#now i DO think that all of the changes have given chess an absolutely Fascinating history and i’m ultimately glad they were made

[callixton]

my secret chess opinion is i actually think the london script is pretty much fine and never needed to be changed

[luesmainblog]

!! Notice! This is not an Argument, it is an Excited Infodump, pwease do not read this as aggressive i promise i am just invested in the discussion !! tbh i struggled with this for a while too and ultimately my answer is that he gets a fucking Break.

Kabru is the sort of person who is ALWAYS putting on a mask, even around the people he trusts the most; he can't let himself be vulnerable for anything. letting the tavern owner see the state of his room is probably the closest he get. but then here's mithrun; someone who has no strings to pull. somewhere where masking is actively a waste of time; he's already made his decision on him, there is very little kabru can do or say to alter his perspective now. as a recovered people pleaser myself, i can tell you what a relief it can be to find someone who just genuinely does not give a shit. it feels like a giant weight is taken off your shoulders that you didn't even know you were carrying. and as much as i love labru, that's something that he absolutely will not get with laios, or basically anyone else.

another aspect of the not giving a shit that brings relief: his eyes. as we know, kabru grew up with a lot of struggles with his self-image due to the superstitions in his village making people label him a monster and want to kill him. when he talks to laios about this, the response is... well-intentioned, but nowhere near anything he would ever want to hear. laios' interest in monsters stopped him from recognizing what a pain point this was for kabru, and he ended up saying something that could really only be taken as an insult by someone who is still, to this day dealing with the monster trauma. but mithrun ain't like that. at no point do we ever get an indication that he thinks anything of kabru's eyes other than vaguely noticing what color they are, as seen on the shapeshifter recreation. which, again, is unique; even among people who see them positively, it's not hard to assume that having blue eyes while dark and indian is Really Fucking Noticable and going to have an impression on the people he talks to. he doesn't get the benefit of a person not really thinking anything of it, because even if the person gives no indication of judgement, he's going to be aware of it. i have my own body insecurities and trust me, even once you've become accepting and neutral or even positive of the thing you used to hate about yourself, you never forget that it effects how people view you; it never slips your mind, and you wonder about it. especially if you're the type to overthink about how people see you and what you can do to gain their favor, as kabru is CONSTANTLY doing. except, kabru is all too aware that the only reasonable assumption with mithrun is that he doesn't think anything of it. it's the one time where he can honestly tell himself that it doesn't matter; that he doesn't have to think about it. and, at the same time, he's someone he could talk to about it if the worries ever stirred back up. he can be honest about how his hatred of monsters effects the way he views the whole issue, without having to worry about a silver lining or an infodump. and mithrun already understands the importance eye color can have on a life; he's an elf from a noble family, they get weird about that shit and he grew up with the family features. and we KNOW he's aware of his eye color changing, given his glass eye matches his real one Now rather than how it looked before. even if his overall awareness of it is dulled by the lack of desires, they both have eye trauma they can discuss, and they're kinda the only people eachother knows who'll Get It on some level. so again, mithrun ends up providing a safe space for kabru to be able to present himself in full honesty. and before i am misunderstood here - OBVIOUSLY kabru finds 4d chess fun as hell and would probably be happy to do it all day. i, personally, find character analysis and psychological study very fascinating, especially trying to understand how assholes think! but babes... you CANNOT do that ALL the time without /any/ break to just put it down for a while. one of my favorite thoughts with labru is trying to deal with the inevitable breakdown that comes from suddenly having that special interest as your job that determines the fate of an entire nation in real-time and then spending all your free time around someone who you can't help but mask like hell around. i want the man with no strong social skills to try and figure out how to help his poor burnt out boy, the image is VERY tasty to me. and that's kinda my point; that breakdown is a lot less imminent if he has a place to chill out, take the masks off, and turn that curious gaze inward or even just stop thinking for a while. that's what i like about kabumisu on kabru's end.

i ship both options, both in their own little aus and in poly situations, and i can honestly say that both men have a lot to offer kabru! often in opposite directions. on the kabru enjoyer side of things, i think which ship you prefer largely comes down to what kind of dynamic you prefer and what you think he needs. does he need a space where a lifetime of playing mental 4d chess is rewarded and he gets to quietly shape the world while the beloved idiot with big tits yucks up the public image, or does he need a quiet place to decompress and stop playing the mask game for a while? a seat where he can indulge his special interest to his heart's content, or a zone that's finally Safe - not the fake fluffy sweet-filled kind that milsiril tried to provide, but GENUINELY safe to sit back and examine Himself for once?

i sadly lost the source(anyone who knows it pls lmk so i can credit!!), but there's a poly shipper on twitter who imagined kabru keeping track of the two's different reactions to the same sort of situation, and i think it does a good job of displaying how there's pros and cons to both options.

and, of course, that leads me into my last point: both options let him indulge his love of learning other people's minds inside and out with unique challenge. Laios because he's so genuinely different from how kabru understands the world that he originally couldn't even believe someone would be that kind-hearted and bad with money, and Mithrun because the question of how a person without desires thinks and makes decisions is inherently fascinating.

given i ship both, i am by no means here to argue that Grrr Bark Bark My Ship Is Better. I just like explaining why i think characters work together! and i can absolutely agree that a lot of kabumisu fans focus waaayyyy too much on the mithrun side, so i wanted to pour my thoughts out on the other glass.

kb/ms is truly transcendental yaoi, spectacular, amazing, 10/10, no notes ... from the perspective of a mithrun enjoyer

as a kabru enjoyer, however...

I'll start off by saying that of course Kabru doesn't want or need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled, especially not with a white man, none of them do, it's all non-canon, Dungeon Meshi isn't about romance or shipping, yes yes yes, but none of us are here for that right now!! We're here to fruitlessly argue why my blorbos kissing makes more sense than your blorbos kissing!! You know it, I know it, none of us are free of cringe!! Clown on clown violence!!

That being said ... 🤡

I just don't see what Kabru gets out of kb/ms. With Mithrun, it makes sense; Kabru has a huge impact on him and ultimately helps him reaffirm his will to live. That's very exquisite drama and excellent character writing. But with Kabru, I just don't feel that Mithrun's character interacts with his personal flaws and would instigate his growth anywhere close to the same degree. I have to imagine most fics involving them focus more on Mithrun's baggage and how Kabru helps him heal from that ... because that's mostly all that happens between them in the main story, lol!

And like, that makes sense, because ultimately chapters 61-62 aren't about Kabru and Mithrun; they're about Kabru working through his conflicted feelings in helping Laios conquer the dungeon. I think it's ironic seeing people complain about kb/ms having Kabru be Mithrun's accessory when, if anything, Mithrun's main narrative purpose, outside of illustrating the danger of the Winged Lion, is to serve as Kabru's obstacle. I'd even argue Mithrun represents Kabru's personal bad ending; Mithrun wants him to kill Laios and surrender the dungeon to the canaries, preventing the short-lived races from ever understanding how dungeons function and returning to the status quo that had gotten Utaya destroyed. It's only when Laios practically forces Kabru, straight up puts his thumbs to the screws, to work past his reticence and be emotionally vulnerable that Kabru finally puts himself on the right path to achieve his goals (it's, uh, still a bit of a bumpy ride, but they get there in the end, lol!). If he'd been this way with Laios from the beginning, he might have understood Laios' intentions from the start and saved himself a lot of pain, but it's only because of Laios' influence that Kabru is able to grow as a character and get his happy ending.

(And even if one were a Mithrun enjoyer, ultimately the main source of Mithrun's life affirmation comes from the canaries. In that final scene, Kabru gets the ball rolling because he's outside of the canary hierarchy, but the scene ends with Mithrun being embraced by the canaries and as far as I'm aware the two don't interact with or reference each other post canon at all. Hell, it's Senshi who really drives the point home. Not that it matters when we're all wearing shipping goggles here, but it felt remiss not to mention it.)

At most, I can see how taking care of Mithrun would force Kabru to reexamine how poorly he takes care of his own body and that could make for some good drama. But even then, that change is ultimately instigated by Laios' influence on him, an extension of how Kabru wants to understand how Laios can see the value in monsters in an attempt to better understand his own trauma. If a person were to get into Dungeon Meshi specifically for Kabru and wanted to ship him with someone in a way that's most interesting for him, I'd be hard-pressed to argue there's a better choice than Laios (although who'd be cringe enough to do something like that haha right guys ... [sweating])

(Side note, though, I really don't vibe with the argument that kb/ms "reduces Kabru to a caretaker role" and that's why it's bad. There's plenty of instances where Kabru shoulders his friends' burdens (helps Kuro learn common tongue, listens to Daya's fiance about his relationship troubles, etc) and, more importantly, is seemingly happy to do so. I think Kabru genuinely enjoys looking after his friends and in the story seems to find plenty of personal satisfaction getting Mithrun to eat. I understand it has the potential to be more troubling considering Kabru is a brown man and Mithrun is a white man, but idk, it just feels on the same level as people trying to discount labru by saying Laios wouldn't take enough of an interest in people to want to start a romantic relationship, when his whole thing is that he does want to connect with people and just feels like he can't. It's not a bone I feel like picking, haha)

I honesty don't mind characters being "mischaracterized" in fandom or fic even to a large degree, I know it bugs a lot of people but I respect that ultimately fandom is little more than picking up the vague outline of a doll and playing with it and mashing their faces together. Besides, if I'm really worked up about it I can just write a fic and set the record straight myself, haha. This post is merely inspired by the supremely annoying subsection of twitter that acts like labru is the ship where it's just two dudes sitting in a room together. I'm just saying, Kabru ends the series whispering into the ear of another man as his day job and it's not Mithrun lmao

[lady-plantagenet]

What are your top ten novels about the Wars of the Roses? And why?

I think it’s obvious by the length how enthusiastic I was to answer this ask xx thank you for asking me and giving me also an opportunity to make a masterlist of some sorts of all my reviews xx. But you know? I speak like quite the expert but in reality I’ve read very little histfic about TWOTR because I just newly got back into this hobby (about a year ago) and have little time in general so tbh the last three books on this list I do not personally care for but since I’ve read so little novels of this kind they are here nonetheless hhh (so please people, give me no angry asks asking me why I am endorsing PG, I’m not).

1. The Last of the Barons by Lord Edward Lytton-Bulwer

This is quite possibly the best book I’ve ever read in my life. The gap between these books and the rest is a chasm the size of the world and I wpuld genuinely reccomend this book as an actual piece of literature to anyone, not just TWOTR fanatics. It is written in 1840, in quite old timey lingo and it centres around Richard Neville 16th Earl of Warwick, but in the true tradition of a real classic it is more than just a character drama, it astutely showcases the purpose of Warwick and what he did in the context of his wider world and doesn’t just chalk it up to personal greed. There is also this fascinating subplot about courtship, science and such. Hell, you even get this eccentric ‘natural philosopher’ guy called Adam Warner who tries to make something like a steam engine and gets employed as an alchemist by Jacquetta and Edward IV.

From a historical standpoint it is quite biased as the author himself was a politician (and an actual baron) and tbh I don’t completely agree with his interpretation of history and I can see some of the Victorian inluences slip in, but some of his takes are very refreshing and he clearly consulted the primary sources. I am much interested in his philosophy and life outlook though and while I don’t think his Warwick is the Warwick, I think he (Lytton-Bulwer) understood him like no other novelist could. As for the writing style... here’s an excerpt of a good reads review that I agree with and tells you all you need to know:

“Of course, such a style of writing no longer exists. The language used is essentially foreign to us. But the nobility, the pride of this story work their ways into your bones, your heart. You will yearn for honor once you have left it.“

Basically, go type it into google and see what I mean. You don’t even need to purchase this book it’s all online at the first click on Gutenberg.

Nevertheless, I’ve posted excerpts of it here, here and here =)

2. The King’s Grey Mare by Rosemary Hawley Jarman

This book (unlike the latter) has zero actual historical value. Actually, it sort of does in the way that it hilights certain real events that most people are unaware of when it comes to its protagonist: Elizabeth Woodville, eg the whole Cooke tapestry affair and the whole Desmond affair. Both things which I still stand on the fence about (if you don’t know what I’m talking about send em another ask or pm me). But like, it isn’t political, philosophical or such in any way like the first book, yet you still feel like you are *there* in the 15th century - by the time I finished reading it my heart was wrung dry and I kind of fell into a down for a couple of days because I just wanted to feel the magic again. If anyone would ask me I would give this 5 stars because it perfectly achieved what it set out to do (I can’t expect all books to go above and beyond like #1), it made me feel for the characters who were super complex, was accurate historically and even when it wasn’t it made sense, it got very creative with its themes (which I like to see because I am not interested in reading the exact same story over and over again) and the prose was absolutely magical and brought all the depth to this novel. I’ve read classics with less flowing and poignant prose, yes actual classics!

This book also switches POVs quite a lot (basically it headhops because it’s written in omniscient- but whatever, rules are meant to be broken), so you’ll get to see many of your faves in there, Edward IV, Margaret of Anjou and Grace Plantagenet feature quite heavily. One thing that disappointed me is that it wasn’t really Edward IV/Elizabeth Woodville (at the time I bought it for that), she never really likes him and his love for her kind of wanes towards the end. If you’re not too bothered about that then I say go buy it.

3. The Daisy and the Bear by K L Clark

I put this here because we are already going into shakier territory when it comes to this list. This is kind of the last *really* good, truly five star one. It is a long spoof about TWOTR but god it’s smart! Yet, It does not take itself seriously and has Margaret of Anjou/Warwick the Kingmaker as a crackship and centrepiece and had me in stitches the whole time. I’ve written a long detailed review for it here.

4. Death be Pardoner to Me by Dorothy Davies

This is a novel about George Duke of Clarence. Quite possibly the only novel ever written about him in existence and boy is it a trip - the author claims to have channelled him (she’s a medium). I’ve written a detailed review for it here. I read this last spring and my views have unfortunately changed, the thing is, I’ve come to find out through my research that this was quite possibly a hoax as there are some indisputable inaccuracies (Ankarette Twynyho’s age, the details of Isabel’s death - we *know* she did not die from childbirth, Isabel did not reunite with him after Tewksbury 1471, but right before Christmas 1470). It’s also quite Richardian (the author admitted) and she could have *had* me had she not chose to divulge it in the foreword. Nevertheless, I still like this book because it did get to me at certain points and it’s good quality as a novel, I remember shedding a tear at one point even which is extremely rare for me but I think that says more about my sentiment for the subject matter than the book itself.

5. We Speak no Treason by Rosemary Hawley Jarman (not yet finished, so ranking may vary)

I haven’t finished it yet, so I’ll leave it here for now. This book is a Richardian book about Richard III, but I can’t get enough of this author, I haven’t found anyone to replace her with. The prose is magnificent as usual and I must confess that I’m happy that this book is told through the POVs of three OCs and not Richard, he remains rather elusive and tbf I find the three OCs very interesting and at this point I’m more interested in their stories than anything else. Of course, Richard III is still a fairly prominent part of this novel (even when he doesn’t appear) and it has led to me getting annoyed quite a bit. Given who I am I fumed massively at that one aside that Clarence and Edward have bastards whereas Richard isn’t like that... like are you serious?? At one point the author reassociated the Games and Playes Chesse book to Richard when it was in reality dedicated to Clarence and I got even more annoyed. Leave the poor figure something ma’am? Whatever, as a book about three medieval commoners it’s fantastic and that’s what I pretend it is.

6. Wife to the Kingmaker by Sandra Wilson

Nothing more to add than what I wrote in my (super-long) detailed review on here. This is the case because I read it very recently. This is a novel about Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick, it’s ranked higher than Sunne because though it’s less accurate it’s got panache.

7. The Sunne in Splendour by Sharon K Penman

I feel very strongly about this Richard III book and what it represents. I wrote a long detailed review about it on here and a follow-up post on the discussion is here ft my awesome mutual @beardofkamenev ‘s insights also thrown into the mix. Xx

8. The White Queen by Philippa Gregory

This is a step higher than the other two because this book pretty much changed my life. The thing is, I read it translated into my own language by an extremely talented translator and I was also only about 11/12 years old so it was all very impressive to me then. This book about Elizabeth Woodville effectively introduced me to the TWOTR; an interest that has never really left me these past ten years (though at one point (ages 14-19) it was quite wane). It’s not a good book by any standard (I was quite shocked when picking it up at a bookstore, I had found that when read in the original language it lost all its magic), but I owe a lot to it and some people who now endlessly discourse about how bad PG is need to recognise their debt of gratitude and be a bit more respectful, I think. That is of course unless you came into this era via different media, but you got to admit that a massive part of us got to this place through TWQ, though we outgrew it.

10. The Red Queen and The Kingmaker’s Daughter by Philippa Gregory

Exact same commentary as above, just objectively not good books. Flat characterisation, misunderstanding of the era, historical innacuracies which don’t add anything, lack of nuance in prose which often dances too close to *gasp* YA prose *shudders*. But these are lower because I don’t owe them a debt of gratitude as I do TWQ. Funnily enough, they are still better than the series.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Ive never really understood the hype surrounding Taylor Swift - I mean, I like some of her songs, but im not big on modern pop music so generally she just doesn’t really click for me. But I find it interesting that theres quite a few of Beatles/Swift blogs - like, they should have very little in common given that they’re from completely different eras and all, but somehow people seem to find a lot of semblance between the two. << and thats not me shitting on any of these blogs btw! Hope I don’t come off as rude or condescending there <3

Anyway, I was just wondering what got you into Taylor Swift? (I think ive read your post on how you got into the Beatles)

Hi, anon! Don't worry, I don't think you're rude or condescending! I agree they don't have too much in common and I don't really like their music for the same reasons.* I do have a playlist of Paul songs that have similar vibes to Taylor songs but it's mostly lyric-based. (Also the Beatles For Sale songs actually have quite the Taylor-tinge because Paul and John were not immune to Country Music)

I saw @stewy say once that a possible reason there are a good handful of us Swiftie-Beatle People on here is the appeal of a vast discography, which I agree with. If you have an artist/group with 200ish songs, it's just really fun to really dive into their work and explore all the facets. I also think: we're talking about the most popular band of all time and one of the highest-selling artists of the 21st century. They have a lot of fans so there's bound to be overlap, regardless of musical differences.

Moving on to your question: Getting into Taylor was an extremely personal experience for me and so my explanation is probably going to be kind of long so I'll put it under a read more.

It was spring-summer 2014, I was 15. I had heard the more popular songs of hers starting with Love Story and enjoyed pretty much all of them (I always found her hopelessly romantic point of view fascinating) but before I got a Spotify account in 2013 it was difficult in general for me to really get into an artists' entire discography so most of her songs had flown under my radar.

At the time, I was in this very weird sort of codependent online friendship with this girl who was basically my first real best friend and my first more or less crush. She was very depressed and I was very much in an I Could Fix Her™ mood, except that I obviously couldn't fix her and it made me feel like I wasn't enough and she had begun pulling more and more away from me and not replying to my messages and it was simply driving me insane. I consider it the saddest period in my life.

at some point during this period, I started trying to connect with other people (all online, I didn't know how to talk seriously to anyone IRL) and explaining the issues I'd been having, and one of the people who brought me joy and whom I actually felt not drained talking to was a huge swiftie. And IDK the fact that she loved Taylor and the fact that talking to her made my life better (and also the fact that I liked all the Taylor songs I knew at that point) just made me decide to give her a listen. And I think that whole "large discography discovery" phenomenon really helped me at the time (funny, because her discography has doubled since then). It gave me something new to focus on; there were just so many songs to discover, all telling such rich stories. I also have always loved bridges, they are almost always my favourite part of a song. And Taylor, god-bless her, loves them too and always puts her ALL in them. Like pretty much every bridge of hers brings the song to the next level, and even a lot of her songs I don't adore tend to have great bridges (Stay Stay Stay and Paper Rings come to mind). I think one of her most underrated qualities is how good she is at song structure and really building up an entire musical journey with a song. She also almost always adds cool ad-libs in her second and third choruses to keep the songs interesting and dynamic (or at least since she's gone pop). Anyways, back to the story: Then Taylor announced 1989 as her next album and released Shake It Off, and it was just like this great happy thing for me to look forward to, when I had very little keeping me going. The era was promoting a lot of happiness which in hindsight was slightly fabricated and it was just a really great thing for me to latch onto.

