden throughout earth’s atmosphere and surrounding orbit. The price for finding the 7 stars is great- the Man in the Moon himself will grant any wish!

This is a choose your own adventure that follows Asirpa, Sugimoto, and Shiraishi as they search for the 7th Star, including a myriad of neutral and bad ends- ends where one or all three may die- and 2 lone Good Ends. The rest will be uploaded in two Tiers with swaths of chapters being uploaded at once- after some irl stuff is resolved... ;;

A Nugget of Happiness - General - G - Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Quick Summary: Tsukishima adopts a pitbull deemed “undesirable” and makes it his ESA. As he and his dog, Nugget, bond, Tsukishima slowly begins to manage his Post-Traumatic Stress better. In the end, the world is much kinder than it seems.

Artificial Enemy - Tanigaki/Ogata, Sugimoto/Shiraishi, Tsukishima/Koito -  M - Superhero au, fluff, angst, horror, action/adventure, Surreal to the max TW: Character Death, gore, amnesia and illness Quick Summary: One year ago, three things happened- Shiraishi downloaded a strangely human AI by the name of Denji-A007 into his computer; Koito, who was helping Tsurumi research t̴̵͢͟͜h̨͢͞e̵̷͜͟ ͜҉h̢͢e̛͠҉̴ą͘҉̢͝t̸̷̨҉ ̡̀͠h̶̨̨͟͜a͏̸̡́̕z̛̀͜͜e҉̴̶ died, and then came back to life with strange powers; and Tsukishima disappeared without a trace. A year later, both Shiraishi and Koito’s lives become increasingly tangled as more people with powers start coming together, including Sugimoto, and all seemingly with one goal. They all want to find Tsukishima.

It’s a Kagerou Project au, but I hope to still put a big spin on everything, with powers not found in the actual source material and new motives and the like, haha

In any case, I hope you enjoy all of these!

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 23: We’ll Take What Comes

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: What a weird week... I'm sorry this update came so late, but it's a miracle to me how this chapter even came to pass at all amidst all this chaos... but here it is, and I hope you like it.

. o O o .

Today was always a fun day.

With the common accolade finished the night before, the latest batch of squires would start their formal training today, and as always, Astrid was looking very forward to it. Her job, after all, was to humble them a bit. Or maybe more than just a bit.

They were the usual mix of young noblemen being sent off to earn their knighthoods, and older peasants from the levies who had shown promise or proven themselves on the battlefield. And packing that many partially or untrained young men into the barracks always, always, always resulted in the same sort of high spirits and stupidities born from arrogance. Since they hoped to become knights one day, the same romanticized ideas like every year kept taking root: that they were the best of the best, that women were incapable of fighting, and that only the sword and shield were true fighting skills. Anything else wasn’t worthy of their attention – or at least, they wouldn’t admit so in front of their new peers, for fear of being thought a coward. It was a seductive line of thinking, spread like a rash or cough in their barracks by boasting and peer pressure, and contaminated even those who should already know better. So, for the last five years, since Eret had come down with the same disorder, it was her job to remind them that, oh, a girl with a hunting bow could still kill them quite dead. The whole spectacle was to temper their arrogance and remind them that a peasant with a billhook or hammer was still a lethal threat, but to Astrid it meant that she could show off a little, that, for this one event, she could drop her perfect princess persona – and with her father's approval no less. In most years, he even came to the garrison in some form of disguise just to watch.

“Nervous?” she teased Daniel as they sat in an elegant carriage, travelling over the road to the Garrison’s training grounds.

His eyes kept flickering from the window and the passing city outside to her and back again. But her words made him smirk. “Because of you and your bow? Certainly not,” he replied, leaning back on his bench. “That thing used to be attached to you for so long, sometimes I thought you were even communicating for it to do your bidding.”

His words made her chuckle; it really used to be that way. Gods, how she missed those days, when life was so easy, so simple. Her hand wandered to her chest; to Hiccup’s warm glow inside her and to the key beneath the fabric that symbolised how her life had changed. All those memories of her past she’d locked away, along with the secrets of the present and her hopes for the future.

Her future...

Odin could see it, as could his wife, Frigga. And what they saw would come to pass, and they’d shared that vision with both her and Hiccup. That fate, that vision from the Gods themselves was immutable... or at least the prestrs and gythjas claimed it was. But there were tales of such prophecies being misinterpreted, or failing to come to pass entirely. But the gods were on their side... weren’t they?

She paused for a moment, and remembered a comment from Fyrir Mala when she’d been younger. The Gods didn’t grant such gifts for the boon of mortals, but for their own purposes. But what reason would Odin and Frigga have for tying her heart and her fate to Hiccup?  

Astrid sighed at that thought. She probably would never get an answer to that question. But at least, given the subject of the vision, of a happy life at hearth and home, she was vaguely certain that the guiding hand on her thread of Fate was Frigga’s, not Odin’s. The goddess of motherhood, children, the hearth and home had set her designs on Astrid’s life for whatever reason, and, to be honest, while her earlier feeling of resentment at having a divine matchmaker instead of a royal one had mostly faded, she did have to admit that she had much more trust in Frigga’s insight into her happiness than her father’s.

Idly, she brushed over her chest, where the sense of Hiccup’s soul nestled, safe and warm.

Yes, much more trust indeed.

However, these questions kept bothering her. Why her? Was it because she was a princess? She slumped. Probably. Even the Gods were more interested in her title than for her...

But no… She shoved the thought away. If that were the case, they’d be meddling in Daniel’s life too, as the future king, and – as far as she could tell – they weren’t. No, there was something about her and her soulmate that had attracted the attention of the gods.

But there was no way of telling what that might be. All she could do was trust them and act appropriately, so that her foreseen Fate could actually come to pass. She grimaced. But how to act appropriately? She didn’t know, and this was all so... big!

She wished she had someone to talk to, someone to listen to her and give advice. A friend or confidante whom she could trust and knew about such matter, just someone!

But she couldn’t think of a single person who was that close to her. None of her brothers, obviously. They would know right away who she was talking about, and she couldn’t risk that – not with how over-protective and careful they’d all become. Ruffnut was a loyal friend, but Astrid didn’t know if her maidservant would be able to give her advice in romantic matters, and she, too, would easily be able to connect her questions to Hiccup anyway. There was nobody...

No, she would have to wait until tonight, until she could meet Hiccup in private again, and hopefully gather enough courage to bring up what concerned her. Maybe that would answer at least some of her questions. But for Freya’s sake, she hated being this emotional and confused.

The carriage passed the gate of the garrison, and with a sigh, she built up her Princess-mask. She mentally prepared herself to see Hiccup in only a few moments, his warm eyes and the lovely smile, and ignore him among the crowd of other people. He might not need the elementary training the other squires would receive during the next weeks, wouldn’t even spend any time at all with them since he still had to keep watch over the horses, but he had to be here for this first official day nonetheless.

But when the carriage stopped to drop her and Daniel in front of the fighting ground, Astrid froze.

Her eyes had wandered around, taking in all those little details she’d expected. Eret, with his hand raised in greeting. Dagur, standing to the side with a funny pout. Hiccup, managing to keep his face expressionless, even with that tantalising promise of warmth in his eyes. The dozens of new recruits waiting for their arrival with clear excitement, and the audience that had come to watch.

And Odin’s Tree, standing tall and intimidating next to the garrison, with the now-empty plaza beneath it.

“Astrid?”

Her eyes flickered to Daniel who was already standing next to the carriage. He was holding out one hand to help her down the two steps, and watched her with a worried expression.

Taking a deep breath, she fought down the rising panic. She’d effectively pushed aside the fact that coming to the garrison meant coming to Odin’s Tree again. But everything was fine. Nobody would die here today, least of all Hiccup. It was just this place that upset her, and nothing more. Just a silly place that held no meaning on its own. She could do this!

Slowly, she raised her hand to take Daniel’s, knowing that she would need his support so as not to stumble and make a fool of herself. But when she saw how heavily her hand was trembling, she stopped mid-movement. She paused, then slowly shook her head.

Once more, Daniel called her name, but it barely registered in her mind. The tea party yesterday with all those small upsetting things had been bad, but manageable. The accolade in the crowded room hadn’t been much of a problem either. And during the trip to the meadow and the hours with Hiccup last night, she’d barely even thought about those horrible moments at all. She’d thought she was in control again, that this, demonstrating the value of bow and arrow by shooting an apple off of Daniel’s head, would be easy. She’d done it so often already, this was just the same as always.

Except it wasn’t. Being here didn’t feel like all the other times she’d done this, not at all. She was not in control and if she tried her usual trick now, someone might die after all. Someone dear to her.

“I can’t...” she mumbled, eyes gliding over Daniel and once more toward the crowd, Hiccup in their midst, the tree in the distance. “I can’t do it. Not… not after…”

Brows furrowed, Daniel followed her gaze, nodded, and said, “Okay.” Just that and nothing else. He gave the coachman a curt wave. “Bring her back to the castle,” he ordered, and just like that, she was leaving again.

Astrid wasn’t sure what Daniel had seen for him to decide so quickly. The crowd of young men? Surely, those were intimidating to her in a way, though truth be told not enough so to make her flee. Or did he understand that it was the place itself, the Tree and the reminder? Either way, she was grateful for whatever had made him ask not a single question.

. o O o .

By the time she’d returned to the castle, Astrid had calmed down again. Her hand, pressed to her chest where it felt best anyway, wasn't trembling anymore, not at all, and her heartbeat had calmed down to a normal rate too. She’d overreacted – again. But going back to the garrison now seemed foolish to her, and there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t freeze again. Unbiddenly, the image of Harold’s lifeless body lying on the ground came to her mind, and she shuddered. No, going back there wasn’t sensible.

She was sitting on the carriage's bench, waiting for Tuff to pick her up after the coachman had sent for him, and unseeingly gazed out over the landscape of artificial ponds that decorated the plaza in front of the castle. The white stones framing the water shimmered in the light of the winter sun; it almost looked like the snow that had covered the fields two years ago, one of the rare winters when there’d been enough snow to cover the fields. It looked pretty, but Astrid couldn’t ignore how unnatural… how wrong it felt – especially compared to the natural lake near the stables.

Oh, how she would love to go there today… Spending another day just with the horses, her brothers, and Hiccup – simply enjoying their time. But those days were almost over. Daniel would leave soon, and while she planned to still join Eret and Dagur when they would go to the stables, she knew that it wouldn’t be the same, and certainly not as often as during the last weeks.

In a way, it was a blessing, really, that she’d found this way to spend more time with Hiccup. Just in time before the hours they could spend near to each other during the day would be cut short anyway. Sure, spending so much time with him alone now had raised other questions, what it was she felt and wanted, and whether he felt and wanted the same. But that was something they could work out, right? They just needed a little more time.

