#intervention; it would take just under three times as much to be absolutely certain of hitting the toxic dose (calculated quantity per kg

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"yes im so fine"

*researches whether i can get my hands on ipecac*

[possibilistfanfiction]

another wn prompt “brusque”

[also a lil snippet from part 4 of girls against god, shoutout to camila & mobility aids]

/

camila lounges better than you had expected, honestly, much to your delight.

‘so,’ she says, stretched out on one of the chairs on your patio in a pair of bea’s shorts and one of the t-shirts that’s so old you don’t know who it originally belonged to, feet bare, ‘how’s your back?’

‘well —‘ you think about lying, but this is camila, so it would both be wrong and completely unbelievable anyway — ‘pretty bad.’

she hums. ‘and what are your plans to make that better?’

you don’t have any, really, because bea is trying so hard not to push and you want to live in denial as long as possible. ‘i guess talk to dr. salvius. last time she said she would come up with some interventions that might help.’

‘last time, as in when you went three months ago?’

‘uh, yeah?’

camila sits up. ‘beatrice is so in love with you, you know.’ the clench of her jaw is a little unexpected, her next words brusque. ‘i love you. we all love you, ava.’

you feel yourself pout but you can’t help it. ‘you don’t sound like you love me right now.’

camila stands and moves to sit on the end of your lounge chair, takes your hand. ‘there’s no shame in needing any help, with anything.’

‘i just hate —‘ you wipe sudden, embarrassed tears from your cheeks, and camila waits patiently — ‘i hate feeling like a burden.’

‘ava,’ camila says, ‘you won a war.’

‘yeah,’ you say, ‘and now, sometimes, i can’t even get out of bed. i have this beautiful partner who basically gave up her entire life for me, and this beautiful house in, like, paradise, and it’s just —‘

camila rubs gently up and down your spine while you get your breathing back under control.

‘i swear to you, ava, none of us, especially not beatrice, think any less of you because you’re having problems with pain and mobility.’

‘i — i have a history of that being the opposite.’

she nods calmly, her hand still steadily wrapped around yours. ‘i hear that. but, and i know you know this, but — when you were younger, you deserved so much better.’

‘i guess.’

camila squeezes your hand. ‘first, you deserved care. more than anything. but, practically, you deserved physical therapy, and an electric wheelchair, and all kinds of adaptive resources. you shouldn’t have had to stay in one room, just because you didn’t have the same mobility as me, or as bea.’

bea has told you the same thing, mostly gently, sometimes with a frustrated edge to her voice that betrayed the deep hurt she feels on your behalf, after all this time.

‘and i know we can’t make up for the abuse you had to go through, for so long, but i know that bea is desperate for you to get all the help you need. she isn’t saying it, because you two are frustratingly respectful of each other’s boundaries, but it’s eating at her.’

you sniffle. ‘i know that. she thinks she’s very measured but sometimes i can read her like a book.’

 ‘you know, before you were together, every time she’d check in from switzerland, all she could talk about was you. always exasperated, but always about all the ways you’d made her laugh.’

’that’s so gay.’

‘ava.’

’sorry, sorry.’

‘what i’m trying to say,’ camila tells you, intent, ‘is that so many people with spinal cord injuries live really cool, really normal lives — with way less pain than you’re fighting your way through now, and all kinds of cool aids that i’m certain dr. salvius would love to create with you. we’re not going to let your life be less full or smaller or less happy because you need help sometimes.’

‘i’ll call her tomorrow,’ you say, and camila smiles. 

‘good, you absolutely should.’

‘will bea be mad that we talked.’

she shrugs. ‘i don’t really care. someone had to talk to you if she wouldn’t, and it was either me or lilith.’

‘terrifying prospect,’ you say, and then salute her. ‘thank you for your service.’

camila laughs. ‘i would say anytime, but i’m here in your gorgeous, ridiculous beach house in this even more ridiculous city, and i’d really like to just think about margaritas from now on.’

‘that,’ you say, ‘can certainly be arranged.’

bea wanders up from the beach, her wetsuit pulled down around her waist, perfect abs on display, her bikini top a little askew, a tattoo peaking out from the wetsuit along her hip. you stare, unabashedly, because she loves you and she never wanted, really, to give up her life to god anyway, you know by now well enough. there’s freckles all over her shoulders and her chest and she’s still a little wet, smelling like the sea, but you welcome the kiss she drops to the top of your head after she props her board up against the wall. 

camila gags when you simply stare at her above you, and you roll your eyes; bea just ignores it.

‘all right?’ she asks.

‘great,’ you say. ‘hey, after you shower, can you grab my cane before we walk to get drinks? camila has requested only thinking about margaritas for her time here.’

camila smiles at her hands and bea pauses, stock still, before she seems to whir back to life. ‘yes, of course,’ she says, like it’s the simplest and most frequent thing you ever ask for. she can’t help herself, though: she brings a hand to the back of your head tenderly and you lean forward to kiss her hip, just over the ink there. you let everything settle, and then bea nods resolutely. 

‘well, camila, i’ll spare you ava’s oogling and shower indoors.’

‘thank you for that; i’d rather not throw up today.’

‘hey,’ you say, put your hands up, ‘it’s not my fault bea had an outdoor shower installed for this express purpose.’

bea scoffs. ‘you asked for the shower.’

‘you could have said no.’ you shrug. ‘but you didn’t.’

camila groans. ‘please, beatrice, go shower. you both owe me tacos now too.’

‘fine, fine,’ bea says, but she winks in your direction and strips her wetsuit off the rest of the way and then walks inside without a second glance, shooting off an obnoxious little wave.

‘do not follow her,’ camila says. ‘i’m jetlagged and starving, and i don’t want to wait another hour before we get food.’

‘if you think we need an hour you’re insane.’

‘ava.’

‘fine,’ you say, lie back against where camila is sitting to essentially force her to cuddle with you, which she does without any protest. ‘i will not make love to my beautiful, sweet partner who only continues to grow hotter by the day.’

‘i’ll call lilith right now. she’ll teleport here in a second.’

‘no, no,’ you say, pat her hand. ‘there’s no need for that.’

camila laughs and you both doze off a little for a few minutes in the sun before bea touches your shoulder to shake you gently awake. she’s dressed in a pale linen short set, the top few buttons of her loose shirt mercifully undone, and you know she’s not wearing a bra. her hair is long, blonde, swept over her shoulder in waves ever-present whenever you’re by the ocean. 

‘you’re so beautiful,’ you say, and she kisses you before handing you the cane you’d reluctantly gotten a few weeks ago, when your flareup had been so bad you couldn’t even make it down the stairs in your house.

‘i’m awake,’ camila says. ‘so please, no funny business.’

bea, even in her loose, light clothes and sunny hair, still stands prim and proper, like she’s been caught doing something wrong. camila seems to sense that, and so she stands and taps bea’s butt, then laughs and says, ‘okay, time to buy me everything for dinner.’

bea nods, and her shoulders relax after she takes a deep breath: usually, the days stretch on and she smiles more than she ever has, with her strong thighs and the aikido classes she teaches to little kids at the dojo, the tattoos she quietly loves getting, the drag brunch you go to once a month on sunday. most of the time, she loves you so deeply — quiet, still, but with a reverence she hadn’t allowed herself at first, and a joy that tinges everything yellow like the sun — and camila smiles when bea settles and takes your hand. 

you grasp the cane in the other, and you walk the few blocks to your favorite place, camila and bea chattering the whole time. it’s easier, admittedly so, and when you walk home, after the sun has set, it’s a little easier then too.

[goldenroutledge]

Overhearing they have feelings for you - with JJ 🥰

drive me crazy

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader, platonic!pogues x reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: in which your best friend jj drives you crazy in the best way possible

a/n: i combined it with it two dialogue prompts, they’re bolded! thanks so much, hope you enjoy it :) also, there are no season two spoilers in here, i wrote this in may

jj maybank masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

You loved the pogues. You really did. Their constant pestering and reminders of a certain crush you may or may not have had? Not so much. In your head, and even out loud sometimes, you had to reassure yourself it wasn’t true. There was absolutely no way in hell you could have a crush on JJ Maybank. And that is exactly what you would keep telling your friends.

You all were sat out on the Chateau’s porch, enjoying a hot afternoon with a few beers and the company of one another. Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t a regular hang out. It was, as Pope stated, an intervention.

“Intervention?!” You exclaimed. “What exactly do I need that for again?”

“Would you like that alphabetically or in order of importance?” John B quipped in a serious tone.

“Ha ha. Very funny, John B.” You mocked. “Seriously, what’s this ‘intervention’ you speak of?” Your fingers came up to air quote the words as you grimaced, looking between Kiara, Pope and John B. “I don’t need help with anything.”

“You’re right.” Pope settled. “You don’t need help. You need to confess your crush on JJ."

A scoff left your lips as soon as the words fell from his, folding your arms across your chest. “Excuse me?”

“We know you like him, Y/n.” Kiara informed.

“No, you know what?” John B interjected. “She doesn’t like JJ, she looooves him.” He dragged out in a pesky tone.

“And I’m the one who needs the intervention? All three of you are insane.” You asserted.

Pope sighed. “We’re here because we love you, Y/n. Regardless if you love JJ more than us or not.” He chortled. “We just want you to admit it, it’s not healthy to keep inside.”

“You know, it’s sad that you all wasted your time jumping to these bizarre conclusions. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They all gave you skeptical looks.

“You don’t?” John B asked.

“Nope. I do not like JJ. Not one bit.” You shook your head as you said your piece. “If anything, I hate him. He’s a big jerk who is always teasing me and trying to get under my skin.”

Kiara quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Denial.” John B muttered under his breath, masking it with a cough that earned a menacing glare from you.

“What do you hate about him, Y/n/n?” Pope inquired curiously.

“Well.. for starters, he’s never on time for anything. Horrible punctuality.” You began kicking a rock around on the wooden planks of the porch as another way to let out your so-called hate. “Or sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Then he makes you worry about him and wonder where he’s at. Only to turn up fine in the next day or two.”

“Hm.” Pope hummed, taking mental notes as he studied your behavior.

“I hate the way he never brushes his hair. It’s like he’s a damn golden retriever. And the way it tickles when it brushes my forehead is so annoying. Not to mention when I find it on my hair ties after he steals them.” Not once did you look up, continuing your assault on the poor rock. “Oh! That’s another thing. He’s always stealing. Like when I was 8 and he stole my pet turtle Franklin right out of his tank. Because he wanted to make Franklin a cute bowtie to wear and surprise me with it, but still! He could’ve killed my turtle! I mean, who does that?”

You threw your arms up in exasperation, reading the mixed expressions on your friends faces. “I hate the way he purposely messes things up. Like when we go out to eat and then he drops his fries just to eat out of mine.” You went on.

“I hate that stupid necklace he wears. It’s always so dirty because he’s been wearing it for years but he always turns me down when I offer to buy him a new one. I hate when he randomly touches my shoulder so I’ll jump because of his cold ass rings. I hate how he’s such a player. Always flirting with any and everyone. It makes me want to gag, he’s so cheesy. Not only flirting with any girl in sight, but also trying to scare off guys that show even the slightest bit of interest in me. He never lets me have anything!”

You let out a sigh, taking a drink of water before continuing your ramble. As you were so in the moment, fired up at this point, you hadn’t noticed your friends whisper amongst themselves while staring behind you.

“I hate how he can never make up his mind. JJ has to be the most indecisive person on Earth. I hate when he hides behind doors and jumps out to scare me, while he laughs hysterically. I hate how he’s always sweet talking my mom, because now she’s convinced all of her friends and family that we’re together. Do you know how frustrating that is? To be mistaken for his girlfriend all the time?” You pause, beginning to breathe normally again from your rant.

“Do you even hear yourself Y/n?” Pope quizzed.

“What do you mean?”

“You have a crush!” He shouted, the others piping up with a few words of agreement. “What about Kie, or John B, or even myself bothers you that much?”

“Nothing.” You answered. “I mean, I’m sure there’s things that bother me but-”

“But not like how JJ bothers you.” Kie pointed out. “That’s a crush in disguise if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You know what?” You started, voice raising to more of a yell. “I do not have a crush on JJ. In fact, the thought alone disgusts me.”

John B rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in his chair at your stubbornness.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual productive things I’d like to do today.” Turning around to take your exit down the steps and towards your car, you gasped, bumping into the boy you knew all too well.

“Hey there, sunshine.” JJ greeted with a devilish grin. “Am I on that list?”

You scoffed, cheeks burning up as you pushed him aside. “Absolutely not. But you can add that to the list of reasons why I would never ever like you.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on me, Y/n. I just had to hear almost every single reason why my best friend hates me.”

As fast as you were trying to get to your car, JJ was quicker, standing in front of the drivers side door with his arms crossed. Oh, how hard it was not to look down at them. But you hadn’t given in yet, so you’d be damned to give in now.

“Oh, you poor thing. It’s really me who needs the sympathy here, since I’ve been dealing with you for most of my life.”

“Ahh. It’s a shame you’re still mad about Franklin. Maybe we could be something.” He joked, referring to your childhood pet.

“You abducted him.” You shot back. “Even if you hadn’t, we’d still never be anything.”

“I have a hard time believing you really hate me, Y/n.” He looked into your eyes, peculiarity filling them.

“Oh? I could always refresh your memory.”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you hate all of those things about me because I’m not yours.”

Your shoulders came up into a shrug. “Nope. Doesn’t bother me one bit. I just hate your guts. Could you move off of my car now? I have that list of productive things I should be getting to.”

He put his hands up in surrender, pulling on the door handle and opening it for you. “Fine, Y/n. You win.” He shut the door once you were in, leaning his forearms up against the already rolled down window to face you. “Just let me know if you reconsider adding me to that list.”

You returned the smirk he was giving you, turning the key as the engine came to life. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

With that, you drove off, not once looking at JJ or your other friends in the rear view mirror. “Damn. I really thought that was gonna work.” Pope mumbled in disappointment.

“Sorry, JJ.” Kie apologized.

He shook it off. “It’s alright, guys. We’ll get her next time.”

-

A week passed by after that day, now having had some time away from the pogues. Or JJ, specifically. It gave you some time for reflection, time for realization. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to admit you didn’t think of JJ as completely repulsive, but you had too much pride. There was no way he was going to win this, you’d never be able to live it down.

On your way to one of the local stores, you spotted JJ leaning up against one, presumably waiting for a ride. “Hey, JJ.” You spoke up, his eyes darting up at you from his fidgeting.

“Hey, sunshine. Whatcha up to?”

His lighthearted energy threw you off, even plastering a smile on your face because of it. “Just picking some stuff up for my parents. Boring errands. You?”

“Waiting for John B.” He informed.

“Oh, okay. I could wait with you if you want. I know I would hate waiting alone.” You offered, before your face went blank at his next words.

“Almost as much as you hate me?”

“Come on, JJ. It was just for fun. You know that, right?”

“Sure it was, Y/n.” He sighed disappointedly.

The old thoughts about pretending to hate him vanished, as it was only the two of you there. You weren’t putting on a show for anyone. “I was kidding. I don’t actually hate your guts. Because if I did, there’s no way I would become that close to you to know all of those things about you anyway. And there’s no way I would’ve let you meet Franklin.” You attempted to lighten the mood.

“Forget it. If you meant it or not, what difference does it make?”

You exhaled sharply, squeezing your eyes shut as you debated your next words. “It makes a difference to me. Maybe I was being a little dramatic when the pogues asked me about you.” He stayed silent, blue eyes shining perfectly due to the golden hour of the sun. “You’re not gonna ask me what it was?”

“It’s not important, Y/n. Not with the way you feel about me.” He muttered, kicking a pinecone up with the tip of his shoe.

“JJ, you are so difficult. And for that, I’m going to tell you anyway. They asked me if I liked you.” You waited for a response, but he didn’t grant you one like you’d hoped. “I panicked and started thinking of something to convince them I didn’t like you. And convince myself, too.”

“So, you do like me then, huh? I thought it was all a big myth.” He questioned nonchalantly, main focus still on that damn pinecone bouncing in the air. You kicked it out of his reach, cutting him off before he could protest.

“Please just look at me while I confess, after that you can look anywhere you like, I swear.”

“Fine. Make it quick.” JJ held back a laugh, a scowl present on your face at his irritated tone.

“I don’t hate you, JJ. I thought about it and it’s actually kinda the opposite. As hard as it is for me to admit it. So, yeah. I do like you.”

His expression quickly turned to one of victory, though you almost took it as amusement, heart nearly dropping as a result. “Good. Because the feeling’s mutual, sunshine.”

A sigh of relief left your lips, chuckling softly. “Damn, JJ. You don’t know half of the things you do to me. I’ve been on such an emotional rollercoaster this past week.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” He disclosed, cupping your chin and pecking you on the lips, smirking as yours chased his for more. You let out a whimper of protest because he wouldn’t just kiss you properly already. “I drive you crazy, sunshine.”

“Finally. The first accurate thing that’s come out of your mouth since birth.”

“You wish you could hate it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck so he could get a good look in your eyes, deciding to play his game. “Face it. I drive you crazy, too.”

a/n: wow this was so much longer than i anticipated. i was originally planning to end it with the chateau scene but after i wrote it i realized they never really confessed their feelings, and i didn’t wanna leave you guys hanging (or myself either lmao). anyway, thanks so much for reading <33

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @heartdose @eifhames @outerbankies @amourtentiaa @k-roleplay20 @mildkleptomaniac @mrs-cameron

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 14.5

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,701

Warnings: angst, dialogue heavy, language, angst, Violence, plot plot plot, did I mention angst? Cuz it’s here

Author Note: Texas weather is no laughing matter and never have I hated snow more than these last few days. This is definitely more of a transition segment so I wrote shorter snippets as a result, but there is some serious plot development nevertheless. The response to last chapter was so amazing I can’t thank everyone enough for all the love and support 💖💖💖

Links to Part 1 and Part 14 and Part 15

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Ahsoka hijacks the Razor Crest as soon as Din teleports her aboard the ship. She pushes Din out of the cockpit, refusing to let him so much as glimpse the coordinates of the destination she inputs into the nav computer. The Oracle hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t trust him going alone to rescue his soulmate.

Bo-Katan hadn’t been phased by Ahsoka’s arrival, adapting to her presence with the same ease as a duck to water. However, Din couldn’t help noticing the moment her mask of cool indifference slipped when Ahsoka asked the reaper to stay in the cockpit with her, claiming they had important matters to discuss. 

Din climbs down the ladder into the hull, recognizing that the conversation about to ensue is not one he needs to be involved in. Fingers twitching restlessly, he commits himself to checking each of the weapons in his armory, sharpening his vibroblades and loading a set of whistling birds into his vambrace. He’d made a promise to Ahsoka against killing Moff Gideon, but he’d made no vow against scarring the Seraph beyond recognition.

When Din’s finished with him, Gideon will be a warning to the rest of the galaxy what happens if you steal from Death. 

He stills at the thrum of satisfaction that runs through his body at the thought of pressing Gideon’s eyeballs out with his thumbs. The darkness within him has grown stronger since he killed Hess and it’s becoming an increasingly harder challenge denying its craving for bloodshed. If not for Ahsoka’s intervention, he would have reaped Xi’an’s soul, breaking another sacred rule. He should feel grateful, but the darkness expresses annoyance instead, upset to have been denied its kill. 

There is a thought that has been plaguing the back of his mind, shackled in the same corner as his other doubts and regrets. He once had iron control over his powers and emotions, but now he’s holding onto his human façade by a mere thread. So slowly he hadn’t even been aware it was happening, his darkness has usurped his morality. 

He’s meant to be a neutral entity, but when he looks at his reflection in the fresher mirror all he sees is a weapon. 

Obsidian orbs have replaced brown eyes. Flawless tan skin has become dissected by lines of ink that once were blue veins. 

Darkness is corrupting him from the inside out, making him a slave to the power he once mastered.

And he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to stop it. 

~~

Bo-Katan joins him in the hull an hour later. She doesn’t say anything , just leans against the wall across from him, and Din continues cleaning the barrel of his amban rifle as if he doesn’t see her. 

The silence isn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he feels her gaze trying to penetrate his helmet. He knows the reaper well-enough to tell there is a question on her mind, but her hesitance to voice it unsettles him. Bo-Katan rarely holds her tongue around him, preferring blunt honesty over sugarcoating, which means whatever is on her mind must be serious. 

He bites back a sigh when she starts restlessly shifting in place and pauses his task. “Ahsoka told you,” he says at last.

“That Moff Gideon fucked with our lives?” Bo-Katan snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, she showed me everything.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. But it’s...good not being in the dark anymore. I needed to hear the truth,” she replies stoically, but the pointless adjustment of her headband betrays her internal strife. There is a moment of pause before she looks at him again. “I heard about your promise,” she says, and it’s not really a question, except that it is.

Din’s fingers tighten around the rifle. “Did she make you swear the same one?”

“No.” Bo-Katan shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

He’s not surprised by the answer. He actually thinks he should have expected it, considering the universe has always held him to a stricter standard than other entities. 

“Ahsoka made it clear to me that this is something between you, Gideon, and your angel alone. I cannot interfere just like you cannot kill him.”

There is bitter resignation in her tone. He recognizes it because he felt the same when he made his promise to Ahsoka. No one likes being told no when they want something. But this—knowing with absolute certainty Gideon is the one responsible for hurting their loved ones and being told you can’t do anything to avenge them? This is the kind of pain that will linger for years to come as an ache in their bones and a scar over their hearts.

It isn’t fair. But Din’s lived long enough to know the universe never intended life to be that way.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bo-Katan asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her, realizing this is the question she’d been withholding since she came down the ladder. Never has she asked him a request before. “What is it?”

“You must separate Gideon from the Darksaber,” she answers, expression one of absolute seriousness. “The Armorer warned my people if the Lightsaber was ever mishandled, it would turn against the wielder by transforming into the Darksaber. Instead of empowering you, it deceives you. Fills your head with delusions until you lose your grip on reality entirely.”

“And you want to spare Gideon’s sanity?” Din asks slowly.

“Of course not. The son of a bitch deserves to be punished for his crimes. Even if I did want to,” her lips curl into a snarl at the thought, “there’s no way of undoing the damage done to his mind. What I want is for the weapon to be returned to the Armorer. She’s the only one who can properly dispose of it.”

“Right,” he agrees quietly. Anything that comes out of the Armorer’s forge is built to last the length of eternity. He could toss the Darksaber into the center of a sun and it’d remain whole and unaffected, waiting to twist the mind of the next wielder. Nodding his head, he assures her, “I’ll take care of it, even if I have to cut off his hands.”

“Good.”

~~

Din paces the length of the hull, each thud of his boots making contact with the metal floor blends with the low hum of the engines. Usually he’d ignore the creaks and groans of his home, but the metallic symphony is the only thing capable of drowning out the thoughts in his head urging him to storm the cockpit and retake control from Ahsoka.

“Pacing isn’t going to make us arrive any quicker,” Bo-Katan tells him, not even bothering to open her eyes as she lounges atop one of his storage crates. “Ahsoka said it will be another hour at least.”

He has a retort ready on his tongue when a voice calls out his name from somewhere beyond the Razor Crest.

“Din!”

Din freezes in place as unexpected, heart-wrenching hope slices through his chest. He knows that voice. It’s his favorite in all the galaxy.

“Death?” Bo-Katan asks, concerned by his stillness. “What’s wrong?”

He tentatively reaches out towards the bond, giving it the slightest of tugs. When he feels the distant flicker of a reaction on the other end from his angel he nearly forgets how to breathe.

“The bond,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and relief. “I can feel it again.”

Longing fills his chest where the hollowness used to reside now that the invisible block separating them is gone. It wraps around his heart, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls to his knees. Din pulls at the bond again on impulse, possessed by the all-consuming need to see her, to have her at his side where she’ll be safe.