At the same time I was coming to realize that I was gonna have to pull away completely from my friend and all those break-up songs just… Hit, y'know? Like, some people seem to think Taylor's a one-trick pony because she likes to write break-up songs but to me, break-ups are just like this moment where you as a human can potentially feel every single emotion, and Taylor's songs have covered every facet of the concept. Here are some songs I remember from that period, that all meant a lot to me at the time because they explained my own pain to me so well:

Haunted, for the absolute terror you feel in the first moments you realize someone is probably gonna leave you. Come on, come on / Don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Something's gone terribly wrong / You're all I wanted.

I Almost Do, for the inner turmoil you feel when you know you have to stay away from someone for your own good but you really, really have to resist just running back to that person. We've made quite a mess, Babe / It's probably better off this way / And I confess, Babe / In my dreams you're touching my face / And asking me if I wanna try again / With you / And I almost do.

Last Kiss, for that absolute sadness that comes simply with remembering everything that was good and not comprehending how it could've possibly ended. I still remember / The look on your face / Lit through the darkness / At 1:58 / Words that you whispered / For just us to know / You told me you loved me / So why did you go / Away?

Forever and Always, for that feeling of desperately wanting to hold on to what you still have but at the same time realizing it probably isn't going to last and having no idea how to fix it, plus feeling like the other person doesn't even care. So here's to everything / Coming down to nothing / Here's to silence / That cuts me to the core / Where is this going? / Thought I knew for a minute / But I don't anymore.

Dear John, my all-time favourite song, for that moment you find clarity and realize that you deserved better and that you were headed in an extremely dark direction because of this other person. [DISCLAIMER: my friend did NOT abuse me nor did we have some inappropriate age difference. But the way she would ignore me and her general moodiness really affected my own mental health and self-worth problems] You paint me a blue sky / And go back and turn it to rain / And I lived in your chess games / But you changed the rules every day / Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone / Tonight / Well I stopped picking up / And this song is to let you know why.

(She's covered more aspects of break-ups in other songs [cheating, divorce, feeling awkward around your ex amongst others], these are just the ones I remember being really important to me when I was first getting into her)

She really helped me feel a lot less alone during one of my loneliest periods and I really can't thank her enough for that. Soon after this, I started crushing on a girl in my class and Taylor's love songs started to take on a new meaning for me as well.

What's crazy to me is, when she went on hiatus for a few years, a part of me thought maybe I'd grown out of her and no longer had much in common with her, but when reputation came out I was pulled right back into my love for her as a person and musician and then when Lover came out I found that she was still explaining feelings to me better than I ever could (specifically with the songs The Archer and Cornelia Street). And now with folklore and evermore she's simply absolutely perfected her story-telling and I find myself deeply moved even by the songs I don't directly relate to. I feel like she has this amazing ability to find the absolute truth in the specific. I've never had a summer romance with someone who already had a girlfriend and mostly wanted to go back to her, and yet the bridge of august feels so real to me, y'know?

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose

It's hard to explain but looking at this, like it's so much more than the story it's telling. It's talking about how when you're young you really need so little to feel satisfied; how sometimes the idea of someone maybe spending time with you is better than actually doing things with other people; and how if someone using you without much thought can make you feel like you're not even entitled to grieve what you lost. Sorry. I'll stop. Don't want to go insane.

So, all of this is very personal and unique to me, but I think really the main thing that draws me to her is how vulnerable and honest she is about emotions, how eloquently she can explain the pain of being alive to me. Some people think she isn't the strongest singer, but I think, much like John actually, one of her greatest assets is how good she is at projecting emotion. The song happiness is a song I think has some lyrically weak moments but her vocal performance on it is so raw and devastating that every single line works even when, looking at it on paper, it feels like it shouldn't.

Hope this rambling made sense to you, lmao?? I love talking about Taylor though so thanks for the ask! Also very open to giving song recs if you do want to check her out more but I won't unless solicited to lmao *Sort of off-topic but I do think there's a relation between my fascination with the Beatles' history and my love for a great break-up song. I like pain I guess :)

[lucius-a-malfoy]

Full Audition

TW: Death & Abuse

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME | Leah

AGE | 28

PRONOUNS | She/Her

TIMEZONE |  EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL | 6-7 I work full time but I can be around evenings and weekends plus answer messages during the day

TRIGGERS | Suicide

PREVIOUS RP ACCOUNTS | Prior Lucius Account (I do see him a little darker and different in this group though)

ANYTHING ELSE| Trigger warnings for Abuse and Death in the audition, particularly freeform portion

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER DETAILS | Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, he/him, Pureblood. I would like to use Cody Fern as his FC please

WHAT DREW YOU IN | So the story goes like this: A friend and I were talking about Marauders era RPs and I commented “I just don’t think I could play Lucius.” I then promptly stayed up all night thinking about how I would play him and he just got really under my skin and I realized I in fact could play him. He’s so self righteous and confident, even though he often has no true reason to be other than his family name, and even that confidence is conditional with his father’s voice always chiming in his ear he’s not enough. He’s cool and detached and calculated--he’s the mind behind the madness to me, the expert chess player who isn’t afraid to lose a few pawns to secure the win. 

I think there’s something really interesting to Lucius in your plot though--he’s just lost his father and being thrust into a spot of power and likely leadership. In many ways, I see this leaving Lucius at a bit of a loss. He and his father’s relationship has neer been good, Merlin knows he doesn’t know the first thing about what fatherly love could possibly look like. But he’s always done as his father told him. Always followed Abraxas’s guidance. His father’s alway been the one to point him in the right direction and tell him what to do. Except now he’s not here. And there’s more weight on his shoulders than ever. On top of that, the Mundus Novus is expecting him to step up, to fill his father’s place, to be a leader. It has all the potential for power he’s always wanted. With one twenty tiny little catch. Being a leader in a fledgling rebellion that is ready to step out against not one but two great powers means thinking about other people and, well, that never has been Lucius’s strong suit. 

He’s at a point where he could have everything he’s ever wanted--leadership, power, adoration, glory, the Wizarding World bowing to his feet. But...suddenly...he’s realizing just how much goes into all of that. It’s not that he’s not ready (no...no...of course not, he was totally anticipating his father to just suddenly keel over of Dragon Pox) but it’s a bit overwhelming. Not that he could ever, ever dare let that show to anyone. And the idea of being on the opposite end of Tom Riddle’s wand...well it certainly sounded better when it was just an idea coming out of his father’s mouth. We’re really seeing Lucius at a turning point, seeing just what he has in him and if he had the true ability to lead or if it’s all been a facade all this time.

OCCUPATION AND SOCIAL STATUS | 

Occupation: Improper Use of Magic Department of the Ministry of Magic -- There were only two options for Lucius upon graduation--either become a socialite doing nothing or begin work at the Ministry. And his father would never approve of him being a socialite. So really there was only one option for him upon graduation. The Improper Use of Magic Department was, like most things in his life, a strategic choice. First of course was the practical. Learning how the Ministry pins people for Improper Use means knowing all of the loopholes. It opens up possibilities of knowledge not only for himself, but for the Death Eaters (and now the Mundus Novus). Additionally, when you’re a key figure in organizations like the DE and MN, sometimes you want to find the rule breakers. He’s certainly used his position to scout new recruits for Voldemort’s army and his father was all set to use his new role for just that as well. The second purpose is a bit more on the selfish side--but then aren’t most things with Lucius? He has always been deeply fascinated with dark objects. Hexed daggers, charmed necklaces, portkeys with too much strength to strictly pass Ministry regulations. And what better way to grow his collection than to take them while on the job? A little change of charges here and little switch in evidence found there and look at that, he’s the new owner of a priceless vanishing cabinet. The job serves his purposes just fine--and it’s not like he really needs the money, so what other need is there for a job?

Social Status & Family Name: Everyone in the Wizarding World knows the Malfoy name. Even those outside the UK’s Wizarding World. Calling them a pillar of strength and synonymous with wealth almost does them a disservice. Lucius has always gotten by on his family’s name and reputation and he would have it no other way. They’re not known to be nice, but nice doesn’t get anything done. They’re known for power. They’re known for wealth. They’re known for intelligence. And Lucius will be damned if that ends with him. He can practically hear his father clawing his way out of his coffin at the mere suggestion. In public, the Malfoy name earns you respect and fear or at the very least that people know who you are the second you walk in the room. It’s nothing but wonderful. Behind closed doors? Well...it isn’t just in public that Malfoys are cold and abusive, even to their own. And if it weren’t for the house elves’ extensive healing spells, a young Lucius would have had the bruises to prove that one. Being a Malfoy mean expectation and consequence when you fail to meet those expectations. Yes, Lucius has more on his shoulders now than ever, but even before he walked into the halls of Hogwarts he carried a millenniums long family history he was meant to live up to.

AFFILIATION AND POSITION | 

Death Eaters: Being a Death Eater was never really a choice--sure, he would have chosen it if given the chance, it was after all, everything he had been raised to believe in. But joining the ranks was simply and expectation. His father has known Voldemort long enough that Lucius knows the name Tom Riddle and was among his first disciples. Lucius was raised on all the same ideas of blood purity and blood superiority, raised believing that to be a Death Eater was true glory, that Voldemort was to be a leader to their people that would leave people wondering who Gellert Grindelwald was anyway. Lucius was raised with the ideals early and gained his dark mark at only seventeen, something he bore with pride for years and to an extent still does. But his father spent the last few years whispering in his ear that this wasn’t enough. That this man (because remember, this is just Tom Riddle, a man, a boy, not some monstrous figure too good for a real name) wasn’t one of them, was a half-blood for Merlin’s sake. What would he know about blood purity? 

Mundus Novus: And it was that though that really brought Lucius around to his father’s new idea. There was already a structure in place that said who the best of the best were. There were already twenty-eight families set out to rule over the rest of them. The Malfoys are among them. So why are they serving as soldiers in a war where they ought to be generals? Much the way he was pulled into the Death Eaters early in life, he was an early member of the Mundus, one of the first outside the founding five to enter its ranks, a founding member and bringing his wife with him. He simply doesn’t see why he would settle for being just another wizard in the Death Eater ranks when he could go into legend in the Mundus ranks. He’s already a member of the Twenty Eight. He’s already better than the very mass majority of the Wizarding World. And finally there’s an organization that can see that. 

It is no secret that he’s a member of the Death Eaters and, frankly, it never really has been. Now Mundus has kept a little more tight lipped about their existence at all, but frankly as news of the group’s possible existence, the odds he’ll be tied to it likely won’t take long. He’s not worried about how the Order will react to the news. The so called Dark Lord though...well he is a bit more of a threat.

Within the Death Eaters, Lucius is a Keyholder and a Soldier. Among the Mundus Novus, I see Lucius serving as a Captain and with his father’s passing, all eyes are on him to see just how far he takes the role and how far up the food chain he’ll fight. 

FUTURE PLOTS | What are some plots or connections that you’d like to see played out for your character? Please elaborate on 2-3 plot/connection ideas.

Plots:

Lucius no longer believes Voldemort is the right one to be leading the blood purity charge. He’s not even pureblood himself. But Lucius is still very aware of how strong he is. Truth be told, Lucius is actually scared of him finding out he’s a member of Mundus. He tried to hide his fear, he’s beaten it down for years--the fear of his parents, the fear of failure, fear of people seeing below the carefully crafted facade. I think it will be interesting to play on his fear of Voldemort coinciding with his growing role and responsibility within Mundus Novus. 

I have this little headcanon that the reason he has the cane-wand in Harry Potter times is actually because he needs it. He got injured in the war somehow that couldn’t ever be fully magically healed and actually needs a cane so, well, he we with the most obnoxious design he could find for it. So I am absolutely here for him getting injured at some point.

Connections (of course pending player agreement):

Lucius was surprised that his father actually wanted his input on who should and should not make the ranks of Mundus Novus. And even more surprised when he listened. Lucius made one think very clear to his father--Bellatrix Lestrange was not to be a member.She’s wild and unhinged and while that makes her strong, it also makes her a liability. Her unerring faith to Voldemort only makes things worse. She would be anything but an asset to the cause, no matter how pure her or her husband’s blood line are. He knows Narcissa isn’t pleased with it and god knows Bellatrix won’t be, but it’s for the best. If they’re looking for a good bloodline and one that will be faithful? Well Bellatrix doesn’t make the cut. 

Narcissa Black was always the best of the Black girls by a long stretch. He was glad that of the girls, she was the one his parents chose for him. That’s what it was really, their parents setting them up, practically an arranged marriage really. Not that Lucius had  any qualms about it, he had his eye on her so soon after her arrival at Hogwarts. She was beautiful and smart and looks enough like him that their children would be sure to still bear a resemblance to him. She’s a perfect match for him really. But he doesn’t love her. He doesn’t even really know what love is truthfully. But whatever it is, he doesn’t have it for Narcissa. He’s said all the right things, made all the right moves, feigned it just enough that maybe, just maybe she believes he does. Because even if he doesn’t love her, he needs her. She’s a good match, good blood, good looks, a good partner, and the right person to bring the next Malfoy heir into the world. Narcissa is another in a long line of strategic choices in his life and he won’t let this one be the one that falls apart.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep everyone out. He didn’t even think it needed to be said that Sirius Black didn’t deserve a spot in the new world order. And yet, for some reason, here he is anyway. He turned his back on the cause once and Lucius has heard all the tails about how he’s far too close with Fleamont Potter’s boy. Lucius can’t stand the fact that he’s been let into the sacred circle and he doesn’t trust him for a second. Maybe what his father overlooked, Lucius can correct. Though that means getting through Orion first.

Severus Snape has always been an intrigue to Lucius. If he were a pureblood, he would probably be more than that. He’s a skilled wizard--those rumors flew quickly enough and Lucius has seen the man’s potion abilities during their time in the Death Eaters for himself. There isn’t a place for him at the table Lucius is creating...but that doesn’t mean the table can’t be built on him. He has potential. He has use. He has connections to that pesky little group that calls themselves “The Marauders” as though it makes them someone important. Of the Death Eaters, Lucuis will be a bit disappointed when Serverus’s time comes to a close. If only his mother had chosen a better match, maybe he could have been something. Instead, Lucius plans to use him at every available moment until its the to clear the bloodstream once and for all.

If Lucius were really going to speak his tongue, he would have to demand from Orion why in the bloody hell he chose his older boy for Mundus when it’s so painfully clear Regulus is the only young Black (other than his own wife of course) who stands a chance of being worth anything. He’s young, yes, and unremarkable thus far. But that’s the fun thing about him. He’s not much of anything yet. Lucius has made it his goal to whisper all the things into Regulus’s ear that his father whispered into his. The Black boy is still malleable, still could be worth something, there’s potential there if only he can be broken away from his leach of a brother. And that’s just what Lucius intends to do. If he is the one to bring Orion Black’s son to the light? What a feat that would be.

Also Lucius’s mother is a pureblood Ravenclaw in my head so I’m always up for pureblood cousins who just don’t have the Malfoy name

CHARACTER STUDY

FREEFORM | This can be anything ranging from an in-character paragraph sample, a biography, headcanons, Q&A style, or any type of character study that inspires your muse and gives a good interpretation of who your character is. If you’re looking for a prompt, I’ve listed a couple general prompts on the FAQ PAGE to get you started. 

Bio (TW child abuse)

Lucius Malfoy’s childhood was everything you would imagine from the youth of a Malfoy. Born to one of the wizarding world’s most wealthy families, with a silver spoon in his mouth, he wanted for nothing he didn’t get. He had two parents, a library containing all the best wizarding lore and spellbooks, more toys than any one child could ever manage to play with. He had everything any child could ever ask for. Except perhaps for those two parents of his to be loving. Salinda Malfoy was too busy being anything but a mother, which was preferable to Abraxas, who believed very much fists spoke better than words. As a Malfoy, perfection was the expectation, not the exception, and Abraxas would go to any measure to ensure his son achieved it.

His mother was absentee at best and his father simply didn’t make time for his son--working for the Ministry was job enough. The pair had also followed Malfoy tradition of only procreating until the birth of the first son (it helped keep the bloodline clean and the money growing rather than being divvied among squabeling children), meaning Lucius had no siblings either. He was often left alone on the sprawling Malfoy Estate--other than the countless house elves of course, but they certainly don’t count--but never left to his own devices. Spellbooks were shoved into his hand from the time he could read and his father enforced the expectation of learning all he could while alone in the house, even if not allowed to practice as a child. There was no time for play if Lucius were to be good enough to carry on the Malfoy legacy. If he were to fail, his father stepped in to discipline and Lucius learned young that was not something he wanted to happen.

Hogwarts, then, should have been a safe haven. Away from the parents that had made his early years so difficult, and starting miles ahead of the others in knowledge. The wizarding school should have been an ideal place for the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite how it worked out. So many things were wrong with Hogwarts. First of all there were far too many mixed bloods and mudbloods. Both his parents had taught him the importance of blood purity and he hadn’t often been exposed to those who weren’t pureblood. Second, school was boring--he knew the basics of most everything they taught, even if he hadn’t used them in practice.  And third, and most egregious of all, it seemed there was a rather large portion of the population there that did not care he was Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy and had more money than so many of them could ever dream of having. He simply didn’t know what to make of it. He had expected everyone at school to love him, and while he was well liked by his Slytherin peers, the other houses left something to be desired. And his father’s involvement with the ousting of Minister Leach only further divided the peers he wanted to be devoted to him.

One thing became abundantly clear about Lucius Malfor while in school. He was smart, naturally so, but he would far rather lie and cheat and manipulate than put in the full effort. Using banned charms for tests and his family name and money to convince professors to give him better grades than he deserved, it was all better than actually just doing the work. He was particularly gifted with unspoken spell work and potions brewing, all natural and not the result of anything from Hogwarts (now see, this is what happens when you keep a blood line clear), enough so to justify his boasting and appointment to Prefect. His grades were good, and his OWLs and NEWTs middling (something that proved he would never be too old for his father to quite literally beat proper behavior into his son). Sure, he wanted to be the best, but finding alternate ways to get there was always best. Besides, he cared more about being the most powerful than he did being the highest performing. 

By the time of graduation, Lucius Malfoy had mastered several skills, though none from the institution's teaching. From his father’s, shall we say, forceful teachings, he had learned a calm, cool surface worked best. Stay even, at all times, don’t let emotions show unless they are superiority or anger. He had also become incredibly talented at persuasion and manipulation and frankly often preferred them over spellcasting. Together, they had shown him the importance of appearances. Say what you need to say, do what you need to do, craft whatever lies needed to keep people eating out of the palm of your hand, and everything will always come up roses for you.

Between his reputation and his lineage, Lucius easily obtained a role in the Ministry not long after his time at Hogwarts. He didn’t need a job, no, but with it would come more power and paise and money. Not to mention, his father made it quite clear that the life of a socialite wouldn’t be tolerated. He found his position with the Improper use of Magic department rather well suited. He’s used the position to create ties with other powerful witches and wizards and groom ties with the Minister and any potential future Ministers as well as expanding his collection of dark artifacts.

 It has also been rather useful to serve the Dark Lord--and now the Mundus. Being a member of Voldemort’s chosen flock was a birthright of being a Malfoy as much as anything else in his life. His father had known the Dark Lord for years and as he rose to power, Lucius was an early member of the Death Eaters, taking his Dark Mark the day after his graduation. His message is one Lucius has been bred to believe his whole life. Lucius has been using his position at the Ministry to keep an extra eye on magical use--being overly harsh with any reports involving those believed to have ties to the Order, conveniently losing data on pureblood children and Death Eaters with illegal magic use, turning in false reports showing misuse of magic from those against the cause--not that this is well known outside the highest Death Eater and Mundus ranks. 

When Mundus Novus was created, there was no more natural fit for Lucius. He likely would have joined their cause even without his father being a founder, but Abraxas’s always firm hand was just another reason to tilt his head high, knowing he’s better than everyone else. It felt right, natural, comfortable. Until suddenly it was oppressing. No one saw his father’s death coming, least of all Lucius. He was just starting to get the feel of the ground beneath him at Mundus and knowing he would have his father and the Black brother to hide behind when Voldemort caught on. But now his father is dead. He didn’t even have time to decide if he’s sad about it or not. Because there’s a war and the pillars of Mundus Novus have an empty chair that’s meant to be his. But it’s so much pressure for a boy who’s only ever been told he’s not good enough by his parents. And it means doing what he’s most afraid of--taking a defiant move against the Dark Lord he’d been bred to respect and fear in equal measure. He’ll step up. He has to. There’s no other option. He just wishes he had had more time to prepare.