A few minutes later, Tuff came, his eyes quirked in confusion, but he didn’t say anything until the carriage had driven off. “You’re back way earlier than I’d thought,” he said by way of an apology for having made her wait. “That’s definitely a new record. So, did you hit Daniel this time?”

Astrid snorted. “I didn’t shoot at all.”

Tuff paused, giving her another puzzled look, but didn’t ask further when she just went on without another explanation. She didn’t feel like thinking about it again, much less talking about it.

“So, where now?” Tuff asked once he’d caught up with her at the top of the stairs.

Now, it was on Astrid to pause. Where, indeed? If she returned to her rooms, chances were high that her governess would hear about it and pester her with yet another lesson in etiquette. And going to the stables instead when there would be nobody to talk to felt pretty pointless. Then another idea occurred to her, and her mood brightened.

“I think, I’ll pay Fishlegs a visit. It feels like it’s been ages since the last time we talked.”

. o O o .

Half an hour later, Astrid was sitting on a narrow bench in the cosy room that was the cottage’s kitchen, living room, and workplace all in one, and watched her friend shuffle through vials and flasks scattered around on the table. Outside the open door, Tuff was playing around with some of the Ingermans’ hens; propriety required that he be present to escort her and not leave her alone in the presence of another man, but they’d long since relaxed on such matters here.

“Do you remember what this is?” Fishlegs asked, pointing at a glass vial filled with odd longish grains.

Astrid thought for a moment, then replied, “Those are caraway seeds, right? They can be used for the treatment of indigestion.”

“Correct.” Fishlegs seemed proud that she’d remembered it right, which amused her. But then, it truly was to his credit that she knew about the healing effect of several plants by now, not to mention other treatments and techniques he was allowed to share.

Coming here might have served the purpose of avoiding her governess and even more useless lessons in whatever she deemed ladylike, but it was more than just that. Astrid truly enjoyed spending time with Fishlegs. He’d become pleasant company once he’d gotten past the awkwardness of being face-to-face with the Princess; in fact, as soon as he’d started to talk about his work, he’d seemed to have completely forgotten who he was talking to, and over the time, he’d become a true friend.

“And this one?” He now indicated toward a wooden box filled with what looked like dried kitchen waste.

“Easy. That’s moss, obviously. Gets used to soak up blood. You do remember that I’m a woman, right?” She rolled her eyes, faint amusement tugging at her lips.

A fierce blush spread over his already fairly red face at her words, but he quickly caught himself again. “Right... But it doesn’t just get used for moon blood. It also helps to prevent inflammation of wounds when applied in a dressing. This reminds me though; I should get this batch back to Master Mulch’s store.” He attempted to place the box onto a counter close to the door, but Astrid held up a pausing hand.

“Can I take it? My reserve is dwindling and… I might need it soon.” She squinched up her face, but there was no point in denying it. Even if she wouldn’t keep track of the days, her being this emotional today was a sure sign.

“Erm… sure, take it,” Fishlegs nodded. “I’ll tell Master Mulch that he doesn’t need to send a new box over to you then.” He put the box down again and returned to his working bench to pestle what looked like grey wood.

“And what’s that you’re doing there?” she asked, curiously eyeing the wooden curls he collected in a separate jar.

“Oh, that’s willow bark,” he explained, the excitement from teaching her something new clear in his voice. “It helps against fever and pains of all kinds. I’m preparing a concentrated extract for Master Mulch here, but one can also use it by simply chewing on the bark as it is.” He nodded at the grey wood – the bark – and Astrid reached for a piece to inspect and remember it. “It’s not equally effective that way of course, but biting on something also helps with intense pain, so it serves more than one purpose.”

Astrid nodded; she remembered all too well how she’d injured herself during one of her father’s hunting trips once. The pain as the wound had gotten treated had been horrible, and the strip of leather someone had shoved into her mouth to bite on had been a small blessing.

She couldn’t say for how long they sat together like this, talking about different plants and techniques to treat various ailments. It wasn’t quite as entertaining as spending her time at the stables, but it was a good alternative; the best she usually had available when none of her brothers were at the castle, and still quite enjoyable, with good company who didn’t treat her like she was a piece of fragile glass.

Fishlegs had just finished explaining how her ‘boring’ sewing skills would be of use if she ever had to stitch up a wound, when the door opened and his wife entered their home.

With her long jet-black hair and bright green eyes, Heather was the spitting image of her father – but whoever dared mention that had best be prepared for an icy glare. Without a word and only a tired wave in greeting, she trotted over to her comfortable armchair and slumped into it with a heavy sigh. In the back of Astrid’s mind, her governess’s voice chided her for letting a peasant woman have the more comfortable seat, while she, the royal, sat on a hard wooden bench, as usual. And also as usual, Astrid ignored it. That was Heather’s chair, and Astrid had enough respect for her friends to not throw her royal weight around in their own home.

“Oh, hey, darling. They actually gave you a break?” Fishlegs asked, hurrying over to give her a kiss in greeting that visibly lightened her mood.

“Yeah, I can hardly believe it myself,” she sighed, leaning back into the chair as her husband went to their small kitchen corner and filled hot water from the pot dangling over the hearth into a smaller cup.

“I’m glad they did,” he commented absently, filling a thin gauze bag with dried leaves and hanging it into the water to steep. “They are working you way too hard these days. Oh, do you want tea too?” he asked, giving a curious look at Astrid.

Astrid cocked her head in light amusement. “Gladly,” she replied, and, not for the first time, thought how adorably in love Fishlegs still was. Not many would only offer her something to drink as an afterthought as they prepared one for their wives. But then, Heather wasn’t much better, judging by the loving look she threw him.

“Well, with all the guests in the castle, there are a lot of hungry mouths to fill,” she replied to his question, shrugging. “That’s just how it is. And with yet another feast this night, there’s a lot to do. I only have an hour or so until the dough for my pastries is done rising, then I need to get back. It’s complete madness.” Her words could have been a complaint, but there was a content smile on her tired face, and Astrid knew from experience that Heather wouldn't want it any other way. Lazily sitting still wasn’t her style.

“That’s a shame,” Fishlegs pouted, glancing at where the willow bark extract was simmering in a pot on the stove. “This is almost done and I have to bring it over to Master Mulch. But maybe Astrid will keep you company?”

Astrid nodded, another amused smile tugging at her lips. Spending time here really was a blessing, another place where everyone conveniently seemed to forget who she was and just treated her like a normal person. Even if spending time with Heather alone was a rare occasion, since she practically always had something to do.

“I’ll probably need to leave to get ready before you return,” she announced as Fishlegs handed her a cup of herbal tea.

“I guess so. Knowing my master, he’ll probably have lots of other things to do for me once he gets hold of me,” he sighed, smiling, and quickly filled the willow bark extract into smaller flasks. “Unless you eat too much tonight and end up with a stomachache in one of our treating rooms.”

“I highly doubt that,” Astrid commented cheerily. She had another idea of where she wanted to end up tonight, after all. “See you around, Fishlegs.” He waved them goodbye, a box with the freshly filled flasks under his arm, then closed the door behind him.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling him that,” Heather grumbled into her tea, not meeting her eyes despite the criticism.

Astrid didn’t bother answering and just chuckled; she regularly forgot that Fishlegs wasn’t Justin’s real name. But except for Heather, everyone called him that. And she knew that he didn’t mind; he’d assured her many times.

“Have you already seen your father and brother?” Astrid asked instead after a short pause of sipping her hot brew. Herbal tea wasn’t her favourite, but it was bearable.

Heather, however, snorted. “Yes, I have,” she commented bitterly. “My dear sire requested my presence after the trial the other day. As if I was nothing but a serving girl, and his no less.”

There was barely hidden anger in Heather’s voice, which somewhat surprised Astrid. “I thought you get along,” she asked, bewildered. At least that had been the case the last time Grand Duke Oswald had visited the castle.

“We do,” Heather agreed, then shook her head. “Or did. I don’t know. I’m grateful that he arranged for me to get work here, I really am. But it still feels like I owe him, like I’ll always be in his debt.” She shrugged and averted her gaze, her free arm defensively wrapped around herself.

Astrid frowned. She was pretty sure that the Grand Duke just wanted to help his daughter. “And have you talked to Dagur?”

Again, Heather shook her head. “No, I haven’t,” she declared, still sounding somewhat defensive. “Isn’t he with you and the others all the time anyway?”

“He didn’t come to the kitchens to visit you?” Astrid asked, baffled. She knew that Dagur cared deeply for his half-sister, despite their difference in status, and that he always took the time to look after her as best he could.

Said sister just shrugged though. “I don’t know, maybe he did,” she admitted. “But I’ve been busy, so he just snatched some food, joked with the other kitchen girls, and eventually left again.” She pointedly took another sip of her tea.

Astrid was confused. She and Heather weren’t that close, but she’d had the impression that the other woman got along relatively well with her family, despite her... unusual circumstances. Oswald’s marriage with Dagur’s mother had been a loveless arranged and temporary alliance, just valid until there was an heir to solidify the alliance between the Houses. But the Duke had found love elsewhere; while Heather’s mother was still officially a member of the Ástir, thanks to the agreement struck to keep the legalities as uncomplicated as possible, she only had a single client – Grand Duke Oswald. She even lived in the ducal palace at Southshore, and had practically raised Dagur along with Heather and her full siblings, who were the Duke’s acknowledged but illegitimate offspring by her. But Heather, alone of her siblings, had left the Temple – the Order of Freya in her case. That was... well, not uncommon, but a few people in the palace had occasionally made spiteful comments about her leaving “where she belonged” – not helped by the fact that the Grand Duke had pulled strings to support her and Fishlegs when they’d wed. But as far as Astrid knew, there had never been a problem with her family, aside from those vile gossipmongers. It was just... highly unusual for the child of an Ástir to know their paternal line, much less interact with them.

“Is everything okay?” Astrid asked carefully, not wanting to pry, but still wanting to offer an open ear if Heather wanted to talk.

“Of course,” Heather answered, too quickly to sound sincere. “Or… well, it’s just… Sometimes I wonder whether it was really a wise choice to accept my father’s help… I mean…” she trailed off, rubbing one hand up and down her upper arm.  

“Do you regret your decision to leave the Ástir? I thought–”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Heather threw in. “Gods, no. I mean, sure, I loved living in the temple and sometimes I miss being an Ástir, the variety… But I don’t regret having chosen Justin instead. He’s everything I ever wanted.” She had a dreamy smile on her lips now, one that stood in direct contrast to how gloomy she’d been only moments before.

“What is it then?” Astrid asked further, trying to understand what was bothering her. “Don’t you want to work here anymore? Did something happen? Maybe I can–”

“No, none of that,” Heather interrupted her once more. “It’s… It doesn’t matter, really. Just forget that I said anything.” She gave her a smooth smile, one that clearly indicated that she didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

Frowning, Astrid accepted that. She would have liked to help, but if Heather didn’t want her help, well, then that was her problem.