The bond protests the harsh treatment, too weak to physically bring them together across the vast distance separating them. He snarls a curse under his breath, hating being helpless to protect her. It’s unfair, he finds himself thinking for a second time. Unfair how it hurts more now being able to feel her presence compared to when he couldn’t at all.

A paper airplane flickers into existence on the horizon of his mind, flying straight into his hand when he reaches out for it. I can’t leave this place. Not yet, the note says. The words themselves are unsettling, but it’s the strength of the emotions she’s attached that has him reeling with shock. For one crazy, electrifying moment he thinks he’s passed onto the afterlife. 

Another note arrives. I miss you, Din. I want to see you so much it hurts. And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

As he sends a message of his own, never has he been more certain that if anyone can put an end to the darkness inside of him—it’s her.

~~

“The Moff is an expert when it comes to defensive warding,” Ahsoka says as the three of them stand looking up at a canyon wall that extends in either direction as far as their eyes can see. “But even he can’t hide from my sight.”

Din scuffs at the salt-covered ground with his boot, still coming to terms with the fact all this time Gideon’s been hiding out on Crait of all planets. As much as he wants to believe Ahsoka’s right, his powers can’t detect even the barest hint of the Seraph’s presence.  

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows arch with skepticism. “You’re sure this is the right place? It’s kind of remote.”

“Perfect for building an army,” Ahsoka replies without missing a beat.

Din exchanges a look with his reaper, realizing this is the first time either of them are hearing about this. 

“Gideon has an army?” he asks. “Who—”

“Mercenaries,” she interrupts, turning around to face them. Her blue eyes are distant and cloudy, entranced by a vision. “When I break the warding, all but one will meet the end of their mortal lives attempting to overpower us.”

“All but one? I don’t think so.” Bo-Katan rests her hands deliberately on her blaster pistols. “Anyone who works for Gideon is an enemy in my book.”

“Migs Mayfeld is not to be harmed.” There is steel in Ahsoka’s voice as she blinks back into the present moment.

Din nudges Bo-Katan with his arm when it looks like she wants to continue arguing. The reaper huffs a quiet breath of annoyance, but eventually jerks her head in the tiniest nod of compliance. 

Ahsoka grabs her twin sabers from her belt and ignites their blue blades. She handles her weapons with deadly grace, altering her appearance from peaceful Oracle to fierce and cunning warrior. Turning back to the canyon wall, her gaze trails over the red-brown rocks only to pause and narrow at seemingly random points.

Bo-Katan tries and fails to follow her line of vision. “What are you—”

The Oracle leaps into the air with surprising agility, lashing out with her sabers against the rock. Blinding light bursts forth from the point of collision followed by a flickering glimpse of a gigantic metal door. 

“—looking at,” Bo-Katan finishes quietly, watching Ahsoka swing herself higher to attack another portion of the canyon wall where the next segment of warding is hidden. 

There is something undeniably satisfying about seeing the door materialize as the wardings cloaking it are destroyed. Every precise strike of Ahsoka’s sabers brings Din one step closer to reuniting with his soulmate.

As if spurred by the mere thought of her, fear ripples across the bond like a gust of icy wind, stopping his heart cold. His angel is terrified. Din reaches out as far as the bond will allow in its fragile state, trying to get her attention by pulling at it and shouting her name, but none of his attempts breach the storm of panic. 

“She needs me,” he mutters to himself, stepping forward with clenched fists. His vision narrows until all he can see is the door in front of him, an obstacle that must be dealt with. “She needs my help.”

“Wait,” Bo-Katan calls out, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from thousands of miles away. “Ahsoka isn’t finished with the warding yet!”

If he were capable of rational thought in that moment, he would have heeded her warning. As it is, he summons his power into the palm of his hand, the darkness inside of him crowing in wicked delight. He winds his arm back, preparing to slam his fist against the door, only for a whipcord to wrap around his wrist with an audible zip. 

He’s pulled backwards onto the ground, breath knocked from his lungs as he lands with a heavy thud. Bo-Katan appears not a second later and pins him in place by straddling his waist. The darkness is demanding he push her aside, knowing with absolute certainty the reaper is no match against him, and it takes all his strength to wrestle the urge under control. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She glares at him, eyes resembling green flames eager to incinerate him.

“I—” he rasps, breathing heavily. His hand starts trembling, a burning itch under his skin. “I can feel her fear. She needs me.”

Bo-Katan blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, shit.” She jostles him then, forcing his head to momentarily clear as his helmet smacks the ground. “Look, soulmates are soulmates for a reason, right? I heard it’s like being two halves of the same whole. So if your soulmate is anything like you, she’s not going to give up without a fight. You have to trust she can take care of herself right now. That she’ll be fine.”

Din bristles. Trust is not the issue here. There is no one he trusts more than his angel—not Bo-Katan, not Ahsoka, not even Kuiil. The issue is he’s being asked to deny the instinct to shield her from danger which is woven into every cell of his being.

“She’ll be fine.” The words come out sounding sharp around the edges, cutting his tongue like shrapnel. “Everything will be fine.”

Bo-Katan disconnects the whipcord and rises to full height, apparently satisfied by his agreement. Din pushes himself onto his feet at a slower pace, his hand still shaking as if it's electric. He looks down at it, noticing for the first time the flesh is gone, replaced entirely by shadow. His expression tightens as he observes the change, realizing the black tendrils are slowly creeping up towards his wrist. 

An alarm rings out, reverberating off the canyon walls like an explosion. Din’s gaze snaps up just as Ahsoka lands on the ground in a defensive crouch. Now that it's been fully unveiled, the door bears a striking resemblance to ones he’s seen at military fortresses across the galaxy, ridiculously massive to intimidate enemies and impenetrable from outside attacks. It makes sense, he thinks with a scoff, someone as power-hungry as Gideon claiming an abandoned base as their lair. Without the wardings, Din is able to detect the massive number of souls gathering on the other side, resembling vermin crawling over one another in their haste to arm themselves. 

He searches for his angel’s soul, even just a glimpse of her bright light, only for his powers to instead encounter a massive cloud of dark, negatively-charged energy within a distant corner of the underground tunnel system. It fills an entire room, prohibiting him from sensing if anyone is inside. There is something strangely familiar about the energy, like he’s encountered its essence before, but he can’t recall the specifics of when or where. 

“It’s time.” 

Ahsoka’s voice reels his focus back to his physical surroundings. He notices the way her grip on her sabers tightens in anticipation and out of the corner of his eye Bo-Katan withdraws her blasters from their holsters.

The bottom of the door begins to raise with an earsplitting groan, but the mercenaries only wait the minimum amount of time it takes to pass under without hitting their heads to start charging forward. 

Every mortal has a beginning and an end just like everything else in the galaxy. These mercenaries are no exceptions, having long sealed their fates when they agreed to accept Gideon’s payment. So when Din’s shadowy hand phases through a man’s chest and tears his heart out of its cavity, staining the white salt under their feet crimson as blood bursts from the vacant hole, Din tells himself he’s simply fulfilling destiny. 

He repeats it when he discharges an assault of whistling birds, each one puncturing the throats of each target they encounter with a shrill warcry. And also when he rips a devaronian’s horn out of his head, a fragment of skull and bits of brain matter still gruesomely attached. 

Again and again, with each permanently silenced voice and every shattered fragile bone, destiny is fulfilled. 

~~

Din would be lying if he said he’s never wondered what it would be like to die. To pass on from this world into a new realm for him to explore. He’s imagined the idyllic afterlife mortals have written poems and novels about, describing it as a blissful safe haven where sorrow and tragedy have no definition because they do not exist. He’s familiar with their opinions of damnation’s appearance, too, as an infernal place of fire and brimstone and screaming.

They were wrong about that.

Damnation is not a distant hell. It is found in an underground lair on Crait. 

Instead of flames and sulfur, a Cupid’s blood is split and a soulmate bond is snapped in half. 

Instead of screaming, a madman laughs.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gideon says through his chuckles, hauling himself onto his feet. His voice is an abrasive rasp, as if he’s shredded his vocal cords by screaming. “I’ve had to be patient, wait to find your weakness so I could catch your attention. It’s a shame, really, she had to be the one you fell for. She was quite the little spitfire.”

Din stares at his soulmate’s motionless body, frozen in place. Please, he pulls at his severed half of the bond, resolutely ignoring how cold it feels. Open your eyes, angel. Don’t leave me. Please.

There is no response. Just heartbreaking silence.

“I sense your anger, your hurt, and grief. Those are mortal emotions.” The Seraph grimaces in disgust, then lets out a low hiss when he agitates the wounds on his face. “By living amongst their kind you’ve forgotten your true potential. You are not their equal, Death. You are their superior. Immortals are meant to be better than them. To rule over every aspect of their pitiful lives.”

“I don’t want to rule anyone,” Din says, dragging his eyes away from his angel to glare at Gideon. Both his hands begin to shake as his mind plunges into a gaping abyss of remorse and despair. “I just want a life with her.”

“Even dead, she continues to blind you.”

Din snarls viciously in response. His control is pushed closer to the brink, holding on by mere fingertips, and darkness engulfs the entire room as a result. 

The glow of the Darksaber persists, reflecting off his beskar and Gideon’s armor. It reminds him of moonlight, and he thinks for all that Bo-Katan warned him about the weapon’s sinful qualities, she did not mention its beauty. Even Ahsoka’s vision had failed to truly capture its radiance, just as a holovid can never compete with a face-to-face conversation. 

His powers are drawn to the Darksaber. The energy it emits matches the one encountered earlier when searching the tunnels for his angel’s aura. This close, there is no ignoring its familiarity, not when his brain feels seconds away from exploding. 

“I used to believe love conquers all,” Gideon prattles on, seemingly oblivious to Din’s torment. “I chose it as the Cupid motto because I thought there was nothing mortals cared more about than the health and happiness of their loved ones. Only after our fateful encounter did the Lightsaber reveal to me the truth.”

Lightsaber? Din’s head jerks up to stare at him, biting back a wince when the throbbing in the back of his mind intensifies at the movement. Does Gideon not realize the weapon has transformed? 

By connecting Ahsoka’s claim that Gideon didn’t fully understand the consequence of corrupting the Lightsaber with Bo-Katan’s explanation that the Darksaber deceives its wielder, the answer is an obvious one: he doesn’t.

Gideon mistakes Din’s confusion for interest and his lips slowly curl into a smile. “Mors aeterna. It means—”

“Death is eternal.” The translation slips unbiddenly from Din’s lips before he even realizes his mouth has opened.

“There is no one more feared or respected than you. But for what reason? What have you done to earn your reputation?” Gideon demands, spit flying as his anger flares. “You are no more than the universe’s favorite puppet. Mindlessly obedient to its every demand.” 

Hearing the truth always hurts, but hearing it from Gideon is especially torturous. Din’s creed to the universe has dictated his actions the entirety of his existence. He never fought against its orders, never thought of his own desires as more important than what it wanted.

Until he matched with his soulmate. She changed his priorities and shifted the center of his entire world by revealing to him even Death could experience love. 

There had been no hesitation when he broke his creed for her.

And he doesn’t hesitate breaking Ahsoka’s promise now.

“I just murdered your soulmate right in front of you and you do nothing. Did you ever love her at all?”

“I do.”

Din summons every trace of power and darkness he possesses and combines them together within his core—a volatile, pulsating mass of pure chaos. His beskar armor starts to crack and chip away, unable to withstand the increasing pressure. 

He thinks of his angel’s smiling face, the sound of her laughter, how bright her soul shines, and he thinks all those things are gone now. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

“More than anything.”

And Death lets go.

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[sloppykyuu]

So since we already agreed on the fact that Issei is absolutely in love with his gf and would do everything for her my head came up with new ideas :)

Isseis gf with a very very high libido and wants to have sex everywhere at all times, doesnt matter where they are, what they're doing or who is around. If she wants something she gets it he never denies her. So it's not uncommon for Issei to just leave sometimes cos she texted him anything suggestive like "so alone have to take care of myself" and he will get up during any time and go home to her so she can have what she wants. If they're grocery shopping and she wants it they will go to an isle with no one around and he will go on his knees and eat her out, if they're in the library he will bend her over a table, if they're at a family dinner he will finger her under the table. At one point Issei started to take notes how often she wanted to fuck everyday for a week and god over the number of 40 times. He had the list at the refrigerator so he wouldn't lose it and one day makki and iwa came over and saw it and were a bit shook and later told oikawa and he was so mad that he wasn't in Isseis position and they held a intervention for him to ask if he was ok and if he could keep up with his gf and all Issei says is that if he doesnt have the energy to fuck her anymore he will let her use him to her pleasure like a toy and no one ever asked why he has to leave (◍•ᴗ•)

WOOF BARK BARK

Issei has gotten in trouble with you way too many times to count. By his friends, random employees, and, unfortunately, by both of your parents.

Your drive for pleasure has always surprised him. You could be doing simple mundane tasks when all of a sudden you turn to Issei with the biggest doe eyes and voice sweet as sugar, a hand clutching at his sleeve.

“Please Issei,” you’d whisper, “need you.” He’d always give you a soft sigh before falling to his knees or popping his cock out of his jeans. Anywhere. Everywhere.

As much as he seemed to complain, he fucking loved it. Loved your the sweet taste of your wet cunt, and your sometimes too loud of whimpers. It was utterly addicting.

He loved how he was the only one you turned to to make you cum. Like you couldn’t get enough of humping yourself on his thick cock, grinding your face onto the tongue that slips inside you causing toe curling pleasure to erupt all throughout your body, and letting him stuff two fingers knuckle deep inside you right under the table as he conversed with your parents.

Each of the boys have walked in on you two more times than either of can count. Well actually you could count them, because after a certain week where it felt like every hour you asked him to have sex, he didn’t think he could cum anymore by the end of the week. Issei decided that it was good idea, or maybe he just thought it was funny, to record every time you two had sex.

You never really thought anything of the number well over the 40s on your fridge. But apparently it was shocking because Iwaizumi and Makki stood in front of the little dry erase board on the fridge with mouths wide open.

“What are you two doing?” Issei walked into the kitchen after noticing the two boys were taking a long time to get the drinks.

Makki pointed at the chart displaying 46 tally marks with the words ‘sex count lol’ underlined with the month right next to it.

“This month alone you’ve had sex 46 times?!” He said loudly. A chuckle came from Issei at the bewildered expression and just shrugs at them.

“Yeah, girl can fuck.”

His reply didn’t help. At all. Because now they were even more surprised. You were the one intiating all this?!

“Hold up,” Iwaizumi starts. “She’s the one starting all this?”

Before Issei can answer a loud whine comes from behind them.

“What is taking you guys so long to get the drinks?” Oikawa stomps into the kitchen.

“Mattsun and his girlfriend fuck like rabbits.” Makki and Issei both laugh.

“What do you mean?” Oikawa’s eyebrows furrow as Iwaizumi points at the board on the fridge. He squints before getting closer to it to read it and shoots his wide open. “46?! We’re only two weeks into November!”

Issei just shrugs again, “eh, some of it’s from last month.”

The other three boys give each other a look before pushing Issei into the living room and telling him to sit, saying that they needed to have a serious talk.

“The fuck do you mean, we need to have a talk?” Issei looks at the boys skeptically.

“We’re a little worried about you. I mean that’s a lot of sex.” Iwaizumi says, concern lacing his features.

“Okay..? Im not sure I’m really understanding.”

Oikawa huffs from the seat across him and folds him arm, a childish pout on his lips. Issei just smirks at him knowing Oikawa wishes he had a girl all over him like you were with Issei.

“Don’t you ever get tired? I’m assuming you have sex at least twice a day.” Makki sips on his beers from next to Iwaizumi and speaks from around the rim of the bottle.

“Well, yeah I get tired but, like, who am I to deny her. If she’s horny and I’m too tired I just let her use me.” They’d be lying if they said they wouldn’t want someone like that. To have someone who can’t get enough of your cock that they have to please themselves with it.

“That’s so unfair.” Oikawa’s pout deepens, “why did he get a girlfriend like that.”

Iwaizumi started yelling at Oikawa about something but it was all blocked out as he soon as he opened the text from you.

A picture of your bare body body splayed across his screen. A hand in between your thighs and breasts pushed together. His cock twitched at the sight.

Underneath the photo your message read, “I know you’re with the boys but I hate taking care of myself :(“.

Issei stood up from the couch, interrupting whatever bickering was happening, to go grab his coat. They all just watched as he walked out the door of his own house.

“He’s so fucking lucky.” Oikawa whined again, the other two just nodding in agreement as they stated at the door.

Because no doubt in their minds was he heading over to your apartment right now to fuck your little brains out.

A/n: I fucking loved this 🤚😭

Requests open!

[talesofsonicasura]

Stone Novas

Ch 4: Exposition

Astra's secret is revealed to Team Monkie Kid much to her dismay! A challenge is wagered, plots are formed and soon wills shall be tested. CH3 CH5

Megapolis' Docks, Secret Base

To say Astra was upset would be an understatement. She was thoroughly pissed off for one good reason. Sun Wukong, Monkey King and 'Great Sage Equal To Heaven' didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. And the feeling to flay him grew as Mei poked at the Frontier Brain.

All of them had hustled back to the Secret Base after MK had blurted out her otherworldly origins. Luckily, no one else was there to hear it. When the young man had accidentally sent himself flying out of the Weather Station, not only did Wukong appear to take away his invulnerability but also told him about her Battle Observatory.

He didn't mention Macaque oddly enough or her taking his clothes, no doubt to keep some of his pride. The reactions from Sandy, Pigsy, Tang and Mei were expected once they got back into the base after a silent ride. Dumbfounded disbelief from MK's boss, curiosity from Tang, awe and wonderment from Sandy, as for Mei…

"Are you human or is this a disguise?! Wouldn't that make Bao Chang, Lupe, Mars, and that giant bird Siegfried alien animals?! Are there any dragon Pokemon where you're from?" A thousand questions alongside her wild poking and prodding. Astra didn't mind someone being curious but this was aggravating.

Having enough with the mildly rude treatment, the redhead grabbed Mei's hand tightly. "I would love to talk if you stop scrutinizing me like a Noctowl pellet." Astra let the raven quickly scoot away, slightly embarrassed but still had that same vigor. The Frontier Brain massaged her head, carefully picking her next words before speaking.

"I am human but from an alternate Earth. Instead of demons, we have Pokemon that can be found everywhere whether it be land, sea, sky and even space itself. During my free time, I usually explore various worlds by traveling through Ultra Space but I am actually the Frontier Brain for the Battle Observatory."

Mk had heard about the facility Astra owned from the Monkey King although neither of them knew what it really meant. Picking up on the young man's confusion, the ginger continued her explanation. "Where I'm from we have something called Pokemon Battles."

Mars connected his tail into the base's computer, the screen switching to display a battle between two trainers and their respective Pokemon: a bipedal rhinoceros covered in orange stone plates and a smaller bipedal chinchilla with large white fur that curled like locks of hair.

"Trainers bring out their Pokemon to battle and give them instructions. When all Pokemon on the opponent's team is unable to battle, the Trainer whose team is left standing wins. No Pokemon are forced to battle without their consent and no killing is allowed." The chinchilla-like Pokemon took down the much larger opponent with a strong blow to the head, spirals appearing on the eyes of the knocked out rhinoceros Pokemon.

Mars then changed the screen to display six different buildings, one of them being the Battle Observatory. A picture of Astra stood in front of the observatory as a shadow silhouette stood at the other 5 facilities. "There are tournaments that test the mettle of both Trainers and their Pokemon, the Pokemon League but we'll be discussing my domain, the Battle Frontier."

Battle Frontier, just two words that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. MK, unlike the rest of his companions, had a look of determination but also hope in his eyes. Something that made the redhead smile brightly.

"Trainers have to face the Frontier Brains, powerful trainers and their Pokemon that can rival the strength of the Champion for each respective region. Those who defeat a Frontier Brain, earn a symbol of their success, a badge for that gym. If someone manages to collect 5 of these badges, then they can become a Frontier Brain for their own facility. This is my badge, the Nova Badge!"

Astra then took something out of her pocket. It was a metal badge that resembled a fiery meteor from the red flame locale surrounding the yellow star shape and the center was a gray X bearing sharpened edges similar to a stake.

"Only those with conviction to face the burning flames of tribulation and strife can earn this badge. One of the reasons many trainers call me the Battle Frontier's Shooting Star." The redhead didn't even flinch when MK and his companions had suddenly gotten into personal space.

"Woah! That is the coolest thing I have ever seen. It looks really well made too! I wish I had my own badge but I really don't like fighting." Sandy stated with mild disappointment. Astra patted the big aquatic demon on the side and gave him a kind grin. "I can make you a custom badge if you want, Sandy. Send me a design and I'll have it ready in a few days."

The redhead chuckled at the sudden bone crushing hug she had gotten from a very happy Sandy. Pigsy was a bit indifferent to the whole otherworld thing. "As long as you come in peace then I don't really care about your origins. Plus you have a good head on your shoulders considering what happened back at the Weather Station."

Every member of the Monkie Kid team knew where the restaurant owner was getting at. All of them would've been captured by Red Son after MK got taken out of the fight. They couldn't forget about the people that might have been hurt or worse without Astra's intervention.

Something that raised a question for a certain bandana wearing young man. "Hey Astra, can I talk with you outside for a moment?" The Frontier Brain gave MK a confused look before nodding. Mars could fill in any questions the rest of the group had anyway. Neither of them said a word until the two adults were back on the boat.

It was here that Astra saw the brunette's carefree attitude dissolve into disappointment and shame. She had a bad feeling about this. "Do you think I'm worthy enough to be the Monkie Kid?" Now the Frontier Brain really hated where this was going.

"Back at the Weather Station, I was practically useless during the whole thing. I hurt Sandy with the staff and nearly got everyone captured because of my invulnerability ego. I even flung myself out of the building with my own weapon! Sometimes I feel like being able to pick up the Monkey King's Staff was a huge fluke. I…"

MK didn't get to finish when Astra gently caressed his cheek, a warm motherly expression on her face. "It's ok to feel like this, MK. You are new to this whole experience but I know for damn sure that your achievements aren't fake! I read about you saving the city from that huge Demon Bull King fiasco some time ago."

She pulled him into a side hug and turned to the open ocean. "When I first started out as a trainer, sometimes I doubted if I could even become a Frontier Brain. There were times that I wanted to give up but my friends and my Pokemon gave me the courage to keep trying. Look at me now, I achieved my goal alongside my faithful partners. Remember that 'the strongest mountain started as a stone.'"

MK then felt something metallic in his hand and stared down in shock to see a colorless Nova Badge sitting on his open palm. "I want you to hold onto this badge, little Kubfu. When you have found and mastered your full potential, face my team to fully complete that badge. If the Monkey King's training isn't sufficient, I won't mind stepping in for some proper training."

Astra's grin sharpened, the sun making her apple green eyes glow like emeralds and her flaming red hair burn like fire. "I might not have magical powers but I definitely can teach you how to wield a staff. A lot of my Pokemon would also love to help you master your newfound magic. What do you say MK? Want to take your training to the next level?"

The young man looked at the Frontier Brain. His uncertainty became hardened determination. "Please teach me how to become stronger!" MK bowed his head in respect, a sign of a student ready to learn under their master. Astra's smile grew from the young man's response. Now she had a few things to do before she started training MK.

Flower Fruit Mountain, Water Curtain Cave

Siegfried let out a mighty caw as he soared through the air. The Frontier Brain was currently seated on the Raven's Pokemon back with her goggles keeping any volcanic ash away from her eyes. All of the monkeys who saw the large Steel/Flying Type quickly scattered or watched Siegfried fly through the curtain of a waterfall.