EXTRAS | This is not required but if you’d like to submit anything extra (Pinterest boards, mock blog, playlist, character tags, etc), feel free to share!

Enjoy this tag of Lucius related content on my old blog

A few headcanons:

Lineage -- The Malfoy family only procreates until they have their first male offspring, so as to keep the bloodline clean and the money growing rather than being divvied among squabbling children

Sexuality -- I always picture Lucius on the aromantic and asexual spectrum. He’s not a completely sex-negative ace individual, he can and does have sex, it’s just not something he’s particularly interested in--he has more important things to worry about. And he’s certainly aro because, really, Lucius Malfoy loving anyone but himself is practically laughable 

House Elves -- Lucius’s parents couldn’t be bothered to raise him. They both had more important things to do. So his raising feel to the House Elves. There was one elderly house elf, Maisel, who cared for him as a baby, would sneak him treats while he was a child, and showed him little bits of house elf magic to entertain him. She died turing his fifth year at Hogwarts, without so much as an owl from his parents. He simply returned at the end of term to find her no longer there and a young male houself (a Dob...something, Lucius didn’t bother learning the new elf’s name) tearfully telling him she had passed.

[ofxcxdemics]

( fergie vc ) guess who’s so 2000 and late ? i am so so so sorry for the latenes of this ! with being in the worst timezone, having dkjgfd a lot happening at home alongside running the main, it’s been full on ! also warning in advance i don’t think anything makes sense, BUT ALAS. howdy y’all, the name’s lilac, the game is causing all my ocs unimaginable pain dkfgjdf. under the cut you’ll find more about my boi nathaniel, who is ‘ the academic ’ ! and hey-yo let me warn you that this gif is probably the only time you’ll see him smile. we in the business like to call him... mr grumpy gills. ( if you don’t believe me then please know i’m listening to a youtube video called ‘sad melancholy songs to write to’ as i type this up lmfao ). but if you wanna learn about the wreck that is nate, definitely click below. 👁 *evil cackles to set the tone*

NATHANIEL BALLANTYNE

an artillery of books as turrets of knowledge, the expanse of an empty sky, the noose of a tie around your neck, ineligible scribble in notebooks, the companionship of shadows, barbed words and malignant glares, a blackboard spilling with equations, russian literature and blackened coffee, a corner of library that only you have touched, an insatiable thirst to know everything, ink stains on your hands, an empty address book.

faceclaim: bill skarsgård

skeleton: the academic

age: twenty three 

major: astrophysics ( phd )

clubs: chess, book club ( former )

employment: teacher’s assistant at st etienne university

HISTORY

nathaniel ( known endearingly as nate to those close to him, so literally no one kdgfjdf ) was born the first child to one of the most wealthy families in ashmont

the ballantynes have been a foundation to the town’s high society for years. they were overjoyed at a male heir to inherit the riches, and much hope was rested onto the shoulders of a young nathaniel ballantyne, even from birth

it was clear very early on that nate wasn’t like other kids. elective solitude, piercing glances, and his only retort to playmates being the question of why or how whenever anything was presented to him. would have more conversations with a beetle in his backyard than he would anyone his age. even his nannies were fascinated by him. at the beginning of his life many believed he would not amount to much, as it took him nearly twice as long as a normal child to begin speaking. this could speak to the attention that was given to him as a baby, or it could be indicative of the racing mind hidden behind a pair of icy blue eyes. 

as a child he was a little eccentric, and a little introverted, but for a time - nathaniel was a normal kid. he had a handful of friends, could find little joys in the world around him... he certainly was more ‘bookish’ than most, but that wasn’t strange at all. 

but to digress for a moment, his last name sound familiar ?? yeah ??? you may be acquainted with one edward ballantyne... nate’s younger brother

despite being the eldest, the smartest, the tallest, the.... no matter what nate did, it was never enough to be more in his parents’ eyes. like they’d had a portrait painted of the child they desired before nate’s birth, and couldn’t help but compare nate to it long after he was born. on top of that, edward inherited all the charms, wit and characteristics the family could hope for. many other people in their lives felt the same. and since a child, nate couldn’t help but more at home in the shadows than he did with anyone in his family. a manor of that size it was  easy to be a stranger with the people he lived with. however, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt a young nathaniel.

pls don’t be sad for him though, because this is nate’s villain origin stories, and he’s a fucking douche nozzle 

after a tragic incident [ redacted... because secret ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) ] at the age of thirteen, it was like a switch flipped inside nate’s brain 

the introverted kid soon completely isolated himself. what warmth he had in his heart that was filled with curiosity and a willingness to learn about the world calcified into bitter contempt for those around him 

he became cynical, cruel, apathetic. a beautiful lil nihilist. he hates absolutely everything. and if he doesn’t hate something, he will research it extensively until he finds a reason to

( sidebar: everything except.... the environment. that’s right folks. the guy who hates everything hates green house gas emissions and oil spills more than anything. part of this is through his work in the scientific field he has formed very strong opinions of the selfish people who pollute the planet. he also will take any excuse he can to hate his fellow man dgkfj. )

but for years nate had already felt the resentment brewing inside the family home, but after this point, he knew it to be fact. he hardly spoke to either of his parents, and he seldom attended any functions anymore. regardless of the accolades named in nate’s honour earned for his academic merit, he became a blight to the family. so much so that many new acquaintances to the family didn’t even know he existed. 

from that point onwards at least, nate never felt alone. he made sure he didn’t, as he drowned himself in academia, befriended scholars beyond this world and time, and sought to improve himself by amassing a wealth of knowledge that no amount of charm or money could buy. he had to be the best. [spongebob vc smitty werbenjagermanjensen, he was number one]

in his endevours to learn, well, everything, some could say it was romantic that nate related to the stars, and that’s how his love of astrophysics and astronomy was born. maybe it was more that he felt he could relate to an alien more than an actual human being dkjfgdf. in either case, growing up as a teenager he would sometimes lay out there in the snow to the brink of illness, lost in the sights of what was above. no one was going to stop him, after all. and he had to memorise it all, bit by bit. 

regardless, as nate grew older, it was clear he was gifted. eidetic memory, an iq over 160, voracious reader, a world ranked chess player. he truly is ‘the academic’. as a teenager, he excelled. his vices were limited to coffee and classical music ( for he was too afraid to risk his mental acuity by ever trying alcohol, and cared too much about his health to try smoking ), and for many none had heard his voice for the 4 years he attended high school. 

to that end, despite his parents forcing him to any gathering his brother would attend growing up, to keep face and remind others that hey, the ballantynes actually had two sons, nate always found a way to wander off and muse to himself - a flavoursome preference to any ‘monotonous conversation’. what many believe to be intruding or snooping was simply nate doing what he does best - avoiding people.

speaking of conversations, nate is known to be blunt. his social skills are so far receded to the point that he has no concept of the hurt some words can do. many people believe nate to be a deliberately cruel person, but the reality is that nate is just heartbreakingly honest and curious, and he doesn’t understand the power words have over people

however, it will be said... nate is not a nice person

like i won’t lie he’s borderline sociopathic djkgfdf, and somewhat masochistic. he does what he can to feel superior at times.

but for someone so absorbed into scholarly endevours, he is still human. he can’t help the kick of exhilaration he feels when he sees a poor reaction to words that he says. the flicker in someone’s eyes as his words course through their veins. nate wants to understand everything, and he can’t help be fascinated by the journey a cruel comment can make. it’s not that he wants to make people feel bad, he wants to understand how it happens. 

in addition to that, nate feels as though, despite the slights of his life being minuscule compared to what many others deal with, it is justified his behaviour. a form of revenge. not only is he tarnishing the precious image his family has always tried to cultivate without him, it felt good to know that other people can hurt too. 

with this in mind, nate does have some good qualities. he is perseverant, and he is curious. the word no means nothing to him, and reaches beyond it every day. he has a hard time to trusting people, but for the 3 people in his inner circle, he is an excellent ally to have. sometimes he is selfless without realising it, and always is honest. he also has a very dry sense of humour. and for those that way inclined, he most definitely is loaded kdjgffd.

but with little in the way of friends, nathaniel graduated high school knowing he wanted to be an astrophysict. without the athletic acumen to ever be an astronaut of any kind, he relished the hopes of research that would be the first of its kind, to break boundaries. with his scores nate could attend any damn college he pleased. his eyes were heavily affixed to oxford. despite the wealth in the ballantyne bank and the trustfund affixed to his name, nate was swimming in scholarships. 

but it wasn’t enough for him. it would never be enough for him. 

nathaniel stayed in ashmont. he attended st etienne. to others, he says he needs to show his parents what he’s capable of. to remind them he exists. that he’s better than everyone in the goddamn town he hates more than anything. the truth was though, for all his attributes, nate had never been good with change. he wasn’t brave. 

so we arrive to the now, where nate is currently studying his doctorate, after having graduated with his bachelor degree. he still intends to move away, very far away, once his degree is done. will it happen though ? we just don’t know !

as for the murder investigation, bIG FAT YIKES

and as you may know, daisey rutherford was nate’s brother’s fiance. nate does not like his brother. so to end this i... i’m just putting that out there. *evil cackle here* (◕‿◕✿)

PLOTS & CONNECTIONS

plotting with nate... will be interesting. he isn’t the nicest person going around dkgjdf, so if you want someone for any negative/enemy type plots, i volunteer as tribute ! and with that in mind, i hope to see nate develop over the course of veritas, and i’d be so honoured if you’re willing to have your muse be part of nate’s journey ! below i have a few REALLY TERRIBLE plot ideas listed, but please give this post a phat LIKE and i’ll come to your tumblr or discord messages and maybe we can plot something out ! i am so so excited to write with all you lovely people, and i hope you give my dgkfdj terrifying son and myself a chance. <3

DINNER PARTY ( plot ) || given that there are a lot of rich socialite families here, i figure that nate’s family is bound to know a few of the other wealthy families !! a fun lil thread we could possibly do is have the pair run into each other at one of these galas. maybe it’s a run-of-the-mill affair, maybe it’s something run by the rutherfords that these two happen to both be attending, maybe it’s run through the university. maybe it’s a charity gala. they could be friendly somewhat, maybe they hate each other, maybe they’re childhood friends. let’s discuss. >:) 

STARS ABOVE ( plot ) || as a major of astrophysics and heading towards his phd, nate loves the stars. it’s probably the only positive emotion he has kjgfdkjgdf. so i dont know HOW this would work, but perhaps nate and someone else look for the stars together. nate has a whole professional set up and is like,,, a total nerd so he’s not fooled by the mysticism or, admittedly, the romance of it. maybe your character is high and happens upon him at night, maybe your muse thinks that nate is the killer ( lmao ) and wants to investigate, maybe your muse is a fellow chess member and wants to get to know this billy goat gruff. 

FOR BETTER OR WORSE ( connection )|| nate is a perfect person to fulfill everyone’s favourite trope of ‘the good person wanting their love to transform the bad person into a good person’. maybe it’s platonic, maybe it’s romantic, but someone wants  to make nate a better man. what i say to them - good luck lmfao. however i’d love to plot this out as it could go literally anyway !!

ENEMIES  ( connection )|| fuck, i need nate to have all the enemy connections. i figure most people will dislike him on principle anyway bc he’s human rubbish kgjkdf BUT maybe they are academic rivals ? maybe they grew up together and have always been competing ? maybe they used to be friends and they fell out ? maybe nate said something horrible to them and they were never forgiven ? maybe they are super close with nate’s brother and since nate dfkgjdf dislikes him, they are enemies by consequence ?

HATESHIP ( connection ) || i can’t decide what i want more kdjfgdkf but basically ??? this friendship is of two people who don’t like each other, but they hate literally everyone else so they join together in their mutual hatred. maybe they actually bond more over time, maybe their somewhat petty rant sessions about everyone else never change. either way, it would be super fun to have nate be in a 70 year old woman dynamic with someone dkfjgd.

BETTER MAN ( connection ) || so many people love to reveal the ‘heart of gold’ underneath someone surly and temperamental. it happens all the time. for some reason unbeknowst to anyone, someone takes an interest in nate for some reason. sees more to him than is strictly there. wants to see him become a better person. jokes on them, nate probably won’t develop kdgfjdf BUT it could be a really fun connection to play out ! it could be extra spicy if we add a dash of kjdgdf romance to it too somehow !

okay this was a huge ass mess. i usually go to bed at 9pm every night ( IM NOT KIDDING ) and its currently 12:44am my time so dkfgjdf. i am going to leave this here. i hope this makes sense ??? but thank you so much for reading. remember to like this if you wanna plot, but either way i look forward to seeing you on the dash !! <3 <3

[planetarywho]

15 Questions for 15 Followers

Ok, that’s new. Never done that before. Thought I’d give it a try.

Hey, @noir-renard! So, it took me a couple of centuries to write back, but here it is... Sorry! I’m not terribly used to actually answering questions, it turns out, and got a bit distracted... But here it is!

The answers are a bit long. I may have gotten carried away.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes, I am! My mother adores Audrey Hepburn and all her movies, and named me after Sabrina Fairchild, arguably the most dramatic of Audrey’s protagonists (and one of my mom’s favourite movies).

2. When was the last time you cried?

I believe I almost cried yesterday, reading a story, but not quite. For me to cry it is usually like that, when books are involved (be them on paper or audio). But if the question is more towards real life crying, then it would be about two weeks ago, when Lady Migraine was particularly nasty for a few days in a row.

3. Do you have kids?

No kids, just pets! Currently, a dog (though I live with two other dogs and one cat), a small and troublesome creature that I love with all my heart.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not even a little bit.

Sorry, story time: my mom and I have very similar voices. When I was in high school, a friend of mine, when calling my landline, decided that it was only safe to assume it was actually me talking if the answer to his question: “Sabrina, are you sure it’s you?” was not a very understanding “yes, of course it’s me” - in which case he believed to being messed with by us - but something on the lines of “no, I’m not quite sure. Maybe you should ask again.” or “sorry, I was so very wrong, it’s actually Santa!”. Then, and only then, he’d start talking.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about a person?

I think it depends on the person, really. There isn’t a universal answer. Sometimes, people have something striking about them that is very particular. I suppose I notice posture a lot, and movement. Hair and hands fall into this category as well. I never pay a lot of initial attention to shape, I think, as much as to motion. So, visually, that’s it. Voice is also something that i notice a lot, even when I don’t see someone - the sound and the tone, with bonus points if the vocabulary being used seems fascinating. But people-watching is something of a habit I’ve had for too many years, to the point where it’s maybe a bit tricky to actually pinpoint first impressions.

6. What’s your eye color?

Gray-ish blue, or blue-ish gray, depending on the weather, but my pupils are way too big, so once in awhile they look black at a distance, and I’m accused of being creepy on purpose. Nope. Just have bad genetics.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

So difficult! Happy ending, even if I’m seemingly unable to write them (mine are usually bittersweet). But a good scary movie is always fun, and horror is a guilty pleasure!

8. Any special talents?

I’m very good at creating reasonably complex stories out of nowhere, and the same with games (a.k.a. “good teacher skills” meet “good DM skills”). I can read languages easily, even some that are very different from mine (a.k.a. “the day I had to read an article in Dutch, even though the closest thing to it that I speak is English”). I don’t know... A good ear (and tongue) for accents?

9. Where were you born?

Curitiba, Brazil (it’s in the south, the cold bit).

10. What are your hobbies?

Lots of reading, less writing than I wanted to, bookbinding, crochet, some amateur lettering, some ocasional painting, some... How do you describe making costumes? Lots of walking aimlessly through the city while listening to things. Lots of singing. Playing rpgs, and a few regular tabletop games. Baking, and decorating the results. 

11. Do you have any pets?

The one listed as a daughter above. Her name is Amelié - I planed on calling her Amelia, actually, after Amelia Earhart, because she jumped so damn high when I adopted her, but I stopped by my mother’s house before going home, and she started calling her Amelié. That was two years ago. Last month, looking through some old family papers from my father’s side, I found out that my great grandmother, a french immigrant, was called Amelié as well, to my dad’s endless delight: now he can call my dog Granny every time he visits. 

12. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I tried a few things. Karate was the one that lasted longer, and my absolute favourite, but I had to stop after a handful of years, because college happened. Before that, I tried artistic gymnastics for a couple of years, and ended up screwing up both my knees in the process, which was so not fun (and that’s what happens when you don’t warm up!). As a kid I tried a year of ballet, a few months of volleyball, a few of kung fu, and so on, but I changed schools often, and ended up not settling. I did yoga for a while as well, mainly because my mom owns a studio, but I find it boring as hell. Lately I’ve been wanting to learn rollerskating, and considered going back to karate, but there’s still not a lot of time.

13. How tall are you?

1,70 m (170 cm. I believe 5′7 is the closest in the american system? But honestly, i do not know for sure. Maybe it’s 5′6...)

14. Favorite subject at school?

Oh, well, if there were no projectiles (I had to convince all my P.E. teachers chess was a valid sport) or overly organic things involved, I liked it. So, anything but biology, really, and that one mostly because I fainted a lot and found it icky. History is a given, and so are Literature/ Languages and Philosophy, but I used to love Math and Physics as well - I even studied electronics in high school as a technical course. Ok, yeah, I loved studying. It was fun.

15. Dream job?

Honestly, i’d like for my hobby to became an actual profession, and for me to be able to write fiction full time, and be paid for it (so far, I’ve got three short stories published, neither of which ever resulted in payment). Who knows...

Now, for the tagging bit. There will not be 15 people here, sorry. I’m too much the awkward kid at the playground to call this many people, and will do so only in the name of... I don’t know. Curiosity about how something will be written? The same idea that this feels a lot like a giant virtual game of tag (in the old sense of the word), and I’m simply wanting to be friendly by inviting someone to play? I’ll stop, now. So, anyone who feel like it, really, go for it.

@sinner-orion - Hey, hon! Sorry, you sent me something very similar at around the same date, and I failed miserably to answer! This one was a bit smaller, and I felt weird posting two answer-y things together, so instead, I’m answering some here, and sending you a few different ones (also here, I guess), in case you feel like it. Again, sorry...

@trumpetsandbookmarks (Sorry, but your writing and art are always such fun!) @lizziestudieshistory (finding other lost historians around is a treasure) @aimtomisbehave-shootempolitely (you have good taste in scientific articles, so...) @mrbrojangles (I don’t know, you’re always very sweet. Consider this a friendly wave) @akiltfulofcumming (hey, there! Yep, mr. Cumming is distracting. Still, any other obsessions?)

Yep. That’s a good enough number. Sorry for the notes. And the excessive apologies.

[douxreviews]

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) Review

(This movie review includes big spoilers.)

2001: A Space Odyssey is a difficult masterpiece. There are so many books, documentaries, articles and interviews about it. I'm not sure what a review by little old me will contribute to the zeitgeist, but here we go.

I'm going to date myself, big time. I was an adolescent when I saw this movie in the theater. And it wasn't a tiny cineplex, because we didn't have those back then; it was one of those huge old theaters with an immense screen. 2001: A Space Odyssey blew my mind. My mother, who liked science fiction even though she was never into it as much I was, was blown away, too. As we were leaving, she said something like, "I have no idea what that movie was about, but I loved it." I said, "Me, too." And then we spent a couple of hours talking about how it looked, how it sounded, what might have happened and what it could possibly mean. This movie made us think, and talk. It was one of my most memorable childhood movie experiences, possibly the best I ever had with my mother.

And yet, while 2001 consistently makes top-ten-of-all-time movie lists, some people think it is monumentally dull. I will readily admit that it is 180 degrees away from films like Star Wars. When 2001 was released, the critics fell into separate camps on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, as in either "It's absolutely brilliant," or "It might be the worst movie ever made." I find it fascinating that, even after all these years, people come away from this movie with such vastly different impressions.