For a few minutes, they sat quietly, sipping their tea and lost in their own thoughts. Something Heather had said earlier made Astrid thoughtful. How she’d talked about her husband and her dreamy smile. Astrid thought she could understand Heather’s feelings there all too well, but again, she wondered…

“Can I ask you something?” she finally broke the silence, giving Heather a cautious look. “How did you know that you... loved Justin, that he was the right one for you?” Maybe it was too personal a question, but maybe the former Ástir was exactly the right person to talk to. Heather’s feelings for Fishlegs had been strong enough for her to change the path life had given her, after all.

Heather though just cocked her head, and gave her a long look. There was a hint of fond amusement playing around her lips. With maddening slowness, she reached for her tea, drained the cup and placed it onto the cupboard next to her before she finally deigned to answer. “You’re asking how one knows they’re in love?”

Her question hit the mark directly, not cushioning anything. Biting her lip, Astrid dropped her gaze, remembering that serving Freya also included giving advice on personal matters. This probably wasn’t the first time Heather had this kind of conversation. Cursing herself for her carelessness, Astrid thought about waving her off or changing the subject – but decided against it. It would only look suspicious. No, the damage was done, and she could just as well go through with it now. Heather didn’t know enough about her life to know about Hiccup, after all.

She’d expected to see a teasing smirk on Heather’s lips, but when she looked up, there was only a comforting smile. “It’s not something you can easily describe or pinpoint,” she began, casting her eyes into the distance. “It’s not definite, not a solid set of emotions, but different for everyone. So I can only speak for myself.”

She stood up and went over to the spigot attached to the rooftop cistern to rinse her cup out; while the cottage might be humble in size, Fishlegs’ status as trainee healer and herbalist gardener – and the Duke’s quiet support – gave the young couple amenities that few others had. Taking the mesh bag out and setting it aside for re-use, she opened the cistern valve slightly and gave the cup a quick rinse before setting it aside to dry and closing the valve. Still standing, she said in a considering tone, “For me, it was… like a warm blanket. I mean, I’ve been with many men. But while I enjoyed them all, I found that I was always looking forward to the days Justin had made an appointment. I was counting the days until I would see him again, and apparently I was unbearably cheerful on the actual day – or that’s what I’ve been told. Just thinking about him made me happy.” Another dreamy smile spread across her features, and Astrid couldn’t help but smile as well at the picture Heather’s words drew in her mind. “He made me feel good in an altogether different way, it wasn’t just hot fun, but also warm comfort, which sounds strange, I guess.”

With an almost apologetic expression, she looked up at Astrid. “I'm sorry, that isn’t a very helpful comparison for you, right? I’ve heard others talk about it too. For some, it was the excitement, the heart-throb, or the differences that make them complete and whole.” She shrugged. “As I said, there is no one right way. They should make you feel good, which sounds incredibly weak, but it's what's important. Being with them, thinking about them, how they treat you, it should make you feel good, in whatever way you like. Safe and protected, warm and comfortable, giddy and happy, excited and elated. Everything's valid.”

Heather looked as if she wanted to say more, but in that moment, the door opened and Fishlegs came in once more.

“As expected, more errands to do,” he wheezed, glancing around until he spotted what he’d been looking for; a bottle of tinted glass in the back of one of his shelves.

“Now, who’s working too hard?” Heather teased with a fond smile at her husband’s breathlessness.

“Worth it though,” Fishlegs replied, crossed the distance between them, and took Heather into his arms for a loving kiss. His big hands wound around her slender waist, caressing her and making her giggle and hum as she snuggled into his embrace.

Gazing at her nearly empty cup to give them a little privacy, Astrid contemplated Heather’s words. ‘A warm blanket,’ she'd said. Her lips stretched into an involuntary smile as she thought of Hiccup's warmth, of his embrace, of the warm glow in her chest. Of his lips and his voice, of the way he'd looked at her earlier at the garrison. Was that it? Was all this love and not just the Gods’ Will? Another wave of warmth washed through her at that thought alone, making her heart beat faster.

“Yeah, that's the look.”

Astrid looked up, startled by Heather’s direct words, and found her standing alone again and watching her with an amused expression.

“Erm, what?” Astrid asked, hastily composing herself. “Where's Fishlegs?”

“He already left again, obviously.” She cocked her head, pondering, then apparently made a decision. “I'm sorry if my explanation before sounded trite. I've never been good at these sorts of conversations. But in case you were wondering, that dreamy smile of yours just now very much looked like you're in love.” Now she smirked. “If I were somebody else, I'd be wondering whether it's my brother, that horse-crazy softy, or somebody else… But I already know the answers to some of those options, and I better not know the answer to the other.” Pointedly, she turned away, rummaging about in the cupboards, and Astrid highly appreciated the moment of privacy Heather gave her.

She was torn between a sudden rush of fear for Hiccup’s safety and the elation of the budding acceptance of what she felt. But truth be told, the fear stayed in the background for once. Heather might not be bound by a sacred oath to keep the content of their conversation to herself anymore, but Astrid was still sure that her feelings wouldn’t become a topic of gossip now. Heather wasn’t like that. So instead, she basked in the glow of joy for a while, in acknowledging that her feelings were true. She still didn’t know if it was the same for Hiccup, but she felt more confident now.

Standing up to follow Heather’s example and rinsing out her cup, her thoughts wandered further along the road they’d taken earlier. “May I ask you another question?” she asked, hesitantly, eyes glued to her fingers nervously fiddling with the cup. This was against the rules, she shouldn’t ask, really, really shouldn’t. But Heather most definitely was her only chance to get any answers. She more felt than saw Heather’s questioning look on her, so after taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she blurted out, “How does it feel to- to make love?”

There was a moment of silence. Heather gave a surprised grunt, but didn’t answer right away. Instead, Astrid heard her shuffle, walking a few steps without going anywhere. “You shouldn’t ask that,” she finally said, something like cool distance in her voice. “I’ll happily answer this question – and any other – on the day of your wedding, in case you want me to be your supporter then, but until then–”

“I know,” Astrid interrupted her, voice low but still intent enough to make the other woman pause as she finally turned to look at Heather. “I know I’m not allowed to ask, to even think about… sex…” The last word was barely more than an inaudible gasp. “And I’m not… I mean...“ Biting her lip, she averted her eyes, feeling the heat of a fierce blush on her cheeks. It wasn’t that she was thinking about actually having sex with Hiccup… was she? No, certainly not. That would be insane, risky, wrong, against all rules, and… and not… “I just want to know,” she finally murmured, remembering how Hiccup’s hands on her thighs had felt, how Heather had hummed as Fishlegs had held her just now. “It’s supposed to… feel good, right? It’s not always like…” Again, she broke off, unable to continue this time, shuddering as she felt the phantom touch of Harold’s hand on her body once again.

No more. She chided herself, pushing those sensations away. She didn’t want those memories to rule her. Instead, she conjured up how it had felt as Hiccup had caressed her neck last night; the light tingling that had run down her spine and into the tips of her fingers and toes. Having him touch her like that surely would be different… right?

Suddenly, a real hand landed on her upper arm, and she jumped, letting out a light shriek. Embarrassed over her stupid reaction, Astrid half expected to find amused pity when she looked up and into Heather's eyes. But instead, there was just honest concern and a hint of sadness.

“It is supposed to feel good,” she finally confirmed, quietly. “That much I can say. What you experienced were horrible crimes that had nothing to do with ‘making love’.” She slowly shook her head, seemingly struggling with some inner battle. “At the temple, we are protected against such things; if a man doesn’t behave himself, he will be removed, maybe even punished. So I can’t say I know how you feel. But what I know is that it all depends on your partner. If he wants you to feel good, if he makes an effort and not just seeks his own pleasure, if he’s been taught sufficiently… then yes, it should feel good. And if it’s someone you want to be together with, someone you feel comfortable and secure with..” She trailed off, another one of those dreamy smiles on her lips. A moment or three later, she shook her head, gaze focusing on Astrid again. “Anyway, what I mean is: You don’t need to be afraid of sex. It’s… it can be wonderful.”

Astrid swallowed, only able to hold Heather’s intense gaze for a brief moment before she had to look away. So, she’d been right after all. With Hiccup, it would be different. Comfortable and secure… That definitely applied to him.

“Thank you, Heather,” she breathed, turning to hide the hopeful smile on her lips. “That helped me a lot. But I need to go now, get ready for the accolade.” It was still a couple of hours until then, but knowing how much the southern nobility gave on appearances, she would have to look splendid tonight.

And in addition, she didn’t dare to stay with Heather any longer anyway. Her head was spinning with ideas and plans, trying to pin down what it was she wanted and how to approach Hiccup with that. Whether he even wanted any of that, with how he’d pushed her away before. But all that was not something she could ponder in Heather’s presence, not with her stern and calculating eyes watching her.

She was almost out of the door already, when Heather’s voice from behind her made her pause again.

“If I may give you a piece of advice though, your Highness,” she said, suddenly much more formal than before, “don’t make a mistake you might regret.”

. o O o .

There it is... Better late than never, right?

Next chapter

[itsangelicasweets]

Thomacine

About Project:Matchmake

Lucine, a loner who kept trying to fit in.

Thomas, a weirdo who suffers from peer pressure.

Cassandra, a queen bee who has trust issues.

Lukevans, an outcast who lacks love and attention.

What happens when life attached the four together with an entangled string of fate? What challenges will they soon face after they meet each other? Will they be able to conquer it all?

Ride along through a story about a complicated high school life full of mishaps, silliness, confusion, and well.... Adventures.

Genre:Romance, Slice of Life

Things I’ll talk about:

Update

Lucine Monarchy

Thomas Wickerson

Lucine and Thomas’ Relationship

1.Update

I may or may not continue the idea on making this a Q&A, but i’ll try to make this a story, either a comic or a book. I’ll post it here and on deviantart if I was able to make it a comic, I might even consider putting it up on webcomics. If time isn’t that friendly, then I guess i’ll just write this as a story in wattpad. But i’ll still update soon in my free time and announce the publishing date.

2.Lucine Monarchy

Backstory

Her childhood was rather lonely - her parents are always away. she was also home-schooled and she wasn’t able to get out that much except if their going to special events and gatherings, so the only company Lucine got was herself and her toys.

But as she reached the age of 10, she got sucked in the world of the internet and quickly got a healthy internet life, spending her time having video-game marathons, role-playing and chatting with other people through social media, and youtube montages. Yet she still can’t help but feel lonely every now and then.

She soon reached the teenage zone and her parents decided to make her attend in a well-known academy called “Quantum Spring Academy” that can boost her profile for future jobs and such, Not knowing how to properly interact with actual people made it hard for her to fit in. But thankfully, her heavenly traits has grant her the access to easily make friends.