This particular waterfall was shielding a cavern that held a small wooden shack within its stone walls, Sun Wukong's home. Once Siegfried landed and was recalled to his Pokeball, Astra went over to the house. She had spotted a large ancient mural to the side depicting Wukong alongside three other people.

A pig demon, fish demon, and a human monk riding on the back of a horse as Wukong sat on top of his cloud with a fillet on his head. It was quite eerie but not for the soft golden glow that lined the characters. No, it was the fact that they looked too much like Pigsy, Sandy and Tang that unnerved the redhead.

Astra walked up to the door of the small home and gave it a hard knock. The door opened to show a disgruntled looking Monkey King who was probably asleep earlier from the yellow pjs decorated in peaches. The demon quickly straightened himself upon seeing those apple green eyes glare into his own ambers. "Fancy seeing you here, Astra. Want to come in?" Wukong nervously laughed, he knew he was in hot water.

"You told MK about my origins WITHOUT my permission, jackass! What in the absolute Distortion World were you thinking?!" The redhead harshly poked the monkey's chest, every word burning with rage. The Monkey King raised his hands innocently despite Astra looking ready to skin his hide.

"I can't keep such information from my successor! MK had the right to know and I trust the kid to keep a secret." Wukong took a step back when the Frontier Brain snarled and dragged him down by his pajama shirt so they were at eye level.

"You are an idiot of the highest caliber and a poor teacher! I read the story about MK fighting that giant bull demon and saw him recklessly using your staff back at the Weather Station. Have you even given him proper training at all?!" Astra hissed, glaring daggers into the demon's fiery amber eyes.

Wukong nervously smiled at the accusation which didn't help with what he said next. "The kid did defeat Demon Bull King and came out of both fights completely fine. We've been practicing some hand to hand combat too. MK just needs to believe in himself, even just a tiny smidge." The Monkey King's world turned upside down in seconds as he hit the ground.

Astra sat on top of him, her legs straddled between his so he couldn't move while she held him up to her face with an iron grip. "You are an incompetent fool that clearly doesn't know what he's doing! Did you know MK asked me if he was even worthy of being your successor? That he thought of his achievements as a mere fluke, you insufferable Stunfisk?!"

Wukong's smile dissolved into a shameful frown. Did he really make his student believe that he was a failure? The mere thought made his heart sink. "I'll be taking over MK's training from now on since it's clear you are ill suited for the task." He instantly froze. Did she really just…?

"What do you mean you're taking over?" A look of anger and shock crossed Sun Wukong from the Frontier Brain's words. Astra didn't seem to care about the Monkey King's growing temper. "You heard me. Unless you start taking MK's training seriously, then my Pokemon and I will do it instead. I may not have powers but I can teach him to wield a staff. My team can handle the magic part since you're shit for this job."

Rage boiled underneath the demon's skin. What gave this human the right to say he was an unsuitable teacher? It's his powers and his staff! Who did she think she was to say that to the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal To Heaven, Sun Wukong?!! He'd- The monkey demon immediately stamped that thought before it could continue and instead turned his head away.

This wasn't about him. It was about his student MK. Astra had a point, the young man wasn't ready at all and if a tougher opponent came along… The look of remorse on Wukong's face was enough for the redhead's rage to slowly simmer down.

"How about a compromise? If you are that serious about helping MK, then battle Bao Chang." Sun Wukong immediately looked at the human woman in surprise. "It is said that someone's true intentions can be revealed in the heat of battle. Clash with my darling Monferno at the Battle Observatory on the morning of next week and show me how far you will truly go for your disciple."

The redhead got off the Monkey King so he could get back onto his feet. He could see in those apple green eyes that Astra wasn't fooling around. His only chance. "Alright. I'll accept your challenge. Where do we meet up since we're going back to your world?" Wukong's question only got him a chuckle from the Frontier Brain.

"Ask your apprentice, he'll tell you." With that said, Astra walked away from his home leaving the Monkey King to his thoughts.

Megapolis, Astra's House

The sound of a hammer hitting steel echoed across the small forest. It was from Bao Chang who was fastening a brand new windowsill to the upper floor of the old house, a paintbrush wrapped around his tail too. Astra and some of her Pokemon decided to fix up their brand new home after returning from Flower Fruit Mountain.

Bao Chang worked on replacing the windows, Lupe disposed of any garbage he found, Mars scanned for any issues with the infrastructure and Siegfried helped transport any of the heavy goods such as furniture or any stuff that can be exchanged for extra cash. Aniani kept watch in case of an accident or intruder, as for Astra…

"Sticky Web, Arachne!" A large blob of webbing struck the worn pillar. The substance slipped it into the cracks with the wood, Astra then placed a large metal sheet onto the sticky goo. "El Dorado, melt that metal a bit with Incinerate!" Quickly stepping back as a stream of fire hit the steel plate.

The intense flame caused the alloy to slowly curl around the pillar's surface until it was fully enveloped. Another stream of fire went down where the two ends to the sheet metal converged, sealing it together. With a short inspection of the plating, Astra gave a thumbs up to the two Pokemon responsible.

One Pokemon was a shockingly large black spider around 12'3 in size, six long yellow legs with the bottom half black that had medium sized water bubbles on each joint, a big water bubble that encased their head, two large blue eyes bearing light blue horizontal wave shaped pupils with three smaller triangle blue eyes on the forehead, four large fangs at the bottom of the head, a vertical tannish brown streak with two horizontal ones on the top of the abdomen and a small yellow stinger on their rear.

The other one was a 1'3 dark gold gremlin, eyes were light gold diamonds cut in an hexagon shape, two fin like ears bearing two points on each side of their head, a small emerald on their chest alongside a small jade and light gold crystals on the back, three fingered claws, three fur like spikes on the elbows and three toed bearing sharp claws. On their left arm was a dark violet wristband that held a black, red and violet jewel inside.

"Looks pretty stable. Got a few more support pillars to go, think you can handle it Arachne and El Dorado?" Astra first looked at the large spider then to the small gremlin Pokemon. The large spider Pokemon named Arachne did a small nod while the little gremlin El Dorado gave a thumbs up.

The Frontier Brain shortly paused as a serious expression overtook her face. Her focus was on the corner of the room that was unnaturally darker than the others. "Arachne, Bubblebeam over there!" The large spider took a deep breath before letting loose a rapid stream of dark blue bubbles.

In seconds, a purple outlined shadow cudgel emerges and promptly bursts every single bubble with a single swing. Macaque took a step out of the shadows, clearly impressed from the fang filled grin on his face. Astra only sighed at the sight of the shadow demon.

"I guess you do have some decent senses to detect me. Nice improvement on this dumpster pile by the way." The Frontier Brain rolled her eyes at the intruding monkey, both Pokemon beside her had their guard up. A sight that made Macaque chuckle.

"Usually I am not that defensive unless near a potential threat. I just didn't know that you used to eat humans before we met." Astra spoke, her arms crossed and an offensive edge to her voice. Dismissing the shadow cudgel from his hands, the demon gave the redhead a mischievous look.

"I knew you overheard me and Sun Wukong the other night instead of going to your room. Had me surprised when you still treated my wounds while keeping calm from your steady heartbeat. Pretty brave and bold, Apple." Macaque walked closer until he was standing in front of the Frontier Brain.

The demon could still hear her heart remain steady despite their close proximity, a thought that made his tail wag happily. "What do you want, Macaque? Because I'm pretty sure spying on someone isn't a proper visit." Astra didn't feel like playing around at the moment. One demon had already gotten on her nerves, she didn't need two.

"Straight to the point I see! What I want is to train under your tutelage." Astra looked at the shadow demon like he was crazy. She let Macaque continue with his explanation. "My clash with the Monkey King proved my training methods are ineffective, training dummies can only do so much. What's a better sparring partner other than a Frontier Brain?"

The redhead kept her eyes on the monkey as he circled around her, Arachne and El Dorado stayed silent. Both Pokemon were waiting for any sign of a threat. "So how about a deal? I help around your observatory and you let me battle your Pokemon in exchange. I can even help fix up this rusty junk heap as a bonus." Macaque offered, a calm yet manic grin etched on his face.

Astra mulled over the proposition in her head. She wasn't stupid or naive. Macaque and Wukong had a nasty history paired with a mile wide grudge. There was also the chance of manipulation for the Frontier Brain since the monkey demon might have abandonment issues, inferiority complex and probably low esteem.

Taking his offer could lead to two scenarios. He'll end up taking revenge on Sun Wukong, possibly dragging anyone associated with the Monkey King into it. Or two, she could learn their history and might be able to help both demons before their sour relationship leads to a much bigger problem down the road.

Whatever the case, these two needed help. "Fine but you must listen to what I say and respect any rules that I make. By the way, if you try to use whatever you learn against some innocent soul…" Astra's eyes sharpened, her teeth on full display from the huge snarl and a dark aura came off the redhead in waves.

The sudden malice was enough for Macaque to take a step back in instinctual fright. "I won't hesitate to show you why I'm the most feared amongst my peers in the Battle Frontier. Angels, demons or gods, nothing will save you from my wrath. Got it, little Alolan Rattata?" The shadow demon quickly nodded at the Frontier Brain's threat.

In seconds the frightening aura quickly vanished as Astra clapped her hands happily. "Splendid. For now, you'll be helping El Dorado and Arachne with enforcing the support beams. Arachne is my dear Araquanid while El Dorado is my sweet Sableye." Both Pokemon waved a hand or leg in Arachne's case in greeting to the demon monkey.

Macaque was about to say something when the redhead threw two small cards at him. Quickly catching them, dark amber slightly widened to see they were Pokedex Entries for the two Pokemon before him. Although the one for El Dorado looked different since the Sableye in that picture was violet instead of gold.

"'Araquanid, the Water Bubble Pokemon. Bug/Water Type. The water bubble around Araquanid's head can be used to carry Pokemon they consider as friends to safety or drown potential prey. It has a habit of storing things it likes in its water bubble so their trainers have to be extra careful to not get dragged in. This Pokemon likes to savor its meal and can also launch the bubbles from its legs as another way to capture live prey.'" Macaque looked warily at the giant spider before reading the other card.

"'Sableye, the Darkness Pokemon. A Ghost/Dark Type-'" The demon monkey went silent for a few seconds. 'What in the absolute hell?' Macaque shoved the thought in the back of his head before continuing his low mutters.

"'-It digs up gems with its sharp claws then uses its sharp teeth to devour them in the deep darkness of caverns. This diet caused Sableye's eyes to become gemstones and some of that material to float to the surface of their bodies. It's feared for the misconception that these Pokemon can steal the souls of people when their eyes glow a sinister color in the dark.'"

The shadow demon paused to look at the card then the small Darkness Pokemon. He blinked a few times before pocketing the Pokedex entries into his jeans. Macaque had a feeling this won't be the only time Astra decides to make him feel uneasy. Shrugging his shoulders, the monkey resigned himself to his fate and got to work with the repairs.

Megapolis, Flaming Foundry

Deep underneath Megapolis, there laid a massive factory unknown to others. This facility was the Flaming Foundry, where every mechanical creation was manufactured to assist the Demon Bull Family. A family of three who seeked to rule the world in an age of darkness and fire: Princess Iron Fan, her husband Demon Bull King and their child Red Son.

Standing in front of a large screen was Red Son alongside two others. One was a huge minotaur type bull demon around 15 in size, powerful bulging muscles to red violet fur that seemed to almost synthetic, bottom jaw covered in a heavy steel plate with similar steel under burning yellow eyes, a gold bull nose ring, gear similar to that of a barbarian: steel pauldrons, multiple straps on the chest that held a gold furnace like slot at the center, dark grey pelt around the waist similar to a barbarian's, slightly long tail, sharp clawed fingers, large fangs and strong gray hooved feet.

The other was a woman about a ft taller than Red Son, soft tan complexion, two large black horns on both sides of her head, long raven hair, red lipstick on full lips, thin but buxom form hidden under a beautiful red traditional Chinese dress, and heeled sandals. They were Red Son's parents, Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King. Red Son seemed mostly healed from his encounter with Team Monkie Kid minus a few bandages.

All three of them were watching the large monitor, it was on the news which covered the Weather Station. The broadcast was about none other than two of Astra's Pokemon rescuing civilians who were trapped inside. "-No one knows what these strange creatures were but the families of those who were trapped inside are truly grateful for their assistance."

Red Son then changed the feed to camera footage from the Weather Station, most of the audio was fried courtesy of Mars' hacking the mainframe earlier. "I can see why your plan went asunder, my dear son. You said this woman's name was Astra?" PIF questioned, looking at her only child.

The red haired demon did a short nod before answering. "Yes from what Noodle Boy called her during our battle. All those creatures appear to follow her command; unlike Noodle Boy's group, she's very competent in both strategy and execution. The marks of a tactician."

DBK looked inquisitively at the footage. His attention darted from Bao Chang tearing apart their soldiers using various elements, to Lupe destroying his troops with powerful acid then blasting his son away in a giant laser, Mars stealthily hack into the Weather Station's mainframe and finally Astra's conversion of a broom handle into a weapon that melted through titanium steel. He's seen that type of cleverness before, it got him trapped underneath a mountain for 500 years.

"It appears the little thief has made a powerful and dangerous ally. Get as much information on this 'Shooting Star Astra' and 'Battle Frontier'. Even better if you somehow manage to capture her." DBK glared at the Frontier Brain's picture, a dark grimace on his face.

"This human woman could change everything."

And that's it! Sun Wukong has been challenged by Astra while Macaque and MK are accepted for training as things slowly begin to change in the background with some of the LMK villains.

Astra isn't someone who would beat around the bush when seeing a possible problem. Especially considering her status as a Frontier Brain and just how dangerous this new world is proving to be.

She is the type who wants to be prepared for the worst. To her, Sun Wukong and Macaque's 'relationship' is an issue just as bad as MK's current training routine.

Moving onto Astra's Pokemon, her team is the Pokemon she had caught during her journey to become a Frontier Brain, not exclusively just six Pokemon. Her Pokemon has two different movesets which is reserved for either exploration or gym battles. I'm bringing this up now to not only clear up any confusion but especially for upcoming chapters.

And for anyone questioning why Astra didn't do anything to Sandy for hugging her, it's because only touches with any romantic sort of sense are a trigger. Stuff like hugs don't bother Astra.

Next chapter is the battle with Sun Wukong! Before I go, I am currently working on a story for my Broken Toys AU! Someone asked if I was going to release all the information first before writing it.

The answer is actually no. I will be posting some stuff for the au like the monsters MK has and his relationship to them but the really juicy ones will be coming once a few chapters are posted.

Until next time folks, see you back in Megapolis.

New Pokemon added! El Dorado the Sableye and Arachne the Araquanid

Astra's team: Bao Chang (Monferno), Siegfried (Corviknight), Lupe (Garbodor), Aniani (Necrozma), Arachne (Araquanid), Mukasa (Zarude), El Dorado (Shiny!Sableye).

[queerspacepunk]

Welcome to DADWC!! How about “A lifetime of laughter, at the expense of the death of a bachelor” (Panic! at the Disco, Death of a Bachelor) for Bull/Dorian?

thank u for the patience friend! I hadn't heard this song before but now I have. (Second @dadrunkwriting fill in one day? :0)

“You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” “I really am. Are you disappointed?” Felix sighs, “I think you’re an idiot, and that this is a terrible idea but I’m also... strangely proud of you.”

To Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole, and 10 others: I was wondering if you would be free to join me tomorrow evening for... a memorial of sorts, for someone quite close to me.

To Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole, and 9 others: Room booked at the Herald’s Rest, tomorrow, 7PM.

To Sera: Room booked at the Herald’s Rest, tomorrow, 6:30PM.

From Josephine: Oh Dorian, I’m so sorry to hear this, of course we will be there! Might I ask, is this a recent loss?

To Josephine: Your presence is much appreciated. It’s something of a complicated story, I’m sure you won’t mind if I wait to tell you all at once, tomorrow evening.

From Josephine: No, of course not, forgive me for prying. Much love.

--

“You’re sure you don’t want to call this off?” Felix says through the phone.

“A little late for that now,” Dorian points out, “they’ll all be here shortly. What else can I do? Call them all and say, ‘sorry lied about the whole memorial thing, never mind’?”

“Isn’t the whole point of this that you’re lying to them?”

“Not lying,” Dorian says, “Misleading. It’s different. And I do think they’ll be a little too preoccupied to be mad, afterwards.”

“You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?”

“I really am. Are you disappointed?”

Felix sighs, “I think you’re an idiot, and that this is a terrible idea but I’m also... strangely proud of you.”

“Now, now,” Dorian admonishes gently, “there’s going to be enough sappiness later on, keep it together for me.”

Felix laughs, and Dorian can just about see him shaking his head.

“You sure you don’t want me to video call you in?”

“I’ll give the game away, just send me the recordings after, and Dorian?”

“Yes Felix?”

“Good luck.”

--

His friends arrive, almost entirely on time for once, in ones and twos and threes. Dorian greets them at the door to the private room, face solemn, and directs them to the seats he’s set out. There’s no faux coffin in the room -- he hadn’t wanted to get quite that morbid, but there is an indulgent spray of funeral flowers set at the front of the room.

Sera tries to ask questions, and is summarily shushed by Josephine. Cole tries to give answers and is dragged aside, informed, and shushed by Dorian. He doesn’t quite get it, but he must have a good feeling about the results because he keeps his mouth shut. Leliana seems to know something’s up, but is entertained enough to not say anything, and Bull gives Dorian a hell of a look, laced with enough concern that Dorian actually feels a little... guilty.

“Thank you all for coming,” Dorian says, once everyone is seated, and pulls out the stack of memorial pamphlets he’s had printed, “I appreciate your presence with me tonight, and your patience with what is a... complicated situation.”

He begins stepping around the circle, handing the pamphlets out.

“Er, Dorian,” Blackwall says, “I think there’s been a mix-up. They’ve put your picture on these.”

“Oh,” Dorian says, turning to the flowers to give him a moment to suppress the grin creeping onto his face, “no, that’s quite correct.”

“You better not be a bloody ghost!” Sera yelps, flinging her pamphlet at him as if to test her hypothesis. It manages, despite being a flat piece of paper that has no business being able to be thrown with any accuracy, to smack Dorian right in the face, which is unpleasant, but does at least seem to reassure her that he isn’t, in fact, a ghost.

None of the others seem particularly concerned that he’s undead, but there is a lot of muttering, and worried looks being pointed his way.

“You need an intervention or something, Pavus?” Krem asks with a frown, “cause I know that cries for help are actually a good thing and shit, and you Magisters-”

“Altus, Soporatus, you know better.”

“-fine, you Altus love your drama, but even this is a bit much.”

“I assure you,” Dorian says to the group at large, “this is not a cry for help.”

“You did just hand us all a funeral pamphlet with your face on it, Sparkler,” Varric points out.

“It’s not a funeral pamphlet, it’s a memorial pamphlet, and-”

“The dates are wrong,” Leliana interrupts, “The death date is a question mark so I cannot comment on that, however this is not your birthdate. You must have been... eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Eighteen,” Dorian confirms, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, “this has all gone rather off-track, hasn’t it. If you would all just hold your questions, and nonsense,” he throws a quick glare at both Sera and Krem, “and allow me to explain things, I think you’ll find it will benefit all of us.”

Bull, Dorian notes, is watching him very, very carefully. They haven’t seen each other since yesterday which isn’t entirely unusual, given Dorian insistence that they maintain their own homes up unto this point, even if he spends most nights in Bull’s bed or with Bull in his own, but he can tell that the fact he’s said nothing about any of this to Bull is concerning him.

Nothing to be done about it now. Nothing but going forward with the plan as intended.

“We are here, this evening,” Dorian says, “to consider, and honour the life of someone I believe we all care about. Someone who has, for many years been the life of our parties, a bringer of spectacular stories and an improver of our collective fashion sense.”

“What happened to ‘im?” Sera interjects. Dorian rolls his eyes but doesn’t grizzle.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Dorian reassures them, “but the bachelor of which we speak has, while not by anyone’s definition a selfless man, has decided that there are certain things worth sacrificing one’s life for.”

They look at him (with the exception of Cole of course, and Vivienne who’s grinning like she knows the answer is is utterly uninterested in giving hints to anyone else) like he’s spouting absolute gibberish. He’d hoped his friends would be a little more advanced in their thinking, but alas. If he has to help them along, so be it.

“How,” he says, “does one kill a bachelor?”

“Shoot ‘im!” Sera suggests.

“Blunt force trauma?” Krem asks, “to the head?”

Leliana hums quietly, “poison?”

“Blessed Maker,” Dorian says aghast, “what is wrong with you?”

“Hate to break it to you,” Herah points out, “but you did invite us all along to what is looking a lot like a fake memorial service for yourself. Your high horse is more of a rocking pony.”

Dorian rolls his eyes, “how long did it take you to think of that?”

Herah pouts, “a couple of minutes.”

“Well done, regardless,” Dorian admits, “now you’ve all had enough time to think. Varric, surely you’ll know. How does one kill a bachelor?

“Explosion?”

“Oh for-” Dorian throws his hands in the air and turns away from them all, trying to come up with a plan B for how he’s going to make this happen. He can tell them the answer, of course, but it won’t be at all the same and someone figuring it out themselves-

“Oh,” Cassandra says, “of course.”

Dorian spins back to look at her, as does everyone else in the room, and she flushes.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she insists, “to kill a bachelor, you marry him.”

They all stare at Cassandra a moment before turning, slowly, to Dorian, who has taken advantage of their distraction to sink to his knee, and pull the ring box from his pocket.

“The Iron Bull,” he says, and he’s not choking up dammit, of course he isn’t, he’s practiced this too many time for that to happen, “I have been a bachelor for over a decade now, and I have thought for some time that it was something I would never give up. That I could not ask for more than what I had.”

“Dorian-” Bull says and there must be something wrong with the acoustics in here, because now he sounds like his voice is cracking and there’s not way that can be the truth.

“Hush,” Dorian says, gently, “let me finish.”

Bull does, closes his mouth and leans back in his chair but not before taking Dorian’s hand in his own, and holding it.

“Right,” Dorian says, “as I was saying. Bull you have come along and swept everything out from under me. Shown me that there is in fact, a whole other life to be had. A life full of laughter, a life full of love, and safety, and honesty.”

And bugger it all he is crying now, and he can only thank the Maker for the fact that he’s a pretty crier.

“I have realised,” Dorian says, “that this is a life I want, even if it comes at the expense of the death of a bachelor.”

He opens the box. It wasn’t easy convincing someone to make an untinted dawnstone ring, or managing to get the measurements without Bull noticing, but he’s done it.

“The Iron Bull, will you marry me?”

[skarsgard-daydreams]

I really like the snippets of the SVMs that you post, but I can’t help but think about how by the end of the series Charlaine Harris just decided to destroy the character of Eric. I read those last few novels and just fumed with anger. Were you happy with how they turned out?

You are absolutely correct, anon. Was I happy with how they turned out? Absolutely not. I have a lot of bones to pick with Charlaine Harris about what she did to Eric Northman, but more importantly, I have a lot of bones to pick with Sookie.

Initially, I thought that the problem in the latter books was that Harris got lazy with everyone's characterization when she was contracted to write three more novels and started writing these characters in ways that were inconsistent. Certainly, there are a few instances where Eric is portrayed in a manner inconsistent with earlier books. (He loses a lot of his humor and charm and suddenly has a very different perspective on the possibility of turning Sookie, which I attribute to bad writing.) But as I went back in the series to compile these quotes, I noticed that the problems I had with Sookie's character in the latter books manifested much earlier. I have been trying so desperately to wrap my head around her behavior, and I have come to the following conclusions about Book Sookie, which are not necessarily applicable to TV Sookie...