2001: A Space Odyssey was produced and directed by the brilliant and controversial Stanley Kubrick, and it was written by Kubrick in collaboration with one of the great science fiction novelists, Arthur C. Clarke. It took a long time to make this movie, and Kubrick was obsessed with getting every detail absolutely perfect, a monumental feat when you consider that it was pre-CGI and every single object and scene in every frame had to be imagined, considered, designed and created before it was filmed.

I feel like my vocabulary is inadequate when it comes to describing how this movie looks. Every shot is so perfectly framed, the photography so stark and imaginative. The space stations and ships, especially Discovery One, look real, functional, and exquisitely beautiful. I've always wondered if Kubrick deliberately created ships that looked like they had faces and space helmets that resembled animal heads, or if it was a happy accident.

Much of the movie has no dialogue and when it isn't silent, it is accompanied by disturbing choral vocalizations, the stunning and majestic "Also Sprach Zarathustra," or exuberant classical music. I'm pretty sure no one had ever paired classical music with science fiction before 2001. There are other memorable sounds, too: alarms, electronic shrieking, the grunting of the apes, the breathing that is all we hear from Dave while he is trying to shut down Hal.

2001 has three distinct sections, with the third being the longest and most memorable.

I don't have a lot to say about the first section, in which a mysterious black monolith somehow changes our starving ape-like ancestors into tool users. Except that the ape man (he has a character name: Moonwatcher) tossing the bone into the air that turns into a spaceship might be the most brilliant segue in the history of the movies.

Four million years later, humans uncover a black monolith buried on the moon that sends a radio transmission to the orbit of Jupiter. The shuttle slowly docking with the partially constructed space station to the accompaniment of a Strauss waltz is spectacular. So is the look of the interior of the space station which is peppered with familiar corporate names, most of which have survived the sixties. I've always loved how the beauty of technology created by human beings is given as much weight and attention in this movie as the beauty of nature, space, the stars and the planets. I particularly liked the symbolism of a pen, another extremely important human tool, floating in the air like the ship floating in space.

Eighteen months later, the space ship Discovery One with five astronauts on board is nearing Jupiter. Three of the astronauts are in suspended animation, so the action centers on the other two: Dr. David Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Dr. Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood), plus the HAL9000 computer, the artificial intelligence that runs the ship. Dave and Frank both come across as real astronauts, highly trained and even-tempered professionals who stay calm even in life and death situations. Which is what they soon find themselves in as Hal's conflicting instructions cause him to go mad.

Hal is so pleasant and amusing at first with the banter and the chess, although what he is about to do is foreshadowed since Hal's point of view always shows Dave and Frank as distorted. (There is also foreshadowing when Dave and Frank are shown sleeping in their coffin-like beds.) Their extreme isolation is highlighted during the taped interview with the BBC when we learn that Discovery is so far away that it takes seven minutes for a transmission to reach Earth.

The Hal sequence is undeniably the edge-of-your-seat part of the movie, as Dave and Frank slowly realize that their soft spoken, efficient, all-powerful computer is lying to them. Although the constant close-ups of Hal's "eye" are undoubtedly creepy, Hal's voice is so melodious and calm -- an excellent vocal performance by actor Douglas Rain. I remember how shocked I was the first time I saw this movie when Hal eavesdropped on Frank and Dave in the pod by reading their lips. Humans just don't expect the tools they create to turn on them. Does Hal have genuine emotions? Is he just simulating what he was taught? What would be the difference?

After Hal kills Frank, we can see the patterns of light and shadow playing over Dave's face as he nearly succumbs to panic, realizing that he must either expose his naked face to vacuum in order to get back into the ship, or die outside in the pod. I've always loved the disconnect scene where Dave, wearing a mismatched green helmet on top of his red space suit, won't respond to Hal's apologies, questions and suggestions while he carries out the complex actions that will kill Hal. All you can hear of Dave is his breath as Hal degenerates into a baby computer and sings a song ("Daisy") that was taught to him by his creator. Interesting parallel, when you consider what ultimately happens to Dave.

Dave completes the journey alone, and appears to take a pod into the monolith that is orbiting Jupiter. What is Dave seeing during this "trip" in the most bizarre of sixties psychedelic colors? Is he seeing the home world of the beings that created the monolith?

Since the monoliths were deposited in our solar system four million years ago, it seems unlikely that the aliens were still hanging around. I've always assumed that they left their automated monolith "seeds" and moved on. I've also always wondered -- what did the powers that be on Earth think that the astronauts were going to do with that monolith? Go up and knock?

It's also fascinating to conjecture what is happening during the surreal, strangely lit bedroom scene at the end. Dave appears to see older versions of himself, and then he becomes each older version of himself: quite elderly and in a robe eating dinner, visiting what looked like a fully appointed bathroom, in the bed as he breathes his last before turning into a strange space infant floating above the Earth. Did Dave spend the rest of his life in a real place (unlikely) or was it simply a mechanism that took his mind to the end of his life so that he could be reborn?

What does Dave become? Is it the fate of the entire human race, or is it just him?

There is a 1984 sequel to this movie entitled 2010 that doesn't really answer this question. At least it's based on a book also written by Arthur C. Clarke, so there's that.

Bits:

— Even though the five astronauts on the Jupiter mission are all white males, Heywood Floyd runs into several colleagues on the space station, three of whom are women, and obviously some of whom are Russian.

— BBC 12. Loved that.

— I also loved the zero gravity toilet with the very, very long list of instructions on how to use it. Unspoken was how uncomfortable and difficult it would be for the user to absorb and follow all of those instructions when they really had to go.

— Gary Lockwood, who played Frank Poole, was also featured in the second Star Trek pilot. I had a pleasant encounter with him at a Star Trek convention, which I related at the bottom of my review of "Where No Man Has Gone Before."

— Dave: "Open the pod bay doors, Hal." Hal: "I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that." I use "I'm sorry, Dave" a lot in my real life.

— Hal: (trying to talk Dave out of turning him off) "I feel much better now. I really do. Look, Dave, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill and think things over." Laugh out loud.

Every few years, I watch this movie again. It's such a rich and complex motion picture that I inevitably see something I never noticed before. Four out of four pod bay doors, of course.

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[imagines-so-what-if]

I is for Impressing You

Headcanon and scenarios for Sherlock, Mycroft, and Moriarty 

The prompt: How he tries to impress you.

Genre: Fwuff.

Rating: K+

Reader type: Quiet, patient, shy

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

Headcanons for Sherlock trying to impress you.

Bby boy is all about trying to impress you with his deductions. It’s his pride and joy, after all!

He’ll absolutely put down others in front of you (especially Anderson).

“Were you born without a brain or did you lose it when s/he entered the room?”

“How that tiny little brain of yours is developed enough for you to speak is a scientific miracle.”  

Will call  everyone else but you an idiot.

Might unintentionally insult you by deducing you.

Loves explaining things to you. Even if you know the answer he’ll still enjoy telling it to you.

Embodiment of sass and sarcasm.

Will attempt to succeed in whatever interests you (for example if you’re big into cooking he’ll try to make an elaborate dish for you).

He’ll drag you along on his cases so you have more chances to be impressed by him.

Sherlock scenario 

You hovered near the back of the crime scene beside John. You were technically a civilian so you really shouldn’t be there, but Sherlock had effectively dragged you along with him and John. Still, you didn’t want to accidentally contaminate evidence or cause an issue with the already irritated officers, so you tried to stay out of the way to the best of your ability.

Sherlock was kneeling beside the body, his eyes rapidly moving about as he examined it.

Without looking up he snapped, “Shut up, Anderson.”

The man who had walked into the crime scene just then halted. He was beside you so you could clearly see the flush of anger on his cheeks. “I haven’t even said anything!”

“I can hear your lecherous thoughts about Y/N. Remove yourself before you waste any more of the air here.”

At the word lecherous you blushed bright red in embarrassment. The man named Anderson stammered out, “I was not!”

You shuffled a couple steps away from him and he threw you a look of disbelief.

“Leave,” Greg sighed. “You’ll only rile him up.”

The man looked thoroughly offended and gave Greg a scathing look of disapproval, but he did turn around leave.

Greg turned to look at Sherlock and asked, “Well?”

“Solved it,” Sherlock said brusquely, abruptly standing back up. “Ridiculously easy, I’m sure you could figure it out on your own within a month or so.”

“So what happened?” You asked hesitantly.

Sherlock looked at you, fixing you with his sharp blue eyes. He took a deep breath and then launched into a huge monologue explaining how the victim was obviously killed by her sister. He listed such minor and seemingly unimportant clues but which all added up to the big revelation. You couldn’t help but be impressed by his deduction and you exclaimed at the end, “That’s amazing! You’re so brilliant, Sherlock.”

His lips twitched and he cocked his head. “Well, yes.”

“If this was so easy why did it catch your attention?” John asked, struggling not to grin at Sherlock.

Sherlock glared seethingly at him. “How could I have known it would be so alarmingly easy before coming here?”

“Well I mean you first rejected coming here and then all of a sudden Y/N shows up and suddenly it’s a fascinating case—”

“Your memory is failing you, Watson,” Sherlock snapped. “Case is solved, end of story.” Then he looked back over at you, blue eyes burning into your own. “You haven’t eaten yet, but you’re hungry. Let’s go.”

“O-Okay,” you managed to get out before Sherlock grabbed your hand and dragged you away again.

You could hear John and Greg’s laughter behind you.

Headcanons for Mycroft trying to impress you

Mycroft is subtle with how he impresses you. He’s not one for grand gestures or drama.

He already knows he’s an impressive man, and he’s certain you already know it, too.

That being the case there are times where he can’t resist showing off. For example he might play a strategy game against his brother or someone else you know of high intelligence (chess for example) and you “coincidentally” walk in on him winning.

He’ll prepare elaborate meals for you and not tell you he made them until after you’ve already praised them.

He’ll subtly steer conversations so he can slip in some of his impressive feats.

He will without a doubt casually put down anyone he views as competition when you’re in earshot.

Backhanded compliments are his bread and butter for this.

“Oh, yes the report looks extremely put together considering it was done by a primary school child.”

“A truly fascinating story. You’ve almost been upgraded from imbecile to a vaguely interesting imbecile.”

“What a charming mind you have! Thinking for an instant s/he would take any sort of interesting in you. My, I wish I could experience such wild delusions like you.”

Mycroft scenario 

You were returning home after a long day of errands, expecting to find it empty. To your delight, however, you saw the lights were on in Mycroft’s study. As soon as you entered your home you could smell something absolutely delicious dominate most of the house.

You wanted to go to the kitchen to see what new lovely creation Mycroft made, but you were more excited to see your husband. 

With a skip in your heart you moved quickly through the halls, slowing down as you heard Mycroft’s voice along with someone else’s. It sounded like his brother, but that would have been odd. Sherlock didn’t typically visit Mycroft (if anything it was the other way around, or you playing messenger for them). 

Still, stranger things have happened.

You walked in on the library, surprised to find that the lovely smell was also coming from it. You immediately spotted a decadent cake—your favorite kind!— and you felt your stomach sing praises at that. 

“... Checkmate, brother mine.”

“Tt.” 

Reluctantly, you looked away from the mouth-watering cake and over at Sherlock and Mycroft. The two were sitting opposite of one another at Mycroft’s gorgeous chess table. Sherlock was perched on the edge of the chair and looked, for all intents and purposes, like an angry kitten told it was time to take a bath. Mycroft on the other hand was perfectly at ease with a small bemused smile on his face.

Both men looked up at your entrance. Sherlock glaring and Mycroft’s eyes gleaming. “Welcome home, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you returned. “Sherlock, everything okay? You hardly come here.”

“A little wager, that’s all,” Mycroft smoothly answered on his brother’s behalf. “He lost, though, and now he has to pay up. The case file will be by the front door. Do you require assistance—?”

“I know where the front door is,” Sherlock snapped, standing up with grace and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. He tilted his head towards you. “Good evening, Y/N.”

“Be safe going home,” you said, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as he brushed past you. Then you turned back towards Mycroft, gesturing towards the cake. “Whatever is the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Mycroft hummed, standing up from his chair and straightening out the nonexistent crinkles in his coat. “A new recipe. Care to try?”

“Mycroft I know it’ll be heavenly. You’re always such an amazing cook.”

“Of course, of course,” he demurred, “but can’t a man want to his impress you?”

You blushed, smiling shyly at him. “We’ve been married for five years, Mycroft...”

“Time won’t change my desire, my dear. I will always want to impress you.”

Headcanons for Moriarty trying to impress you

This guy is all about grand gestures.

He’ll buy you expensive things and fly you out to random and exotic places. He’ll arrange fireworks to cover the London sky; he’ll rent out an amusement park for a whole day (or more) for you; he’ll take you to ridiculously expensive places.

It’s easy to show off with money and it’s one of the few things he’s comfortable doing. Everyone has a price, right?

Still that won’t be enough. Sure you could be impressed with the wealth he’s accumulated but that doesn’t mean you’re impressed with him. He’ll show off his intellect at every chance he gets.

He’ll manipulate events and conversations to his benefit. He’ll want every interaction you have him with to leave you in awe.

He’ll base it off of your interests. Interested in writing? Coincidentally he’s published a few books. Like to cook? Oh, wow, guess who’s won a Michelin star. Big fan of whatever fandom? Guess who’s buying the franchise.

Everything he does and says will be over the top.

(If you’ve been with him long enough he’ll actually start to compete against himself over past actions to impress you.)

He will absolutely brag about his criminal achievements and particularly elaborate plots.

Moriarty scenario 

It was still early on in your relationship with him. You’d been friends with Jim for a few years now, but your relationship was mostly through online messages. You hadn’t met him in person until a week ago when you moved to London.

It was actually rather odd. You were miraculously offered your dream job! And amazingly enough a crazy cheap (it was almost exactly as much as you could afford for a flat without having to live paycheck to paycheck) flat in a gorgeous neighborhood (frankly you didn’t believe the pricing given to you could really be it because it was so beautiful). 

When you had moved into the new home (somehow a lot of your old stuff got destroyed by the movers on the way so they paid you ten times the price it was worth to replace so in addition you got brand new furniture that you sorely needed) you almost instantly got a message from Jim asking to meet in real life.

The meeting had been brief since you had to get ready for work—he met you at a cute little café near your new home—but absolutely delightful. The two of you instantly connected and you were enamored by his brilliant mind and charming wit.

You had only been able to meet up a few more times after that until tonight.

Tonight was first “proper” date with him.

Now you knew Jim was wealthy (he was upfront about that after the two of you became friends) but that didn’t matter to you. You liked Jim for his addicting personality and you loved talking with him.

Still, you were caught off guard by how crazy expensive the restaurant was that he had taken you. It was in the heart of London and everyone was elegantly dressed.

You felt oddly out of place there, but Jim was quick to put you at ease with his warm banter.

The two of you sat down at a small little table. It was lit by candlelight and the music and conversation swelled around you.

“What do you think?” he asked, leaning towards you across the table.

“I-It’s gorgeous. Certainly very busy though, isn’t it? They must be constantly booked,” you replied, looking around. Every table was filled, after all.

“Is it too loud for you? Too many people?”

It was a bit intimidating being surrounded by so many beautiful and obviously rich people, but you didn’t want to say that out loud. He was treating you, after all. It would be rude to speak ill of his choice.

“Oh, I wouldn’t—”

Moriarty smiled charmingly at you, a gleam in his eyes. Something about his gaze made your voice fall silent. With great care and grace he lifted up his wine glass and gently tapped his spoon against it. On the third chime everyone else in the restaurant fell silent.

Then in the next second they all got up and filed out. You watched them leave with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Within the minute the restaurant was entirely silent save for the sound of the candles flickering.

Moriarty watched you with that same smile on his face. “Better, my dear?”

“U-Um—wow.”

He winked. “Oh don’t say that so soon. I’ll give you a real reason for that praise later tonight.”

[austenpoppy]

When fanfiction begins to be worrying

Warning : Ron-lovers, if you read this it is at your own peril. I am already suffering from long-lasting damage. Vivi, don't read. Really. Don't. Trust me.

We won't even talk about incest and other criminal and sickening fanfictions, which are mostly rejected by the fandom with the utmost disgust - fortunately.

No, no, what I'm going to talk about is admired by a - sadly - large part of the fandom. I was just looking for a cool fanfiction about Ron during my break when I found this, on the first page : "101 ways to kill Ron Weasley."

I know, I shouldn't have clicked on the link, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know.

This is the Author's note :

"This story is inspired by Crys' 1001 Deaths of Lord Voldemort on

For many of us, we hate one character in canon more than any other. No, not Lord Voldemort. I am, of course, talking about Ron Weasley.

Ron is lazy, stupid, annoying, and, in my opinion, mentally retarded.

Now, many in the fanfiction community hate Ginny much more than Ron; however, I find that to be more based upon their experiences with fanfiction than Ginny's actual roll in canon. Let's all be honest, outside of CoS and a cameo in OoTP, Ginny has very few lines and almost no involvement in the plot while Ron plays the role of a giant douchebag throughout the books.

This story, which I hope people will enjoy, is my way of killing off the dumbass in as many colorful ways as possible.

In case you can't tell, expect major Ron!Bashing."

...

I should have stopped as soon as I read this. I didn't, pushed by a morbid curiosity : I wanted to know how far people were ready to go. Useless to say that I bitterly regret it.

First, notice here that Voldemort and Ron are the only characters that I know of who have entire fanfics dedicated to kill them.

Voldemort and Ron are put on the same level. A teenager, the best friend of the hero and a hero himself, is compared to a psychopath and a murderer.

Moreover, I have to underline that the author judges Ron as "mentally retarded". I find it worrying. Just because a teenager have not the same grades as the best student in his year, just because he does not display the same way of thinking as his clever best friend does not mean he is stupid. Far from that.

That is a judgement on intelligence that I think is horrible. You have to know that intelligence, despite what tests such as IQ's claim, can not be really measured. It depends on so many factors. The results of IQ tests depend themselves on so many factors.

Furthermore, having real problems to understand things should be seen as a disability, a handicap and not an insult. It is a very difficult situation to deal with.

Also notice that the intellect is one the major criteria differencing the characters for those people. Intellect is practically above everything else.

I read the fanfiction, constituted of two chapters and multiple drabbles.

First reaction :

First one : Ron dies from eating too much. He chokes on his food.

Second one : In first year, wanting to prove a point to Hermione, Ron willingly mispronunces a spell and conjures a buffalo which crushes him

Third one : In Deathly Hallows, Ron takes the locket with him when he leaves. Harry and Hermione try to stop him and splinch him (he is split in two), but they don't recover the Horcrux. Last sentence : "Even in death, Ron Weasley found a way to be a pain in the ass."

Fourth one : Ron, charged by Harry to give Hedwig her treats, eats them in front of her. Hedwig, with the help of thousands other owls, avenges herself by attacking and killing Ron. Reminding of "The birds" by Hitchcock.

Fifth one : Ron, jealous, accuses Hermione of loving Harry and calls her "a Mudblood". She kills him. Harry and her hide Ron's body before they have sex. Petty remark about the length of Harry and Ron's manhoods. Note of the "author" explaining that it was a summary of another fic.

Sixth one : the Trio enters Bellatrix's vault. Ron is immediately fascinated by the amount of money and begins to steal it despite his friends' warnings. He burts into flames and jinxes his friends. Particularly petty sentence : "He never knew, or cared, that his greed had doomed them as well."

Seventh one : Ron speaks proudly about the unbreakable vow he made when he was five. Hermione asks him what it was about, he says he had sworn he would never say he wasn't a jobbernowl, he dies. Worst thing : use of a real passage of the book.

Eighth one : Ron dies on the chess set. His sacrifice is presented as stupid because it 'had to be another way.'

Nine : Harry uses Sectumsempra on Ron while he is sleeping. Ron dies. Harry transforms his corpse into a sock and burns it.

Last one : after Ron is made prefect, Hermione refuses to have him as a partner, jinxes him and kills him "for the greater good." Particularly nasty sentences : "Harry looked at the badge and fought the urge to go downstairs and ask McGonagall and Dumbledore if they were high when they selected the male Gryffindor prefect this year." / "'Sure', Ron said, completely shocked. 'I was positive you would get it, Harry.' 'You and the rest of the world,' Harry thought darkly." / "I can already see Ron not taking his duties seriously and flaunting the privileges that prefects normally deserve."