Appearance

She has shoulder length black hair, with a long curl of hair on the back. Her eyes were darkish gray, and she was also has pale skin. Her height is 5′0, she’s also quite skinny since she sometimes misses meals due to distraction on her laptop.

Due to 24/7 in front of the laptop screen, her eye sight got blurry, her eye grade ranging on 500. So she had to wear her blue squared glasses to be able to see better.

She can often be found wearing her signature blue jacket, when not in her school uniform, she enjoys wearing varieties of knee high skirts and pastel colored tops.

Clothes that you won’t really see her wearing are the ones that show too much skin.

She also dislike sleeve-less shirts or dresses, she always wear a blazer or jacket to cover it up. Off-shoulders aren’t her thing as well because it makes her feel restricted since she can’t mover her arms that much.

Just simple and not too showy clothes will do.

Attitude

She’s kind, gentle, thoughtful, intelligent, almost as if she’s flawless. But what hides under those sheepish eyes is a lazy, forgetful, arrogant, sarcastic, crazy gamer.

You can always find her facing her laptop’s screen when at home, and hardly has her head on a book - unless it really does caught her interest. She not that idealistic but often have short term goals.

She depends on someone she feels comfortable with, and hardly give care around her surroundings unless it’s very important.

She always tells the truth when asked - unless you told her it was a secret, but every now and then her tongue can still slip. Not really a good secret keeper.

Her greatest fear is being left behind.

3.Thomas Wickerson

Backstory

Thomas’ parents were always there for him and nurtured him until the end.

As a child, Thomas had a wish to one day have a sister to grow with. But since they suffered with financial issues, his parents couldn’t afford to bare another child.

He then studied hard in hopes that one day he’ll help his parents with the finances and have a little sister.

At the age of 11, he was bullied for being childish and nerdy, life in a public school wasn’t really that smooth.

His hard work and perseverance led him to enrolling to one of the top academies in the world, Quantum Spring Academy.

Appearance

He’s quite tall, around 5′10, he’s also a bit skinny due to missed meals because of saving. His hair is golden as corn and he gels it on the sides, his eyes are green. On top of that, he is fair skinned.

His eye sight ranged  to 100, due to the fact that he tries to read in the dark with only a flashlight to lighten the pages.

He also has a good sense of fashion. Apart from using the uniform, he often wears shirts with collars, a simple tie and has his sleeves folded.

Attitude

Thomas can be bubbly, and exceeds in memorization. He always has something in mind and likes reading all kinds of books, he will also be more willing to teach you - mostly it’s not for free. He’s hard working, diligent, and cheerful. So bright...

Other than his remarkable traits, he can get lost in thought and he’s very sensitive. He’s weak when it comes to comebacks and always worries what others think about him. So he often lie to make his image look good to others.

4.Lucine and Thomas’ Relationship

The two are in the same class and only got close when they were mixed together in a group project, they didn’t had that much similar interests but they enjoyed each other’s company a lot, it comforts them.

Others sometimes mistake them as a couple because of how close they acted.

Lucine is very dependent on Thomas, especially when it comes to studies. While Thomas is a bit overprotective.

They see each other as siblings, Lucine being the little sister and Thomas being the big brother.

It’s unusual to see the two separated, but they still have their own separate life.

They have a good chemistry, but the two still won’t gain any love interest especially when there’s someone in the middle.

Thank you for Reading, stay tuned!

[theworstjedi]

Take Whatever you’re Told with more than a Grain of Salt

“One moment, Honored Mystic.” Teran’s normally soft resonance echoed against the empty spaces between vaulted stone walls. “I have a request.”

“You may speak it,” the Voss Mystic answered. Kios, he’d volunteered as a name but surrendered little else about himself. “I cannot guarantee it will be granted.” He shifted away from promising yet another absolute.

“I’ve twice before been to Voss and once seen the plight of the Voss people at the hands of outside influence. I know from experience that you often trade one service for another.”

Friyr heard the second knight shift. The rustle of his clothes echoed off the stone. Soft movements were like listening for a drop pattering from a leaf, but this drafty chamber unsubtled the motions the same way said shifting knight been making his arguments all night. Friyr couldn’t be bothered to be bothered by Ward leaning on the meaning of diplomacy, he felt strangely hungry for what Teran was about to ask on his behalf.

He was close enough to his Master’s shoulder to feel the slight breeze that fluttered around his wrists and ankles when he turned. The sound of his movements were silkier than Ward’s – who sounded like the metal and thick cloth he wore. Friyr felt the gesture towards his chest and straightened in like. “My Padawan – my student here—” Friyr stuck on a dopey grin and waved, arm overhead with large motions. “--displays a remarkable connection to the Force but lacks a kind of,” his conversational tone faltered as he searched for words. “Clarity. We both agreed that he might gain that from the Mystics here. But I know that isn’t freely given.”

Teran could reason like a bastard.

“My request is thus: To allow him to serve the Voss in some way, in exchange for a meeting with the Mystics.”

Like a bastard.

Kios evidently thought so too as silence fell and he tried to discern ulterior motives in the premeditated statement. The moment stretched, almost dissipating into the years Friyr could feel in every present moment on this planet. “You are free to leave him with us to assist us,” Kios finally answered, “We will not make a promise that he will meet among the mystics, but he will be given the opportunity to do so.”

Friyr exhaled, barely catching the soft rustle of Teran’s robe, over the sound of his own anticipating breath.

“That’s all I ask. You have my thanks and his.”

The folding shift of Teran’s robes sounded very much like a turning head. Friyr didn’t need to see more than the field of green cloth over his eyes to know his Master was looking at him. The marmishness of it reminded Friyr of commanding a wayward but well-loved child slave. It brought a thin lopsided grin to the half of Friyr’s face that could be seen. The sides of his scar tugged against the motions of his mouth.

“I’m good at chores. And you have my undying thanks.”

He pressed a hand over his heart and flourished into a bow that was more for Teran than it was Kios. He felt a wave of confusion emanate from the Voss for all the brevity it was allowed to exist before Ward interrupted in his Imperial slant that recalled so much of jungle mists and a constant night.

“We do recall our way out, Kios. Thank you for your assistance, though your faith and visions may lead us in different directions than we wish to travel - I wish you well while walking yours.”

“Be strong in the coming days,” the Voss said in his toneless voice.

“May the Force keep you, Voss,” Teran replied.

Instead of an anxiety about being left in the wide wide world of a planet he’d barely recalled the existence of two weeks before, Friyr felt the same pressure valve release he had on Korriban almost fourteen years ago.

“See you, Master. Ward.”

Friyr lifted the veil from his scarred visage to wink past Ward. If the Voss was surprised, he didn’t manifest it but raised the blurred ovular outline of a hand in beckon. It was the last thing Friyr saw before the cloth fell back over his eyes.

He followed the proceeding footsteps along ground that slanted sharply downhill into the bowels of the Temple. Teran and Ward’s retreated until Friyr could no longer hear them above the echoing ambiance of theVoss going about their routines in hushed silence.

“I’m Friyr!” he said to Kios. “It echoed off the walls, sunbeam bright.

“I know,” the heavy fabric Kio had draped over his head slid against his robes “You seek to learn the Force from the Jedi. Why have you come to the Voss?”

The incline grew steeper underfoot.

“I heard you know things before they happen.”

“This is not an ability that can be taught,” Kio said in his deep steady tone as the ground suddenly leveled and the walls opened into vastness, “nor should you try.”

Friyr felt… small. He had always been on the runty side on a planet that never let one forget it. The jungle loomed. And the Empire was a stacked hierarchy swaying precariously in the breeze. Friyr had carried the foundations of which on his back for so long it felt strange living without it. The smallness wasn’t because the Temple of Healing crushed him beneath a system but rather because it reminded him there was more to the world besides two sides of a war in eternal lockstep. He might’ve described it as quiet a week ago, but Friyr could hear above all the rote murmurs, the shush of soft worked leather against stone, and the hum of old lighting a certain hum of life Teran had been trying to make him feel in cycles. It reminded him distinctly of an abandoned maintenance pipe. He’d once acquainted himself with the ancient gaint as a perpetually too skinny kid with an interest in ducking patrols. It was old, sealed away, and full of incomprehensible years layered over and sinking beneath the present.

Yes, he might’ve said it was quiet a week ago, but through the Force the temple was full, and loud, and he’d never admit to anyone that it was beautiful. Beautiful like a glass dagger. Friyr could taste a familiar edge to the sound, but he found it hard to place.

“I’m,” he began as he ducked the hood from his head, and it joined the handful of precious moments he’d wished for clear sight. Alas, not even Voss was worth the price as he twisted around to see what he could in the dimmed myriad of soft greens and stone gray slabs that formed higher levels. “…Not here to learn how to have visions. I know true seers are supposed to be rare among my er—species, or whatever. But I do have something.”

“What is that something?”

“I—” he instinctively clamped the words behind locked teeth.

Kios waited. Friyr breathed in deeply, focusing on the sprigs of life the way it was so easy to on Tython and felt that dull mysterious edge scrape his lungs as he did so.

“I can hear things. And I know them.” Friyr nodded as though he knew what he was talking about; he knew how unconvincing and vague it sounded, but words were all he had. Even if he couldn’t make them sound truthful or elaborate.

“Visions cannot be heard. This is why they are called visions.”

“My eyes don’t work.”

Friyr watched Kios’ head tilt. The black reflective surface of a mask caught the wan light. He turned his face obligingly to the left so he could see the flat fractures and the drooped eyelid.

“Then you can’t be a Mystic.”

“You don’t have blind Mystics--?” Friyr raised an eyebrow, and dropped whatever else he might’ve thought to add, but Kios was already explaining in his anal way.

“The blind cannot see. A Mystic must see.”

“Right.” Friyr coughed. “I get that I’m not a Mystic, and I’m not trying to be but—” he paused and glanced at the unbetraying exterior of Kios’ mask. “I can hear the Force all of the time. I’m talking twenty-four/ five. It’s like she’s talking to herself as she goes around doing things in the world. Can’t understand her half the time, sort of like when someone’s speaking another language. Sometimes I can; sometimes she tells me things, and I just know them. I’ve never heard anything grand and fancy. I just—sort of know things about things—and people.”

Friyr paused the gushing faucet of speech. The torrent was intentional. It added a certain believability to his charm and made it easier to pretend he wasn’t thinking. To just talk even while he felt the consequences. He felt a sense of nonmanifest dread gnaw at his sides, as though he’d stepped off a curb without knowing it was there, but the punishment of stumbling to the ground never came. As with Teran, there was only the unending sense of freefall. It was an easy acknowledgement. When and if repercussions came from divulging things he kept close to his chest, he’d deal with them, but for now he stayed the course.

“My master thinks it’s a—a strong ability to erm—” he paused again to dust off and cycle through his old cards of Force knowledge. ‘—sense the Force. Stronger than my ability to use it.”