(major spoilers and an unedited 4,000 word essay ahead)

Sookie's mind-reading abilities have stunted her ability to read and empathize with others without the use of her powers.

The magical bond that is formed when she and Eric exchange blood circumvents this while it is active, enabling Sookie to feel Eric’s emotions rolling off him at the time. She knows he is terrified when his maker arrives in book 10, and she is even able to identify precisely why he is frightened: he doesn’t want to be under someone else’s control. But after she severs their bond in book 11, her ability to read him fails her. She has spent her entire life reading people’s minds, which has served as a crutch. Rather than developing the intuitive ability to read a person’s body language and read between the lines of what they are saying that most of us learn, Sookie relies on her abilities, which don’t work on vampires. As a result, their motives are often mysteries to her. She notes how stony-faced they are, how carefully controlled they are in expression, but she misses a lot of cues that convey their repressed feelings. This is particularly bad for Eric, who, like many men, shields himself with anger when he is feeling hurt. His anger is not excessive or violent—in fact it is often very well controlled—but it masks the tender feelings that hide under the surface. It is telling that Sookie never acknowledges the incredible pain and betrayal that Eric must feel when she severs their blood bond, or when she ultimately refuses to save him from being taken away from her. The only time she feels sympathy toward him in that respect is in one line at the very end of the series where she considers how lonely he will be—and then she purposefully smothers that thought, refusing to dwell on it further.

Sookie's trauma from her formative relationship with Bill renders her suspicious of the motives of others and unable to trust her future partners.

Bill is the first man she ever dated, fell in love with, or had sex with, and it is revealed to her through Eric’s intervention that their entire relationship was premised on a lie. This plot point is the same in the book as it is in the TV show. Once Sookie and Eric are together, there are numerous instances where she suspects his motives. She maintains the firm belief that Eric never does anything unless it would be beneficial to himself, which is probably true up to a point, but even after he has shown that he is deeply in love with her and that he has borne the personal cost of this love, she still doubts him. In fact, Sookie believes that the love they seemingly share is only the result of the magical blood bond between them, which renders it false. Eric repeatedly states that he does not care why he loves her, only that he does, but this is a problem that Sookie cannot get past. It results in her severing their bond without warning. Once the bond is severed, she insists that she does still love him “all on her own” but her love quickly begins to erode without the understanding that the bond created as they are besieged by numerous calamities. When the final obstacle to their love presents itself—a contract negotiated by Eric’s maker that would force him to marry the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will—Sookie is so blinded by her inability to trust him that she doubts every word he says about wanting to stay with her. He never expresses a desire to leave her for the queen, but remains stalwart in his insistence that he cannot escape the contract despite seeking every possible loophole. Yet Sookie believes he is attracted to the queen and the power that she possesses and attributes his insistence that he is trapped in the contract to a clever lie designed to dupe her. In the final days of their relationship, Eric reveals that he knows Sookie could save him with a magical object that grants her one wish, and repeatedly insists that she could stop him from being taken from her if she wanted to. He does not ask her to do it, nor does he mention the object explicitly, or ask where it is. His statements read like a man who is wounded by his lover’s unwillingness to save him, but one who perhaps has too much dignity to resort to begging her to intervene. Presumably he believes that he should not have to beg the woman who says she loves him to save him from “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it. Once Sookie realizes that Eric knows about her magical deus ex machina, she starts to wonder if he really just wants to take it from her, or use it for himself. She even entertains the possibility that maybe he orchestrated the entire dilemma in order to get his hands on it. When the thought enters her head, she admits that she never would have considered such a thing if it weren’t for Bill’s betrayal of her.

Sookie's affection for Eric is conditional upon his usefulness to her (including as a sexual object), and she never develops an appreciation or understanding for who he is as a person.

Perhaps this is the fatal flaw in their relationship from the very beginning. Sookie does not express an interest in Eric other than the fact that he is physically attractive until his numerous favors to her and the many instances where he has saved her life or protected her begin to add up. The blood bond between them is formed when he prevents a vampire who has authority over him from forcing blood on an unwilling Sookie, instead offering his own blood as a substitute. Their marriage was orchestrated by Eric when another vampire wanted to take Sookie away from her own against her will, and it allows Eric to serve as a barrier to any other vampire who would try to harm her. Once their romantic relationship is formed in earnest, it quickly becomes evident that it is lopsided. Eric praises Sookie for her beauty, but also for how brave she is and how hard she works and countless other virtues that are not physical in nature. In return, Sookie feels obligated to pay him a compliment, and all she can manage is that he has a nice body and is good in bed. She often deflects from serious conversations with him to have sex instead. Sookie clearly doesn’t believe Eric is a good person, expressing her own doubts about his moral code when he doesn’t display enough outward moral repugnance for her liking. When Eric tells her how his boss tortured and killed a human woman to punish a vampire, she asks him how the story made him feel. His answer—that it made him fearful it could happen to Sookie—is not good enough for her because he does not also express remorse for the woman in question. (It should be noted that he doesn’t revel in her pain either; he is merely concerned with applying the moral of the story to his own circumstances and the woman that he loves.) Sookie does not seem to acknowledge the good that other people attribute to Eric, such as when his new bartender tells her she requested to come work for him. Sookie cannot imagine why anyone would want to work for Eric, but the vampire explains that he is a good master to serve because he treats his people well, specifically pointing out that he doesn’t ask for sexual favors from his female subordinates like other sheriffs do. Sookie is not interested in his life, his business, or his world. When he attempts to explain the elaborate hierarchy of vampire politics to her in an effort to include her more in his affairs, she outwardly expresses so much disinterest that Eric takes offense. Their relationship treads water for a while, until Sookie is kidnapped and tortured by fairies and Eric is prevented from rescuing her. While she is being tortured, Sookie is certain that Eric will show up at any moment, but she doesn’t know that he has been forbidden from intervening by his boss. The other vampires bind Eric in silver chains to keep him from going to save her. He later tells her how anguished he was that he could feel her pain and do nothing to protect her, shedding tears as he talks about it, but she doesn’t want to hear it. That moment marks a turning point in their relationship. Sookie repeatedly affirms that she believes Eric is so big and strong and capable of handling anything, and any time he is not able to deliver on her expectations, she loses even more love for him.

Sookie's prejudice against vampires leads to her treating them as though they are not people.

Although Sookie does not express her prejudice explicitly as some characters do, she still exhibits a bias against vampires throughout the books and expresses a clear preference for humans or shapeshifters. She is disgusted, for example, by Eric’s suggestion that she should come work at Fangtasia, saying that she would hate to watch the fangbangers seek the attention of the undead among them. She believes that they do not feel emotions or possess empathy in any comparable measure to humans. (The thought that not all humans share the same depth of emotion or empathy does not seem to occur to her.) She also discounts their physical pain or suffering because they possess the ability to heal themselves. This happens numerous times when Eric is wounded, often while trying to protect her. In one case, Eric shoves himself in front of a car window and takes a bullet intended for her point blank. While he is injured, he fights off the werewolf who was trying to kill Sookie. Then he gets back in the car and drives her home with the bullet still lodged inside his chest. When they arrive back at her house, he asks her for blood, saying explicitly that he is in pain as his body pushes the bullet out of his chest. She tells him he’ll be fine and if he really needs it, he should stop at Merlotte’s and get some True Blood on his way home. Another time, Sookie comes upon Eric after he has been badly beaten and bound with silver. His arm is broken and his hands, she notes, look gruesome, because the silver was wrapped around them. As soon as she frees him, he springs into action and decapitates the vampire who had attacked him before said vampire can go for Sookie, who gets faint at the sight. (She is not injured.) Eric picks her up even though his arm is broken, and she takes the opportunity to internally romanticize the moment, imagining that she is Scarlet O’Hara. But a short while later, she asks Sam to drive her home without thinking about offering Eric a bottle of True Blood even though they’re right in front of the bar. The most egregious example of this phenomenon occurs when Eric’s vampire brother has massacred all of the staff at his home. Sookie arrives to find several vampires and humans slaughtered on the premises while Eric is desolate and in excruciating pain with his ribs ripped through his chest. He tells her that he needs her to push his ribs back into place and that Pam was there as well, and Sookie proceeds to chastise him for not springing into action to go after his brother. When tears form in his eyes, she grows impatient and questions why he hasn’t called someone to come clean up yet. It isn’t until midway through the conversation that she tells Jason to push Eric’s ribs in so he can heal, and it is only on accident that Jason happens to find Pam, who is thankfully not dead.

Sookie's system of morals is so rigid that, when she participates in violence, she suppresses her own personal responsibility and projects blame on the people around her in order to continue believing that she is a good person.

After the massacre referenced in the paragraph above, Eric and Sookie must fight his crazed brother and several fairies at her house, slaying his maker in the process. When they are victorious, Sookie is immediately revolted by the bloodshed. Eric, meanwhile, is flooded with relief that he is free of his maker, who subjected him to hundreds of years of rape and slavery when he was first turned into a vampire. Sookie knows this, and in fact can feel the emotions radiating from him, but she seems to despise Eric for feeling anything but repugnance in that moment. This appears to be her coping strategy any time she participates in violence—she negates her own culpability and creates moral distance between herself and Eric by judging his reaction to be grotesque. The same thing happens when they are able to kill the brutally cruel vampire regent who was actively trying to ruin Eric and was responsible for attempts on Sookie’s life and who refused permission for Pam to turn her human lover into a vampire before she died. Eric and Pam are joyous that they have won and that the regent cannot torment them any longer. Sookie, who helped plan the attack and in fact dealt part of the killing blow to the regent, is abruptly disgusted when Eric embraces her and kisses her. It does not occur to her that he might be relieved that she was unharmed in the battle and that the constant threat to them all has been eliminated. Instead, she assumes that he’s trying to have sex with her and tells him she’s not interested in a manner that clearly conveys her revulsion. Eric does not handle the conflict gracefully, and bites her harshly to drink from her after he tells her she’s being a hypocrite, which only gives her more reason to push her guilt away and project it onto him.

Sookie’s youth and inexperience serves as a barrier to navigating the turbulent waters of a real relationship.

Sookie had never been in a relationship before Bill, and she only has one other relationship between breaking up with Bill and getting together with Eric. While she enjoys the ‘honeymoon’ phase of her relationships, she flounders when it comes time to address communication issues or outside pressures. Neither Sookie nor Eric find it easy to establish an open channel of communication, but Sookie actively seeks to end serious conversations early or avoid them altogether, while being stunned that Eric initiates conversations about their relationship, something that she thinks all men avoid. At one point, she tells Eric that they need to talk and then starts discussing what she refers to as their “irreconcilable differences.” The conversation seems to be veering into breakup territory, and they’re deeply involved in it when someone knocks on her door. She immediately invites her unexpected guests in and is relieved by the excuse to terminate the conversation abruptly even though Eric is still trying to figure out what’s going on. At other times, she observes that she loves Eric, but she’s not feeling the same lust or excitement when she thinks about him anymore. Anyone who has ever been in a long-term relationship knows that passions often wax and wane, and that it also takes work to sustain and strengthen a relationship over time. Sookie is unwilling to put in the work or even have an honest discussion about the things they need to work on. She talks about romance novels a lot, and it seems to me that she has an idealized concept of love where she believes that they should be effortless and that passions should always be as hot as they were at the beginning. There are also times when she behaves in an extremely childish manner in the midst of conflict. After she severs the magical bond between her and Eric, he comes to her house and her main concern is whether or not he’s mad, while he asks her if she still loves him. She stubbornly insists he has to answer her question first even though she’s the one who broke the bond. On another occasion, Eric’s king comes into town and he is required to be at the monarch’s beck and call. Sookie gets mad at him and tells him she doesn’t want to see him one day, then is even more irritated that he isn’t calling her the next. Soon after, Eric is dealing with an endless litany of personal disasters that he can’t control, and he is short with her. Sookie listens to him confide in her about his problems and then responds with sharp-edged, sarcastic contempt, telling him that she has information that might have helped him with his problems and she might have told him if he wasn’t neglecting her.

Sookie’s limited understand of cultures that are unlike her own leads to misguided assumptions and fatal misunderstandings.

As the books progress, Sookie’s knowledge about vampire culture and governance grows incrementally, but she never approaches their customs with the same open-mindedness that she uses when it comes to werewolves or shapeshifters and their customs. This proves to be a major problem in her relationship with Eric, where there are two unfamiliar cultures at play—the modern culture of vampires, and the ancient culture of Eric’s human life. Sookie often refers to Eric as her “big Viking,” but she never gleans any insight about the culture in which he was raised. She seems to believe that he does not have much respect for women and projects American pre-Women's liberation attitudes on him even though he does not express those beliefs. When he offers to have her come live with him, she assumes that he wants her to be a housewife who cooks and cleans for him. She takes offense, and Eric is confused by her response. As Sookie’s situation becomes more perilous and she is injured multiple times in attacks at Merlotte’s, Eric asks her repeatedly to come live with him and/or work at Fangtasia so that he can protect her. She rebuffs these proposals, believing that they are rooted in misogyny. Sookie is also disinterested in understanding vampire culture, tuning Eric out when he explains things to her and refusing to accept that their rules and customs are different from her own when they inconvenience her. In particular, she never seems to understand the feudal system of governance under which the vampires live. When Eric is obliged to obey his maker or wait on his king or queen, Sookie is consistently irritated that he is not paying enough attention to her. She either does not understand or will not accept that vampires are not free to do whatever they want. This becomes a huge problem in the latter three books after a king from another state annexes Louisiana and kills every sheriff except Eric, putting him in a precarious position. Backed into a corner, he must maneuver very carefully to protect himself and everyone who is loyal to him. At the same time, he learns that his maker entered into a contract to marry him to the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will. Sookie refuses to believe Eric when he tells her that there is no way out of the contract, repeatedly insisting that if he loved her enough, he would just refuse to honor it. She holds him to the standards of her own culture, remaining willfully ignorant of the horrible consequences that could befall them both if Eric were to disobey. When she learns she can intervene and save Eric from his fate, she refuses, adamant in her belief that he will find his own escape clause if he truly wants to. The end result of her refusal is that Eric is forced into 200 years of “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it, a fate that does not inspire any guilt or pity in her, presumably because she still sees herself as a jilted lover.

At the end of the day, Eric deserved a lot better than Sookie.

He also deserved a lot better from the author, and a lot of people were justifiably outraged with the ending that Charlaine Harris gave to him. Harris, by way of Sookie, repeatedly reminds the reader that the Queen of Oklahoma is a very attractive woman, and it seems that this is intended to excuse the fact that Eric would be contractually obligated to have sex with her whether he wanted to or not. Eric expresses no desire for the queen, constantly asserting his commitment to and love for Sookie. When he admits that he would be required to consummate the relationship with the queen, he seems discomforted and ashamed at the idea. (Harris specifically uses the word “abashed.”) It is revealed to Sookie that the queen conspired to put Eric in this predicament specifically because she knew he valued his independence too much to ever agree to it willingly. Sookie knows that Eric was forced to service his maker sexually against his will, and that what he hates above all else is to be subjugated. She also knows that he will not be a monarch if he marries the queen; he will be her consort, a position that carries with it no inherent power or authority unless the queen gives it to him, and he will not be able to ever succeed her. Even despite all of this, Sookie is completely unsympathetic toward Eric. The author never acknowledges that this ending for Eric essentially means that he will be raped. What astounds me is that I don’t think she would have made his choice for a female character, or if she did, she would not have framed it in the same way. Sookie’s casual dismissal of Eric being sold into “cushy slavery” implies that male rape is no big deal, which is incredibly harmful. It is astounding that she would subject the primary love interest of the entire series to such a fate, and it’s the final nail in the coffin for Sookie Stackhouse for me, at least in her book incarnation. If any of her other love interests had been put in similar circumstances, I can’t imagine what she would not do to try to save them. But because it was Eric—her big, strong Viking who she believes is incapable of feeling emotions or pain and must be invincible in order to be valued by her—Sookie thinks nothing of it. Nothing at all.

@grimeundglow @stevesharrlngtons @scxrsgxrd @grandpa-sweaters

[lizacstuff]

Thoughts on the last episode of SCK? I thought it was a vast improvement over the last episodes but still seems like an Edser reunion is super far away.

Hello! I liked this episode, I really loved a lot of the Edser scenes and pretty much enjoyed everything that did not include Selin. (I hate her guts, ya’ll, lmao) 

Let’s see, I have a bunch of asks and I have some time today, so I’ll try and answer those in a big post later, but overall I thought it was a solid episode. As far as a reunion being super far away, I don’t know.  They are definitely doing what I’ve been saying all along, and that is proving that he would fall in love with her all over again. So that has to be complete before he gets back his memories. And I think they are going to give us a little more of that even after Selin and Deniz are gone. Hopefully we jettison them soon, and then we’ll get to enjoy a few episode of Edser shenanigans as they dance around one another. 

(more under the cut)

As for this episode, wow, the spoilers that said there was no Ayfer/Alex in this episode were WRONG, weren’t they? Starting with Ayfer, for the first time she didn’t annoy me with her trying to control Eda’s life. I actually applauded when she gave Eda the time limit for breaking the fake engagement. Good! Girlfriend is allowing Deniz to spin the situation out of control and I’m glad someone is helping her reign it in. Ayfer actually acting in Eda’s best interest for once, let’s hope Ayfer/Aydan plan that dinner with their wayward children soon and without any faux fiancés. 

As for the Aydan/Ayfer/Alex of it all, it wasn’t the worst B-plot we’ve ever seen on this show. At least there were some entertaining moments.  I liked Aydan/Ayfer getting together to discuss Eda and Serkan, and Alex as a two/three-timer is the least shocking development ever. Aydan is already ruined as a character so she might as well be okay with trying to move in on Alex while Ayfer is still in the picture. As for Alex... is he dead? Surely not...  Who knows, but it looks like we may get some more comedy out of the situation in the coming episodes. I did laugh at them moving the body and Ayfer trying to go incognito wearing the sunglasses at night. Neslihan is very good at certain comedic moments.

Even with Alex, Ayfer, Aydan, Selin, Deniz and Ceren running around my nominee for worst character of the week is... Piril. Seriously, fuck her.  She’s 100% enabling Selin’s delusions and has totally normalized her buttcrack crazy behavior and apparently cares not at all about Serkan or Eda. Is she high trying to convince Selin that Serkan went off to organize a surprise, can she not read the room at all? She should be staging an intervention with Serkan, not trying to further Selin’s deceitful agenda. 

I will say this for the writers, though they have done their best to destroy Aydan and Ceren recently, Piril is staying pretty true to character. She’s the actual emotionless robot of the show and has always been a pretty shrewish, not-great, not-likeable person. It makes me sad that a teddy bear like Engin is shackled to her and honestly I don’t think she has any business having children, she’s not gonna make a great mother. 

Melo and Ferit are honestly the only side characters (and Seyfi) that have rights at this point. Thank goodness Eda has Melo! Though I do think that the show purposely has weakened both Eda and Serkan’s support system in order to enable them both in this crazy storyline. If Serkan had real friends, he would have wizened up about Selin by now, and if Ceren hadn’t gone off the deepened, wanting to hurt Eda, she would have provided proof of Selin’s duplicity. 

As for Eda and Serkan, so glad their screen time is back on track! I will always, always take more of them, but this felt like a big improvement from the last two weeks.  I really loved their scenes together and their dynamic even (especially?) when they’re at odds and arguing, that was always a huge part of their relationship.  

Loved their office scenes, the sparing over the client and Eda coming out on top. It was priceless watching her bet with Melo and then counting down until Serkan came to find her in the coffee room. The red hot sexual tension with the “Nobody touches you but me” moments and the “accidental” kiss. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve worked in offices for many years and shockingly have never had my mouth accidentally come into contact with Gerard from Accounting’s mouth. “Accident” SURE.  I guess that’s what happens when you’re drawn to each other like magnets. 

I know there’s a lot of vitriol being spit at Serkan for how “cruel” he’s being, and he does need a slap upside the head at times, but mostly I saw this episode how soft he was. Did ya’ll see him sleeping in the office clutching Eda’s wedding invitation? That is SOFT. Or inviting her to sit with him at the coffee shop and saying he felt at peace there? SOFT. Or apologizing after he said harsh words in the office? He said “sorry” he never says that. Or leaving the hotel and heading back to the office because she was having trouble? Picking up coffee at “their” place on the way? Offering to help and calling her boss? Smiling proudly when she closed the deal? Letting her hug him? Soft, soft, soft, soft, soft. 

Insisting she go to the hotel? Letting her sleep on him? Smiling about it? Snowball fights? and then finally at the end, taking off to look for her, finding her necklace, finding her, carrying her to shelter, caring for her, being concerned about her injuries, putting her necklace back on her, asking about their past, covering her with a blanket, and falling asleep with her?

IT’S ALL SO SOFT.

This man is already back in love with her, he just doesn’t know how to identify those feelings, process them or what to do with them. They still scare the crap out of him on top of the fact that he thinks she has been able to easily move on from him and their great love, and is sincerely happy and in love with another man. That shit-stain Deniz basically told him he was glad his plane crashed so that Eda could finally be happy!  What an awful, heartbreaking thing to hear.

Yes, he said/did some things to hurt Eda, mostly by laying it on thick with Selin at times, but EVERY SINGLE time, it was done in reaction to him having Eda/Deniz thrown in his face and he was absolutely reacting to that.  Our Miss Eda is really having to thread the needle when using her fake engagement to push him, and sometimes she went a little too hard and missed the mark. There were times when Serkan needed some hope and she didn’t give it to him.  And then we have Deniz the shit-stain interfering.  I’ve pretty much given up hope on him playing Selin, he did too much damage this episode, I will never be over his conversation with Serkan. And that conversation is what Serkan was reacting to when he laid it on thick with Selin at the party. It’s not because he actually gave a damn about her, there was nothing sincere about it, it was an act because he had been crushed. Plus the guilt of forgetting her birthday and of knowing the feelings that he was having for Eda.  

Selin needs to go. I think the entire audience is feeling the fatigue of her presence in this storyline and she crossed quite a whole new professional line with putting Serkan’s entire company at risk in order to prevent Eda from going to the hotel.  This storyline would be so much easier to take without her. I could actually enjoy the slow burn, falling back into love, stops and starts, hurt and angst if she wasn’t always looming, but she casts a pall over everything. I really think the writers miscalculated with this. The amnesia story could have worked fine without her and actually been really enjoyable to watch. At this point I will take her exit however I can get it, even if it means she doesn’t get her comeuppance.

However, how much do we love it on this show when the villains’ machinations backfire!? Sorry Selin, you weren’t banking on Serkan leaving you without a word and running to help Eda, were you? The scene in the office when Serkan arrives to help has catapulted on to my list of favorite scenes of the entire series.  I loved every moment of it (and plan to gif pretty much every moment of it).  I loved how they finally got to just work together, collaborate, join their talent and get a win for the company. Serkan needed to experience that, needed to see what kind of partners they could be and I’m so glad we got a chance to see it again too. Then the hug. What a relief! The first time since he’s been back where she’s actually gotten to hold him and have a few minutes to just feel his heartbeat and his warmth and take a beat to celebrate the fact that he’s alive. And how cute was he afterwards? All awkward smiles and fidgeting. It felt just as good for him as it did for her. 

Another scene that deserves to be called out is the coffee shop. What a delightful surprise, I had no idea that was coming. And to find out Serkan permanently reserved that table for them? Because it was their table on their first real date? MY HEART. 

Of course the final scenes in the cabin were beautiful and fraught and made my heart twist.  I think this was a moment where Eda should have given up the game and come clean about the fake engagement with Deniz, but then the show couldn’t continue to milk this story. And they’re clearly not done with it yet. 

However, I'm hopeful that we’re on the tail end of the engagements and Selin and Deniz will exit soon. So we’ll end with a <prayer circle> for that to happen!