I won't comment all of them, but I really want to say something about some of them.

The first one uses a trope overused in Ron-bashing fanfiction : the fact that Ron eats a lot and sometimes speaks with his mouth full. Obviously, the author has forgotten what it is to be a teenager, and especially a thin teenager. Their metabolism needs food, and loads of food, because they are growing up and thin people tend to burn off energy more rapidly.

The fourth makes me sick. (Not that they don't all make me want to throw up.) First since it uses the overused trope I have already mentioned. Moreover for Ron would definitely do what Harry asks him to do, and for Ron is definitely not cruel. And thirdly because... THE BIRDS ! Does it ring a bell, a physical assault on Ron with birds ?

The fifth one. There is absolutely no universe where Ron, I'm-going-to-kill-Malefoy-with-my-bare-hands!Ron, would call Hermione a Mudblood. No. Way.

The sixth. Just because Ron said once something like "It would be nice to have galleons for a change", once "I hate being poor" (ONCE !!!), "Lucky you" (referring to Harry not noticing the difference on his amount of gold when the fake money disappeared), "Where's mine ?" (asking Bill where his money was because Bill has just given Harry a purse full of gold), that's it, Ron is greedy. Just because he doesn't want to be in need. Although he never complained that much.

These people hating Ron for he does not like to be poor are just self-righteous and have very probably never lived in the same situation. They have never been homeless, have received all the gifts for Christmas they wanted, have lived in a warm and comfortable house. It's easy to think about morals when your stomach is full, your health is perfect and well taken care of, and your basical material needs are fulfilled.

I remember a story my dance teacher told me : there was a poor woman in Africa who had lost a husband, a son and a leg in a war and still considered herself luckier than a French homeless person because she had a roof above her head.

I'm not saying that losting a loved one is less terrible. Nothing is more terrible.

Just that hating a fourteen-years old boy who never received another Christmas gift than a maroon jumper he hates but still puts on without really complaining because his mother made it, because he would like to have clothes that fit him or galleons he could spend to offer things to his friends is stupid. Really. And shows a lack of empathy.

Moreover, it's not as if Ron was not generous. All he has he shares it. His galleons, he mostly spends it on gifts for his friends. He gave his Christmas gifts to an house-elf. Ron has a really big, big heart and nothing is more important to him than his friends and family.

Eight. Just. How dares he / she ? That's what I hate with this fandom. Everything is twisted to correspond to the views of people.

Last. The prefect badge. My god the prefect badge. Maybe the most disgusting one, because Harry and Hermione are depicted as thinking the worst of him and somehow echo the 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect'. The fact that Ron is often belittled by the fans who don't think he deserved the badge is reminiscent of the fact that Ron didn't either. Ron didn't think he deserved it. That makes me soooo angry.

Pansy Parkinson deserved her badge, but Ron ? Nooooo of course.

The question of worthiness in Ron-bashing is central. People operate a grading : some characters are better than others. The worst is to think that they do it in real life.

I am really naive. I thought that most readers would be inflamed by such display of stupidity. How wrong I was ! This story had 242 reviews, whose only 12 were critical. On the twelve crital ones, 4 were saying that Ron was just an ordinary teenager with no talent, but that it was a shame to dislike him for that.

The rest ?... At this point I don't know if I want to cry or burst into flames out of rage.

I have warned you before. I warn you again. Be aware of the violence of what will follow.

"More!

In order to get a good nights sleep, I need to read about Ron dying in horrendous and funny ways, due to his folly and vices."

At this point it looks like a caricature, doesn't it ? We can notice, however, that people vent out their frustrations and violence on fictional characters. It's up to you if it is good or not. I think it is sick to post it on the Internet, on a personal level.

"A note to a couple of Ron fanboys that posted. First, don' t like? Don' t read. You can tell it is a bashing story from the summary. Second; each person can interpret the canon events the way he wants. Personally, i see it like this: Ron betrayed and abandoned his supposed best friend when he needed help the most. Twice. And he never even apologised properly! It is not our best moments and actions that show us who we really are, but our worst ones. Because, usually, that is when one lets his true self show. Ron is not a bad person, but he is an idiot in canon."

It actually reflects a way of thinking. Ron is defined by the moment he felt betrayed and argued against his best friend - and he tried to apologize, though didn't make Harry apologize for hitting him - and the moment he left under mental torture - the first one who tells me Ron isn't strong-willed will have to run really fast from my anger, because Ron resisted possession and once rebelled against a thought mass murederer on a broken leg and they know nothing about torture -. For this kind of people, you can't have flaws. You can't be faulty. You have to be perfect. You can't ever be forgiven. This is unhealthy.

"*Insane laugh* I love this story! I've always hated Ron. *Sigh* If only he died in cannon, then my life would be complete!"

Once again I am amazed by the VIOLENCE of such a statement.

"I just love the first one where Ron dies while stuffing his face. I have often thought that he had either Bulima or a tapeworm. I have actually seen someone eat like him. It turned out that this person was Bulimic. How else does someone stuff himself and remain skinny?"

It displays a total lack of understanding of what eating disorders really are. Those are disorders which are really extremely difficult to deal with on a daily basis. They are mistaken here with bad eating manners.

"Are you in middle schoolers? Because that's how they teach you how to write in middle school. Also, Ron IS stupid. His grades show that. And Hermione is always caring and helping Harry, even when Ron is off sulking, jealous of Harry. And who cares if Ron came back after leaving? He still left! And getting his ass off of bed is not an excuse for Ron. He only goes along with Harry because he needs to! To keep being Harry's friend, that is. You're actually as mentally deficient as Ron is, and I hope you learn some proper fucking grammar."

Once again intelligence is confused with good grades. That's how you end up with teachers telling students who don't have good grades that they are too stupid to do anything of their life. Ron is here considered as an opportunist. As if he had chosen to be friends with Harry for fame -internal scream. As if being friends with Harry was easy. As if he had not commited his life to help his friends. Notice that once again someone is judges according to his so-called bad actions (to me, Ron leaving is not a mistake Ron did, as I said multiple times already).

"Oi weasel!, for the first and final time, there will never be an Hermione and you, so stop dreaming about her; she's way, out of your league, otherwise l will make you into an weasel patty..."

Love is seen as a question of worthiness.

"Can the Basilisk eat him? please please let the Basilisk eat him"

Once again the violence strucks me.

"ugh i hate him 2 he always runs away or gets jelous. The one thing he did was play stupid chess. Like geez. I love the owl 1".

Chess is considered stupid. CHESS IS CONSIDERED STUPID, BUT WRITING AN ENTIRE FANFIC TO KILL A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IS NOT. Those people are sickeningly judgemental and self-righteous.

"Thank you, I really needed a good laugh and nothing is more funny than Ron dying in horrific, nasty ways."

*throws up*

"Hilarious. Keep updating. I can't stand Ron. The flaws of Snape, Albus, Remus, Sirius and the rest makes them interesting characters. The flaws of Ron make him a putz."

Notice that Ron is the one character that apparently can't be forgiven for his flaws. Ever.

"Lol, Keep killing Ron, it's enjoyable. It's a good stress reliever to read these. :)

See ! Ron is nothing more than a punching ball to those people. I'm scared, really. Their immaturity is worrying.

"I agree with you about Ron he really is a good for nothing person in canon."

*sees red* That's what I'm fighting against in real life. People telling teenagers (and here one of the most admirable fictional teenagers I've ever seen) with a crippling lack of self-esteem that they are worthless. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM !

"this is so funny. i love the owl treats one. my favourite so far. anyone who dares say this is rubbish will face my anger, dont worry. just because it wont happen in canon dosent mean its not good."

Well, sorry to break it to you, but this is rubbish.

"Harry could have been the next Voldermort or Dumbledore if Ron hadn't infected him wi"

Ron and his friendship with Harry are seen as DISEASES.

"Weasley must die! Weasley must die!"

"I actually don't mind Ginny as a character, but Ron has always severely irritated me. The ending to Deathly Hallows was disappointing - how could JKR stick Hermione with a git like that? Ron's been nothing but awful to her since day one, and let's not even get started on how he's treated Harry...

Not really such a "loyal" sidekick, is he? When it all comes down to it, he's a selfish prat, thinking of nobody but himself. The PoA incident with Crookshanks, then GoF when he accused Harry of putting his name into the Goblet - there's been numerous occaisions in which that red haired git has allowed his jealously to get the better of him and abandoned his friends all because of his own petty insecurities.

Halfway through Deathly Hallows, I was ready to strangle him. I know the locket probably brought most of it on - but I don't see that as an excuse for him to throw a childish temper tantrum and blow up about Harry not knowing what he's doing. Okay, so you miss mummy's cooking, and living your life as a lazy sloth..

No reason to take it out on your two best friends. At least your parents are still alive, you ignorant MORON. I was rather pleased when Harry told him off, though. :)

All in all; Ron has always been an annoying, pain in the butt character to me. Utterly useless, really.

I can't wait to see what other creative ways you come up with to kill him.

*adds story to favorites*

Weasley is NOT my king."

So many things wrong.

Ron has been nothing other than awful to Hermione ? What about 'You're the most wonderful person I've ever met ?' 'She's been perfect, as usual.' ? What about getting detention several times (and one washing bedpans) for defending her ?

[theateared]

That’s Sweet. ❜

Summary:  What’s a God to a non-conformist?

    “Why did you bring me here?”

    Churches were the antithesis of everything that he stood for.  That being said, he couldn’t deny that they were pretty places.  Though he considered the people who occupied them to be deluded and spiteful, he could appreciate a good story told in the form of a stain-glass window - fictitious or otherwise.

    Grace guided him keenly until they were sat side by side in one of the pews.  The dark wood was hard and unaccommodating beneath him, one arm raising to rest along the back of it whilst the other found purchase on the armrest.  Huron was home to some of the most beautiful scenery around but their buildings of worship were unfortunately dull.  Oftentimes, they weren’t even remodelled  -  even long after the place was scheduled for repairs.  It was seen as a disservice to Raku to up and change things.

    “I wanted to look at the art with you.”     “Ah.”

    His head inclined along with hers until his eyes could lock onto the mosaic depiction of Huron’s guardian.  Raku was a heroic little thing;  almost deer-like in its face with its large round eyes and its long ears.  It was shown in the centre of a bright ball of green light, plant life and animals appearing around the edges like smoke from a fire.  Edgar wasn’t sure how he felt about the deity.  Though he didn’t feel inclined to pick a fight with a God, he certainly would if there was any chance that he could win.  Gods were backhanded creatures, much like monarchs and government officials.  To him, they all had one thing in common:  corruption.

    Even so…  you look pretty.  I suppose that’s enough for most.

    “Do you have anything to confess?”

    Edgar’s eyebrows shot upwards, head turning in her direction.     “I’m sorry?”

    “This is where people come to confess their sins, no?  To answer to God?”     “I can’t do that.”     “Why not?”     “I don’t answer to God.”

    They sat in silence for a while, staring into the tiled static above, losing themselves in the myriad of colours.  His mind was beginning to drift.  It often did these days.  Though he tried to distract himself from her body warmth, from her scent, he could feel his focus slipping.  He was fighting a losing battle, trying not to fall in love with her.  You don’t do that anymore.  You’re not the same man.  All that ever landed you in was trouble.

    His eyes flitted downwards as he felt her warm palm on his knee.  Her fingers remained still for a moment before she squeezed gently, reassuringly, the bench creaking beneath her as she swivelled her body in his direction.

    “Damn it.  Well, I have something to confess to you.”     “What is it?”

    “I’ve seen you here on occasion.  I’ve seen you walking through the church gardens alone;  slipping in through the back door for some reason or other.  I always found it strange that a lye who has no affection for faith would willingly visit a church.  I started wondering about you...  about what else I don’t understand.  What else I don’t know.”     She paused for a moment, eyes unflinching as they searched his face.  She then let slip a feeble laugh, candid grin stretching across her face.     “I… thought I could get you to confide in me if we visited it together.”

    You just keep on surprising me.  You’re just so different.                                                                          Why do you even want to know about me?

    Edgar allowed a soft chuckle to leave him, sharp eyes softening somewhat as mirth left its twinkle behind.     “That’s sweet, Grace.”     As an after-thought:     “You wish to learn about me.  Have I finally caught your attention?”

    The woman huffed a brief laugh, hand pulling away from him.     “As if.  But…  what’s so wrong with wanting to know a little bit about who my leader is?”

    She seldom ever acknowledged his ranking when they were alone together.  Though she had learned the hard way not to defy him when it mattered, when they bickered they were equals. There was no reason for him to act as if he was above her when he was trying to win her affection.  In truth, part of the reason he even engaged in their verbal chess matches was because she was a wonderful distraction from his responsibilities.  For just five minutes, he was dragged down from his pedestal to share space with others in a setting that wasn’t modelled for business.  It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being in power, he simply felt it necessary to take breaks.

    You make me feel more normal.  That’s dangerous.

    His head turned towards the front of the church.  The podium reserved for a preacher looked terribly bare in the dim light.  Of course she had chosen nightfall to drag him there, their only illumination being the glimmer of the moon.  On the bright side, it made him feel as if they were the only two creatures in the whole of Huron.

    “... what do you want to know?”

    Edgar found himself unable to look at her when he heard her head turn in his direction.  His face remained stoic despite her imploring gaze.  Had he looked, he would have been met with doe-eyed fascination.  His heart likely would have stumbled on its path to indifference.

    In a quiet voice:     “What am I allowed to ask?”

    “Whatever you wish.  So long as you accept that I can’t guarantee you an answer.”

    Much less an answer you like.

    He could practically hear the gears turning in her head.  It wasn’t every day that somebody was given permission to ask an Alpha questions.  They were very much a solitary breed;  it made no sense for them to share themselves with those of lower status.  He wouldn’t be surprised if she suspected trickery from him.  His statement very much read like a dare, one that was supposed to remain completely figurative for her sake.

    “... there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while now,”     she admitted softly. You’re doing the thumb thing, Grace.  I can hear you stroking it against your palm.     “Are you…  a purebreed?”

    He pondered the question briefly, heavy silence looming over her like a shadow.  Then, he shook his head.     “No.”     His ears perked in her direction when he heard a soft sound pass her lips.  It was likely that a lot of things were falling into place for her;  certain ticks that hadn’t made sense until now;  a superstitious hunch finally being grounded within the constraints of fact.  You’re smart, Grace.  I have no doubt that you suspected this much of me.     “I am a hybrid.”

    Before she could stop herself:     “Do you remember who you were?  I-In your past life?”

    I probably shouldn’t tell her that, he thought to himself.  I probably shouldn’t invite her to question me more.  There are things nobody should know about me.  Things that even Raku has shied away from.

    “... yes.”     The affirmation carried weight, though not one associated with grief.  If anything, the only thing that echoed within its syllable was a firm sense of finality.  Case closed.  Let’s move on.     “With that in mind, I have a question for you.”     He paused to swivel in her direction this time.  All at once, he appeared intimidating, blocking her exit like a cat would a mouse’s.     “Do you fear me, Grace?”

    Even if you don’t know what I’ve done, you now know that I was brought back as this sinful creature because our guardian decided that I was to atone for my sins.  Whatever my past life entails, it’s bad, and you know it.

    “... no.  I don’t think so.”

    She was gazing at him intently, as if trying to make up her mind.  Suddenly, he felt as if she had placed him beneath a microscope.  Even though his shadow swallowed her whole, and his eyes were dark and empty, and he surpassed her in the hierarchy by a mile, Edgar felt the slightest of urges to shy away from her line of sight.  He resisted with ease, remaining still and strong, stare neither hard nor soft as he waited for her to continue.

    “I mean…  I’m wary of you, but that’s not the same thing.  I don’t think respect can exist when fear also exists  -  and I do respect you, so I can’t fear you.”     Her body language became avoidant, body shuffling until she faced forwards once more.  She was all too aware of his arm behind her head now.  If I say something you don’t like now, will you reach over and choke me?     “... you’re a jerk, Edgar.  But you’re a good leader.  And, even though you’re a jerk…  you look after me.  And the rest of us.  The creed doesn’t suffer any because they have you to rely on.  And I…  I like that about you.”     She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  He had the makings of a serial killer, that she knew even without delving into his history, but he looked so disarming in his nice coat and vest.  It was hard not to feel some sort of attraction to him despite their tumultuous relationship.  Maybe I do want to know you more personally.  Maybe I am interested in you.  Maybe that’s why we’re here.     “As far as I’m concerned, that you doesn’t exist.  I didn’t know you then.  I know you now.  I’ll judge you based on that.”

    When did it start raining?  It matched the flutter of his pulse as he locked eyes with her.  With an unrelenting calm, he held her gaze.  Your eyes are so blue…  like the ocean.  After what felt like a lifetime, Edgar scoffed softly, leaning back in his seat.  

    “You never cease to surprise me, Grace,”     he admitted, though he did so through clenched teeth.  If there was anything he hated doing, it was wearing his heart on his sleeve.  It hadn’t done him a lot of good in his past life.  It most definitely wasn’t wise to do so now when the game was meaner.     “Most would at least try to ask more of me.  Try and pick my brain a little.”

    “Maybe there’ll come a day where you tell me on your own accord.”     “And ruin this dreamy image you have of me?  Absolutely not.”     “The only thing dreamy about you is how far removed from reality your taunts are!”

    The Alpha gave way to a quiet laugh, a hand raising to cover his mouth.  He seldom ever smiled genuinely.  Though his face was almost always alight with a sharp-toothed grin, it wasn’t joy that it radiated.  Alas, she ignited something warm inside of his cobweb-laden chest.  She had for a while now.

    He glanced her way when her knee knocked against his gently.     “... let’s go.”     He remained seated, even as she rose from her perch.  Her flared skirt fanned briefly around her legs as she righted herself, arms sticking out in a borderline exasperated fashion before they fell back to her sides.     “Well, I’m not going to get anything more out of you, am I?  Unless you want to sit and discuss your gritty history all night like a good little church boy?”

    “It’s raining,”     he replied slowly.  Even without giving her a command, she followed the sweep of his eyes, sinking into her seat once more.  Edgar reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his pack of cigarettes and lighter.  The lit tip looked all the more perverse while housed by a church  He took a long drag, exhaling smoke unapologetically in the direction of Raku’s window.     “You have until it stops.”

    She gave him a puzzled look, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips nonetheless.       “To do what, exactly?”

    He offered her a low laugh as he breathed in smoke.     “To convince me to confess my sins, of course.”

                             Perhaps I don’t answer to God but I could answer to you.

[brucefree-blog]

In response to a video on the newearth channel concerning flat earth the psy-op debate.