“Your master speaks sense and was wise to let you come to us.”

“Terry’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Friyr agreed. “He’s er—very Jedi.”

“A Jedi more committed to their philosophy would have had you neglect this in favor of martial abilities.”

“That’s—not exactly what I meant.”

“Then speak clear your meaning, Padawan.”

“It’s nothing, just Sith biases.”

Kios nodded as if he’d been speculating why a member of an Order of Light held so much Dark inside him. “And yet, for as different as you see yourselves the Jedi and Sith are the same.”

Friyr arched an eyebrow. The beginnings of a smirk lined his lips. “No offense meant to you, but I doubt there’d be a war on since the beginning of the galaxy if we were the same.”

“Wars are merely settlings of conflict; they do not change the nature of martial orders. The Force is meant to guide. The Jedi and Sith claim sides and use it as a weapon. They neglect their sense, while the Voss see through it. Your master values your talent by sending you to us, but Voss do not teach Jedi our ways.” Kios turned and began to walk to the center of the temple. “They’re ours alone. Favor or no, you are not an exception, Padawan; you must learn from your masters.”

Friyr followed, peering at the Voss’ back from the right side of his face.

“Then why am I here?”

“We will offer you a chance to see my fellows, the Mystics. They may choose to offer insight if that is what the future holds.”

“And if the future doesn’t, might I be allowed to see the victim of the attacks? I feel it’s my responsibility, since we did kick the K’lor’slug’s nest and didn’t consider how far it’d reach,” Friyr lied.

As he did, he recalled Teran morally paragoning something specifically about Jedi and keeping secrets. Friyr supposed that that was what counted as a conscience for him these days, if not simply a baffling counterpoint he wasn’t going to pretend made sense on his compass of truths.

“If you preform your task to satisfaction, you will see the Mystics regardless of their meditations upon how your questions will be answered. But,” Kios stopped and turned to consider Friyr a second. “It is fitting for you to visit the survivor. His name is Gadrol-Do; he resides in western chambers of this temple while his wounds heal.”

“Sounds like a deal. You guys don’t shake hands do you?”

“I’m not familiar with the custom.” Kios continued quickly as though fearing Friyr would have other stupid questions. “You will be tasked with one duty of those seeking to become a Mystic. In one of the healing chambers, you will tend to the wounded using the talent you were sent to us for. You will use it to know the nature of the injuries and to then heal them. Since you are not Voss, you won’t be expected to use our techniques to mend the wounds.”

“Ah, wellll, you see,” Frir continued with his half-cocked wily smile, “I can do some solids to minor wounds by hand and some luck, but I’m no Force healer. Even if I was able to figure something out, my Master and I are still working out the whole Dark side thing.”

“You would be permitted if the energy you draw on does not harm the patient.”

Friyr blinked. “What? Really?”

“The Jedi choose one side,” Kios repeated, “The Sith the other. The Voss are children of the Force, which is neither and all; as are the Voss. You say you sense deeply; look into the Force and see it for what it is.”

Friyr paused and listened again until the ambiance faded. At first, he heard nothing but the sleepy murmurings of the temple, but as he slowly expanded between the cracks in the walls, the stillness changed into a hum of life that had no words. Neither nurturing nor chaotic was the language but even and still. The edge in the air lent itself to a darkness as calm as the one inside Friyr, one that acknowledged cruelty as a consequence of living. It scraped, but she didn’t torment him.

Kios nodded as the Jedi Padawan stilled. “We must meditate on your visit. The rooms are up a flight of stairs and lie on the far left of the landing.”

______________________________________________________________________________

                       Friyr’s fingers felt out the ragged edges of a cut. One thumb moved over the skin, the other hand pressed a cool wet cloth against the outside of the gashed bicep. When he moved, he could feel the skin of his hand drawing tight over his knuckles from the constant washing. It was an unfamiliar feeling for a hedonist of a Sith, such as the one he indulged, but it was familiar for a slave with little resources and a great deal of responsibility.

                       The Wannabe Mystic had informed Friyr that he could work on the simple injuries at the mouth of the chamber. The walls were lined with plants, cloth, splints, and bindings, and other Voss made medical supplies. He found capsules containing Kolto plus Imperial and Republic military grade pharmaceuticals in the pile set for disposal. The Voss had told him tightly to use the things he knew how until he’d started applying liberal amounts of all three contraband, at which point he cracked and gave Friyr a quick and dirty on Voss herbal properties. Friyr enjoyed that more than he rightly should’ve. Something about by the book people breaking was a small but filling satisfaction.

                       His left hand had gone numb with the makeshift icepack, but that meant the red Voss couldn’t feel her skin pulling when he threaded through it. Flesh and fabrics really were the same at the end of the day. Flesh was just a little… thicker. He felt the last of her skin draw taut and tied the chunky medical thread off. Weird material, but it did the job just as well as the grade found in any Imperial First Aid kit.

                       “Too tight?” Friyr asked as he flexed the woman’s arm for her. Left. Right. Back. Forth.

                       “No. Thank you, Jedi.”

                       Friyr smiled although he felt it was strange. It was the second time he’d been called that, and yet it wasn’t a word he’d apply to himself.

                       “Live long and uh—prosper.”

                       It sounded like something the Voss would say. From the slightly bemused whisper of Force energy he detected from the young Mystic in training down the row, it evidently wasn’t.

                       “If that’s all, if you want to be healed for real, my boyfriend can help you out over there.”

                       “The Mystics bade you to heal me; this is how you’ve chosen. I do not question the method.” He heard the creak of leather and rustle of sheets as she got up and half-bowed to him.

                       Friyr’s first instinct was to internally sneer at the mindlessness, but there was an odd peacefulness about the nonquestioning nature of the Voss-ka. There always had been to slaves who kept their head down. As always, he found their acceptances enviable, but acceptance didn’t get one out of slavery.

                       “Those stitches should hold if you don’t aggravate them for a week or two. When the skin grows back together, you should be able to cut them free and pull them out.”

                       After she left, Friyr had his ‘boyfriend’ lead him down the darkened corridor. The room was filled with the green glow of those strange lamps, but it was still dim. Teran’s fashion choices haunted him even when the man wasn’t there.

                       “This is the man you seek,” the training Mystic said simply and left before Friyr could think of a smooth enough line.

                       The more grevious patients lay further into the chamber, separated by an opaque cloth that muffled both light and sound from the other end. Gadrol-Do was a bright blue like the rest of the Voss men, but Friyr couldn’t see the hue as well as he could Boyfriend. It told him that a pallor laid over him, as it had with most brightly colored aliens in the slave quarters when they began to fall ill. Friyr had quickly learned to get in enough trouble to earn him isolation with meager food when that happened. It was the only way to avoid the ravages of an outbreak in close quarters. One could outlast starvation. Surviving sickness with no medical aid was cheating death.

                       “Gadrol-Do, right?”

                       “You’re one of the Jedi that saved me,” he stated tersely. His voice was cracked and sounded like it’d be hot on the back of Friyr’s hand. Instinct prickled at him to leave this place as it had more than once, but Friyr wasn’t afraid of a germless fever.

                       “Well, I was there. Our headmaster healed you, and we carried you to the temple.” Friyr felt out the foot of the other bed with his heel and braced his lower body against it. His arms crossed.

                       “Give my thanks to your headmaster and friends.”

                       Friyr nodded. “How’re you holding up?”

                       “I am healing, if that’s what you mean. My internal wounds were great, but not beyond the Mystics. It will take some time to heal them all.”

                       “The Force does things at her own pace, I find.”

                       “That it does, Outsider. Have you come to heal me?”

                       Friyr chuckled wryly. “I’m afraid that’s a little beyond my superior power of stitching and poultices. Great as they are.” He edged along the length of the bed and sat opposite  Gadrol-Do. “I came to make sure you were alright. There isn’t anything I can do for you? Say, finish what you were doing before you were attacked?”

                       “It is kind of an Outsider to care about the affairs of Voss, but they are my own if I had been doing anything beyond coming to the Temple to seek the Mystics’ advice.”

                       “I could do that while you heal. I’m seeking the Mystics’ help too.”

                       “My affairs are my own,” he insisted with more point to his voice. “It is resolved now that those in my group are dead.”

                       “I’m sorry.”

                       It was a strange thing for Friyr to say again after not having said it for the passing decade. It was a strange thing to say to someone that held no power over him. A strange thing to reacclimate to. A strange normalcy.

                       “I am too,” Gadrol-Do said in the way a man who hadn’t yet mourned did.

                       Friyr was glad he wouldn’t be here for when that happened.

                       “I do have something that’s my affair. The people that attacked you are intertwined closely with my fate. It’s my job then, to make my business my own and not yours. If you could tell me what happened. What you saw… well,” Friyr finished with an open palm extended toward the Voss, “that’s a start.”

                       He couldn’t promise that the Voss wouldn’t be unraveled. The Mystics had doomed the Jedi to failure against this second reality already. He had a feeling Gadrol-Do would echo Kios’ grim silence if Friyr didn’t act as though there was hope Voss-ka would be unmolested.

                       Whether Gadrol-Do had no reservations about talking about the attack to begin with or if he thought he was helping his people withdraw from the affairs of the Jedi Order, Friyr didn’t know, but he began to speak. If Friyr had been told this a few months ago, he would’ve called it a pack of delusions. But now wasn’t his job to believe. Just listen.

                       “As we walked the path, a rip opened in reality. We could see through it another world. A place that felt wrong. A place we never should’ve seen.”

                       “What place?”

                       Gadrol-Do shook his head weakly against the pillow. It made a scratching sound.

                       “The attackers poured through fast, and I remember their faces more.”

                       “One looked as your face did. With little color. Human. He was veiled. I wondered how he could see.”

                       Friyr’s eyebrows created the slightest furrow as he tipped the hood over his face -where the modified lip fell, like a curtain. “Like this? Just his eyes?”

                       “Yes, Jedi. He held a red blade, like the Sith. He and the small company with him slaughtered my group. He took the most.”

                       Friyr could hear Gadrol-Do’s voice glazing over as he flushed himself into the memory, but he shuddered and stopped.

                       “Do you know how many?’ Friyr pressed.

                       “A small company,” Gadrol-Do repeated.

                       Friyr felt the burn of frustration, but yet he knew how violence made memories run together.

                       “Did they wear red and black?”

                       “No. Black and gold.”

                       “Hm. Interesting.”

                       “Does that mean something to you, Jedi?”

                       “Not me, no. I’m kinda a simple guy, but to my council, it might.” Friyr doubted anyone had anymore insight than he did right now, but that wasn’t Gadrol’s business. “Thank you, Gadrol-Do.”

                       “Thank you again, Jedi.”

                       Friyr mouthed the word on the way out.