[avelera]

One thing that I’ve found hard to feel confident about in with the Amnesiac Nicky fic is Crusader Nicky’s acceptance that he’s an immortal. Mostly, whether he accepts it too fast, but also whether the way he accepts it is accurate to his time period.

In “The Old Guard” film, accepting she’s immortal too is a three-step process for Nile. First, when she’s killed and comes back without a wound. Second, when she’s kidnapped/shot in the head by Andy and sees Andy heal from Nile stabbing her. Third, when she gets to the plane, when she has another moment of doubt, wondering if Andy drugged her or otherwise tricked her, only to see herself heal from multiple wounds after their fight.

But the thought process Nile goes through is actually distinctly scientific, because of her cultural background as being part of a modern, but more importantly, a logical society. Literally, in the anthropological sense, her education and society assume a logical and scientific way of processing the world. Hypothesis, testing, inescapable conclusion. Even if it seems impossible, the fact she and Andy heal means there’s no other possibility after a certain amount of testing.

But the 11th c in Europe is a prelogical society, Nicky literally grew up before the Enlightenment. He’s from an intensely religious culture where miracles, an afterlife, and the intervention of saints or demons are an accepted part of daily life. Not a spiritual aspect of life, or a personal choice on how to view the world, the status quo on how the world is interpreted. So: how would Crusader Nicky interpret the fast healing ability of himself and his fellow Old Guard members when he’s effectively back to being his 11th c. self?

I took this to mean he actually accepts that he’s a fast-healing immortal more quickly than Nile did. It really only takes seeing one of his own wounds heal (plus the others coming back to life after he killed them) to accept that magic of some kind is at work here. Unlike Nile, he doesn’t need multiple wounds to accept what is happening to him. 

What I might not be giving sufficient credit to though, for his time and place, is that his acceptance of the supernatural aspect is the beginning of where his interpretations could go, unlike Nile, for whom it’s kind of the end the process. She heals fast, ergo, this is the new status quo of her life. The hardest part is in accepting that supernatural change.

For Crusader Nicky though, there are a host of interpretations for why this is happening to him that could be explored. Does he think he’s under the power of a witch? Does he think the Devil is toying with him, denying him salvation by preventing him from dying? Has he been granted a miracle by God’s power, as many saints are confirmed by miracles related to healing? Does he even really think he is alive anymore, or that perhaps he’s in Heaven, or more likely Hell? Does he even assume he’s awake and not having a prophetic vision or otherwise being influenced by supernatural beings showing him some other plain of existence?

In the fic, I ultimately decided that his knee-jerk assumption is: first, he is dead and in Hell. That he’s healing so he can be tormented by demons in human form and the reason he can’t die is because he’s already dead. Second, when he moves on from that assumption, he’s still bemused. He thinks he could be locked in a vision of some sort, perhaps one sent by God, and basically he’s just along for the ride until God gets to whatever point He’s trying to make and releases Nicky. 

It’s a few steps before Nicky accepts the world around him as objective reality, but even then a corner of his mind is always open to the possibility this is a religious vision of some sort, or that there’s a supernatural hand behind the impossibility his life has turned into that might be sent by Heaven or Hell. 

Frankly, with Joe in the fic, with his talk of eternal life outside of faith and Christ, is a textbook example of what a Christian would consider a visitation by a demon trying to tempt a devout soul away from God and keep in mind, the only narrative-driven entertainment around in Nicky’s day was passion plays and other religious stories which were full of tales of devout priests or monks or pilgrims being tempted from the righteous path by a demon giving them false promises of pleasure. Those explanations make much more sense to Nicky than a logical interpretation of the world as we would see it.

I can’t give the full time needed to explore this thought process in the bounds of the story. At a certain point it just takes up too much time and may in fact be too foreign for a modern reader to fully relate to. But it’s always there, at the back of my mind, that there are some absolutely bizarre interpretations and assumptions about what’s happening to him that Nicky could jump to and get stuck on, never fully moving on, about what’s happening to him that would be utterly divorced from objective reality and entirely based on his religious upbringing, that would sound completely crazy to us.

[spacegaywritings]

“Burning old Bridges and making new ones” (Oneshot)

Teen and Up // Virgil x Logan // ALL sides appear (Janus and Remus only vaguely)

Summary: Logan is tired of the light sides, not being listened to. He cannot handle the utter irrationality his co-sides display when trying to manage some of Thomas’ deepest issues. In frustration, he slowly starts to turn away to them, and open the doors for others.

Tags: invalidation, not listening to one another, slight logan angst, hurt and comfort, analogical, Patton and Roman are too fantastic, thomas, sides au, dark side Virgil, illusions, (which is kind of gaslighty!!), alternating environments, mentions of blood, metaphors of blood etc, crying, tears, heart break, name reveal, ridiculing people, talking over one another, dark side Logan, converting???, calling the sides by their functions instead of names.

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Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥

Links broken? Inform me, please!

Story under the Cut: (Word count: ~5k)

10:24 am.

 Logan sighed.

 They were in Thomas’ apartment, being the helpful sides they were. Thomas had sliced them into functions, so he could better argue with his different motivations in life. Currently, he was debating on yet another issue. He was wondering about whether or not to get that subscription to a gym. On one hand, it was practical, it might motivate him to do some exercising, to work out and talk to professionals about routines and which exercises would be best for him, his body and his goals.

Roman was all for it and so was Patton.

Yet, they left out Logan, as always.

 As soon as he had brought up finances, he had been called “party pooper” and “professor of unfun”. For a moment, the malicious words of “obstructing Thomas’ acting career” were aimed at him in one of Roman’s incredibly immature and uncontrolled fits.

Patton was simply up for it. He just took it, complimented the thought and said it was the best thing to do. The fact that Thomas had never held up these sorts of obligations was always shut out. The repeated intervention of Logan’s rational musings and his careful warnings of the consequences and alternatives had all been shut down.

 Roman and Patton ran into one another, hugging and cheering on one another. Apparently, things were settled. Logan did not know. He had stopped listening. If he walked out on them or simply ducked out, Thomas would get upset, the others would get suspicious. There would be yet another issue to resolve around feelings, Logan’s feelings. For some days, the other sides would act as though they cared.

 Until they would stop keeping up the exhaustive pretence to care even a little.

 Logan shrugged the matter off, trying not to get the “HE WILL BE HERCULES! ONLY LESS GREEK!” and similar yells and cheers get to him. The completely delusional Patton and Roman had turned on him and his valuable input once more.

He was seriously tired of it.

If they only listened enough to consider his arguments - it would make him one of the most satisfied sides in the entire Thomasphere. Instead, they banned him from discussions, completely excluding him. Thomas was not ready to realise it.

 The logical side disappeared up the stairs, reserved.

Feelings were all over the place. When he faded into the upstairs area, nobody questioned him, nobody held him back. They let him go, ignoring him.

Nobody paid attention.

Nobody even cared.

 Thomas tried to hug his sides. It was one of the last things Logan could sense when he pulled himself out of the affair. The sounds of betrayal and ignorance were too loud in his head. It hurt, it thumped, it was agonising.

It needed to stop.

 “ugh.”

 At the very least, Logan’s unwilling isolation has taught him more than enough things.

As he stepped into the mindscape, he reviewed his knowledge. One foot in front of the other, a slow pace. He was crossing over to the dark side.

 1. The dark and light sides were separated from one another.

2. There was no more separating them than the way Thomas imagined them to be

That meant:

A) The sides were marked by different colour schemes

And

B) The sides’ “rooms” were separated from one another in a way that “light” and “dark” sides had two different sides of one hallway.

 At the moment, Logan was crossing from one side to the other. Nobody was usually in the hallway. It was just him, crossing over again and again. From one side to the other.

 3. There is no need to sneak from one side to the other. Everyone is either in their own room, with Thomas or in the parts of the Imagination.

 He stepped closer to one of the doors, hand rising up to the door handle. However, his hand retreated just as quickly. Instead, he remembered something crucial.

 4. Every dark side had preferences to their doors and how to open them.

 Logan stood tall, straightening his posture. He reached out, this time with a curled fist. Three times short, three times long, three times short again. It was the knocking signal for S.O.S. . Logan thought it to be more than ironic for “Anxiety” to have such a kind of knocking sign as preference.

The door handle disappeared, then the door opened.

 5. About half of the space designated to the dark sides was imaginary.

 This was supposed to ensure nobody uninvited or unwanted would invade their space. It was rather clever, Logan had to admit.

 Anyway, rules aside, the door opened slowly, revealing a dimmed room. Some colourful lights seemed to stream from the glossy ceiling into the room. They danced over the floor, shifting and switching. It was a wild and uncoordinated dance but at the same time, it felt natural, following a pattern invisible to everyone’s eyes.

The floor was stone, dark and partly broken. Several parts revealed cracked areas. Through the cracks, a few flowers seemed to grow. They were lonely but strong. Every single one of them was purple, yet it were different tints of purple in every flower.

 For all that was worth, it looked like an abandoned temple. Raided, forgotten.

Some chains hung from the ceiling, around the glass part in the middle. The mosaics of translucent colour-filters was somewhat spheric. The chains were occasionally strewn around that, revealing little lanterns with warm, yet weak light. They were traditionally black, or at the very least, anthracite. From one corner of the room, a bit of smoke rose, striving through the room, twirling and twisting around itself in alluring manners. Incense was burning, giving the room an oddly peaceful feeling to it, no matter how destroyed and abandoned it seemed to be.

 Logan cleared his throat. His eyes were still looking for a certain side. Usually, there would be a more obvious sign of that person, but right now-

Ah, there.

 Virgil was hanging up some sort of tapestry, monochrome in colour. The design looked ominous, sort of mysterious. It was a moon, a castle around it. It seemed as if there was a whole other layer of meaning to it. Logan could not even imagine it. He was bad at seeing these kinds of things. But it did not even matter. Virgil was turning around to him and Logan nodded politely, not moving until Virgil gestured for him to come in.

 “Good day, Logan.”

 He slowly moved inside. The door manifested right behind him. When he turned around to see it, there was a lot of stone. It was a wall. There was no door, no more. Actually, when paying closer attention to it, it seemed to be a gate. There was a little metal ring, partly embedded in the same dark and cracked stone material, for knocking.

This had to be how Virgil got out.

 “Greetings, Anxiety.”

 They both stood there, for a moment. Anxiety looking almost bored. The logical side was unusually quiet. Everything around him was new, confusing. No matter how often he got here, it would always strike him as absolutely novel. It was just that different from where he lived, from where he used to hang out.

 “What you doing down here, again? Can’t get enough of me, yet?”

 He smirked smugly.

Whenever Anxiety would join in on their conversations, he would “ruin the mood”, aggravate Roman and make Patton stiff and uncomfortable. Anxiety was the one to make them listen, to settle conversations and feelings.

He was the kind of down-to-earth Logan needed and appreciated for their group. He, for once, was inclined to include Virgil in their group. Not that the group of the “light sides” was particularly great, but it was simply for the fact that Thomas needed Virgil to have more say, if he shut down his own logic that much.

Logan felt something tingle at the start of his spine. He shivered, trying to hide away the goosebumps.

 Anxiety was dressed in a simple black shirt, a red symbol all over it. It looked like a pentagram. He came closer.

 “So?”

 Logan swallowed, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh breezes and comfortable darkness. It smelled of earth and of cold snow. Anxiety had the most beautiful shade of brown in his eyes, out of all the other sides, they looked the most grounded and genuinely.. warm.

 “Perhaps I needed your input on something.”

 His words came out one by one, delicately, taking their time to unfold in Anxiety’s hearing. The edgy side rolled his eyes.

 “Lies aren’t welcome here, what do you need, Logic?”

 Ah, straight to the point.

It had Logan’s chest feel warm, tingly inside. It was as if he was tickled from the inside. He couldn’t help but smile. It was just a little, more like a shadow.

 “It happened again.”

 Anxiety’s shoulders fell a bit, tension replaced by a softer, more tender feeling. His eyes seemed to widen in empathy. He could feel Logan’s pain.

Not being heard, not being understood.

Being ignored and invalidated only, but at the same time made to feel as if it was not alright to face this truth, as if they cared more than they actually did.

 He sighed.

 “You can stay. Spill the beans, ‘the fuck happened?”

 The two started talking. Well, Logan was mostly talking. Words cascaded out of his mouth, feelings foaming around his lips in furry and frustration. There was so much piled up and the whole stack was simply tumbled over by someone jumping around from one to the other side of his room, in nothing but black yoga pants and a rather loose punk-styled shirt. His feet were bare, as bare as Logan’s feelings when he came inside.

Every now and then, Anxiety would roll his eyes, chip in with comments like “of course” and “ah, sure, thing.” They were sarcastic, but they did not arm at hurting Logan. No, it was meant to make fun of how hypocritical and unkind the other light sides were. No matter what Anxiety contributed, it felt holy to Logan.

 There was the harsh, brutal honesty in direct, raw lines. They were short, they were sharp and the dark side did not hold back even a little.

 Logan wandered with him, from one corner to the other. They hung up the tapestry together. Anxiety mumbled something about Tarot cards and heavy meaning. Logan let him have it, smiling at the new information and interesting input.

 His steam was off, he was calmer now.

The whole room seemed to be much friendlier, more peaceful, too. The flowers were at full blossom, the dim lights were shining in new vigour. Some of the cracks seemed to be fixed and the floor felt warmer, more inviting.

This was not an abandoned temple, it was a reclaimed sanctuary.

 “Do you want to come over?”

 Anxiety shook his head. However, he patted something like a table. There were blankets and pillows on top of it. Logan was not sure whether it had been there before. It looked like a bed, but the base was made of stone. He shrugged, taking it.

 “For now, until I can trust you fully, you can come here and that’s it.”

 Logan nodded.

He was okay with that.

His body lowered itself, automatically, already. It was as if his programming was made to listen to Anxiety, to be flexible with him and lay with him. The dark side roamed around, pulling on a chain. It set off a mechanic, unleashing some sounds. Calm music came out of the ceiling. Logan sat up a bit but Anxiety pushed him back down.

 “Take a moment”, he advised. Logan nodded. He laid back down, listening to the calming, almost tangible beats. They were so soft, it was surreal. If they had disappeared at once, Logan would not have noticed either way.

 Slowly, he drifted off to something Anxiety would later refer to him as “lo-fi” beats.

 ***

 This was one of their first meetings. By now, Logan could barely remember how he had met Anxiety in the first place. He only knew he had been angry, upset by Patton’s irritating cheerfulness and pure ignorance. Any thought of this experience already pumped adrenaline and disgust through his veins.

Despite his intellectualism and his expansive vocabulary, he was incapable of describing just how sick he was of Patton and Roman completely shutting him out. They were so out-of-touch with life that it could only lead to Thomas getting hurt.

 Logan sighed, pushed his thoughts aside. A tug called him into action, asking him to join yet another discussion. He could not believe it.

Still, he tried his best to be helpful, to be present. For the sake of Thomas, he tried to stay strong and persistent enough to make good points, objective points. Maybe he could at least get a word in.

 Within the blink of an eye, he was in the living room with more than familiar faces. Well, they all had the same faces - it felt as if this thought was but a comment Anxiety would utter out. It was true, but why say it? Anyway, the princely and fatherly side were there, already chatting up Thomas and asking him about his issues, asking him about what was wrong.

Those were words and sentences they threw at one another, yet never at Logan. Actually, looking around, Logan realised they were not in the living room as expected. (Not anymore). Thomas was walking over to the kitchen, taking his sides with him.

 “Okay, this is not too much of an issue but I feel unusually torn about it.”

 Patton nodded, an encouraging smile on his face.

 “We are always here to help you Thomas! Now, what’s the issue?”

 Thomas seemed a bit embarrassed, shuffling his feet, avoiding eye contact. He fidgeted with his hands. If Logan did not know better, he would assume this sort of behaviour reminded him a lot of Anxiety.

Wait-

 Before he could even finish thinking his thought, the ice crystals of Anxiety’s appearance could be felt. The time seemed to slow for a moment, then explode. Something in Logan seemed to wake up.

 “Now, now, now. What’s this again, Thomas? Do you really think, you should be doing this? I think we can all agree it’d be best to just pack up, go back to bed and leave things like that.”

 Thomas frowned.

 Hands moved, fingers curling around the handle of a katana. Roman extended his arms, skilled movements exercising a threat imposed on Virgil who literally yawned in Roman’s face as if he could not be bothered to even look at him for longer than a moment without being terribly bored and disinterested.

Roman gasped, pulling back.

 “You fiend!! Insulting Thomas and then me?! I am the prince! Keep in line, I am warning you!!”

 Patton rushed to his side, appealing smiles on his face. They looked like hearts. Logan’s frown seemed to settle deeper into his facial skin.

When he realised Anxiety was basically next to him, he had to swallow down a gasp. Why was it so warm all of a sudden? It had to be his body balancing out the cold Anxiety would usually bring along with him. He felt strangely comfortable. Again, Logan rationalised his emotions by thinking it was simply nice to know someone was at least somewhat on his side. Having someone to balance out the extreme of Patton’s and Roman’s idiot suggestions.

 “Wait a moment! How about we all take a deep breath and wait for a bit.”

 Patton’s movements seemed forced when he gestured for Roman to put his sword down. His smile at Anxiety was as fake as his “logical arguments”.

 Thomas looked around his sides, tentatively raising one tiny hand to greet the anxious trait. He dismissively shrugged Thomas off, looking at Roman and Patton with brooding eyes.

 “Look, this is the same issue all over again. Thomas does not know how to cook and is embarrassed about it. He threw all his money out for usual shit like rent and all - and his new gym subscription - and now he does not have enough money to go get some takeout. This is all a matter of poor management of money.”

 Patton gasped at the accusation.

 “No!”

He composed himself, trying to contain his sudden outburst.

“Thomas can deal with it. Like a good adult, he will just move past this.”

 Roman rose to the conversation, nodding.

 “Yes! He will learn how to cook cheap and easy things, so we can adjust our diet!”

 Patton squinted.

 “What? Why? Thomas does not have the time. Okay, listen to me guys, your old daddy-do knows what to do!”

 Logan groaned. Anxiety echoed the sound, seconding the emotion they shared.

 “Thomas will just drop his gym subscription, then he can keep up with his meal subscription and does not have to worry about cooking or anything. We don’t want to repeat the last mistake we had in the kitchen ~”

 Thomas grumbled, frustration boiling over in him. He pouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to defend himself from the cruel, yet true words.

 “Fine.”

 Logan’s head snapped to the side. He needed to adjust, so he could look at Thomas. Previously he had been looking at Anxiety much longer than expected or than he had realised. But the speed at which he had craned his neck to the side would probably have injured him, if he was human at all.

There was a scowl all over his face. Thomas winced like a cartoon.

Logan tried very hard not to snap, or at the very least let out an extremely done sigh.

 “Thomas, you cannot be serious. You have barely listened to anyone’s opinion on this matter. Can you truly say you are actually making an informed or at least a thought-through decision at this moment? I suppose it would make more sense to listen to everyone, one by one, then wage the different arguments and options and try to find the most satisfying solution to your problem. You might be acting too fast and face preventable consequences if you go o-”

 Patton chimed in.

 “Logan, Thomas already made his decision. He can do it. He is an adult and doesn’t need to keep thinking and thinking about everything. It will make him sad.”

 Anxiety hissed out.

 “Not thinking can get us killed, you want Thomas to die?”

 Patton gasped.

 “I would never!!”

 Roman roared.

 “Fiend!!”

 Patton held Roman back, face slowly darkening.

 “I think it is best we leave Thomas alone, now. He is an adult, he made his decision”, then he turned to Thomas, beaming like he did not know anger and pain at all. It was a terrible act but an act nonetheless. The good-hearted man tried to nod it off.

“I am proud of you, Thomas! Let’s go and get yourself some food. Remember, you got a credit card! Now that you are an adult, you can do whatever!”

 Anxiety pushed forward, tempest tongue activated but Thomas already willed them away, feeling the anxiety coming on. The dark side found himself in Logan’s room, sitting on a comfortable bed, a fluffy unicorn onesie right under his butt. Before him, Logan appeared, expression unreadable.

 “That was rough.”

 Logan nodded, mutely. The sadness drained over him. Bit by bit, there was more emotion raining over his face. Anxiety could see the very moment Logan allowed to let the emotions flow into his heart, drown his professional appearance and attempted objectivity.

His chest ached and he got up, slowly catching the crumbling man in his arms.

 “It’s okay, Logan.”

 The logical trait shook his head. He could not even care about how the onesie was exposed, draped all over his bed. He did not care that the dark side was with him, in the realm of the light sides. His mind could not begin to wrap around the fact that someone else than a light side being there could potentially warp this side of the mindscape.

All he felt was the sadness ripping at his heart, squeezing his feelings and making him so sick, he wanted to vomit out blood until it was over. It felt exaggerated but also somewhat appropriate for the situation.

 He had stacked up every bit of feeling, every moment of ignorance and invalidation. The sharp comments, the audacious interruptions. He was sick of it. Everything was like a load of blades he had swallowed again and again. Now it was churning inside of him, ripping him up and destroying him from the inside out.

He coughed, the feelings wanting out and his lungs too exhausted to keep up with all his pain. The repressed emotions and denied doubts all came back to him, haunting him. They were multiplied in intensity, hitting him the hardest when he was at his lowest.

 Sobbing, he fell to his knees, Anxiety slowly tugging him to bed and comforting him. Time was no concept for him anymore. He measured the moments in tears and how much it hurt when his heart and lungs sobbed along with him.

Eventually, he could feel more than just his chest’s agony. There was warmth around him, distracting him from the destruction going on inside of him. Anxiety had put a soft blanket around his shoulders, patting him and applying soft pressure with his supporting arms, his uplifting hugs.

 As Logan was falling, tripped over by his “friends” - Patton and Roman -, the dark side, the half-stranger was catching him, holding him up and bringing him back to his feet.

Time went by and he did not count the hours or try to keep track of the light intensifying, then dimming down until night settled in. All he knew was that the dark side held him throughout everyone, stammering every now and then, trying to offer him some tissues and cups of water.

 “You have to hydrate, Lolo.”

 A nickname.

 He cried harder, dry-sobbing. When his emotions calmed a bit, he took the cup. His head nodded carefully and he swallowed the cooling water slowly. There was a purpose in his actions and the anxious trait carefully patted his head.

 “You’re doing good. Promise.”

 He hesitated for a moment but continued to talk after a small break. Logan barely noticed.

 “It will get better. I will assure you that.”

 Logan inhaled deeply. For a moment, he did not move. Then, he nodded.

 “Thank you-”

 “Uh”

 The dark side interjected. He shifted softly. Logan’s head was in his lap and took the shifting as a cue to move away. Awkward. He slowly rose, rubbing his cheek. It was flat and red from how long he had rested on his knees, his thighs and lap.

 “Oh, no. I , uh - fuck. Now, you are looking at me and it’s.. it’s weird again.”

 He blushed, shifting away a bit. Logan’s heart skipped a beat. Hope? Panic? The friend turned away, pulling his knees close and hugging them ever so softly. He sighed, trying to steady himself.

 “Are you having an attack?”

 He shook his head stubbornly at Logan, yet he did not dare look at him. The logical side sighed. His eyes fell on how Anxiety pressed his lips together, afraid of sounds coming out when he was so intense, the tempest tongue would come up again. He had disclosed to Logan, in a moment of trust, that he could control it to some extent but how it would just happen that his voice started distorting itself when he lost his sense of reality, started dissociating or was otherwise in deep distress.

 “I, uh - name. My name.”

 Logan nodded.

 6. For the dark sides, a name reveal was more than just a “big thing”. It was a tremendous vulnerability, hence revealing a name was the ultimate sign of trust.”

 “Virgil - It’s Virgil!”