The original video is here: https://youtu.be/5cZH4LUHRec

All children naturally develop a flat earth conception. And with flat earth I mean, a flat realm. That is nature. Nature is always right. Natural understanding is different from scientific mechanical knowledge. Do you know how to digest food? Do you need the right certain thoughts to make it happen? Science may think it understands digestion, but your body actually does it. Nature is not a machine. It requires a different understanding to connect with it. We do not need a model of digestion to digest or to digest better. That is not how nature works. In the past, people could see which plants were poisonous and which not. They did not have to perform a test for each plant, have many casulties etc, and compile a corpus of knowledge to pass on. That is an absurd form of life that only came about when people lost their natural knowledge. Now we are blind and deaf, and our only way to understand is to measure with machines and reason mechanically. But let me tell you, this is absolutely not the way to understand Earth. The true nature of our life, earth, the heavenly bodies, is behond the grasp of mechanical thinking and Measuring. The problem starts already with light. What is it? Nobody knows. The whole physical sciences have zero understanding about anything. Our technological progress is not built on the understanding of nature, just the oppsite, on understanding robots and mechanics. Technology is developed through trial and error. It is the progress of how to manipulate substances, not how to understand them. We can understand something wrong, yet achieve success in an experiment. You think there is only a problem with the historical sciences? The whole basis of science is a problem. It is easier to focus on one thing, like history, but that is a reductionistic approach of science which leads away from natural understanding where everything is a whole. There will not come experiments to show us the true shape of the earth. It does not exist on that level. I understand it to be a flower, floating on the cosmic sea. But this cannot be measured. Can you measure your love for someone? The essence of life lies outside mechanical thinking. Since mechanical thinking is a fairly recent developmznt, look around you how it is destroying life quickly, we can be sure that the mechanical spherical model of earth and heavenly bodies is recent as well. The vedas talk about planes of existence, which you can deduce yourself that they exist. It was common knowledge not so long ago that there were multiple realms in which you existed as well. In your dreams, real dreams are rare these days of course, you can sometimes visit these other levels. They contain parts of you that know more and have memories that go far back. It is through such dreams that I learnd without any youtube flat earth knowledge or involvement, that the whole spherical model is a lie. This whole video is a big disappointment and on a very low spiritual level. It is even badly researched in that respect. If we could see the curve from a plane, there would exist no debate concerning the curve. I and countless others have never seen a curve from a plane. According to calculations, you should not even be able to see it from a commercial plane. To focus on the physical level of the debate is already a mistake, but then to take this worst of examples, just shows you cannot deal with this topic in a proper manner. Hours are spent to dwell on rocks and stones on this channel, but to the nature of the earth itself, 10 minutes should be enough? Is that an honest contribution? And then, you burden the so-called flat earthers, a creation by the evil ones, that they have to come up with new experiments to form a scientific sound new model of the earth. Aha, so it is up to others to figure it out? Is that it? You have nothing to do with this? So much for the newEarth Channel. There are no flat earthers. These are artificial groups created by the system, and you play the chess game along with it. By your logic, you should provide us with a complete alternative history with all the necessary proof. This is corrupt thinking. We can question a model without having an alternative. Too much knowledge has been lost on all levels. We start by questioning the status quo the system gives us. It is not because we know something is a lie, that we know what is true. The whole flat earth debate is meaningless as it is guided by the rules of the system. It is poison that feeds the evil forces. It is not a matter of intellect, the nature of earth. It is a matter of the heart in the first place. Gravity, ball earth, empty black space, etc. are all intellectual inventions. They remove you from your own inner knowledge, it ridiculises your own intuition which you started developing as a child. Earth is not an object, that is an intellectual invention. Earth has been made into an object, it has been dethroned. Earth is the condition where objects can manifest. Past people never objectified earth, she was always a goddess, a mystery, a living realm. To not understand that a spherical earth that floats in empty space amidst countless other spheres is a vision that destroys a spiritual meaningful life, that this is the central vision of the whole quacedemia, that this “fact” is a very recent fabrication, this shows the gap there must exist between heart and intellect, this is the total lack of spirituality. It is the product of a mechanical mind, not your own. The flat earth topic has been steered into a corrupt intellectual direction that will lead nowhere. And you are joining it as they want it. Because the movement is corrupt, a psy-op, you think it suffices to deal with in such a superficial manner. Let me tell you, the whole alternative history-science-religion, the whole new age movement, all of it is a psy-op. All of it. It does not mean that the ideas discussed in them are all lies, it means that they are explained in such a way that they will cause no harm to the system the parasites have created. Thery are just there to create the illusion of freedom. But you can think whatever you want, it will not harm the system in any way. It will gladly accept another zillions hours of newearth videos showing alternate views of the past. As long as the true heart is not involved, your thinking remains restricted and bound by the rules they have set in all of us. Flat earth is yet another movement they initiated that seemingly breaks the rules of the system, but that actually makes them stronger. We do not arrive at the truth of things through discussions, experiments, watching videos and talking. Truth comes from within. Nothing is needed from the external world, no therapist, no drugs, no music. Contact with the soul can only happen if time is given, great care and patience. Any other way will lead to misleading experiences. The truthmovement is just entertainment, a drug against boredom, a mass movement. An abstract intellectual enterprise that has no connection with reality. Truth is not information, it is insight through personal effort. It cannot be spread, handed over to others. We can be informed that our history has been rewritten, but that gives us no insight to what that means. But I can tell you that nothing is changing, that the system is not in danger, because it is itself handing you out all this fascinating information. As long as the gate of wisdom remains closed, you have no power to change anything. Tolkien has perhaps written the most powerful tale of where truth is to be found: in the heart of darkness. We are the small hobbits, no magical powers, all odss against us. The ring is the system. It can never be used to do good. All our technology is destructive. All thinking derrived from this technology is equally destructive. To destroy this ring, this system, we must penetrate into the heart of the place where it was forged. We must confront our biggest fears. We must go where we least want to go of all. We must destroy the system within us. But we do not seem to have the time to do all this. We are running around but achieving little. Each day we seem to have less time. The system grows bigger as it swallows more and more of our time. That is how it controls our world. It is a time thief. History was changed to steal time from us and to add it to the system. Only if we are able to take back our time, will we in fact have the time to free ourselves from the slavery of the system. But to understand this, we must forget what we have been taught about time. Time is the essence of life. Michael Ende has written a beautiful story about this in Momo. It is a book with vital insights about the system, well hidden in a so called childrens story. Good stories are like dreams, they can help you to achieve insights because they are more than information, they are also full of symbols and archetypes. Like a plant cannot grow without sufficient water, we cannot live and develop without sufficient time. We grow old quickly and die before we can even understand why we were born at all. And then we are born again, and each time we possess less of our soul because the system eats it and uses this soul time to generate a false world with principles opposite to those of life. If you want to change anything, start by concentrating on retreiving your time. There is a good reason why swastikas have been demonised. The left turning swastika is the symbol of how to reverse the flow of time. It contains the dynamics to do this, to make time flow away from the system back to you. That is a direct threat to the system, so it had to be associated with evil. Think of the most horrible situations you suffer or suffered and reverse them clockwise. Drain them of their time essence, and you will notice that they will lose their power over you. They will eventually become unreal, like a film. That is how the past can be undone. You cannot rewind anything, that is mechanical thinking btw, but you can retreive the time essence through your memories which keeps these events alive. The other archetype you must focus on to achieve time reversal is the dragon, which symbolises all real original animals. The dragon is the magic body you need to help you activate the reversal dynamics. Btw, the ancient dragon culture also had to be destroyed, and the dragon turned into some evil reptile to be slain, and later even became associated with dinosaurs (which only exist in the astral planes). The dragon spirits are the arch enemy of the systems agents, which could be called dragon snakes. They can manifest in many forms in nightmares, or in astral visions. Appear as angels, aliens, etc. They are what the orc is to the elf. Dragon spirits are repelled from our world. It will take effort to connect with, I should say, your dragon. A name is important. Create a power place, like a small altar, make a drawing from the unconscious. Draw a left turning swastika. Draw a black ring to represent the system. Know that the soul is twofold, with the lower manifested as a snake and the higher with the bird. These need to be merged together. That is the winged snake. Redeem the snake, the fallen part of the soul. That is how this system will be destroyed.

[kenbunshokus]

sic itur ad astra

gen, ichiji and sanji-centric, character study entry for @32daysofsanji; prompt: family

Humans can make out patterns out of nothing. Like discovering shapes in the cloud, or images between the stars. If you listen to static noise long enough they start to form meaningful words, even when there isn’t any.

This is the closest approximation to how Ichiji feels things.

It is almost fascinating, then, for him, to watch Sanji, who seems to feel everything with his entire being, so visceral and open and raw.

(ao3 & disclaimer)

i.

Ichiji is happy.

He is approximately 78% sure about that.

The 22% exists within that assessment because, well. Ichiji grew up with a significant number of scientists and doctors declaring that he does not have emotions—does not possess the capability to even form one—and there are only so many times you can hear about something before you start believing in it.

Ichiji supposes there is merit to that line of thought. He certainly does not feel things, in the most common definition of the word. He is familiar with the concept human feelings, the wide array of emotions that lie between the so-called Happiness to Sadness spectrum, but he never quite knows where he falls on that scale at any given point in time; he just knows that he does.

Humans can make out patterns out of nothing. Like discovering shapes in the cloud, or images in between the stars. If you listen to static noise long enough they start to form meaningful words, even when there isn’t any.

This is the closest approximation to how Ichiji feels things.

“What about Sanji?” He asks into the receiver, ignoring the buzz of celebration around him as another empire falls in the face of Germa’s might.

“He’s already here,” one of the soldiers answers through the transponder snail, and Ichiji feels a smirk tugs at the end of his lips.

There are shapes in the drifting clouds, words in the drawn-out static noise at the back of his mind.

“Oh? How fun,” he says. “I can’t wait to see him.”

“Liar,” Niji spits out, but what does he know.

The stars say Ichiji is happy, so he is.

+

ii.

“We weren’t always like this,” Reiju says, and Ichiji has heard this one before from her. “We weren’t born without emotions.”

He turns a page of the book he is currently reading, almost too quickly, the papers rustling noisily against each other. “This is me…caring.”

Reiju is undeterred. She always is. “They did this to us when we were young; younger , in your case. It’s like—“ she bites her lower lip, clearly frustrated, before settling with, “remember, when you were six, and all of us visited a village in an island in West Blue? They had this celebration where they carved faces on pumpkins?

“They had to scoop its insides,” she continues. “One of our soldiers took this knife, its blade the size of a man’s forearm, and he scooped out the insides of the pumpkin. Seeds and juices slopped out of the pumpkin, leaving it hollow and empty.”

He doesn’t say anything, and waits. Reiju shakes her head.

“That’s us,” she says, finally. “That pumpkin is us.”

Ichiji never quite likes metaphors; never sees the point of it. “What are you trying to say, Reiju?”

“Sanji is different,” she says, and he thinks, oh . This is where this conversation is going, after all. Unsurprising; their forced reunion after thirteen years of pretending the other party does not exist allows a lot of old grievances to resurface. “Sanji isn’t like us; he isn’t empty . He doesn’t deserve to be pulled back into—” she gestures at the spacious room around her, the mahogany door and the marble floor, as if there is something wrong with them. “ This .”

“It is what our father intended for him,” Ichiji says, because that is what their father said, and their father’s words are absolute. “He should be grateful that he, who was born a mistake, can finally be of use to this family.”

“Sanji was not a mistake,” Reiju fires back. “That was the whole point. Were you even listening?”

“It’s semantics,” he points out, rationally. “A mistake is a mistake is a mistake; no amount of metaphors can change that. He was intended to do one thing, and he could not achieve that. Wouldn’t that what you call a mistake?”

The fact that Reiju does not have anything to say to that is telling.

+

iii.

The scientists, among other things, taught them all chess. It is part of their war strategy lessons, a feeble attempt to make them remotely interesting to six-year-olds. It yields mixed results—Yonji never managed to understand the rules; Niji threw temper tantrums every time he lost, which happened more often than not; Reiju and Ichiji picked it up just fine.

Sanji loved it.

The first thing they learned (for chess, for war strategies, for everything ) is how to win. The key to winning, they taught him, is to understand your opponent.

Ichiji never won a single game against Sanji.

It can get frustrating, trying to understand Sanji. They are similar—they are brothers , born on the same day—but looking at Sanji is like looking into a broken mirror; his reflection all splintered up, cracking at the edges.

He asked Sanji, once. How he kept winning, when he was so terrible at their war strategy lessons. Whether he cheated.

I think, he remembers Sanji saying, meek and shy and subdued. With chess, you have to make sacrifices to win.

He knew that. Just like war tactics. The key to chess is to sacrifice everything you’ve got except your king.

Sanji shook his head at that. Sacrifices are only easy in chess. In life, if you sacrifice something, you are losing a little bit of yourself, too. There is no point in a victory if you’re a lone victor. He looked down at his hands, and said, almost to himself, You can be a king on an empty chess board, but you can’t lead a kingdom without its people.

Baffling. Downright foolish, really.

And now, years later from that day, Sanji is standing before their father once again. Ichiji has heard of his exploits in the New World, how he defeated Yonji without breaking a sweat, and yet here he is, shaking like a leaf and looks oh, so, very small.

“In the event that you insist on challenging my orders,” their father declared, holding up a picture of a chef from East Blue, “I have it on good authority that this man will meet an untimely death.”

Sanji sucks in an audible breath, all the bravado he’s been boasting gone from his posture—shoulders slumped, head hung low. Ichiji chuckles to himself at the sight. It is so obvious, now that they are older.

The key to understanding Sanji is that he is too afraid to sacrifice too many pieces on his board.

+

iv.

It is the anniversary of their mother’s death.

They hold a ceremony every year, without fail. It is a nationwide affair—flags half-mast, citizens clad in black, people looking solemn on the street. Above, dark clouds start to gather over their floating kingdom, accompanied by the ominous rumbling of thunder. Beneath their feet, waves crash against their ships, and the ground trembles.

It is the only day that their father cries.

It is the only day that their father looks weak.

Ichiji does not understand the sentiment; everything about their mother always feels distant, detached, like hearing a song he has forgotten the lyrics to, or trying to recall a dream he once had a long time ago. There is a certain kind of urgency to it, a part of his consciousness telling him listen, listen, listen , but the voice is muted, almost faded.

This is also how Ichiji sees himself nowadays. And probably has been for a long time, now that he thinks about it. He does not feel like he has the inherent ownership to his limbs, from the strands of his hair down to the soles of his feet. Distant, detached. Everything pales in comparison to his father’s will, or the objectives of today’s mission.

Sanji asked him once, when they were kids. Why are you doing this to me?

And the answer to that has always been: he does not know.

When your world is narrowed down to your father’s wish and the commands from anyone who is rich and willing to pay enough, soul-searching questions like, why are you doing this? or, how do you feel about this? tend to take a back seat. Ichiji tries not to dwell too much on those.

Maybe Reiju was right. Maybe he was not always like this. He remembers sitting at the edge of his mother’s hospital bed, laughing to a joke she was telling animatedly, and there was something swelling, underneath his ribcage, a loud lub, lub, lub ringing in his ears at the way she smiled—

Or maybe not.

It would not have changed a single thing. The chess pieces were never his to sacrifice. Their father’s words are absolute.

+

v.

“You got into a fight with Sanji again,” Reiju says as soon as she walks into his room. It is a statement, not a question. Almost accusatory.

Ichiji does not bother to look away from the window. “Yes,” he agrees. “Though ‘fight’ would be a gross exaggeration when our dear little brother could barely put up a struggle, even after all these years.”

Reiju tenses, but does not argue. When he catches her reflection on the window, her shoulders are slumped, and she looks tired.

“Why are you doing this, Ichiji?” She asks.

“He disobeyed our father’s order,” Ichiji says. “He attacked Niji over that pathetic excuse of a chef.”

“You know what I meant,” she presses. “ Why are you still doing this to Sanji?”

Ichiji tilts his head, genuinely confused. The static noise in his head refuses to churn out a single word. “We both know neither of us have the answer to that question.”

Reiju sighs, and Ichiji shares the sentiment.

If trying to understand Sanji is frustrating, trying to understand Reiju is downright exasperating . With Sanji, he knows, at least, that they are fundamentally different—Sanji is the mistake, the failure, the dud. Reiju, however, should be familiar. She should be the same as him. But instead she seems to perceive things differently; like they both have lost the same puzzle pieces, but Reiju still knows how the big picture looks like.

Lightning strikes, illuminating the room for a split second.

“Are you hurt?” Reiju asks. For a moment, he can’t see her eyes, can’t read her expression. “Or do you just want to hurt someone else?”

Drops of rain begin to fall, outside. “Yes,” he answers.

+

vi.

On the day of the wedding, there are guns pointed at their heads, close enough that Ichiji could feel the metallic chill of the barrels against his temple. Their father is crying (weak, weak, weak) and in that moment two thoughts are formed, unbidden, in Ichiji’s mind, among the static: one fact he already knows, and one fact he begins to learn.

One fact he already knows: the chess pieces were never his to sacrifice.

One fact he begins to learn: he is one of those chess pieces.

Ichiji cannot bring himself to get upset by the revelation, just like he cannot bring himself to get upset by his apparent and inevitable demise. Death is part of war, he has been taught; of life, of anything. They have erred in their judgment on Big Mom and they are paying the price. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And it’s not like Ichiji wants to die, but he does not exactly have a say in this. In the grand scheme of things, if you look at it in all the right ways, he never really had a say in anything, really.

He cannot bring himself to get upset about this, either.

(The voice, far-away and buried, tells him, listen, listen, listen— )

He suddenly thinks of Reiju’s story. He supposes he can finally understand why the empty, hollow pumpkins are smiling.

+

vii.

Sanji is standing tall on the table, looming and imposing in a way he never thought was possible for that particular brother of his. Ichiji looks up (up, up, implying that he is below, to Sanji, out of all people) and realizes that he does not understand Sanji—his actions, and his reasonings, and his everything.

After all they’ve done. After all they’ve done to him.

It’s a whirlwind of actions after that—one of the Strawhats hands him their raid suits as Big Mom’s army approaches, and it’s a flurry of swings and kicks and groans before he finds himself almost side by side with Sanji as their enemies circle them warily.

“I don’t get it,” he tells Sanji, because any time is as good as any.

Sanji clearly disagrees, because he gives Ichiji a look that is equal parts exasperated and baffled. “This is—what the fuck, this is a shitty time to talk about this.”

“You hate me,” Ichiji goes on talking, because he’s never good at listening to Sanji anyways.

“I hate you,” Sanji agrees. “You’re a scum.”

“Then why should it matter to you that I die?”

Sanji’s kick falters at that, and he misses a soldier; Ichiji punches the lucky soldier in the face to get the job done. “I don’t,” Sanji says, and he sounds like he’s struggling with his own answer. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Didn’t you say so yourself?” Ichiji points out, almost parroting Sanji’s earlier words. “I’m a scum. I deserve everything that is coming to me.” The static is getting louder in his head, and he can’t make out anything from it no matter how hard he tries. “I don’t understand why it should be a big deal to you if I die.”

“Stop saying that,” Sanji grits out. “Stop saying that you’ll die.”

There is another battalion of Big Mom’s soldiers advancing, swinging their blades towards them. Sanji does a spinning kick to bat their blades away, and they don’t talk for a moment, focusing on the enemy’s forces. It is not quiet—there are loud gunshots and louder screams on the battlefield—but Ichiji thinks there’s a certain kind of silence descending in the space between them anyways, suffocating the air.

As their enemy dwindles, it is Sanji who breaks it.

“There’s this—thing, okay. This thing, where you’ve made a lot of mistakes, and done horrible things, and I hate you for it. You don’t get a free pass on that. I fucking despise you for it,” Sanji says, voice trembling imperceptibly; it sounds a lot like he is spitting out poison, acid dripping from his tongue. He takes a moment to take a long, shuddering breath. “But there’s also this thing, this thing where other people made your mistakes for you. This one—this one isn’t on you.”

He points at Vinsmoke Judge, across the battlefield. “This one is on that bastard.”

“That’s semantics,” Ichiji says, almost an echo of his past self, because he doesn’t know anything else anymore. “A mistake is a mistake is a mistake.”

Sanji shakes his head. “A person is not a collection of their mistakes.” He glances at Straw Hat Luffy, grinning widely even in the middle of danger. Sanji must have seen something in Straw Hat, because the edges of his expression smoothen into something softer. “That is not what they taught me.”

Ichiji looks at the man before him. Strong and proud and tall, steel in his spine. He thinks of the small little brother in his memory, bruised and battered, and wonders if they are even the same person.

“Who?” He asks, almost in a whisper; the static turns into a buzz, and then a low hum.

“My captain,” Sanji says, and then adds, like an afterthought: “and my father,” and they both know he is not referring to the man who cried pitifully across the table at the wedding.

The key to understanding Sanji, he always thought, is that he is too afraid to sacrifice too many of his pawns. He holds onto them, like a little kid, stubbornly clasping his hands together so that none of the pieces would slip through his fingers.

He was wrong.

The key to understanding Sanji is that he doesn’t see people as chess pieces to sacrifice.

+

viii.

It is the day after their mother’s death.

The funeral just ended, and the children are free from their lessons for once—everyone is still grieving, too shell-shocked to continue with their daily lives. Ichiji doesn’t quite understand, but he isn’t about to question father’s decisions.

He finds Sanji at their room, crying noisily into his pillow. Ichiji ignores him, and walks towards the table at the center of the room instead. There’s an open chessboard on it, its pieces still placed in an unfinished game, stopped prematurely when they heard the news about their mother’s death.

“Do you want to play?” Ichiji asks. “I think I can beat you today.”

There’s a choked sob from Sanji’s bed. “We just," Sanji mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow covering his face. "We just came home from mom’s funeral."