______________________________________________________________________________

                       The Mystic’s chamber was dimmer than the rest of the temple. Friyr could smell the particulate ages of decay as well as feel them. As he stumbled over a stray fragment of rock while trailing his fingers along the wall, he realized that the crumbling walls were left on the floor and new ones rebuilt in their place. Old and new all at once with the future in the air around him.

                       “Hello?” he called out.

                       It echoed stupidly for a while before a low grim voice greeted him from the shadows.

                       “Outsider. You are welcomed and thanked for your service to the Voss.”

                       Friyr eagerly latched on to the trail of sound before he finished speaking. Sound lost itself easily in these low-ceilinged confines, and he tired of having to be led places.

                       “Thank you for giving me a chance.” Friyr struck something between a curtsey and a bow that toed the line between respect and performance. “I really enjoyed being around your erm—almost Mystic.”

                       “I also thank you, Outsider,” chimed in a soft voice to his right. “Earning council here is only very rarely permitted. We have meditated.”

                       “Did I make the cut?”

                       A voice that Friyr recognized as Kios said “You will not learn Voss teachings from us.”

                       Friyr bit the inside of his lip to stem the whel of frustration that was already plotting coercion. There was no way to get what he wanted without risking offense.

                       “Well, no one can say I didn’t try.” Was that defeatist? He hadn’t been able to stop trying to find what Teran had seen, since the Knight had mentioned Friyr having a problem with it. “Is there anything you can tell me? For my services and all?”

                       “In return for the good you’ve done,” the first voice replied, “we will interpret what you sense as any other Voss-ka who seeks advice,” the second voice replied.

                       “Your Master said you ‘lack a kind of clarity,’” said Kios’ voice.

                       “Wow, I think that’s a direct quote.”

                       “We will provide understanding to what you feel. Tell me, how did you find the task?”

                       “Well, it made me think a little, which can be hard to do. I think I’m prepared to poultice any lightsaber burns when I get back to Ambria. I kind of forgot what it was like to be the one doing the healing and not the one—getting it.”

                       “What of feeling the malignance with just your mind?”

                       “Interesting feeling. Missed a few diagnoses, and your student snapped at me a few times, but with repetition it got easy. I’m pretty good at the old memorization game.”

                       “Practice feeling the world,” the second voice said. It sounded as though she were nodding. “Learn what the physical objects are before you see the Force for what it is.”

                       “Then learn the Force,” Kios continued where the second had left off. “It is clear to recognize Light and Dark, but you must understand them to truly know what you say you hear. Anyone can use them.”

                       “You will understand the Force’s will with practice,” the first voice finally spoke again. “Do not be quick to interpret it until you’ve felt all there is to be felt. As you wouldn’t rush to diagnose a malignance for the safety of your patient, you shouldn’t rush to put yourself into the Force.”

                       “The Force will not be altered. If the path is Dark do not resist. Do not glorify the Light. This is the truest way to see clearly. You will use the Force as the Jedi do, but do not let that neglect your ability to sense it.”

                       “Sense it constantly,” the first voice said. “Immersion is your greatest strength.”

                       “When you achieve oneness and don’t struggle against separating yourself from the Force, you will know you’ve found true clarity.”

                       Friyr realized in that moment, he barely knew the nature of the Force despite how connected they were. How well he thought he knew her if only because he couldn’t escape her.

                       “I feel that when I fight.”

                       “Feel that always. Fight against your impulses,” Kios said. “And you will complete your tenure with the Jedi and rejoin the darkness.”

                       The bottom dropped out of Friyr. “The darkness? The void unraveling this world?”

                       “The Sith.”

                       “You grow closer to that which you cannot let go,” the second voice crooned.

                       “I left the Sith without a shred of doubt. Without regret.”

                       “You know what you left behind.”

                       “Opportunity.”

                       “Freedom.”

                       “You know who you left behind.”

                       “You’re wrong; Having soft feelings for someone has never been enough to sway me; I’ve seen those consequences first hand.”

                       “The Force isn’t wrong.”

                       “Don’t struggle.”

                       “Fate is inevitable.”

                       “So I’m wasting my time here?” Friyr’s voice had lost its sugar glazed edge. It was closer to the pit inside him that even the Jedi on Tython could shift. Maybe not even the Sunriders.

                       “Journeys are never wasted. They prepare you for what will be.”

                       Friyr closed his eyes and nodded. He had never been good at accepting fate; that was the one attribute that had never failed him, but he knew better to push people who had already had their minds made up for them. He pitied them and yet their certainty chilled him.

                       “Can I ask a question?”

                       “You’ve sought our advice.”

                       “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then. I feel a darkness here greater than the one I feel on Ambria.”

                       “Those are the Nightmare Lands.”

                       “It’s distant but clear; I can hear her saying the same things she said on Korriban. On Dromund Kaas. On Ambria. And then a few things I’ve never heard before. Why can I hear those two places without trying? Why don’t the Nightmare Lands bother me?”

                       “You are not Voss. The Nightmare Lands are not your concern, Outsider. The places you have been that you sense without trying are what concern you. Voss do not have visions of the outside world except for when it comes to us. You do not hear the Force in places you leave no mark on.”

                       “If I go to Lake Natth…I won’t ever have a tenure with the Jedi. I haven’t felt that much darkness for years, and it wouldn’t make sense to try and feel it again.”

                       “Don’t fight what you already understand. Your thoughts lead you from the truth. You might not be a Mystic, but you feel things we train to hone. Not everybody knows what the Force indicates. That you do is an ability you must not deny in order to make yourself comfortable.”

                       “Darkness doesn’t always consume.”

                       “It does,” Friyr answered back blindly. The lack of light pressed in on his eyes.

                       “Not always entirely; we can’t avoid it, yet we aren’t all fallen, as your Jedi would say.”

                       “What’s in Lake Natth?”

                       “One Mystic cannot know another’s vision. You must in the same way know your own senses. What does this Lake Natth feel like to you?”

                       “I feel constantly drawn to it.”

                       The Mystics remained silent when Friyr felt they could help him most, but he wasn’t Voss; he doubted they’d tell him what he must do as if he were one. It wasn’t their way, he was beginning to understand. But plenty of people weren’t Voss.

                       “The same way I feel constantly drawn to Dro—” the words felt wrong. It was sickening to ignore his own logic, but instead he closed his eyes and felt. “To—somewhere in the Seat of the Empire. Someplace Sith.”

                       “You’re beginning to understand.”

                       “I’m beginning to understand I’m going to be kicked out of the Order before I even get a chance to fall to the Dark side,” Friyr sighed.

                       “Fate is inevitable,” the second voice said with what Friyr suspected was a twist of not wanting to answer anymore questions and humor.

                       “Gee~ Well, when you put it that way.”

[dunkshotdreaming]

Spica: Alpha Virginis (pt.5)

Genre: action/adventure, fantasy, angst, romance Warnings: post-apocalyptic Characters: Leo (VIXX), Beth (oc), Lucy (oc) Word count: 2,544 Story type: series (completed)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (final)

(A/N): Reposting my series from AFF onto here!

///

   Things grew tense between the hunter and angel; a dreary silence befell since their last conversation. Finally arriving at the castle just before sunset, Taekwoon and Beth stood staring at their handiwork: the bodies of the upgraded palace guards strewn across in an almost artistic arrangement. The lesser demons they’d fought up until now were merely target practice, those that evaporated when slain. These demons were much stronger, and yet only possessed a fraction of what their king had in store for our heroes.

   Though Taekwoon was initially worried for Lucy’s safety, she’d proven to be much smarter and feistier than he’d originally given the Lab credit for. She expertly dodged attacks, almost as if she had been trained her whole life for this task. Lucy was remarkable at biting at any flailing limbs, effectively injuring their enemies. Sometimes it was as if she could smell the precise location of jugulars or pressure points, the result being that she looked more like a bloodhound by the end of things. Bloodbaths took on a whole new meaning when our… antiheroes of sorts take charge.

   Beth brushed some blood off her wings as best she could, the deep red mixing with dirt to stain her once pure white feathers. Taking down the king would not be an easy feat, but the duo– I’m sorry, trio– felt more than prepared, ready to stake their lives to take back the city.

“I’ve been expecting you,” a strong, baritone voice echoed throughout the castle.

   Having finally reached the king’s room, the throne was perched upon the polished marble tile. Across from Taekwoon and Beth, the golden throne glimmered, the light from the windows cascading over it and its inhabitor, as it was anything but empty. The room appeared extremely sophisticated, so out of place with the rest of the antique style of the rather dull, gray castle. Shiny black and white tiles lay just under their feet, the red walls lined with golden tapestries to match the throne.

   However, all of this heavily contrasted the king’s appearance. A flat navy color for his skin, and a deep purple for the large wings and horns he possessed.

“Welcome to the beginning of the end of your lives, dear children,” the king’s voice mocked, sounding almost as distorted as his mind. The floor shook from the sheer weight of the colossal demon as he began to stand. Striding with patience and almost a sense of elegance, if it weren’t for his terrifying and hideous demeanor, he made his way over to exterminate the pesky insect-like visitors who dared to defy his and defile his castle.

***

   The fight was absolutely exhausting, it felt like days though it had likely been but a few hours. The bastard was laughing for half of the fight as the three struggled in their attempt to take him down; after all, combined, they were barely at half his height. Then suddenly, Beth’s powers recharged, and the king wasn’t laughing anymore. She healed Taekwoon, Lucy and herself, then carried Taekwoon as she flew upwards, allowing Taekwoon to stab both of his swords through the king’s eyes, effectively blinding him in the process. They repeated this once more, twice more, stabbing the king in the chest with both swords the second wave around. He was much weaker now than he had been at any point in their fight, giving them a good window of opportunity to strike. Beth cast a hex spell she’d learned once, from albeit shady sources, but the spell sealed his fate, ensuring the end of the tyrant.

   All things come with a price, however, and such was this victory. Beth was no exception to the dangers of the hex spell, it would seem, much to Taekwoon’s (and Lucy’s) dismay. Beth came tumbling down from the heights she has soared to, dropping Taekwoon in the process. Startled, he rolled over to check up on her, holding her now motionless form in his trembling arms. A sense of déjà vu was coming back to him, to the time of the raid battle with his best friend, and suddenly Taekwoon felt sick. It was awhile before Beth managed to gain consciousness, too weak to do much but take in ragged breaths. Lucy licked all over her face, and Taekwoon hugged her so tightly she feared she would end up with a broken rib before losing consciousness once again. He sobbed into the crook of her bloodied neck, grateful that she was still even alive.

“T…Tae…k,” she rasped, earning a shushing as the mortal began gently rocking her.

“We did it Beth, the bastard is gone. We won the city back!” Something was off, she seemed too weak, too pale, and it was scaring him. So much so that Taekwoon couldn’t find it in him to stay quiet, for once in his life, he was too scared to accept what could be reality, failing to grasp the gravity of the situation that lay before him. His rambling continues, sheer panic fueling his lungs, because his brain had long since shut down.