 Logan’s mouth went dry.

He.. he actually had done it? He had actually told him his name?

 “Really?”

 Virgil nodded, weakly.

This time, it was Logan’s time to blush, reach out for the other and squeeze his hand.

 “I think it is beautiful. Thank you for trusting me so much.”

 He let the word rest on his tongue for a moment, treasuring it.

 “Virgil.”

 The dark side smiled.

 It was Logan’s turn to blush. The two were still holding hands, squeezing one another for comfort as their gazes locked and refused to budge. The black jacket around Virgil was too big, his usual outfit for when he popped up as a side. It looked like the similarly black blanket draped around Logan’s shoulders.

In a way, they were so similar, only in different places.

 -

 Little did they know the conversation happening outside their bubble. Voices overlapped, harsh sounds were exchanged.

“Shush! Can you feel this? Padre, there is something happening with the mindscape!”

Roman hissed, looking around. The walls around him seemed to change. He was not in the Imagination as he usually would but he was in the room with Patton. Patton was sitting on his bed. It was a bunk bed with fairy lights all over, colourful blankets and plushies stacking up like in a rivalry. He tilted his head.

 “What do you mean, Roman? Do you think there is anyone visiting us?”

 The prince tugged at his Katana, fidgeting with the calm yet threatening handle. As he approached the inner walls of the room, his steps seemed to slow down, quieten down. He held his ear against the wall. Slowly, his hands found the wall. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the structure of their realm.

The realm of the true light sides.

 7. Patton and Roman might be a part of the light sides but that did not mean they were the “light” kind of personalities.

 A shiny blade was drawn. Patton was in the dark, shadows casting over him, shielding the world from his appearance. He rose, slowly, heroically - only that he was a hero to himself and nobody else.

 “I think we need to pay someone a visit.”

 Patton giggled while Roman detached himself from the wall, blade gleaming and lusting for a few stabs and fights.

 “Very much so, Padre.”

 ***

 Yet another day, yet another rejection. This time, Patton’s flowery face gently shoved Logan back into his room, asking him to take time for himself and please be on the lookout because they needed him for Thomas.

It was odd.

He said that while separating him from a meeting with Thomas, trying to figure out yet another issue. Logan felt pushed and eventually just nodded, trying to get away from the sudden force in Patton’s behaviour.

 “Good choice! You are so clever, Logan! I wish we talked more!!”

 Logan bit down onto his lip. If he had applied just a bit more pressure, he would have drawn blood. The man was too much in control of himself, especially after letting his feelings out excessively, to break out like this again.

 As if you would even dignify with as much as your genuine attention, Morality.

 In his own mind, he had started empathising with the dark sides so much, he used their names, knew their names. The light sides had become some sort of forbidden topic for him. He did not pronounce their names, only their functions. He pushed them into the corner of his minds, banning them from his own mental conversations.

 He waited patiently. His back turned to open the door but he only pretended to do so. At the end, he only waited until Patton was out of sight, so he could rush over to the other side of the hallways, to his true and new home. He passed Roman, not even paying attention to it. The darkness sucked him up, shielding him, as he rushed into the new territory. Doors slowly disappeared before him, gates opened and then he was in Anxiety’s, no!, Virgil’s room.

 Before he knew it, calming arms caught him. The darkness engulfing him was gone. He swore he could have heard Roman’s voice calling out for him, someone calling him a traitor. But when he looked up, he did not see Virgil’s room. The colourful lights, the dancing shadows. All of the were gone. They were not in the sanctuary of the abandoned and the forgotten anymore, they were in a whole new place. At the same time, it was more than just a bit familiar.

He saw his own room, slightly altered. Behind him, a door appeared.

 “Logan-”

 Patton’s and Roman’s calls echoed through the mindscape.

 “You can do it Thomas! You just have to believe in yourself!”

 “Don’t I have to study?”

 Thomas. Oh, sweet sweet Thomas.

 “Aw, why would you, little man? You are really clever and your friends need your time more than your books need you. I mean, can you hear your books calling out for you?”

 “I guess you are right.”

 There was hesitation, so Roman jumped in. Besides being his ego, his passion, he was also his motivation and a bit of that was needed in genuine belief.

 “Damn RIGHT he is! Let’s be a true hero to ourselves, to our friends, and go to this gathering!! Prince Roman into the FIGHT!”

 Logan cringed. He could feel Thomas do the same, deep inside of him. Deep inside of him, buried away in the dark realm of his own thoughts.

 “It is just a barbecue.”

 Now Thomas was trying to use Logic? He could feel a tug. It was fainter than it used to be. Virgil was next to him, leaning against the solid walls.

“Feel the changes already?”

 Logan turned to him.

It was yet another moment in time when he had neither thoughts nor words to pronounce. It was not that he did not think anything about this, though. This time, unlike when he was crying and his mind went blank, he was full of thoughts and ideas. The only issue was that there were so many, he had trouble ordering them and listening to every single one of them.

 “I suppose I do.”

 He frowned.

Virgil shrugged, applying his eyeshadow as if to get ready for a party. So he actually did sit down to apply it. Wait, since when was there a mirror- oh yes, he had forgotten, this was his own room. In the dark sides’ area.

 “Am I a dark side now?”

 Virgil turned around. He actually did look like a raccoon.

 “Yeah, seems like it.”

 He shrugged, finishing off his dark accents. When he was done, he let his things vanish, simply disappear into thin air. He turned to Logan, grinning.

 “Well then, Logic, I suppose it’s time for a new time, a new place and a whole lot more fun~”

 He extended his hand.

 “Wanna get Thomas to listen to you a bit more?”

 His hands were warm. Logic could feel the warmth engulfing him, protecting him. Slowly, more presences seemed to whirl into the blend of energies and imaginations in his room. He nodded, captivated.

 “I think I can do with convincing people.”

 A sleek voice mused.

 Another voice popped up, scratchy and slightly used up. It was almost comically hoarse.

 “I think I can do with getting Thomas to listen to everything you want to show him!”

 The energies came in, shaping into appearances. Logic nodded again, a smile on his face.

 “Welcome to the team, Logic.”

[vermilionskiinmorning]

𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞||TLK Fic|| FinanxOC||Seven

AN: This story is basically writing itself at the moment which is great. I intended so much more to happen in this chapter and somehow it ended up being an absolute emotional roller coaster instead. Though some important stuff does still happen. (I may just be subconsciously delaying Gisela’s death. I do love her so much.) Anyway as always your thoughts are always appreciated :)

Story Summary: Tove chose to surrender rather than be killed, after Sigfried was defeated at Beamfleot, giving herself up to the mercy of the Saxons. Thanks to Finan’s intervention, her life is indeed spared and she is brought into Uhtred’s service. With the sting of defeat fresh on her tongue and her new life fighting for the Saxons secured; Tove is left wondering what tricks the Gods have in store for her next.

Words: 5660

Æscengum was where King Alfred intended to defeat Bloodhair. Upon receiving word, the Bishop sought out Uhtred to convey their King’s decision and request for troops. Together they stood on the top terrace landing to one of Lunden’s Roman houses looking out over the city. They were not alone as Finan was also there, but the Irishman was content to listen in silence while they spoke.

“Æscengum!” Uhtred barked.

Erkenwald shot a scathing look in Uhtred’s direction and rebuked him for his amused tone. Predictably, Uhtred did not seem to care much for the Bishop’s admonishment, merely waiting for the sour man to continue, and he did.

“Our Lord King,” he began. “Has called for you and some of your warrior to join him. If the safety of this city is ensured in their absence.”

“It is,” Uhtred assured.

Though his Lord did not indicate it aside from his quick response, Finan knew Uhtred was galvanized that Alfred had finally called for him. It had been weeks since Danes had first been spotted, yet all Wessex had done was assemble their army and wait.

“Haesten will not attack?” Erkenwald pressed.

“He won’t.”

Their conversation continued apace for a few more minutes, with the Bishop questing Uhtred until he felt certain Lunden would be safe. The matter then settled, Erkenwald took his leave of their presence, having no desire to dawdle in the pagan’s company. Uhtred and Finan watched him walk off -the waiting priests trailing behind until he was out of sight.

“Æscengum?” Finan commented mildly then.

“It is between Harald and Haesten’s forces,” Uhtred responded dryly. “They’ve marched their army across Wessex and accomplished nothing.”

Finan hummed absently. “Æthelred?”

“Perhaps.”

“Will Harald go there?” Finan asked, knowing the answer.

Uhtred shot Finan a meaningful look.

“I didn’t think so.” The Irishman chuckled.

Silently both men contemplated the merit or lack thereof to the supposed plan. It was spectacularly unlikely to succeed given that with the West Saxon army virtually out of their way, Bloodhair could simply continue to raid as much as he liked. Of course, to defeat Alfred had its draw, but the Danes were not the sort with an appetite for sieges, and to attack Æscengum would be a siege. That burh was relatively small and lay in the heart of Wessex, where it served to protect Winchester from the east. It had high strong walls and palisades, and if Harald had half a brain, he would leave Alfred to sit behind them while he enriched himself.

Finan soon found himself wondering what Tove would have to say about the plan when she heard. Surely, she would see the flaws and balk at its absurdity. The thought of it brought a small smile to his face.

“I’m going to ask Tove to stay behind,” Uhtred said suddenly.

Finan looked at him sharply. “She won’t like that.”

Uhtred’s answering look was hard. “Probably not.”

It was not difficult for Uhtred to read in Finan’s face that he wanted to ask why but was reluctant to question his judgment.

“I’ll need someone to stay with Gisela and the children.” Supplied Uhtred.

“No other reason?” Finan ventured.

“They get on well.”

Finan nodded. That much was true as the two had bonded over being pagan Danes among the Christian Saxons and were friends. Though there was another reason that neither Uhtred nor Finan was willing to directly voice. While it was their nature that the Danes squabbled routinely amongst themselves, Tove had not faced any Danes on a real battlefield since joining Uhtred’s household, and he felt somewhat cautious of putting her in such a position.

It was not because he doubted her loyalty to him or capability as a warrior. More specifically, he did not want to put her in a position that might cause her to hesitate and, therefore, be injured or killed. Uhtred knew avoiding that eventuality with Harald breathing down Wessex’s throat would not be possible for long unless he was defeated. So, despite knowing Tove would likely curse him for keeping her away, he would do what he could for a time -as her friend and Lord.

Several hours before the sunset, Uhtred found her seated on a bench in the yard wiping dirt from her face with a damp cloth. Since the night Finan had brought her back from the woods, Tove was changed, and Uhtred had noticed -though it was subtle. Not only had she returned to her more cheerful self, spending time again with the other warriors and with Gisela, but he perceived some of the heaviness she carried since Scaepege had been lifted from her shoulders. Finan had not shared the details of that night with Uhtred though it did not take one of much wit to determine the improvement was thanks to him. That was why Uhtred had chosen to share his plans with Finan before seeking her out. He trusted that had the Irishman any reservations about his decision, he would have voiced them then.

Tove let out a laugh at something Sihtric had said as Uhtred approached them. She sat next to Osferth, who Uhtred noted, was also covered in dirt with Sihtric across from them. All three seemed to be rather enjoying themselves.

“I slipped!” she exclaimed.

“You can’t lie to me,” Sihtric teased. “I saw it. Osferth used your own trick against you. Kicked your foot right out from under ya!”

“What’s this I hear? Tove Ødgersdottier has been beaten by a monk?”

Sihtric jumped at the chance to recount the story. Speaking with hardly concealed amusement, he filled in his Lord on the details of Osferth and Tove’s spar. She threw a weak glare at the half-Dane when he chuckled at the part where Osferth had copied the move she had used to win their first practice duel. Using his shield, he had pushed hard, causing her to stumble, thereby allowing him to kick a foot out from under her. When Sihtric had finished, Uhtred chortled good-naturedly.

“You cannot fault him for having learned from your style.” Uhtred pointed out.

Sihtric nodded and attempted to console her. “It is a clever trick.”

“Aye.” Tove agreed. “And you did well, baby monk.”

Having kept quiet up to that point, Osferth smiled and thanked her. Inclining her head slightly, Tove smiled in return.

“You are unhurt?” Osferth asked.

“Do not worry for me, friend. A sore backside will not slow me down.”

Before Osferth or Sihtric could reply, Uhtred interrupted. “I need to speak with you for a moment, Tove.”

Nodding, she got to her feet and followed her Lord without question. He led her out of the yard towards the armory to stow away the training staffs. There was only a young man inside when they arrived, and he left after replacing his stave in its proper place. Tove lingered momentarily, glancing at Uhtred, before going to set the staffs on their rack. Uhtred was not one to hesitate for lack of words though, he felt the need to choose them carefully for the news he was to deliver.

“Lord?” Tove asked when the silence became intolerable to her.

Brow crinkling some, he scratched his chin.

“Is everything alright?”

Uhtred dropped his hand, focusing on her face. A faint concern shadowed her otherwise calm expression as she awaited his answer.

“I received word from Alfred.” Uhtred paused before clarifying. “It is the king’s wish that I join him at Æscengum.”

Pointed as his words were, they also seemed meant to convey more than their obvious meaning. What meaning was, was not readily apparent to Tove. She made no effort to conceal her confusion from him.

“This is good news, is it not?”

“It is. The sooner Bloodhair is dealt with the better. But-” Uhtred heaved a sigh. “I need you to stay here.”

Comprehension dawned on her and a small frown rose to her lips.

“I want you to guard Gisela and my children. It will be you, along with Cerdic and a few others.”

“I understand, Lord.” Said Tove in a carefully calm tone, which surprised Uhtred a little.

Tension Uhtred had not realized he carried, released in his shoulders. “It is because I trust you to see that they are safe.”

Tove’s answering smile was gentle, and she bowed her head with respect. “I will.”

Uhtred nodded, and taking that as her dismissal, she left without another word.

After exiting the armory, Tove wandered aimlessly through the streets. All around her were Lunden’s citizens going about their daily life with little care for what happened out in the wider world. Part of Tove wished that was her lot, but her subconscious knew she would not be content with that sort of life. Both of her parents had been warriors; she and Kåre took after them in that regard. If she found a man and settled down, Tove imagined she would still be a warrior even then. So, the realization that her friends would be heading off to battle without her was a difficult one to swallow.

Of course, they would keep each other safe, but not being able to be there, all Tove was liable to do was worry. It occurred to her that that must be how Igna felt every time Kåre sailed. She did not like it.

That evening Tove chose to visit with Gisela and Ealhswith at Uhtred’s house for the chief purpose of avoiding any of the pre-battle enthusiasm that surely accompanied the news they would be riding out on the morrow. Blessedly the women avoided talking about it in her presence, which told her they already knew she’d be staying behind. It didn’t surprise her, considering Uhtred was likely to have informed Gisela who would be staying to guard the family, and Ealhswith could have learned from either her or Sihtric. Regardless of how they knew, Tove was thankful not to be surrounded by the whooping and shouting that was likely happening at the tavern.

They chatted idly about various mindless topics for several hours before Ealhswith decided it was time to get her children to bed. After bidding them goodnight, she gave Gisela and Tove both a quick hug and hurried off. Tove was then left alone by Gisela for a brief time as she put her own children to bed. When she returned, Gisela looked somewhat drained.

“I can leave if you’re tired.” Tove offered.

Gisela gave a short laugh as she took the seat beside Tove. “You’re fine; this one is determined to keep me up awhile longer anyhow.”

Tove’s grey eyes followed Gisela’s hand to her heavily pregnant belly.

“Do you think it will be a girl?” she asked.

“Definitely not. He kicks just as young Uhtred and Osbert did. It will be a boy.”

“When we were children, Kåre, always complained of our mother disliking him because she would not give him a brother.” Tove chuckled, but her face held a sadness.

Gisela put a reassuring hand on Tove’s arm. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“He thinks I am dead,” she said dryly. “At Scaepege...His best friend, Halvar, he was there. I spoke to him, and Halvar told me they all thought I was dead when they heard of the Thurgilson’s defeat.”

The dark-haired Dane frowned. “Was Kåre with him?”

Shaking her head, Tove took a sharp breath. “I was too thoughtless to ask.”

They were silent as Gisela rubbed Tove’s arm comfortingly.

“He tried to convince me not to come here -to stay for his child’s birth. Kåre has never had an interest in Wessex. He does his raiding in Frisia or Ireland.” Tove paused. “Perhaps so long as he thinks I am dead, he will stay away.”

Gisela looked deep in thought when Tove finished speaking, and they were both silent for what felt like quite a while but was, in reality, only a few minutes.

“Uhtred.” Gisela began carefully. “He would release you from your oath -if you asked it of him.”

Tove looked at the older woman in evident shock.

“My husband is not unkind. He knows what it is to be parted from home and loved ones,” she added.

To ask such a thing had never crossed Tove’s mind. If it had been posed to her months ago, she might have considered it, but now she found she could not. Not when just the thought of her friends going to battle without her caused her such great distress, and to think of never seeing them again felt impossible.

“I have never thought Uhtred unkind. He spared my life when many would not have,” Tove said firmly. “But I would not ask for that.”

“Not even to see Kåre or your sisters?” Gisela asked.

“Perhaps one day, when we have gone north, retaken Bebbanburg, it will be possible to see them, but I cannot part from him now.”

The knowing smile on Gisela’s face was odd to Tove, but she felt glad that the Lady seemed to understand. Not much later, Uhtred returned from the tavern, and Tove returned home.

Instead of being at all restful, her sleep that night was filled with fragmented dreams of battle. Some of them were of Beamfleot. In the first of those, she reached Njal in time to save him from Finan’s blade, only for her former Lord to turn on Finan and disembowel the Irishman before her eyes. Another version featured her brother in Njal’s place. There was also her dodging Finan’s shield and killing him upon realizing he had slain her Lord.  Then came the skirmish in Frisia, where she first killed a man, except it was not a random soldier; it was Osferth or Sihtric, or Uhtred, or perhaps all of them at once. The face of the dying man had seemed to change before her very eyes as she stared down at him past her bloodstained hands.

By far, the worst of them was of a battle that was entirely unfamiliar to her. She was engaging a huge man who wielded a vicious war axe when she heard her name being called from across the field. Desperately Tove yelled back, telling the caller to hold fast. For a time, she struggled against the giant, who was determined to split her head open. Every time Tove thought she had him or that she might simply escape, he was there again. The calls were growing more urgent, but she couldn’t get away. Her shield was lost. All she had was Mercy, her short sword, and Fate, her long blade. He just kept coming and she was starting to tire from dodging. 

Finally, an opening appeared as the behemoth swung his axe sloppily, missing her entirely; Tove was swift enough to take advantage of his mistake. Quick as she could, Tove thrust Mercy into the man’s belly, causing him to drop the axe as she twisted her blade on its way out. Not thinking twice about the dying man, Tove shoved pasted him and sprinted through the throng of battle towards the voice. Upon catching sight of the body lying prone on their back, her heart felt like it had stopped, and she sat up in bed, the sun shining through her window.

Despite knowing the dream for what it was, Tove was disturbed by it. Feeling an intense desire to assure herself of her friends’ safety before their imminent departure, she washed her face and dressed with haste. On her way to the stables, Tove made a point to try not to think of it though she could not help wondering whose cold dead eyes would have been staring up at her had she not woken.

Osferth was there already, loitering outside when she arrived. Having seen her approach from a distance, he called out a greeting when Tove was near enough to hear. She responded in kind, intentionally slowing her step to calm herself some before she reached him. The young former monk was whole and unharmed; it had been foolish to fear otherwise.

“I did not think to see you here,” Osferth said.

Tove arched a single brow at him. “Did you not expect me to see you off?”

He flushed, though whether at the mild joking implication in her tone or for feeling somewhat chastised by her words; it was unclear.

“Where are the others?” she asked, to deflect from her friend’s moment of embarrassment.

“Lord Uhtred is awake. He sent me to make sure the stable hands had the horses ready by the time he arrived.”

“Sihtric and Finan?” Tove asked.

“Likely still in their beds,” Osferth replied. “Both consumed a horrifying amount of ale last night.”

Tove nodded absently. “When are you to leave?”

“Before the mid-day meal or once everyone has arrived, whichever is sooner.”

The sight of Osferth had calmed Tove’s nerves considerably, but she felt the uncharacteristic anxiety would not be wholly banished until she had set eyes on all her friends.

“I could fetch them?” she offered.

“If you like.” Osferth chuckled. “I doubt they’ll be very agreeable.”

“Then I shall be doing you a favor,” Tove said.

Osferth nodded. “I will let Uhtred know when he gets here.”

She thanked him and set off towards Sihtric and Ealhswith’s home. It took Tove only fifteen minutes to reach the house walking at a leisurely pace. Sihtric’s daughter Elflæd was sitting outside playing with a home-made straw doll when she arrived. The dark-haired girl who looked so like her father smiled at Tove when she saw her.

“You’re here to see my daddy.” The girl observed astutely.

“Is he awake?” Tove asked lightly.

A sly grin spread across Elflæd’s face, which only served to make her look more like a miniature female version of Sihtric, and she whispered. “Mommy threw water on him.”

Tove chuckled. “Did she?”

Elflæd nodded excitedly. “Dolly and I laughed for a long time, but daddy didn’t think it was funny.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Tove said. “Is your mother inside?”

“She’s feeding Tellan!”

“I’ll go see them then,” she said and ruffled Elflæd’s hair before entering the home.

Ealhswith was at the kitchen table attempting to spoon porridge into her defiant son’s mouth with a look of utter defeat. Tove paused in the threshold to watch as the fussy Tellan smacked the spoon from his mother’s hand. She had to stifle a laugh when Ealhswith just stared at the offending piece of cutlery.

“I would say good morning, but I see that it is not,” Tove said once she had control of herself.

The Saxon lady looked up at her in slight astonishment. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I should have announced myself.”

“No, no! It’s alright -you are always welcome. Are you looking for Sihtric?” Ealhswith asked, bending to retrieve the spoon.

“Yes.”

“Just a moment.” She stood and went to the stairs to call for him. “Sihtric!”

There was some shuffling above them and a muffled groan. Ealhswith looked at Tove and rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, but she was smiling.

“Here come and sit. Have you eaten?” Ealhswith asked, pausing on her way back to her seat. “I can get you some. I made plenty -though it seems half of it will end up on the floor.”

“Uh no, but you don’t need to trouble yourself,” Tove said, nodding her head towards Tellan as she took up a seat across from Ealhswith. “I see you’ve got your hands full.”

Before Ealhswith could answer, heavy footfalls came thumping down the stairs and a bedraggled Sihtric appeared -his hair and tunic were both damp. Tove covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing audibly at the sight of him. He stopped at the foot of the stair, throwing her an irritable look, then continued to the table where he plopped down into the seat next to his wife.

“You’ve no one to blame but yourself,” Ealhswith said to her husband.

Sihtric just groaned, dropping his head into his waiting hands. Ealhswith gave a long-suffering sigh before turning her attention back to their son.

“Are you sure you won’t eat?” The question was directed at Tove.

“No, I just came to check Sihtric was awake. I still have to go by Finan’s,” Tove replied. “Perhaps I’ll ask Gisela if she’d like to come for the evening meal, though?”

“Yes, that would be-” But Ealhswith was unable to finish her sentence due to Sihtric’s abrupt interruption.

“You’re going to Finan’s?” he asked.

Confused, Tove replied affirmatively.

Sihtric’s face paled, but he did his best to play it off. “I can get him. I’m sure you have...guard duties to get to.”

“I have no duties until everyone departs.” Tove eyed Sihtric suspiciously.

“Then I’ll come with you. Who knows what state Finan’s in,” he said.

And before she could reject the offer, Sihtric was on his feet heading for the door to pull on his boots. Tove glanced at Ealhswith, who only shrugged at the half-Dane’s strange behavior. By the time the women had exchanged their goodbyes and made their tentative plans to meet for dinner, Sihtric was standing outside waiting. There was tension between them as they made their way through the street, but Tove didn’t know what could be causing it.