Ichiji starts picking the pieces up, resetting the board. “This is me...caring.”

He expected Sanji to get angry, to start throwing those weak punches of his, but when Ichiji looks up Sanji is looking at him with an odd expression.

“Ichiji? You’re…” Sanji says, but he does not finish his sentence.

Sanji rubs his face, wiping his tears, and climbs down the bed. “Okay,” he says, and starts setting the pieces together with Ichiji. “I’ll play with you.” His tone sounds like he’s indulging Ichiji, like he’s doing this for Ichiji. It’s annoying.

When Ichiji touches his cheek, it is wet.

Ichiji scrambles to rub his eyes, erasing the pinpricks of tears that form at the edges of his eyes. It’s not like it means anything to him—he doesn’t feel things, not in the most common definition of the word. The tears won’t stop falling though, and he has to ignore the way something in his chest feels like it doesn't fit quite right, humming with a solid ache around his sternum; and he thinks how he doesn’t quite know where he falls on the scale of emotions at any given point in time, but he knows that he does. He knows that he does.

+

ix.

The sky is bright and blue and vast, and the Whole Cake Island is disappearing into the horizon.

Ichiji stands on the railings of the Straw Hat’s ship, ready to fly back towards his own. Sanji is standing not far from him; to see him off or to kick him off, he isn’t sure. Sanji does look like he’s going to do the latter sooner rather than later.

So he tilts his head towards Sanji. “What do you want me to do?”

Sanji frowns, nose scrunched up in disgust. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“It is a fair question,” he points out. “Loathe that I am to admit this… I am still indebted to you, after all. We all are.”

Sanji bites down on the cigarette between his teeth, hard. “Don’t ever show your shitty face in front of me again, then. That’s all I give a shit about. Hell, do something that isn’t hurting other people, for once.”

Straw Hat Luffy must have overheard their conversation, because he cranes his neck towards them, holding a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. A grin, quicksilver and free, flashes across his face.

“Well,” Straw Hat Luffy says, like the answer is easy, like the answer has been there all along. “What do you want to do?”

The question punches a breath out of him.

What he wants. That’s funny. Ichiji never thought about that.

Sanji must’ve sensed something from him, because he starts walking threateningly towards Ichiji. “Don’t start getting all philosophical on me, just get your ass off this ship and never come back again!”

Ichiji looks up at the sky. Listen, listen, listen.

For the first time in his life, Ichiji smiles.

[catchcrows]

got a full house (stayed up all night)

Ryou sets about reading tarot cards after school. He winds up with lovely spot by the burbling creek in the park, a steady stream of lovesick high school students and jaded salarymen, and one unfortunately persistent regular.

my @ygoexchange for @rukatofan! apologies for it being late, i tried to post it on airport internet and it doesn’t appear to have worked. i ended up picked mariku out of your list, by the way

i’ve been wanting to write this fic for fucking ages, and finally the stars aligned and our ygo exchange giftee gave us the perfect scenario. the cards used are from the traditional rider-waite, because i was too fucking frazzled to scan all of the cards needed from our decks (let alone pick one deck to use).

Handy AO3 link here  (though keep in mind that i’ve stuck to my own naming conventions for marik on AO3)

Ryou hadn’t been joking about the spray bottle.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, given that in their brief friendship (relationship? set of encounters? break from the never-ending ennui of eternal damnation on this too-bright, too-loud, spinning blue marble?) Ryou had never bullshitted any of his many threats. Granted, they’ve ranged in both creativity and improbability, but Ryou had kept his word about each and every single one.

And yet, the blast of wet that catches Mariku between the eyes also catches him completely off-guard.

He has a brief moment of unspeakable rage, a throwback to what he’s been told is a really piss-poor way of handling things and expressing his feelings, and his hands twitch just the slightest, the curl of knuckles into the promise of a fist, before he thinks better of it and wipes the water from his face instead.

Ryou, of course, hasn’t even looked up—one hand is hovering over the makeshift tabletop of stacked textbooks and the other still on the trigger of the bottle, casually aimed right at Mariku even though Ryou fired blind. Mariku and the startled underclassman exchange glances while Ryou hums over his cards. The student clutches her bookbag a little tighter and there’s a joke to be made there, a soft tilt forward and the curl of his lip, not quite sneer, not quite menace but—but Ryou shakes the spray bottle, sloshes the water inside just enough for Mariku to hear it over the ringing in his head. Now that he’s sure his kohl is already running the threat’s not quite as potent but Ryou must know, because he finally looks up (at the school girl, not Mariku, not yet) and stretches his arms over his head. Mariku watches an errant drop of water fall into Ryou’s hair when he says, “I apologize for him. We haven’t got him civilized just yet, only just barely house-trained.”

Mariku’s voice is gravel and crunch and crack when he speaks (he doesn’t mean to do it no matter how much it does help his aesthetic, it’s just that he’s not got much need for talking lately, let alone people to talk to) and the girl flinches. He’s seen Ryou rolls his eyes enough times to know he can do it so hard that you see nothing but the whites for a solid second but it fascinates Mariku every time; he knows the accompanying huff and sigh like the back of his hand. If he’s lucky, if he comes on time, Mariku can stand in the exact place necessary to catch the setting sun on his bracelets and shine it right in Ryou’s eyes, and he does just that as he says, “That’s hardly fair. I only chewed your slippers once.”

The girl, poor confused, terrified thing, cracks the smallest grin. Ryou doesn’t. Mariku scowls. Ryou stares at the cards, finally sets down the spray bottle in favor of flipping over them over instead. Mariku, gods help him, leans forward—he’s just as enthralled as the schoolgirl is, as half of Domino is, with this white-haired, wide-eyed boy, with his ratty blanket and his textbooks as a table and his fortunes. Yugi Mutou may very well be the King of Games, but Ryou Bakura makes his living with a very different sort of deck these days.

It’s a deck that happens to be Mariku’s least favorite, today. Ryou’s explained time and again that this is the standard, the world’s most popular version, but that holds very little sway with Mariku. Ryou has at least a dozen, perhaps even over twenty, stuffed in his backpack and propping up or resting on priceless artifacts in the Domino Museum warehouse, all nicer than these stale pictures and scratchy cardstock that drags against Mariku’s fingertips the few, few times Ryou’s let him touch. He’s using only the named cards today—the Major Arcana, Ryou hisses once, head in Mariku’s lap as he tries to see how long Ryou’s bangs will stay upright (it earns him a solid slap, but the record stands at seven seconds)—one of Ryou’s simpler, cheaper readings.

After a long moment, Ryou leans back with a sigh. He doesn’t smile. Both Mariku and the student watch his face, though probably for very different reasons. It marvels Mariku, this strange sort of mercy that Ryou has, where bad news comes with a smile but when—

When the news is good, Ryou leans back with a sigh, claps his hands together, and says, “Well.” His finger (long, slim, such a nice snap, Mariku’s sure, if he were to break it) hovers over the first card. “Let’s begin.”

Mariku takes a seat on the edge of the blanket, settles in for the long haul—depending on how much she’s paid, this could take nearly an hour. His foot ends up poking Ryou in the thigh and there’s a tiny, tiny twitch just under Ryou’s right eye that makes Mariku practically giddy.

The girl leans too far forward, blocks Mariku’s view of the cards entirely, so he flops back into the grass, more than content to let Ryou do the explaining. “Achievement and success are on their way to you,” he’s started, practiced cadence a perfect middle ground between Isis’ prescient confidence and the flair that Mariku remembers Rishid having, honed from endless nights of the same old bedtime story, “I would say to expect a promotion or some sort of status, but I think it’s far more likely your bout of poor luck will soon be over. Especially given the man—your father or a teacher, perhaps—who’ll lend you his support.” Mariku cracks an eye open just in time to see Ryou shrug. “You know who I’m talking about.”

The girl nods along, smiles and ducks her head in all the right places. Mariku likes these customers best, who keep their mouths shut, let him listen to Ryou speak. A hand closes around the foot he’s been absently tapping on Ryou’s thigh, slinks down to Mariku’s ankle where Ryou taps an absent rhythm as he hums over the reading.

“This man,” Ryou says, “is someone you can trust. You respect him, and it would be in your best interest to get his advice. Especially,” here he looks up, the consummate psychic, the transcendent diviner (Mariku’s heard this act a dozen times, memorized it down to the curl in the corners of Ryou’s lips), smiles at his customer, puts her at ease, “especially since you’re so afraid that things are going to get worse.” The schoolgirl flinches. Ryou’s nail clicks against the card. “This one here? The Wheel? Your luck is changing, Keiko, the wheel is turning. You just need to trust your own intuition this time, instead of whoever tricked you the last time. They have to go—you’ll be better for it, and justice will be done.” The hand on Mariku’s ankle slips away as Ryou leans back on his hand, fingers curling in the grass, finally smiling. “Does that make sense to you?”

It does, Keiko assure him, them, scrambling for her things and brushing grass from her stockings and not quite meeting anyone’s eyes as she smiles and waves and heads on her merry way. Mariku slinks up to take her seat before Ryou can pack up his things. He scoops up the cards, ignores Ryou’s scowl, and shuffles through them. “What does this one mean?” he asks, picking a card. They’re all in English but this card, with the crowned man all in red, scepter in hand, seems important.

Ryou frowns and props his chin in his hand, looks terribly put out even though they both know Ryou could talk about this for hours. “The Hierophant—a high priest,” he explains, sees the question on Mariku’s face before he can even ask, “means conformity, institutions, a counsellor.” He smirks. “Or alliances. Servitude.”

Something roils sour in Mariku’s gut and the card in his hand seems much more sinister between his fingers. “How apt.”

Ryou grins crooked and wide. “And that’s only the upright side.”

“Upright?”

“Flipped upside down, it means rebellion. Questioning traditions.” Ryou pulls Mariku’s foot onto his lap, fingers pressing into the sore spots. He ducks his head to hide his chuckle, spits Mariku’s words back at him. “How apt.”

Mariku slides all six cards back into the deck and Ryou takes it from him. Mariku stands, hovers over Ryou as he packs up his books and shoves the old blanket in his backpack and doesn’t step away when Ryou finally straightens. Ryou arches an eyebrow and glances him up and down, a foot apart, and says, “Don’t follow me home.”

“I want to see where you live.”

Ryou lets his breath hiss out from between his teeth and rolls his eyes. They’re standing so close Mariku can see every little vein. “Oh, I imagine it’s a lot like your home, four walls and a door and a laundry hamper—” Ryou pauses, considers what he’s saying and who he’s saying it to. “Where are you staying?”

Mariku shrugs. “You know that abandoned high school everyone keeps breaking into for fun?”

“Are you serious?”

He laughs. “Do you feel sorry for me?”

“Yes, but—” Ryou interrupts even though Mariku had only just opened his mouth. “Not enough to take you home with me.”

It had been worth the try. Mariku shrugs again, waves good-bye, heads down the road in the opposite direction. Doesn’t look back.

-

Ryou’s business is so good that he’s expanded to weekends, commandeering one of the chess tables further into the park for his readings (and if it happens to be the favorite table of a lanky, bespectacled, hoodie-wearing young man who bears absolutely zero resemblance to the CEO of KaibaCorp and his unbelievably short companion who can never quite squirrel away all of his unusual hair under a hat, Mariku keeps his goddamn mouth shut). His customers come endlessly, loitering at the other tables and standing just out of earshot and waiting waiting waiting for Ryou, for that hair and that face and those hands that Mariku doesn’t want to hold and break and kiss and bite not at all no no—

It’s another reading for another red-faced, middle-aged salaryman, cradling his broken arm against his chest and sitting straight-backed on the bench. Ryou glances at Mariku sitting just to his right—he’s become part and parcel to these readings, he thinks, or at least no customers are ever brave enough to ask why he’s there—reaches for his deck, the one Mariku has come to hate, and turns to his client. “Your name?”

The salaryman flinches. “Takahashi.”

“Your first name,” Ryou says, and the salaryman frowns at how unflustered Ryou is, how few fucks he gives about social niceties when they get in the way of his work, how if Mariku was feeling particularly (unhinged? unstable? unbalanced?) misty-eyed, he’d say it was something he loves about this silly little boy.

“Kazuki,” says his client and Ryou starts to shuffle. Ryou doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t tell them to pick a card, any card, just shuffles and shuffles and pulls the first six cards from the top, spreads them and flips them over.

Mariku hums under his breath and the salaryman’s eyes flick to him. Ryou pinches him under the tabletop and Mariku pinches him right back. “You’re feeling satisfied with your achievements,” Ryou starts, “and you’re about to reach a period of fulfilment. The outcome of your business deal with be fair and in your favor, but the help and support you need for that outcome will only come if you ask. Listen carefully to their advice and your own intuition.” He glances up at his client, smiles. “Even if it tells you difficult things. Even if you need to sacrifice—it will only turn out for the best, but don’t be hasty. Since you’ve been unwell, this is a time for rest and patience.”

The salaryman nods. Mariku yawns. Ryou asks, “Do you understand?”

The sun is casting long shadows across the table by the time Ryou’s clients finally run out and when he pauses to brush his bangs from his face, Mariku takes the cards from his hand. “Read my fortune.”

Ryou doesn’t even pretend to consider it. “No.”

“Why not?”

“What am I going to tell you that you don’t already know?”

“Let me read your fortune, then,” Mariku says, pulls six cards like he’s seen Ryou do, fanning them out across the cool cement table.

He hems and haws for a moment, waving his hands over the cards and generally making an ass out of himself until Ryou rests on calm, dangerous hand—a warning—on the table. Mariku clears his throat. “Your apartment building has structural issues. I would move. A man will appear from the sky to wake the dead and offer them medical assistance, but I’m not sure what that has to do with you. Watch out for him, I guess.” He cocks his head to the side, stares at the next few cards. “A naked woman will sneak into your house and pour all the water in your teapot down the toilet, and another woman in a strange hat will steal the moon and paint English letters on your walls. And your neighbor is going to get rousingly drunk almost light his place on fire, meaning you’ll get no sleep and dogs will keep you up all night with their barking.” Mariku looks up at Ryou, grins with all his teeth. “Was I close?”

There’s a wicked curve to Ryou’s lips and when he takes the cards from Mariku their fingers brush. “No,” Ryou says, cracking each knuckle under Mariku’s entranced eye, rolling his wrists and rearranging the spread to his liking. “Would you like to hear what it actually says?”

Oh, he would love nothing more. “Please.”

Ryou shrugs. “Catastrophic change. Surprises will not turn out the way you expect and new directions will be made apparent to you—to me,” he amends. Mariku wonders if he’s ever read the cards for himself before. “This will be what I wanted, a new start, though not entirely how I had hoped it would come about. The choices I make now will have far-reaching implications. I am,” he frowns, like the word is bitter in his mouth, “I am afraid that my hopes will be dashed, given the circumstances, but instead a gift will come my way. A new relationship, potentially travel. I will need to pay careful attention to my intuition as well.” His eyebrows shoot up for just long enough that Mariku thinks he may have a knack for this after all, turning cards and tables and all to watch the lovely, lovely gears in Ryou’s despicable, fragile head turn. “Someone, a man, isn’t quite who they seem. Trickery disguised as charm, and I must be sure he truly has my best intentions at heart. But I must trust my instincts, and open my mind to new and unexpected possibilities.”

“That,” Mariku purrs, “is quite the fortune.”

Ryou leans back against the bench. “It is.”

They’re quiet for a long moment until Ryou finally moves, picking up his cards and folding the pillowcase he read them on and shrugging on his jacket. Mariku watches him, head in his hands, lazy smile and half-closed eyes. “Feel sorry enough to let me in your bed tonight?”

Mariku winks when he says it and Ryou’s eyes roll so far back in his head that somewhere, a Catholic priest gets the chills. He pauses, deck halfway in its case and pulls one card.

Ryou arches an eyebrow, slips the card and its deck back in his backpack. When Mariku stands, Ryou hooks an arm through his. “No,” he replies, but laughs when Mariku scowls. “But,” he says, makes Mariku’s hair stand on end, “I think sorry enough to buy you a drink.”

[gffa]

I’m at the point of Star Wars Feelings Hell where this is all I want to do anymore, I just want to talk about Star Wars, I just want to cry about the Star Wars characters, I just want to read Star Wars things, I want to watch Star Wars things, I want to play Star Wars games, I want to cry some more about Star Wars feelings, I want to have novels and novels worth of Star Wars fic to read, I want to curl up in my bed and lay there for three hours reading nothing but fluffy fix it fic and fic that makes everything even worse and everything in between. Just. All Star Wars All The Time! That’s all I want! STAR WARS FIC RECS: ✦ Fire and Ice by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin & some anakin/padme & cast, 111.9k    Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn’t kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then? ✦ Negotiation by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, NSFW, modern au, serial killer au, 50.4k wip    Over a year ago, Coruscant Police Detective Anakin Skywalker vanished without a trace while hunting the prolific serial killer known within the media as “The Negotiator”. ✦ Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & mace & dooku & palpatine & cast, sith!obi-wan, NSFW, 95.4k wip    Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness. ✦ The Light You Leave Behind by laventadorn, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka, 18.9k wip    Because Anakin and Ahsoka have set out to learn what they can about the Sith - and to destroy them, once and for all. ✦ you’re gonna wish you never had met me by cosmicocean, obi-wan/padme & leia/han & luke & cast, 13k    Leia Kenobi, struggling to keep her head above water. ✦ An Enlightening Experience by Valmouth, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ahsoka & the father & the daughter & the son & cast, 2.3k    “You… have been Chosen,” the Father says, and he sounds about as upset on the matter as Obi-Wan knows he will be, when he finally understands what that means. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k    Anakin wakes from nightmares tinted red. The darkness of his bedroom seems oppressive, and no matter how many times he blinks red seems to seep into the edges of his vision. ✦ I’ll Be There For You by SinkingLikeASunset, obi-wan/anakin/padme (eventual) & qui-gon & clones & cast, 40.7k wip    Obi-Wan must alter events and make changes as he struggles with memories of a dreadful future and deals with new developments this time around. ✦ Wearer of the Veil by englishable, leia & ben, 1.4k    Leia Organa-Solo knows that her son is not quite like everybody else, although she’s uncertain as to whether this means he should be protected more from others or himself. Either way, these strange dreams he has are beyond her reach. ✦ those immortal dead by notbecauseofvictories, padme & leia & luke & ben & poe & rey, 2.1k    Padmé Amidala is forgotten, not gone. ✦ untitled by cadesama, anakin & leia & bail & tarkin, ~1k    Anonymous asked: AU, Vader sues Bail for custody (either the Empire is intact and he has standing or its gone and he absolutely doesn’t, whichever is funnier) ✦ A Game of Chess by Kayarde, obi-wan & palpatine & cast, 4.3k    Chancellor Palpatine and Knight Kenobi sit down for a game of chess. ✦ sometimes you don’t get it right by randomdreamer01, jyn & han (background han/leia and jyn/cassian) & cast, 2.6k    Han Solo and Jyn Erso get drunk on the Millenium Falcon and find that they are similar in more ways than one. ✦ Unearthed Bones by Glare, obi-wan/anakin, human au, mafia au, 2.5k    Obi-Wan Kenobi has given up a life of crime in favor of the questionable comforts of witness protection. Placed in a boring library job, everything appears to go great until he realizes his incompetent handlers somehow managed to drop him right in the middle of another man’s operation. full details + recs under the cut!