“I’m… so glad… I met you…” Beth managed to interrupt his utter nonsense speech.

“Stop talking like that, like you’re leaving. You’re fine, we’re fine! As a matter of fact, what should we do after we go back home, huh Beth? Beth?!” Taekwoon was shocked as he was cut off by a sharp gasp of pain from the weakened angel that lay in his arms.

“Listen… to me…” Beth took deep breaths to be able to speak, now holding all of Taekwoon’s attention, as Lucy whined softly and pawed gently at he angel’s form in despair. “I cas-casted a hex spell, t-to keep him d-dead,” she was stuttering profusely, hardly even able to speak, but mustering the last of her strength to do so. “That spell i-is… a life for a life. He’s dead Taekwoon, a-and he’s not coming b-back… but at the c-cost of m-my own-” she was interrupted by her own coughing, trying to choke it down just enough to finish what she had to say. “B-besides, any angel who uses d-dark magic… is immediately p-put down,” she gave a very weak, brief smile to Taekwoon’s horrified, grieving face. Tears streamed freely down his prominent cheeks as the meaning behind all her words sunk in.

“It is time to go, my dear,” a foreign voice chimed in. Taekwoon turned to the source, as Beth was too weak to move, and Lucy barked at the intruder. What Taekwoon’s eyes were met with was a grim-reaper looking figure, now hovering beside them, and he instinctively hovered over her own body protectively. He felt her form stop moving in his arms, and he was unable to stop the onslaught of even heavier tears that cascaded from his weary eyes. The scream he let out as she slipped through his fingers was bloodcurdling, and nothing was left behind save for a handful of her feathers in his still-trembling hands. It was her final, bittersweet parting gift, leaving him with a few wishes as a token of gratitude.

///

   Battered and depressed beyond the imaginable, Taekwoon has no recollection of even making it home. All he remembers is how the damned feathers don’t feel like Beth, don’t sound like Beth, and how they will never, ever be able to replace her presence in his life. He remembers praying and wishing upon a pale feather, only to feel like an utter idiot when it never granted his sole, desperate wish… for Beth to be returned to him. Not even alcohol could help him this time, he thought, and Lucy whimpered solemnly as she watched her owner seemingly wither overnight.

Deep in the night, as Taekwoon begins to drift, a soft, pained whisper could be heard as it echoed through the seemingly hollow apartment.

“I never even got to tell her… how much I loved her.”

///

   Taekwoon awoke very much unlike he had fallen asleep: disgusting and passed out on the apartment’s kitchen floor. A dirty rag and a bucket of what likely once water, now tainted with blood and dirt, were beside his makeshift “bed”. Wait, when had he even laid down in a bed? It was then that his attention drifted to the feeling of two arms around his waist. Panic rising and catching his heart up into his throat, Taekwoon turned to look behind him, wondering if he was caught in some twisted dream his brain made up throughout his pity party. The girl of his dreams lay beside him, only she no longer carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, figuratively of course. Her wings were now completely gone, but it was undeniably Beth, right down to her small birthmarks.

   She stirred then, yawning, and rubbed her eyes with one arm, unconsciously grabbing at Taekwoon’s fresh, clean shirt with the other. “I see you’re awake. Man, you’ve been out for almost two whole days. You sure can sleep a lot, sleepyhead,” she giggled, but it sounded like a choir of angels in his mind, ironically enough.

“…Beth?” Taekwoon asked in shock, as his voice almost failed to make it past the lump making residence halfway down his throat. Surely, he was dreaming, right? He had to be, after all, he watched her, felt her die in his very own arms… “I watched you die…I felt the feathers in my hands…” He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence, too stupefied by her appearance to string words together properly.

“And yet here I am,” Beth teased, Cheshire cat-line grin on full display. Something was up, and Taekwoon was fearing for the catch. “What was that about you not being able to tell me something?” Still in disbelief, Taekwoon flushed, a bright red adorning his now flustered features. His last words before knocking out were his very own late love confession to his supposedly deceased love interest… little did he know she had heard every last word. Confused, he reached out to her, crushing her once more in an embrace, praying that if this was a dream, to never again wake up from it.

“You have some explaining to do, missy, an awful lot of it,” his heart hammered in his chest, realizing that she really was here with him once again. The feel of her form against his, the acceleration of her heartbeat felt through her skin, the smell of her hair and the gentle ease that her presence always brought to his once miserable existence. She felt like home, more so than the raggedy apartment ever could. Home was a feeling, not a place, and it was the feeling Taekwoon got when he got to share his measly days with Beth and Lucy, his two favorite girls.

“I may have traded my wings for a chance at a mortal life… here, with you. Taekwoon, I–”

“I love you,” Taekwoon breathlessly rushed out, fearing he could miss his chance again at any moment. Wanting, needing to tell her how much she means to him, as much as a few words could convey. “I was such an idiot not to tell you sooner, but I was afraid of how you felt, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. And then I was hoping to after the fight but–”

   This time it was he who was cut off, as she’d tugged him down by the hair and pressed her lips to his, Taekwoon’s eyes wide in shock. He brought his hands to her sides, rubbing gently as their lips met again and again, kisses featherlight and laced with the purest of intentions; to communicate their love for one another after too many missed opportunities. They parted for air, foreheads pressed together. She let out a breathless laugh, undeniably content, and he didn’t dare to let her go for even a second, for fear of losing her again.

“Now what?” Taekwoon murmured against her hair, pressing a soft kiss into her forehead, now laying with her facing him while tucked into his larger frame.

“Now,” she inhaled deeply, taking a dramatic pause, “either we help rebuild this town, or leave it all in the past and escape. Perhaps you could reunite with your family?” Beth suggested, looking up at him with a loving gleam in her eyes, mirrored by his own.

“Sounds good to me,” Taekwoon answered softly, still enamored by their reunion, in more ways than one. He was still finding it hard to grasp the reality of her return, but he dared not question the few miracles life allowed, as he had struggled far too much in his own life.

“But first, babe…” The term of endearment rolled easily off her tongue, slipping casually past her lips, and Taekwoon could swear he felt the wind knock out of his lungs in the process. So much for thinking he wasn’t big on romance, because he was sure a hell of a head-over-heels romantic when it came to her. “I’m hungry.” A phrase she’d never once said before, only proving her newfound mortality. Taekwoon couldn’t resist the urge to laugh, rolling onto his back and pulling her over him, grinning wide as her hair cascaded down around the two of them, seemingly forming a veil.

“You are so lucky I love to cook, and that I’m good at it,” Taekwoon took a deep breath, admiring the view before him. “And I would be honored to provide your first meal, darling… Granted that all the stock we have left is currently ramen, so fancy first dinner will have to take a rain check.” She unceremoniously snorted, and he thought it was the most adorable thing ever. Then again, she could probably sound like a goat every time she sneezed and he would still love every little thing she did, solely because it was her and her alone. He piggybacked her to their sorry excuse of a kitchen, and as he worked on their ramen, they discussed their plans for the future, as well as Beth having to fill Taekwoon in on what happened after the fight. Taking a seat on the barstool beside hers by the counter, bowls and chopsticks in hand, they lamely clinked their reused paper cups together to signify both their first meal together as well as the start of their new lives together.

   Taekwoon silently thanked the gods for bringing them together, for allowing her to return, and for whatever the hell was currently going on in his life, because things were better than they ever had been ever since he’d lost his family. Little did he know that she was thinking the same, thanking the gods for everything and then some. Lucy leaned on her hind legs as her front paws stretched out, trotting over playfully, hoping to partake in the fun as well. And maybe hoping to get some food in the process, she certainly wouldn’t mind that.

“Still think lil’ Lucifer here’s a fallen angel?” Beth teased over a bite full of noodles.

“Well, she is heaven sent. However,” Taekwoon leaned in to whisper into her ear, “you will always be my favorite angel, wings or not. You are the best thing life ever allowed me to enjoy, Beth.”

- f i n -

[jocelynbass1991]

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[timeagainreviews]

My Series 10 Rewatch: The Return of  Doctor Mysterio

Ah, another Christmas episode. How many is that now? Two in a row? If you’ll recall from last time, I remarked that the only thing I liked about Christmas episodes was that it was more Doctor Who. While I will admit to a degree of hyperbole, it wasn’t far from the truth. Which is why "The Return of Doctor Mysterio," is such an interesting follow-up, as I have a "second" reason to like Christmas episodes. Only in a Christmas episode can Doctor Who get truly stupid. I’m not saying I hated it, I’m not saying I liked it, but I think I loved it.

"The Return of Doctor Mysterio," is very much a stupid episode. But in the same way, a child can believe in a jolly fat man delivering presents every year, Steven Moffat asks us to believe in a Doctor Who where Superman could exist. It doesn’t fit the tone of the show, and it’s not even particularly topical. The idea of superheroes in the media is so cliched, that it’s cliched to even point that out. It felt a little dated even at the time it was made. So how has it given me a newfound love for Christmas episodes? Because it plays its hand at the right moment. Doctor Mysterio could only ever work on Christmas.

We open on the Doctor swinging outside a young boy’s bedroom window on Christmas Eve. The Doctor has been up on the roof of the New York skyscraper this boy calls home. After climbing into the window the Doctor introduces himself to the boy whose name is Grant. He explains that he was up on the roof building a machine to fix space-time distortions created by his own meddling. Think back to stuff like the weeping angels turning a hotel into their own food pantry of Rory-O’s. It’s a classic Doctor Who machine made out of various bits, making very little logical sense. It doesn’t matter though because the Doctor is in possession of a McGuffin named the Hazandra, a gemstone also known as "the ghost of love and wishes." Basically, it’s Christmas magic a convenient polyhedron. With it, his machine should stabilise the distortions.

Young Grant and the Doctor’s interactions in this scene are a great example of Capaldi’s charm as the Doctor. I love the Doctor not knowing Clark Kent and Superman being the same person is common knowledge. It scans with his not knowing there was a film called "Alien." The Doctor doesn’t need to know everything all the time, Chibnall. I find everything about this scene completely believable in its context. There’s a brilliant exchange where the Doctor produces a glass of water from his coat for Grant’s cough. After being handed the Hazandra by a man going by "Doctor," he assumes the Hazandra is medicine for his cough and gulps it down. I find it a little hard to believe that a geek like Grant didn’t at least question if it was a D12 first. He seems like the kind of kid who has done some tabletop gaming. Having taken a heroic dose of Christmas magic, Grant starts tripping out like he can fly and shit, which he does, because wishes. Realising the only thing to do is wait for the gem to pass through his digestive tract, the Doctor bides his time. I like to think that somewhere for about a week, the Doctor was scanning the plumbing of that building with his sonic screwdriver. "Still nothing."