It was no strange thing for her to go by the Irishman’s home after a night of drinking, so for Sihtric to insist on joining her was odd. Tove sent a few scrutinizing looks his way, but Sihtric made no comment. So, she walked alongside him in silence until they reached Finan’s house when he turned to her.

“I’ll go in first,” he said with no room for argument.

Tove frowned in response. Sihtric hovered next to her for a moment and she looked at him expectantly. Vainly perhaps, Tove hoped he was about to explain what the problem was but instead, Sihtric just looked at her carefully. She was about to demand some answers for his peculiar attitude when a crash sounded inside the house.

There was no time for Sihtric to stop her as Tove swiftly sidestepped him to push the door open. The curtains were drawn, so the small home’s interior was dim when she entered the main living area accompanied by Sihtric. Their eyes adjusted and the two looked around for anything that could have been the source of the sound. There was nothing; cups and platters were set in their place, chairs were pushed in, and Finan was nowhere to be seen. Though, they did spy that the door to the bedroom was slightly ajar.

Without thinking, Tove headed for the door. This time Sihtric was prepared to stop her, though, and he put a hand on her arm to halt her progress. She shot him a dirty look.

“What?” she snapped, rather fed up with his behavior.

“I don’t think he is alone.”

The suggestion gave Tove a pause, for she felt utterly obtuse not to have considered it as a possibility before surging into the house. Her only thought after the dreams she’d had was to ensure her friend was alright. Flushing a deep scarlet, Tove shrugged Sihtric’s arm off and stepped back from the door. Sihtric went inside, leaving the door open behind him; Tove did not peer in. She could hear Sihtric inside the room, attempting the rouse Finan. Then came a female voice, and for a reason she couldn’t explain, Tove instantly felt compelled to leave.

Outside, Tove stood with her back to the house, staring into the street. The concern that had briefly filled her drained away only to be replaced by something she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, Tove pushed it down. It wasn’t the first time in her life she’d found a friend in bed with someone. There was no reason to be bothered, Tove told herself. It was just Finan. Yet somehow, she had never thought of him being with someone nor had she seen him with anyone either, and she had been part of Uhtred’s household warriors for almost a year. Or perhaps, she’d just never noticed it? Tove frowned at that. It was unlikely; Finan had become her best friend and they spent quite a bit of time together.

Voices could be heard coming from inside the house. One of them Finan’s distinctive Irish lilt, then Sihtric and a female. Tove involuntarily stiffened when footsteps came up behind her shortly after the talking stopped, but it was only Sihtric. His expression was searching when he first met her eyes.

“He’ll meet us at the stables in a while,” Sihtric said.

Tove nodded.

“In the meantime, I’m starving. Come on.”

And Tove allowed herself to be led back to his and Ealhswith’s home -the dream and her worry forgotten.

The previous night’s events were cloudy in Finan’s mind, but he did recall the woman serving him and the others ale most of the evening. She was reasonably pretty with her ashy blonde hair, dark eyes, and an ample figure. Throughout the night, she had smiled at him and perhaps they spoke a few words in passing, though that conversation was lost to the fog of ale. What he could remember more clearly was bidding Sihtric goodnight when he returned from taking a piss and leaving with the barmaid. How that had come about, he wasn’t wholly sure. In his next full memory, they were at his house; she walked ahead of him towards the bedroom, leading him along with a mischievous glint in her eye.

The next thing he knew, she was lying naked beneath him moaning too loudly, clutching his shoulders, but it wasn’t her -at least not in his mind. His inebriated brain hadn’t seen the tavern wench. Instead, he had been gazing down at Tove writhing beneath him with her near-white blonde hair haloed around her head, moaning with pleasure as he made love to her, and staring intently into his eyes. He leaned down to brush a tender kiss to her lips, but when he pulled away it was the barmaid again. Any further details of the night beyond that had slipped through his fingers. Finan grumbled to himself, imagining the whole encounter must not have been that outstanding if it did not cut through the haze.

Having finished dressing, the barmaid emerged from Finan’s room. She still looked somewhat disheveled, but at least she was adequately dressed, though there was no reason to worry over it as Sihtric and Tove had already gone. Her smile faltered at the sight of Finan splashing water from a bowl onto his face. He didn’t acknowledge her at first as he stared blankly at the still water.

“Are you alright?” she asked tentatively.

Finan started not having realized her presence. “I’m fine…”

She went to place a hand on his shoulder, but Finan’s voice halted her.

“Look, we had fun an all, but ye do not need to make it what it is not,” he murmured.

Her breath stuck in her throat. She stepped back, squared her shoulders, and smoothed her expression. That was not the morning greeting she had expected to hear after how tender and passionate Finan had been with her, but whatever his reasons were, she supposed she’d just have to accept them.

 “I’ll just be going then.”

“That, is probably best,” Finan replied, still not looking away from the bowl.

He was alone then staring into nothingness and pondering. The vision of Tove was seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there. Of course, Finan had always recognized she was beautiful, not to would have been to lie, but as their friendship grew, he tried not to think about her beauty. It was more difficult though, after the woods when in the glow cast by the fire, he could have sworn for a moment he had in fact come upon one of the fair folk. And the heat he had felt emanating from her when he had rested his hand on her knee had stayed with him long after the contact was over.

In a sudden burst of frustration, Finan smacked the bowl away only vaguely hearing it smash against the far wall. He couldn’t do this. Feeling this way was wrong, but it was only becoming more difficult to ignore. Perhaps that was what had spurred his drunken self to seek out a distraction? Well, he thought wryly, it clearly had not worked. Finan cursed under his breath in his native tongue. He needed to pull himself together. They were riding out in mere hours and he could not afford to go to battle in an unfocused state of mind. 

Mentally, Finan shook himself before setting about packing the few things he’d need in a sack and heading for the stables. When he reached his destination, there were already some people congregated around outside. Among them, he spotted Tove with Osferth, Lord Uhtred and Gisela. She leaned effortlessly against the plank wall of the stable, engaged in a seemingly serious conversation with Uhtred and the others. Averting his gaze, Finan searched for Sihtric, but before he could locate the dark-haired Dane, his name was called. He looked to see Uhtred waving him over.

Unable to ignore his Lord, Finan walked over. Gisela was appealing to her husband regarding the extent of her guard when as he strode up. It seemed she felt Uhtred was being a tad excessive. Tove wore a look of amusement, whereas Osferth appeared to be considering the Lady’s point.

“Tell these three that ten men are a perfectly reasonable guard,” Uhtred said.

Finan arched a brow, exchanging looks with Osferth who shrugged, and Tove who in turn offered a placating glance to Uhtred.

“And what is the alternative?” he asked.

“Six is enough,” said Gisela.

“With three on and three off at any one time.” Added Tove.

“Seems fair to me,” said Finan.

Uhtred sighed. Seeing that he was outnumbered, he relented. “Alright, but Tove will stay at the house.”

Gisela smiled, and Finan had a suspicion the Lady had intended her to do just any way. The decision made Uhtred excused himself, with a swift kiss on his wife’s cheek, likely to check on some other business. Leaving Finan with the remaining three.

“I’ll meet you at the gate when they are ready to leave,” Gisela said to Tove.

The shieldmaiden indicated her agreement with a nod. Gisela threw a look at Osferth before she departed.

“I’ve got some things to check on,” Osferth added before heading off as well.

Tove watched Osferth hurry off with a curious look. She was sure she’d seen him complete his preparations earlier. Shrugging it off as the monk just being odd, she turned to scrutinize the Irishman’s appearance.

“I see you are well,” Tove said.

“Aye.”

“That is good.”

Finan felt an uncomfortable tension between them, but he was unsure of how to break it. Though Finan hadn’t seen her, he knew she was there with Sihtric at his house and didn’t know what she had seen.

“Did you know?” Tove asked, seeking his gaze.

“Know wha’?” he responded in mild surprise.

“Yesterday Uhtred told me I was to stay behind as part of Gisela’s guard. Did you know?”

Finan avoided her eyes when he answered. “Aye. He did tell me tha’.”

He could see her nod out of his periphery, but she made no verbal response.

“I warned him ya’ wouldn’ be happy.”

Tove hummed. “I am only unhappy to see my friend -friends- go to battle without me.”

Finan looked at her earnest grey eyes and wondered how he could dare hope for more from her. The many practical reasons she could not possibly want him aside; how he could even let himself be with her after Laoise. The grief of that ill-fated infatuation no longer stung, but its shadow was long and full of warning. Finan had not allowed himself anything more than a passing fancy for a woman since his exile from Ireland.

“You will look after yourself?” Her expression was pained.

“Of course.” Finan smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I’ve made it this long, haven’t I.”

Rolling her eyes, Tove punched the Irishman lightly in the shoulder. Even though Finan hadn’t checked Gúthwine, he elected to stay and chat with her a while longer. Both were apparently reticent to part now the tension was dispelled, but when Uhtred called out for the departing warriors to saddle up, Finan was shocked how much time had passed. Tove appeared just as surprised.

“You had better get on then,” she said, pushing off the wall.

Without thinking, Finan stepped forward to embrace her and Tove returned it warmly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He held her to him even as he felt the same rush of heat as when he’d touched her knee. When Finan finally thought he should let go, Tove held on; her fingers clutching him felt like an echo of the vision from the previous night, causing him to still.  She turned her head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“Come back.” Tove released him and the heat was gone.

Finan stared at her and thought to crack a joke, but none came. In the end, he could only nod.

Tove stood with Gisela and the children at the gate to watch them go. Uhtred led the precession flanked by Sihtric, Finan and Osferth -behind them rode three hundred of Lunden’s warriors. They all looked quite well in their battle finery and Tove committed their faces to memory. It was the first time she would be parted from them since coming to Lunden, a lingering feeling of doubt twisted in her gut telling her not all would go as planned. As they approached the gate, Tove caught Finan’s eye and smiled reassuringly. He returned the gesture and waved to her, but then Sihtric pulled his attention away.

endnote; I hope it was clear from Tove’s internal dialogue that she doesn’t think Finan is with someone now. And we finally got why Finan is holding himself back with her. But I mean come on man, it couldn’t possibly work out worse than him ending up on a slave ship -could it? Laoise is pronounced (Lee-sha)

taglist: @obipoelover​, @iwillboilyourteeth​, @lauwrite1225​, @queen-manning​, @for-bebbanburg​, @bells3333​, @othermoony​, @emily456​,

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Seventeen

"Yes, we're finally here!" Prompto cheered as Cid docked the boat in Altissia's harbor. Once the vessel came to a complete halt, the group disembarked and headed toward the city.

Noctis was leading his companions but was stopped when the man guarding the entrance to Altissia called out to him. "Sir! What is the purpose of your visit?"

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of an excuse without giving away who he truly was. "Purpose? Uh..." He looked toward his friends and Cid before deciding to entrust the situation to Pestilence. "(Y/n), a little help."

The ivory-haired girl stepped past Noctis and leaned over the counter, whispering in the man's ear. The boys exchanged glances when they wondered what she could possibly be whispering to the stranger.

Then, a smile blossomed on the gatekeeper's face as the girl pulled away. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am. I hope you have a wonderful time." He opened the gate, allowing everyone through. They waved farewell to Cid as they entered Altissia.

Gladio asked the one question that was on his and the other boys' minds. "What'd you tell him?"

(Y/n) spun around and faced the boys with a grin. "Oh, just a harmless lie."

She went to turn her back and walk further into the city, but the shield grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. He was itching to know the whole truth. "Oh, no. You're not getting away that easily. Tell us what you told him."

"Your curiosity will not let this rest?" She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her finger against her upper arm.

Gladio smirked. "Nope."

"A shame, really," she sighed. "Because my lips are sealed. Your curiosity shall never be quelled."

"What?" Prompto gasped. "I want to know!"

"As I said, my lips are sealed."

Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio groaned in disbelief while Ignis was amused at their reactions. He wanted to know just as much as the others, but he remained silent as he continued to watch (Y/n) torture the others with silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After exploring a small portion of Altissia and eating a proper meal, Gladio suggested searching for the man Cid mentioned on the boat. "You wanna check Weskham's place out?"

"Yeah. "Let's all go to Maagho!"" Prompto responded cheerfully.

"Perhaps we'll even make it in time for tea," Ignis comments.

"Oh," (Y/n) gasped excitedly. "I hope we do. Altissia has quite a selection of flavorful teas. That is one thing I do remember from my first trip here."

"So, Iggy likes coffee and (Y/n) likes tea. What a match," Prompto snorts with laughter.

"Match made in heaven," Gladio snickered, eyeing the couple. "When's the date?"

Pestilence stopped and faced him with a hand on her hip. "Date?"

The shield stared down at the shorter girl. "Heard you and Iggy talkin' about it on the boat."

"Eavesdropping," Ignis corrects the brute.

"So you were listening," (Y/n) sighed. "Regardless if you overheard or eavesdropped, our private affairs are only for our ears."

Gladio looked over at the advisor, nudging him in the side with his elbow. "Think you can handle the lady?"

The tactician adjusted his glasses with a faint sigh, choosing to remain silent. The Horseman glowered weakly at the tattooed man. "What kind of question is that?"

"You're Iggy's first girlfriend."

The snowy-haired girl sighed in disbelief, looking away from Gladio. "Are you insisting Ignis doesn't know how to treat me to a proper date?"

"Far from it. He knows how to handle the ladies, but I don't think he realizes his true potential."

Pestilence placed a hand against the side of her head, heaving another sigh. "What company we keep..."

"Indeed..." Ignis added with his own exasperated sigh.

Gladio didn't hear their mumbling and gestures to an empty awaiting gondola. "Better make this quick so the lovebirds can go on a date."

"Then we better start looking now," Noctis said after a prolonged silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful gondola ride, the group successfully located Maagho. They stepped off the gondola and entered the bar, immediately being spotted and greeted by the man behind the counter. "Welcome to Accordo, lads and lass. Cid mentioned you'd be dropping in. Weskham Armaugh, as you've gathered." His eyes traveled over to Noctis and smirked lightly. "My word, you've grown, little prince."

Noctis hums in confusion, the man behind the bar ringing no bells in his head. Weskham chuckled at seeing the boy's confused expression. "Ah, but of course-you were only a babe at the time."

The five head over to the bar. (Y/n) sat down directly in front of Weskham, offering the man a gentle smile. "May I ask for your finest cup of tea?"

The man bowed his head slightly. "Right away, M'lady." Weskham disappeared for a couple minutes before reappearing with a hot cup of tea. "Here you are. It's on the house."

She thanked him, blew on the tea, and took a small sip. When she tasted a hint of cinnamon and vanilla, she smiled in delight. "What an exquisite, delectable taste."

Prompto guffawed at her comment. "You sound like Iggy."

"It's a blend I made myself," Weskham proclaims. "I only provide the best for one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

(Y/n) took another sip before setting the porcelain cup onto the matching plate. "I must have a tag with my name and status on it somewhere."

The man shook his head with an amused smirk. "Not at all. Cid gladly informed me of who you were. It's an honor to meet you, Pestilence. The Four Horsemen is one of my favorite stories to tell."

The Horseman looked up from her cup of tea. "I pray such a tale does not frighten away your customers."

"You'd be surprised how many of my customers enjoy the tale as much as myself." He looked toward the others, who sat in the chairs beside Pestilence. "So, this is your maiden visit. Enjoying it so far? You doubtless have many questions, so ask away."

Noctis' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "This country is a part of the empire, isn't it?"

"Morosely, yes..." (Y/n) muttered from in between Noctis and Ignis, her comment going unnoticed by all.

Weskham chuckles at his cautionary question. "You're wary, I understand. But there's no need to jump at every shadow. Just be aware that the terms of our independence grant the empire free reign to come and go as they please."

"We'll bear that in mind," Ignis replied.

"It's admittedly a one-sided arrangement," Weskham confesses. "Most everything we do requires Niflheim's permission, and they wouldn't knowingly permit the Oracle to appear before the public. How our government spun that is quite a mystery. Is there anything else?"

Noctis decided to ask about Lady Lunafreya first. "You really think Luna will make an address?"

Weskham nodded, resting his hands on the countertop. "If every recent radio broadcast is to be trusted, absolutely."

"Where is Lady Lunafreya?" Ignis inquired.

"In the city somewhere, but no one has caught so much as a glimpse of her. The media has been conspicuous in its silence on the matter, which speaks volumes of government intervention. That'd certainly explain the rumors of disgruntled imperial officers leaving the city."

"How suspicious," (Y/n) comments before taking another sip of her tea.

"I'll say..." Noctis muttered in agreement before asking his next question. "So you see lots of Niffs around here?"

"We do," the bar owner answered. "Sometimes even at my place. Theirs is a familiar presence, and the citizens don't think much of it. Though, the high commander did cause a stir when he showed up the other day."

"Ravus..." The soon-to-be king mumbled under his breath.

"Friend of yours?" (Y/n) asked.

"Far from it..."

"The elder brother of Lady Lunafreya," Ignis stated in a slightly hostile tone.

It didn't go unnoticed by the girl. "Not an admirer, I see."

"Hell no," Noctis scoffed.

Weskham continued once the others were silent. "So soon after they felled the Archaean in Lucis, his arrival fuels rumors that they will next come to Altissia. The empire's not content ruling all the land-they want the heavens as well."

"If one tastes the blood of sovereignty, such a thirst shall never be quenched 'til all is conquered," (Y/n) said. "King Aeshema knows such subjugation all too well."

"The daemon king?" The tactician questioned with a tone of bewilderment.

Pestilence nodded. "Yes. The reason why daemons wander Eos at night is to prevent an uprising. King Aeshema forged a contract with his subjects to keep them in check. If the daemons were to ever overthrow His Majesty, the netherworld would crumble and daemons would flock to Eos day and night."

"Couldn't he help us take down the empire? I mean, he's a powerful immortal, too," Prompto chimed in.

The Horseman shook her head with a small frown. "Unfortunately, no. If King Aeshema were to leave Hell, the daemons would run rampant. While they posses a certain level of intelligence, their thirst for control overthrows such perception. The only time the daemon king could possibly leave is when his subjects roam the land of the living, but even that is risky."

"Guess we're on our own then," Noctis sighed. He leant his arms on the countertop, asking his final question. "Is anything changed with Leviathan?"

"For now, it's business as usual at port, but word is the government will soon open the Altar of the Tidemother," Weskham explains.

"In preparation for the rite," Gladio added.

"Ah, but on the other hand, they're scrambling to stockpile emergency provisions. This begs the question: if they're anticipating that the Hydraean will wreak havoc, why would they allow the rite to proceed?"

"If knowing summoning and receiving Leviathan's power would aid in the downfall of the empire, many in governmental affairs would risk all," (Y/n) replied. "Even wrecking the city is a viable option."

"Yeah, but what about the people who live here?" Prompto asked.

"Even knowing the possible outcome of the rite, the government officials will protect their people at any costs."

"Indeed, we would," a person stated calmly. The group and Weskham turned their heads in order to see the owner of the voice.

The bar owner chortled lightly. "My dear Camelia, it's been a while."

Camelia's eyes trailed over to the four boys and girl. "I heard about your distinguished guests."

"Ah, you've an ear for gossip."

"Lady, gentlemen," Camelia rounded the bar, wishing to chat with them. "I won't waste your time nor the time of an immortal. My name is Camelia Claustra."

Ignis knew the woman's status all too well. "First secretary of the Accordo Protectorate."

The first secretary's gaze focused on Noctis. "You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care. And the empire demands we surrender her."

The raven-haired boy's eyes widen at the news. "What?"

"Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence I've come to discuss terms...with the King of Lucis. If you've a mind to talk, come to my estate." With those final words, Camelia left.

Weskham watched the elder woman walk away with a sigh. "She can be oblique at the best of times, but I assure you her heart is in the right place."

"Oh. Okay," the gunslinger muttered.

"At any rate, you must be weary from your journey. Might I suggest you seek your beds for now and ponder matters anew in the morning?"

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, think we'll do just that."

"Then, to the Leville." (Y/n) finished her tea and led the boys out of Maagho. While the city has changed since her last visit, she still was able to navigate the streets with ease and find the Leville without asking for directions. She stood in front of the hotel with her hands on her hips, the four boys lined up behind her. "Here we are, gentlemen."

"Guess the city hasn't changed much if you were able to find this place without asking for help," Noctis comments.

"There are an abundance of new buildings and businesses, but the street layout is nearly the same as it was a century ago," she explained. "The Leville is where Raiden and I spent our nights after we exhausted ourselves exploring the city. Also, it seems you've a guest, Noctis."

Noctis looked into the lobby and spotted a familiar figure. He entered the Leville as he eyed the woman. "Gentiana."

With sealed eyes, the messenger delivered her cryptic message. "Ahead lies a future uncertain, yet sure is the astral memory, wherein the King may walk." Before the boy could react, she vanished.

Noctis stared at the spot Gentiana once stood as the others stood behind him. Prompto was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was...sudden."

"I expect no less from a divine being," (Y/n) stated.

Noctis turned around to face the girl. "You know Gentiana?"

"She has visited the Inner Sanctum countless of times. We'd chat for hours over tea," Pestilence smiles. "Her wisdom is vast and I find joy in conversing with her."

"I never can understand what she says," Prompto confesses under his breath.

"No need to linger on the subject," (Y/n) said, deciding to change the subject once she heard a small growl from the blonde's stomach. "You four must be famished. Shall we search for an eatery?"

"Definitely," Noctis agreed in a heartbeat. "I'm starving."

"But shouldn't we go and talk to Camelia first?" The gunslinger questioned.

"Yeah, like we have any other option," Gladio stated.

Ignis, on the other hand, opposed visiting the first secretary so soon. "There's no telling how events will unfold. Let us prepare before making our way. I also suggest we find an eatery."

"Yeah, she can sit tight a while. My stomach can't," Noctis said, leaving the Leville lobby with the others in tow.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful meal, (Y/n) stood up from the table and wandered over to the edge of the nearby canal. She stared down at the glistening water, watching the sun bounce off the surface.

When she heard a group of scrambling footsteps, she turned around and saw Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio rushing off. She blinked owlishly as she watched them vanish into the streets of Altissia without her or Ignis. She crossed her arms as the advisor sauntered over to her. "My, they seem to be in a hurry."

"It appears so," Ignis sighed in exasperation.

The Horseman offered him an innocent smile, knowing what the three boys had in mind and decided to not waste the time they were graciously given. "Since those three scampered off, we've time for ourselves. Shall we explore?"

"Let's," Ignis simply replied.

The two departed from the eatery and began exploring what all Altissia had to offer.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Long post about how justice needs to be about the people harmed, not the people causing the harm. From justice for individuals to social justice. Some non-graphic discussion of rape. Behind a cut, partly because of the rape stuff but mostly because it’s really long. Somewhat rambly.

I’ve got one more in me. At least. Hang on.

My brain will fan out in one of a thousand arbitrary directions and then not want to go back. I can do this.

Ah, right, “as usual this isn’t about being a bad person.” The US and I’m assuming the Western world in general, has a really skewed idea of justice. We think it’s about the person causing harm.

Let’s say someone rapes me. Let’s say it’s one of those mythical rapes that almost never happens: a stranger in a dark alley relying on physical force. OK. That’s bad. That’s not a stealing baby formula kind of crime, it’s not something that just shouldn’t be illegal in the first place or something that wouldn’t be an issue under a more fair economic system, that’s really bad.

(A massive percentage of the prison population is there for nonviolent drug crimes, and in general illegal is not the same thing as wrong.)

Is putting the rapist in jail going to help me or other people? I mean, maybe I’ll feel a little bit safer, maybe?

Except that’s not how most rapes happen. The guy who actually raped me wasn’t a stranger who physically overpowered me. He was my boyfriend. And he didn’t need to overpower me because I trusted him and thought that since I’d said that I wanted to do some things and not other things he’d respect that and, well, turns out I was wrong.

There is no way in hell I would have gotten a conviction, if I’d even contacted the police, if I’d even seen it as rape at the time. I’d have to prove, in a court of law, beyond a reasonable doubt, that it wasn’t consensual, and how do you do that? And most rape victims can’t. Because most rapes are committed by someone the victim knows — a boyfriend, a spouse, a friend, an acquaintance — and they’re not committed using physical force. (Alcohol/drugs are really common, although not in my case.)

How do you prove it was rape? You don’t.

That’s the bad news. The good news is, you don’t have to punish the rapists to create a world with less rape in it, or to support people who have been raped. You can tell the truth about rape and dispel the myths. You can make therapy widely available, and medical care including abortion widely available and cheap or better yet free. (In spite of what a certain Republican politician has claimed on the record, there’s no special magic that keeps people with a uterus from getting pregnant if they didn’t want the sex.)

Oh, and including generous support for parents who don’t have a lot of resources, for victims unlucky enough to get pregnant who choose to not go the abortion route.

You can promote consent culture (talking about what getting consent looks like) and fight slut shaming (slut shaming is always also rape victim shaming) and promote bystander intervention and make certain kinds of “locker room talk” socially unacceptable and spend an inordinate amount of time talking about “It’s Cold Outside”.

You can address the myth that false accusations of rape are common. You can impose social and economic consequences on accused rapists without waiting for or requiring legal confirmation. You can bring “missing stairs” out into the open. You can decide this isn’t a good time to talk about the Rule of Three when a rape victim asks for a curse in your online pagan group. You can believe victims and support victims and not ask a bunch of weird “ok, but you must have done something to make him think you wanted it” type questions.)

(Um, I’m mostly using male perpetrator/female victim language here, but rape absolutely happens in queer contexts and women can sexually assault men or boys, and believing male or nonbinary victims and people who have been victimized by women or other not-men is important too.)

Hmm. I don’t think this is exactly what I wanted to talk about here. But I guess I’ll roll with it?

Anyways: if my rapist was in prison that wouldn’t do a danged thing to help me. What helps me? Project Unbreakable. Yes Means Yes. Other people who have been raped talking about their experiences. A lot of people being very emphatic that it’s not a “misunderstanding” thing and it’s not the victim’s fault. People talking about what the emotional fall-out of being raped can look like, and how there’s no “wrong” way to react to being raped. People who make it possible to talk about this stuff without getting a lot of weird ass reactions.

And, you know, health care and stuff.

And this is what justice should look like: what helps people who have been harmed, what mitigates the damage, what promotes healing. Which pretty much always starts with speaking truth and dispelling the myths.

It’s really, really, really not about the perpetrators.

And it’s the same thing with all oppression related stuff. Racism isn’t about white people. This anti-immigrant xenophobic stuff going on in the US, isn’t about white US citizens who are overly fond of weird candy metaphors, it’s about immigrants and their families and what they need.

Fighting the patriarchy fundamentally isn’t about punishing men or doing anything with men at all, and taking the focus away from men is a really important step in fighting patriarchy.

Fighting ableism isn’t about temporarily abled people at all, and I have to say as a formerly temporarily abled person (or at least formerly able bodied person) that term resonates with me hard. It really is a fundamentally unreliable state of being.

Anyways: it’s about disabled people. It’s about being clear on the differences between what our conditions do to us and what a human-made world does to us. It’s about taking our voices out of the margins and putting them in the center. It’s about resources and support and challenging the idea that worth is connected to productivity or independence. It’s about being real and upfront about how while work often needs to be done, work isn’t worth. It’s about acknowledging that sometimes what happens to us isn’t caused by us. It’s making space for seeing people who are sick or injured who aren’t getting better, ever. It’s about representation in media, it’s about accommodations, it’s about addressing stigmas. It’s not about abled people at all.

So: I’m disabled, ableism is (partially) about me. (Definitely partially though — there’s some forms of ableism I don’t experience, and other forms I rarely experience compared to others.) When we’re talking about a type of ableism I experience (like...doctors assuming you’re not really that sick because you look healthy) my voice is important; when we’re talking about another type of ableism (like...people with developmental disabilities being treated as less than human) I need to get into ally mode and support.

I’m white: that means my opinion is intrinsically less important when the conversation turns to racism, because it’s not about me. My role is to support, to not get in the way, to use my privilege to amplify people of color’s voices. Mostly to step back. To listen. To not make it all about me.

Idk, I don’t want to act like different forms of oppression are interchangeable, and I think sometimes I do fall into that way of thinking. They’re not, there’s significantly different issues and concerns. But there’s also some extent to which ideas about one form of oppression can be transferred to other forms, some extent to which generalizations can be made. It’s easier for me to “get” racism if I think about the ways I’m marginalized. It’s not a substitute for listening though.

Anyways. I think people mess up on this a lot. Like, so much of oppression talk would be easier if there weren’t so many people whose immediate reaction to hearing oppression words like “classism” or “racist” or “patriarchy” or “transphobia” was to think “you’re telling me I’m a bad person” or even “you’re saying all men are bad” or whatever. That’s not what it’s about.

You can be really clear that that’s not what you’re saying, and people will hear it anyways because that’s what they’re primed to hear. That’s how they’re primed to think about justice. Which is one heck of a barrier to actually getting justice.

[fan-clan-fun]

The (Revised) Warrior Code

I’m working on a Warriors rewrite and I’ve spent most of the day working on this new and (hopefully) improved Code! There is one more unofficial rule that I didn’t write down and consequently forgot, so I may send that one in later.

Oh lovely! Let’s check it out!

THE CODE

Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friends with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, for someday you may meet them in battle. Taking a mate from another Clan is strictly forbidden.

Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. If one must reach Highstones, they may cross WindClan territory unchallenged, but may not hunt. If a message must be carried across borders, the messenger is granted safety.

Queens, kits and elders eat before apprentices and warriors. Apprentices must perform their daily duties before eating unless given explicit permission. The sick and injured eat alongside the queens, kits and elders.

Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to the Place of Many Stars for it’s life

A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. A leader may delay an apprenticeship, but cannot perform the ceremony earlier.

Newly appointed warriors must hold a silent vigil. They may not speak or move until the following sunrise, unless the Clan is in danger.

A warrior must have been a successful mentor to become deputy.

The deputy becomes leader when the current leader dies or is exiled.

After the death, retirement, exile or promotion of the deputy, a new one must be named before moonhigh.

A Gathering is held during the full moon. A truce is kept for the night, and there will be no fighting amongst the Clans at this time.

Borders must be checked and marked daily. All trespassers will be challenged, but violence will only be used if necessary.

No cat can neglect or harm a kit, no matter it’s origins.

A leader’s word is law, and must be respected at all times. If the word of the leader is endangering Clan members unnecessarily, the medicine cat may confer with the elders and override this authority.

A warrior should not kill unless it is in self-defense. An unnecessary death will be paid back to the Clan who lost a cat.

Warriors must reject the life of a kittypet.

Each Clan has the right to be proud and independent, but in times of trouble they must forget their boundaries and fight side by side to protect the four. Each Clan must help the others so that no Clan will fall.

Alright, so pretty standard, basically a version of the code with some extra clarifying statements that are pretty needed given the chaos in the books. Looks good!

PUNISHMENTS & EXPLANATIONS

1. Punishments vary due to the severity of the crime, and the judgement of the leader. Defending a friend from another Clan can result in mild punishment, or in extreme cases, exile. Forbidden relationships can result in Gathering privileges revoked, along with border patrol privileges. If kits result from this couple, the kits will stay with the mother. If the mother dies, then the kits will be sent to their father’s Clan. If the leader of the mother’s Clan does not want the kits, they will be sent to the father’s Clan. One Clan must always accept the kits.

This is a good thing to have rules about, although if a clan didnt accept a litter of kits they would be crazy to give up extra clan blooded members. Still important to have in mind though. 

2. By hunting on another’s territory, one makes themselves susceptible to a scolding from the leader, and put on apprentice duties. They also must return the prey that was caught, or catch another piece of similar prey to return to the opposing Clan.

Oh I like this, basically hunting on someone else’s territory is just free hunting for the other clan, a good way to deter ambitious warriors or apprentices from doing something stupid.If one eats without completing their duties or getting permission, they will receive a scolding from their mentor/leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

3. If one eats without completing their duties or getting permission, they will receive a scolding from their mentor/leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

4. If proper thanks is not given to the ancestors, one will receive a scolding from their leader, and will be assigned apprentice chores.

5. It is the duty of the medicine cats and elders to remind their leader of this rule, and if the leader insists upon performing the ceremony, a council of elders, led by the medicine cat, will be held.

6. If a new warrior is caught speaking for unnecessary reasons, they will be reassigned apprentice chores and be supervised by an older warrior on patrols.

Lots of little rules, but good ones, its mostly about the respect.

7. If a leader appoints a deputy who has not successfully mentored an apprentice, the leader must provide a good reason for electing to appoint them, and the Clan must hold a vote after hearing this evidence.

8. If the deputy is challenged, the challenger can provide evidence on why the deputy is not fit, and the deputy can also argue their case. A vote will be held, directed by the medicine cat.

I appreciate the involvement of Medicine cats more as a backup/enforcer of the laws, I imagine they and the elders would also be counselors and more aware of the laws as well.

9. No punishment occurs if a new deputy is not named, but it is extremely taboo to not appoint one on time. The new deputy may be treated with some suspicion.

Superstition, especially in a heavily religious and spiritual society, is a powerful motivator, it’s wise to take it into account.

10. If a Clan attacks another Clan during a Gathering, the other three Clans can decide what punishment befalls the attacker. It can include being banned from Gatherings, or disallowed access to certain neutral grounds.

Yes, its wise to include the rest of the clans in these sort of decision making. Clans should band together to ensure one of them isnt going beyond the constraints of the rules and the code. If clans would police each other, we wouldnt get the chance for one to simply drive an entire clan out. Its a system of checks and balances.

11. If it can be proved that a border has not been marked recently enough, or violence is used unnecessarily, the Clan leaders can decide an appropriate punishment, such as assigning apprentice duties and hunting/caring for injured cats.

12. If a kit is neglected or comes to harm for any reason, offenders can receive a variety of punishments. If a kit was harmed with malicious intentions, the offender can be exiled. If a kit is neglected due to a bias, the offender will be scolded and punished with chores or apprentice assignments, or be tasked with caring for the kit.

This is a good way to ensure that the clan doesnt end up with abusive parents, or just general abuse. The future of the clan is in its kits, they should be cared for and protected at all costs.

13. A leader who endangers their Clan for unnecessary reasons can be exiled, or reprimanded by their medicine cat and elders. Medicine cats are responsible for determining if the endangerment is unnecessary.

Again, good checks and balances, the leader shouldnt be the absolute authority, even if they are the primary authority.

14. A warrior who kills another warrior for an unnecessary reason must repay the Clan who lost a warrior by hunting for the family or providing services for the other Clan.

15. A warrior who is found fraternizing with kittypets will be reprimanded by their mentor, leader, elders and/or medicine cat, and assigned apprentice duties and chores. If the behavior continues, and the offender sees no harm in what they’re doing, the offender may be sent to live with the kittypets.

Its a fair punishment. If they like the kittypets so much, maybe thats the life for them. Decisions have consequences.

16. If a Clan refuses to assist with a threat deemed necessary for four-Clan intervention by the medicine cats and elders, the other three Clan will decide a punishment for the offending Clan. Punishments can include being banned from Gatherings, or disallowed access to certain neutral grounds.

Already expanded on this above, but its a really good addition to expected rules.

  OTHER RULES

Medicine cats are permitted to have a mate and kits if another medicine cat is trained and ready to assist with all duties.

All patients must be treated equally, regardless of relation to the medicine cats.

Medicine cat apprentices are chosen by a sign from the Place of Many Stars. Every cat is eligible, even if they’re training as a warrior apprentice or are currently a warrior.

Medicine cats do not need permission from a leader to heal a cat. This is up to their own discretion.

All cats must learn basic medicinal practices in case an emergency comes up and a medicine cat is not present.

Kits must stay in camp until apprenticeship, and are not allowed to hunt. Parents may take their kits on short walks through the territory provided the leader and medicine cats approve it, and a warrior accompanies them.

The safety of the Clan as a whole is more important than the safety of one cat. However, one cat should not be selected as a sacrifice under any means.

Clans must not unite together to drive out another Clan.

Clans must not force another Clan to share territory.

Cats cannot eat before going to the Moonstone/Moonpool to speak with StarClan.

Any cat to harm a medicine cat, in battle or in peace, will be punished severely. It is punishable by exile or death. If the medicine cat has proven to be malicious, a cat can take them down provided they have evidence of malicious intent.

The leader should be the last cat to eat from the fresh-kill pile in times of a prey shortage.

If a couple wishes to have kits which they cannot produce together, they are permitted to find a loner or rogue, or even a willing Clanmate, to sire or carry the kits for them. The kits will not be taught to consider this cat as their parent unless the mates and sire/dam agree to it.

Cats must wait until they are a fully trained warrior to take on a mate. This is the rule for all parties involved. Any fully grown cat caught in a relationship with or romancing an apprentice or younger will be severely punished, and possibly exiled.

If one of the rules of the Warrior Code do not consider an angle that is currently providing an issue, medicine cats and leaders may discuss to find a good outcome. However, acknowledgement of this outcome must occur at the next Gathering, so that other Clans can receive guidance if they face a similar issue.

Okay so I realized halfway through the second list that the numbers were messed up, so Ill just do comments for the third section down here. 

I like having a section of rules or even a code which pertains to medicine cats. In my own clans they do have their own code, which includes aspects of like the Hippocratic oath and such, but these rules outline most of the things that are smart to touch on. 

I really like that all cats have basic first aid knowledge! In the past I’ve thought that it would be a good precursor to apprenticeship, for older kits to have something to engage them while in camp and waiting for their apprenticeships, it would also help medicine cats to learn which of the younger cats might have an aptitude for medicine at a younger age. 

These are all really good additions that I feel like would cut down on so much of the drama that happens in canon, but make sense to keep a steady peace in and between the clans. 

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

Okay Tumblr, I’m about to do a stupid thing and ask for validation on some of my original writing. I’ve been working on a novel for a while now, and while I don’t have nearly as much to show for it as I would like, I do have this prologue. 

The story it is is attached to is long and complicated and queer and magical and I love it. My question to you fine internet denizens is: after reading this prologue, would you keep reading this book? 

(If you have follow up questions about this story at all, please ask because I love blabbing about this and I’m considering making a side blog just about this story because I want to develop it and hopefully get it published one day)

My buds: @a-l-ias @madre-des-leones @books-andbiscuits @chihuahuapowersgo @oopstheregoesthatlifeofmine @ivneess @elissastillstands @i-am-triple-a @becca-becky @goddess-of-fluff (You are all under absolutely no obligation to read this, I just think you’ll get a kick out of it)

So, without any further ado, I give you the prologue to Cheshire Moon:

Prologue: In Which It’s The End of the World As We Know It

Here is the boy on his bicycle. It is a dark and stormy night, a strange night for a bike ride. A Monday night as it would happen. Just goes to show that even after the events collectively referred to as “the Apocalypse” have ravaged the Earth and destroyed the capitalist institutions such as bureaucratic schools and offices that made certain weekdays widely hated, Mondays are still, and will always be, awful.

So here is the boy on a bicycle twenty years after the Apocalypse. He is pedaling madly through woods that had once been somewhat tamed. The woods were made of pine and maple and oak, the staples of a Northeast American forest, but they were also more than that. See, when nature is left to its own devices, even forests once populated with such things as marked hiking trails and outdoor recreation areas can turn into something quite different. This forest, once a nature preserve belonging to the state of New York, was now a wildwood. Things not quite friendly and not quite mundane and things not evil but also certainly not kind to trespassers lived in the dark spaces between these trees.

So here is the boy on a bicycle, riding through a wildwood full of dangerous things not kind to humans on a stormy Monday night twenty years after the Apocalypse. This is odd for three reasons.

First, as previously mentioned, it was a rainy night. And not a little drizzle, May-Day morning kind of rain that you barely needed an umbrella for, but a sky-splitting, earth-shaking, world-flooding howler of a storm. Each bolt of lightning ripped the sky apart; every roll of thunder shook the ground; the howling wind threatened to send even the oldest trees crashing to the ground. Surrounded by all of this, beneath the trees and in the mud, was the boy on his bicycle. 

The bicycle was the second odd thing. Despite the absolute hell it’s rider was currently putting it through (he wasn’t biking on a path, you see, just careening through the underbrush as it suited him; scratching the paint, splattering it with mud, and getting half a forest worth of sticks stuck in the wheel spokes), it was a very nice bike. A ten-speed, all-terrain, for-serious-athletes-only sort of bicycle. In another life, it would have been the property of some over-achieving businesswoman, the sort who did triathlons on the weekends and polished it with special bicycle wax three times a week. In this lifetime it had been stolen from an abandoned sporting goods store and aggressively spray-painted black because its new owner had been in a mood that day. There was also a laptop precariously duct-taped to the handlebars. Surrounding the ancient laptop was a clear plastic container, which several hours earlier had been looted from an old Target store and taped over the handlebars with extreme prejudice to protect the computer from the coming rain. 

The third odd thing was what the rider of this bike was doing. He wasn’t just soaked to the bone while pedaling full speed through the dark and rain and underbrush, with no light to guide him other than the faint glow of the computer screen. He was also singing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know!-oh!-” He swerves to avoid a tree- “Oh, it! It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I FEEEEEEL FINEEEE!” He had a deranged smile on his face, the kind adrenaline junkies get when they’re doing something supremely idiotic while enjoying themselves immensely, and couldn't be damned to care about the consequences. He was quite possibly insane, more likely sleep-deprived.

Just then, the computer started beeping. The boy quickly brought the bike to a stop, crashing through a puddle and narrowly missing a large rock that would have brought this story to an end much quicker. Still singing nonsensical lyrics to himself- “Lenny Bruce, Lester Bangs, birthday party, cheesecake”- he dismounted, taking something small and electrical out of the bag he wore over his shoulder.  He hit the device a few times, cursed twice, and hit it again before it finally turned on with a beep and a few flashing lights. The light illuminated his face, pale and tired and shivering. Splashes of mud on his face gave the appearance of more freckles than he actually had. He wiped his long, rain-drenched hair out of his eyes to peer at the computer screen before punching some coordinates into the handheld device. A map appeared on the smaller screen. Blue vector lines appear, joined by two small dots, one green, one red. As he moved, the red dot moved. “Excellent,” he whispered to himself before walking deeper into the woods, leaving his bike behind. It would be the last time he saw that bike.

Walking through the rain was much harder than biking through it. Every minute or so, he had to stop and pull his boots out of the shin-deep mud. Twice he slipped, spreading mud all over his front. He refused to think about the state of his hair, despite the fact that it smelled like some of the wet matter coating it might not be mud. He slipped a third time, and the device in his hand went flying off into the wet night, never to be seen again. He paused for a moment, staring pitifully at where his device had disappeared before proceeding to curse loudly and creatively in at least three languages; insulting not only the stupid forest and the gods-damned rain, but his own stupidity and the idiocy of his informant for failing to tell him about this job before it became a time-sensitive matter that resulted in him being covered in enough mud to pass as a very short golem……

He went on like that for awhile before continuing his walk. The past few days had been incredibly frustrating, and there was a lot of bottled up anger to be released. As absolutely no one listened, he cursed the Trader caravan who treated him worse than the dirt on their boots, the scavengers who’d stolen his good knife last week, and the state of his life in general, gods give him a sign that he shouldn’t end it all right now, just climb up a tree and get struck by lightning…

A particularly loud crack of thunder erupted just then, followed by a bright burst of lightning that was a bit too close for comfort. It seemed like the gods were calling him on his bluff. With a world-weary sigh, he shoved his frustrations back down and continued walking into the woods. First and foremost was the mission, he reminded himself. There would be time for pity parties later.

It seemed like the universe was mocking him at that moment; as he gathered his convictions, the storm worsened. He would have said it was impossible, but the rain came down harder, as if trying to tell him that just lying down in the mud forever was so much simpler than trying to be a hero, who was he anyway, to try and save the world…He began to sing again, attempting to combat the darkness of the weather and his mind. “Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn, world serves its own needs, don’t miserve your own needs…” He walks to the tune of the highly appropriate song, keeping his head up and eyes peeled for his destination.Finding anything in this weather would take nothing short of divine intervention, possibly by multiple gods, but find something he does. There, on his right, almost outside his field of vision, a faint glow in the darkness of the night. He smiled, a wild thing, before running full tilt towards the glow. 

As he got closer, it became clear that the glow was coming from the ground itself, a golden line stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction. The glow is slowly intensifying, but he’s arrived in time. He takes another device out of his bag, this one about the size of his head. It looked like if someone had melted down several computers, a tacky bachelor’s pad worth of chrome plating, and a rotary phone before mashing them all together and drenching the entire thing in white paint. That really wasn’t far off from the actual process used to create the gadget, which was of his own invention. He was rather proud of it, especially as it was one of a select few of his projects that had been completed without any magical assistance whatsoever.

With the golden glow lighting his way, he steps forward and gently places the SaviorBlob(that was what he had named the blobby thing) directly onto the line, aligning one of the sticky-outy metal bits towards magnetic north. Then he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, taking a second SaviorBlob out of his bag and placing it on the line. Again, he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, watching his feet while taking a third and final SaviorBlob out of his bag. He’s adjusting the magnetic alignment when he hears a loud grunt. He looks up. Then he starts running. 

A roar erupts from the massive creature straddling the line. Something vaguely resembling the idea of an arm erupts from the darkness, grabbing the boy by the back of his jacket and bringing him face to face with the rotting corpse of something that had never been properly alive. Desperate, he throws the remaining SaviorBlob at the creature’s face with surprising force, but it bounces off harmlessly. The creature roars again, throwing the boy up in the air only to snatch him up again, this time around the waist. With another arm, it sweeps the SaviorBlobs off the line, sending them flying into the night. 

Satisfied, it returns its attention to the boy trying to free himself, slowly pulling him closer as it opens it’s stinking maw wide. The boy watches, eyes wide, heart pounding. He waits. He waits. Then he strikes. A second before the darkness would swallow him whole, he pulls a knife from his boot and drives it deep into a mass of twisted flesh. 

As the creature flails, he rips off one of his many necklaces and shoves it down the creatures throat, kicking away at the same time and falling to the ground. His jacket is torn to pieces, tangling around the arm covered in dark acid from the creature’s mouth. 

The creature roars and lashes out, clawing at it’s wound with one arm and pinning the boy by his leg with another. The touch is dirty and so cold it burns, the antithesis of everything alive. The boy screams for the first time. Another twisted and corrupted limb is pressed to the glowing line, and the creature rears its head and sings, a single high piercing note a human could never hope to replicate. 

The boy struggles, trying to pull away from the pain, but he’s stuck fast. As the creature continues to sing, the light of the line grows brighter, turning from golden to white hot. The air itself is resonating with the impossibly high note, the whole world shaking as the boy tries to twist free and cover his ears from the onslaught of pure noise. With a final cry of pain, he escapes the creature’s hold, trying to run, trying to get as far away as possible...BOOM. The world goes white. He flies through the air, hitting a tree with a CRACK. Darkness falls immediately.

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I WILL TAKE ANY AND ALL CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

I WANT TO MAKE THIS GOOD 

I WILL ALSO BLAB ABOUT THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH, SPOILER THEY”RE ALL QUEER AND MOST ARE POC.