With Grant’s body refusing to give up the ghost, his superpowers grew more powerful. This, of course, brings us to present day where Grant is now mild-mannered manny and Super Saiyan "Goku," noted by the G on his chest. No, wait, wrong franchise, it's the Ghost, not Goku. Not since "The Mind Robber," has Doctor Who taken on the concept of superheroes quite so directly. But, unlike Karkus, the Ghost is not meant to be a man from a comic book. Though everything about him is directly from a comic book. The Ghost’s powers are a little boy’s wishes given form. I’ll admit that while wearing my Doctor Who cosplay, the coat does tend to blow in the wind like a superhero cape.  While some will even agree that the Doctor is a sort of superhero, even the show recognises its own limitations in this department. Seeing a caped vigilante standing next to the Doctor is weird. It’s wisest to treat this as an anomaly.

Moffat is in no way shy about playing into some of the biggest comic tropes. When we meet Lucy Fletcher, a reporter for the Daily Chronicle, she’s an obvious homage to Lois Lane. So it’s easy to assume that the people she’s investigating, a corporation known as Harmony Shoal, are some sort of villain. It’s also a reminder of the influence of comic books on classic characters like Sarah Jane Smith or Donna Noble. Also in attendance is Nardole, seemingly reunited with his body. After some pointed questions about missing executives from Ms Fletcher, the press conference ends with Lucy unconvinced by their answers. She decides it’s best to stay behind and investigate. As do Nardole and the Doctor.

It’s a testament to how little I remembered within the year between these two Christmas specials, as I didn’t even remember that the Shoal of Winter Harmony were a Doctor Who baddie. Hell, I didn’t even remember it years later when I watched "The Husbands of River Song. If you’ll recall, I went on to complain that they were underdeveloped. Well, I guess I got my wish because here they are again. This time around we learn that the Shoal are a group of brains that look for viable hosts to live within. They open up the heads of humans and replace their brains. I’m beginning to see why I forgot these were the same villains. One is a bunch of brains in a jar, à la "The Keys of Marinus," while the other is a group of people able to open their seemingly hollow heads. Like, do the brains open up when they open their heads later? Why do they open at a diagonal layer when the brains clearly have a vertical hemisphere? Their physiology is a bit perplexing, even by Doctor Who standards.

While discovering the Shoal’s secret, Lucy meets the Doctor and Nardole, who are also spying. After witnessing one executive transplant an alien brain into the body of another executive, the three of them are captured and held at gunpoint. It's at this moment when we first see Grant as the Ghost, as he saves the trio using super-heroics. After whisking Lucy back to her apartment in a classic "superhero saves the girl," manner, we learn that Grant is actually Lucy's manny for her baby. This explains why he was watching out for her, and how he found her home so easily. The Doctor, having used the TARDIS to track the Hazandra, is already at Lucy's apartment waiting for Grant to chastise him for using his powers. Lucy believes the Doctor is there for her causing both her and Grant to lie to one another about how they may or may not know the Doctor.

Now, I would like a minute to talk about the costume. Basically, it's not very good. In fact, it's kind of bad. I don't mean to badmouth somebody's hard work, because it's not the craftsmanship I'm criticising. It's barely even the design. It's the reason for the design. You see, the Ghost has an awful mask. It covers about 75 percent of his face and is basically like no hero mask we've ever seen. The reason for this is that despite all of its whimsy and Christmas magic, the idea that a pair of glasses is all the secret identity a hero needs is too stupid even for Doctor Who. Hell, it's too stupid for Superman. Lois Lane is a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and she's thwarted by a pair of specs? Seeing them make up for it by covering Grant's face in an awkward plastic mask just highlights how poorly Doctor Who and capes mesh. Except in the case of Jon Pertwee.

Lucy and Grant have that classic Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Superman, love triangle going on. Or Jerrica, Diego, and Jem if you're not a comic book nerd. It's the whole "Does she love me, or does she love him?" trope. All that's left is for Grant to do one of those two dates at the same dance scenes and we'll be set. Oh, they do that later on in the episode? Oh. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Let's talk about that interrogation scene.

In 2012, "Zero Dark Thirty," came under fire for its apparent glorification of torture during interrogation. Which seems a weird takeaway if you've actually seen the film. However, the point was made- torture is inhumane. Which is why I must warn those of you with a gentle constitution that the torture scene of Mr Huffle is brutal. Every time Lucy adds pressure to this poor man's head, he cries out in agony, and she knows it will work. The Doctor is unable to stand the idea that another need suffer that he might keep his secrets, so he spills the beans. Of course, I'm kidding, the scene is absolutely ridiculous, but it's also kind of cute. It's yet another of those moments only afforded by Christmas magic because anywhere else it would be stupid. I just want to know where Moffat hides the giant bollocks required not to edit that bit out.

Now, remember how I said in my review for "The Husbands of River Song," that the baddies never really had much development? As it turns out, they're not all that deep. The main goal of the Shoal (Judoon on the moon), is to fortify their headquarters to survive a massive blast. Their reasoning is that when their ship impacts with the planet, their building will remain standing among the rubble of New York, acting as a beacon to the world's leaders who will flock to them. This way, the Shoal can take over the bodies of leaders. It's a dumb comic book idea in a dumb comic book episode. If their building attracted anything other than droves of survivors, it would most likely attract the attention of investigators. "Oh hey, maybe we should investigate the people who battened down the hatches immediately before the blast." Nothing fishy there. A foolproof plan. Because comic books, and Christmas.

Please don't mistake my tone for derision. I genuinely think Moffat made the right decision in keeping the plot a bit campy. It absolutely fits with the theme of the episode. This doesn't mean that the premise doesn't wear thin. It does so with so much haste that the promotional photos began to feel hackneyed. I've said in the past that Doctor Who is very much like a comic book, but even then it's a completely different genre than superheroes. The idea of the Doctor and the Ghost teaming up seems more appropriate for the comic pages of Doctor Who Magazine. And even then it would feel silly. You would see it come up on lists titled "Top Ten Weirdest Moments in the Doctor Who Extended Universe." It's up there with "Combo Man" or "NFL Superpro," in that it's a pale imitation that does nothing to add to the genre. The fact that they made a Ghost spin-off comic book is mind-boggling.

The Ghost fits very uncomfortably into the Doctor Who universe. Hell, he fits uncomfortably into New York. I did the math, he was old enough to stop 9-11. Or at least save some people. It's one of those "This is why the Doctor doesn't travel to the holocaust," things. It's just easier to ignore a real world tragedy. But even within the Doctor Who version of New York, the episode raises a few unanswered questions. Ever since Amy and Rory "died," the fandom has questioned why the Doctor didn't simply travel back in time to save them. Moffat's response was that the events of "The Angels Take Manhattan," made New York too chaotic a place to land. So the fans said, "What about taking a taxi into New York after landing safely outside?" To which Moffat said "Ah, but the tombstone! It's a fixed point in time." Which is a good point. There's no way you could possibly fake a tombstone. Those things are counterfeit-proof.

The point I'm getting at is that New York is all sorts of messed up by the Doctor. As I stated earlier, it's the whole reason he was there in the first place. The problem I'm having is that if the Doctor brought the Hazandra to New York to repair the rift, and Grant swallowed it like medicine, what the hell repaired the rift? How is the Doctor able to visit Lucy's house? How is the Doctor able to travel to and from the Shoal's ship orbiting the earth? If the Doctor can pilot the TARDIS in and out of New York City, what exactly needed fixing? And if nothing needed fixing, why then are Amy and Rory dead? And it wouldn't be a big deal if Moffat hadn't literally made it a plot point in the first place! That's two episodes in a row now where Steven Moffat introduces a concept only to completely go against it later on. Maybe he knew he was on his way out and he started phoning it in because I know Moffat is a better writer than this.

Ok, so where are we in the story? It doesn't really matter. Basically the Ghost and Lucy have dinner on top of Lucy's building. But it's when talking to the Ghost that Lucy realises she loves Grant. At no point does she not realise she's an idiot unable to see through a very dumb disguise. The Doctor and Nardole have jumpstarted the Shoal's plans by crashing the ship themselves. This forces the Shoal to act ahead of schedule. Also, for some reason, the Shoal seems to think they would be able to take over the Ghost's body. I guess superhero skin is one of those things famously known for being fragile and easily broken. Surely there's no flaw in this plan whatsoever. Grant uses this as an opportunity to switch out of his cape in back into manny mode. Acting as the hero, he swoops in and saves the day. Not only does he thwart the Shoal, but he also one-handedly catches their ship before it can make impact, thus saving all of New York.

The Doctor alerts UNIT to the Shoal's activities and before they can make their break are apprehended. All except for a single Shoal who has taken over the brain of a random UNIT soldier. It's one of those comic book cliffhangers that will fall apart if you start to think about it. I'm going to say it's absolutely acceptable in these circumstances, but I am absolutely still going to pick it apart. Like didn't the Shoal say earlier that they require a suitable host? What constitutes a suitable host? Did they mean suitable as in "a person in power," or was it a blood type thing? Do some people's bodies reject their new brain? Furthermore, didn't the Shoal keep creepy surgeons in closets for this kind of operation? How then is one of them able to do complex surgery in the span of moments? As I said, it falls apart.

"It falls apart," is the theme to this episode. In fact, the entire plot hangs on the premise of stupid comic book cliches. Nothing about this episode works as an episode of Doctor Who. But, as I said, it does work as a Christmas episode. In that way, it makes me both love, and continue to hate Christmas episodes. In the same manner, I admire its frivolity, I also loathe its crudeness. I'm not exactly running out into the streets like Ebenezer Scrooge asking what day it is, but I'm not saying "Bah! Humbug," either. Let's just say, I'm glad the next episode in this watchthrough isn't a Christmas story. The only thing worse than watching two Christmas stories in a row is watching them while in lockdown in July and August. There is neither anything holly nor jolly about this season.

The important takeaway is that I actually found myself having more fun this time around. Perhaps it was the fact that I now knew what to expect. The idea of a Doctor Who superhero episode can't be as bad as it already was. I've found this to be a common theme in revisiting a lot of Doctor Who. Without your initial expectations in the way, fun can sometimes peak its head in and say hello. Which is why I said I loved this episode. It wasn't good, but it was fun. I even got to see this play out in real-time. My boyfriend who had either never seen the episode, or forgotten it completely, spent most of his time hung up on how stupid the premise was. While I was actually able to spend more time appreciating the performances. The superhero tropes seemed less tired, and more like a necessary function of the narrative. Sometimes there is virtue in knowing something is going to be shit.

Hey friends! Thanks for reading this far. I wanted to pop in and apologise for how long this took to post. Last week was my birthday so I took the time off. Also, for some reason I was really dragging my feet with this one. Go figure. Next time, we say hello to Bill! See you soon!