✦ Fire and Ice by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin & some anakin/padme & cast, 111.9k    Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn’t kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then?    This is one of the earliest fics I read in the fandom and I imprinted hard on it, but I wasn’t sure if it would hold up to a reread, so I decided to pick it up again for another read–and it absolutely holds up. In a lot of ways, this is the fic that got me into this relationship–I liked both characters, I had feelings about their relationship, but this is one the that really cemented in that this is what I’m here for and this is so much of how I wanted to see them done. It’s resolutely a gen fic and I’m fine reading it in that vein, I enjoy their dynamic on that level as well, but I think it’s worth reading if you ship them as well, because their relationship is so important to both characters, it’s the foundation on which they stand for both of them, and it’s also just really, really spot on. This is an Anakin who has so much power at his fingertips, but is the emotionally weak one, this is an Anakin who is consumed by fear and anger and desperation and cravings for approval from those he loves, this is an Anakin who has such good in him, but took a very wrong turn. And this is an Obi-Wan who can be cut off from the Force, who can not be up to his usual speed, and yet he still has this iron will that’s incredible, he still looks Anakin right in the eye and refuses to be worn down, this is an Obi-Wan who cannot be compromised in the way Anakin wants him to be, because Obi-Wan’s strength of character is incredible. This is what I imprinted on and this is what I remain true to–that this is why they’re both such fascinating, complicated characters who become so entwined with each other and supporting each other and loving each other and trying to figure out a way forward together and working through their issues together, all in a way that’s about growth and healing in such a good, emotionally satisfying way. But also on a sheer id-pleasing level, the first half of this fic is fucking delicious, it’s the best “Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar and keeps Obi-Wan prisoner” fic I have ever found, it understands Obi-Wan’s character just as much as it understands Anakin’s character, how strength comes in different forms. That even without the Force, holy shit, Obi-Wan is goddamned nightmare because he’s so smart and he may not be the Chosen One, but he was one of the best of the Jedi. And, oh, Anakin so desperately trying to gain his approval, when he climbs into bed with Obi-Wan it was one of my favorite scenes, it didn’t need to be anything more than what it was to be perfect. There are a ton of character insights in this fic, there are some great lines, there’s a great plot, and the writing is top-notch. To this day, this fic remains my #1 favorite in this fandom, the first half of this fic especially is everything I want re: characterization and writing. It was practically emotional/id porn for me and even if you don’t usually read genfic, I would suggest giving this one a shot, because, boy, is it ultimately ever really, really about the relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin and it delivers on the emotional climax moments. ✦ Negotiation by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, NSFW, modern au, serial killer au, 50.4k wip    Over a year ago, Coruscant Police Detective Anakin Skywalker vanished without a trace while hunting the prolific serial killer known within the media as “The Negotiator”.    Chapter 18-19: This is an update rec and will focus on these chapters rather than the fic as a whole. I still can’t believe how good this fic is for me, how much I love every single scene of Anakin’s life being just an absolute mess, and the slow slide into where we know he’ll ultimately end up. It’s been 50k now and he’s still not there and yet every moment is just as interesting and engaging, it never gets old, each moment is useful in the journey along the way, it’s never repetitive in the ways that Anakin’s defenses are slowly crumbling against this person who is his only social outlet, this person who takes care of him, this person who he’s asking for things from, this person who is so charming and attractive, this person who is holding him here against his will, this person who is a murderer who feels no remorse about it, this person whose moods he cannot fully trust. Having this fic set from Anakin’s point of view works so well, because he’s such a relatable character in this situation and because the story focusing on his descent into Stockholm Syndrom is the heart of the fic, and it just works better in his pov, but it also gives me iddy happiness every time he’s so expaserated with himself and so frustrated/not a little terrified of what’s happening with him. But also, oh, man, the way the dynamic between him and Obi-Wan subtly shifts. The way Anakin’s so guilty about blowing him the night before, the way he still is drawn to Obi-Wan the next day, the way little moments, like Obi-Wan standing behind Anakin to guide his hands in chopping vegetables is so quietly intimate and there, all of that is SO GOOD FOR ME. And chapter 20 is set in the future again, a contrast against the chapter just before… but not as much of a contrast and I love it for how I felt the progress (?) Anakin has made along the fic. And, you know, Obi-Wan just looking people dead in the eye and able to say exactly what he wants to say to get the result he’s aiming for, how he can play a role and it’s utterly false but it gets the reaction or he can just look someone/something dead in the eye and you see the predator underneath and it’s… it’s not canon!Obi-Wan, but I feel like it’s what he might have been with the chains taken off him and I love getting to see such a sharp and immoral version of the character. It’s so much fun and also so good. And then Bail shows up! And, oh, man, the dynamic there is fascinating in what it says about Anakin, what it shows about Anakin and what calms him down, what puts him at ease and just… this fic is really good at being self-aware about what it’s doing, but still embracing it, and that makes it the fic I’m probably most eager to see a new chapter of, whenever it comes out. ✦ Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & mace & dooku & palpatine & cast, sith!obi-wan, NSFW, 95.4k wip    Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness.    Chapter 30: This is an update rec and will focus on this chapter rather than the fic as a whole. Should I have waited until there was another chapter for an update rec? Ehh, probably. But I also don’t care. Because it’s a bit of a breather chapter after the previous one, it’s dealing with the aftermath of events that happened recently and it’s really satisfying–for both versions of the characters. Stepping carefully around spoilers, what happens with Padawan!Obi-Wan left me all excited and bouncing because I’d wondered and I loved the conversation with Plo Koon and how this chapter left off with this Obi-Wan, what it could mean for his future, because oh man yes do want! But also the future version of Ben and the downtime he has with Anakin, how it’s nice to have a chapter where they spend time together without any other pressing concerns in the very immediate future, as well as some really lovely, delicious shower sex. Where it’s just the two of them and Anakin whining for more so Ben opens him slowly and carefully before sliding into Anakin, who needs this, you feel how much he needs that connection again, rather than the fic telling you about it. That Ben has a moment of actually allowing himself something nice, to be pressed inside this person he loves so much, to have Anakin back after everything they’ve both been through, how it leads up to telling Anakin he loves him, because it’s one thing for us all to know it, but to read the words is so satisfying, right along with the lovely sex, that Anakin is safe in his arms again, trusts him again, listens to him again, wants more of him again. That they’ve found this balance, right exactly like this, and it just really made me happy in my soul for all the characters. ✦ The Light You Leave Behind by laventadorn, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka, 18.9k wip    Because Anakin and Ahsoka have set out to learn what they can about the Sith - and to destroy them, once and for all.    I think I’ve recommended this fic before, but there was enough time between updates/I reread enough of it that I’m gonna do a fresh rec. I LOVE THIS FIC, I am super intrigued by it already, where things go a little differently when Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order and Anakin starts thinking about going with her, but is torn between wanting this other path and the desire he has to be a Jedi, to stay with Obi-Wan as well. The writing is lovely and sharp, the characterizations are complicated and bittersweet, in the way that Star Wars so often is. When Obi-Wan says that he thinks they’re losing the war, it sends Anakin into this tailspin, because Obi-Wan’s not supposed to say that, he starts a slow boil panic because Anakin is not good at dealing with feelings like this and, oh, it’s painful but it’s also so very good. It’s really a group fic, though, it has Padme and Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Anakin, but there’s also some good stuff with Bail Organa and Asajj Ventress, there’s some great ways each of the characters see each other–I especially loved Padme’s view of Anakin and his need for guidance and how Obi-Wan could be “charmingly, annoyingly, passive-aggressive” in one description and really actually idealistic in another. And, oh, I do love the feeling that I get from this fic that there’s no “evil” side (other than Sidious and the Sith, of course), that the Jedi may have lost their way, but they’re not bad people, that Padme can disagree with people, but both sides have validity, that there’s nuance and complicated circumstances here. I live for that in fic, it makes things so much better and stronger as a story! It really is fascinating and so easy to see/hear the characters and so engaging a read. ✦ you’re gonna wish you never had met me by cosmicocean, obi-wan/padme & leia/han & luke & cast, 13k    Leia Kenobi, struggling to keep her head above water.    This is a sequel to turn my sorrow into treasured gold, which should be read first. I admit, this fic focused a little too much on the ESB plot, which meant not nearly as much new stuff happened in it, and I think that held it back from being as good as the first one was. But I also still tore through this fic and it’s a great look at Leia’s character and the writing is lovely and I am just so, so here for an AU where Obi-Wan and Padme raised the twins, where Leia knows her mother and considers herself Obi-Wan’s daughter, how that both does and doesn’t change who she is. The character moments are lovely and it just… really felt like Star Wars, I enjoyed it a great deal. ✦ An Enlightening Experience by Valmouth, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ahsoka & the father & the daughter & the son & cast, 2.3k    “You… have been Chosen,” the Father says, and he sounds about as upset on the matter as Obi-Wan knows he will be, when he finally understands what that means.    I both wish that this had been like 50k long and think it’s perfect exactly as it is, it’s sort of crack-treated-seriously, but also very light-hearted, but also comes with genuine emotional weight. It’s one of those neat concepts that isn’t really in line with canon, but it’s happily embraced by being what my id wants, giving Obi-Wan a special Destiny, especially as the embodiment of the Light on Mortis. It’s such a fun fic, it has just the right amount of detail and ideas sketched out to really capture my imagination, but also to give me feelings (both happy and heartbreaking!) about Obi-Wan, exactly as it should. It was a really lovely read. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k    Anakin wakes from nightmares tinted red. The darkness of his bedroom seems oppressive, and no matter how many times he blinks red seems to seep into the edges of his vision.    This is a short ficlet, but oh it’s lovely and adorable and bittersweet and heart-warming and perfect. When Anakin is 13, he feels he should be too old to sneak into Obi-Wan’s bed for cuddles and sleep, but a nightmare gets him up and sneaking out anyway and, oh, I love how easy it is in this moment, how it’s simple and quiet and Obi-Wan just lifts up one arm in invitation and I can see it so clearly and it’s perfect and my heart feels so much better after this lovely piece. ✦ I’ll Be There For You by SinkingLikeASunset, obi-wan/anakin/padme (eventual) & qui-gon & clones & cast, 40.7k wip    Obi-Wan must alter events and make changes as he struggles with memories of a dreadful future and deals with new developments this time around.    Chapter 1-8: I believe I’ve recommended this fic before, but it’s updated since then and I continue to enjoy it! The beginning takes a bit to get underway, but once Obi-Wan is in the past and has settled a bit, the fic shifts into gear and really engaged me. I like that it’s a fic where things aren’t really in a rush, even as they’re often tense and there’s a looming sense of things on the horizon. There’s room to breathe here, as well as some really good scenes between Obi-Wan and various people, especially Anakin, who gets frustrated that Obi-Wan won’t tell him what’s wrong, but Obi-Wan is slowly getting him to learn to trust that he’ll tell Anakin when the time is right. Not that Obi-Wan knows precisely what to do, he stumbles and is at a loss at times, but he’s still making his way carefully and is still determined to make things better this time. But what I’m really here for is the slow development of Obi-Wan/Anakin/Padme as a threesome and how Obi-Wan/Anakin is getting so much of their communication finally worked out. Chapter seven has a nicely id-satisfying scene where much of the building confrontations finally happen, where Obi-Wan and Anakin finally really talk to each other, how Obi-Wan finally says directly what he now realizes Anakin needs to hear, how Anakin warms under that praise and affection. The fic is at its best when it’s focused on them (and Padme), when it lets me just happily roll around in the tropes that it embraces and just makes me feel all warm-hearted and content!    Chapter 9: This is an update rec and will focus on this chapter, rater than the fic as a whole. This fic starts a bit rough in the beginning, but once the timeline starts changing and the fic settles into the more daily life stuff, it becomes really cute and charming and chapter 9 really exemplifies that for me, it was just so adorable to watch Anakin verbally flailing and tripping over himself because Obi-Wan knew about his marriage to Padme, like I would have read five chapters in a row of that, because that’s where the fic is at its best and it’s just fluffy and pure iddy fix-it and cuteness! And I’m enjoying the slow roll towards Obianidala as a pairing, that it’s been 40k of fic now and they’re just sort of getting around to it and Obi-Wan’s affection for them is very nice and both Anakin and Padme are really cute, especially when Obi-Wan is so calm and serene, because that’s how he is, while they trip over themselves trying to pretend they’re not in a relationship. But also I will apparently eat up with a spoon any time Anakin has a panic attack and Obi-Wan’s presence and guidance helps bring him back, yesss, give me that always, that’s what I’m here for! ✦ Wearer of the Veil by englishable, leia & ben, 1.4k    Leia Organa-Solo knows that her son is not quite like everybody else, although she’s uncertain as to whether this means he should be protected more from others or himself. Either way, these strange dreams he has are beyond her reach.    A lovely, bittersweet look at Leia and her son, how his childhood went and the dreams that loom over him, how a kid can start out so sweet and so loved, who is always loved, and still you see how things could end up the way they did. The imagery in the fic is used really well and the sheer amount of feelings of the piece are just right and it really was a really, really lovely piece to read. ✦ those immortal dead by notbecauseofvictories, padme & leia & luke & ben & poe & rey, 2.1k    Padmé Amidala is forgotten, not gone.    This is really more of a fairy tale type of story than one that’s grounded in the Star Wars details (though, I wouldn’t say it’s a straight up fairy tale, either, if you’re looking for that kind of thing, just that it’s fuzzy and dreamy and not quite how SW works, but that style works for the fic) and it’s more about fleeing impressions and moments, the lingering of a ghost that’s not quite in your field of vision. That Padme’s influence on the galaxy is still there, even if she herself or her name are not, and it’s a really delicate balance to walk, but I thought the fic did a lovely job of it! ✦ untitled by cadesama, anakin & leia & bail & tarkin, ~1k    Anonymous asked: AU, Vader sues Bail for custody (either the Empire is intact and he has standing or its gone and he absolutely doesn’t, whichever is funnier)    I think I grinned my way through this entire thing, there’s something just so… hilariously surreal about Vader suing Bail Organa for custody of baby Leia, who is just totally content to crawl all over him, while Wilhuff Tarkin moderates the whole thing with such utter… I don’t even know how to describe the mix of academic interest with complete detachment. Then you add in a fantastic last few lines that completely captured my imagination and you have a great little read. ✦ A Game of Chess by Kayarde, obi-wan & palpatine & cast, 4.3k    Chancellor Palpatine and Knight Kenobi sit down for a game of chess.    I have a great fascination for the dynamic between Obi-Wan and Palpatine, as two people who are playing a game of chess against each other (literally here, metaphorically in canon, even if Obi-Wan’s not entirely aware of it) and rivals in some ways. The series of scenes in this fic, spread across the years, the way they come to respect each other as rivals, the way Palpatine sees Obi-Wan as a genuinely interesting person to play against, and how that changes some fates and not others, was a really interesting little read tonight! ✦ sometimes you don’t get it right by randomdreamer01, jyn & han (background han/leia and jyn/cassian) & cast, 2.6k    Han Solo and Jyn Erso get drunk on the Millenium Falcon and find that they are similar in more ways than one.    Oh, this was a beautifully written fic, it’s all rough edges and unhappy moments and jaded undercurrents to everything, but with real and genuine heart underneath it, just as it should be for these two characters. It works beautifully and understands both characters and draws these really beautiful parallels and contrasts, for the way they look at the world and the feelings they have for these people who are so deep into the Rebellion and how Han and Jyn try to deal with that. It’s a gorgeous fic that I never expected to get and it really was a treat. ✦ Unearthed Bones by Glare, obi-wan/anakin, human au, mafia au, 2.5k    Obi-Wan Kenobi has given up a life of crime in favor of the questionable comforts of witness protection. Placed in a boring library job, everything appears to go great until he realizes his incompetent handlers somehow managed to drop him right in the middle of another man’s operation.    I didn’t know I needed this fic until I had it–which I say a lot, but I always mean it! It’s such an interesting beginning, I love that this Obi-Wan is living this peaceful life, but he can’t just not notice what’s going on around him, Obi-Wan is too fundamentally an observant character which of course leads exactly where it was always going to go. I loved this opening chapter, it could have stood on its own the way it is, the ending would have worked for that, but I am also really here for more of it! I love the potential of it, the way it captures my imagination, the scene between Obi-Wan and Anakin, both of them sizing the other up, especially the way Obi-Wan is just so… calm and centered, that even when he’s being tempted back to what he really is, there’s something solid and steady about him, which compliments the more wild feel of Anakin and I liked the way that sense of who they are was mapped onto these versions of them. And also I am super ready for more of this whenever it comes out, especially if it has undercurrents of being fucked up in super tasty ways, as the author is really good at. ♥

[mariestherapeutics]

Deep Dark ft. Sehun: Part 5. WARNING: There are themes in this series (such as depression) that may trigger unpleasant memories or feelings, please read at your own discretion. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(♫) The smile on your face is stuck in my mind.

(Sehun's P.O.V)

When you sat with him yesterday, he couldn't look at you at first because his face was so red. You had heard him request your presence and actually did it, and though it made him feel good, he had this wrenching feeling of nerves in his stomach that he didn't appreciate.

Today when you sit with him, he's a little more composed. "Hey," He greets, flashing you a smile. You smile back at him, looking absolutely exhausted. "Early morning?" He asks as you slump back in your chair and drop your bag.

"Too early." You nod, shutting your eyes. He guesses that you stood up late last night finishing the assignment that was given, since yesterday's class was in the evening, you only had a few hours to complete it after he left. Sehun, on the other hand, had no problem doing it, and felt guilt seep its way into him for having it so easy.

Before he has any time to say something, the lecture begins, and he silently decides to give you a laurel afterwards for trying so hard. The lesson is laggard, though, and he has a hard time paying attention to it. But he does his best, taking notes that he's sure will help aid you and him in the project.

Afterwards, when he's walking to your dorm to work, you stop him while passing the hill he first met you on. "What are they doing?" You ask, covering your face slightly and hanging your head while peering up there. It takes Sehun a second to realize you're cringing, and another second to realize why.

Up on the hill are the three most popular guys on campus, sitting on giant alien head beanbags while playing a round of chess. "How embarrassing is that?" You ask him, looking horrified at them, but Sehun's interested.

"Come up there with me." He says, not wanting to leave you, but doesn't wait for your acceptance to start walking. He hears you join him before reaching the top, though, and is relieved he doesn't have to approach them alone. "What's up?" He asks the closest male, Byun Baekhyun, who glances up at him with a grin.

"We're playing space chess, wanna watch?" He asks. Sehun could tell it was chess from the bottom of the hill, but now that he's up here, he sees that someone (probably the three of them) taped different space-related things to each of the pieces. For example, the knights had alien heads on them, and the pawns had small beam guns.

"Why, though? Here, of all places?" You ask from behind Sehun, and he steps aside so he's not in the way. This time, Jongdae pipes up.

"We're advertising our club." He says, looking at you from over his shoulder. "You should join us, S.P.U.B." He says, flashing a hand-made badge at you. Sehun reads the small print on it, which was written carefully in black ink.

Kim Jongdae, Treasurer of S.P.U.B. (Space, Paranormal, Unknown, and Beyond!)

"I'll think about it," Sehun hears you say, but he has a feeling that you're just being polite.

"Sounds cool." Sehun says seriously, interested in their obtuse way of advertising. "Tell me more about it another time, since I'm busy today, but I'm seriously interested." He tells the guy not playing, Kim Junmyeon.

"Sure thing." He replies, smiling friendly. Junmyeon's badge says he's the fund raiser planner. "If you look at the notice boards at any dorm, you'll find a flyer with a meeting day." He says.

"Cool." Sehun grins, and you look at him with no expression, which Sehun assumes is your polite judgment face.

"Now we're expecting you to be there, uh," Baekhyun looks back at Sehun a second time. "Sehun, right? We had a class together before." He smiles, proud that he remembered. The badge on Baekhyun's shirt says he's the assistant manager. Sehun nods to answer his question, but before he can be distracted any more, he excuses you two and offers his hand to help you down the hill. You don't take it, but grab his forearm instead. A safe place to touch someone you don't know well.

"You really like space, don't you?" You ask him after you enter your dormitory, tossing your bag through your open bedroom door and taking a seat at your kitchen island. "But you can do better than S.P.U.B." You tell him with a mocking tone. You obviously thought the group was a joke.

"Can I?" He asks vaguely, setting his stuff down and sitting opposite of you. "I didn't see anything wrong with it." He shrugs.

"The only members we met were those three stooges." You throw out, opening the closest cupboard and pulling out a bag of chips. "What good can come out of that?"

"Yeah, but I haven't met their manager yet." Sehun comments easily, grabbing a chip when you rip the bag open. "They could be the real deal. Besides, I said I was interested, not invested." He points out, and you hold up your hands in defeat.

"Oh Sehun can do what Oh Sehun pleases." You say. "But I wasn't sold." Sehun isn't surprised, but he doesn't say that. He's learned from his multiple attempts at socializing that there are some things better left unsaid.

"Wanna work, then?" He asks you, changing the subject. "Or not, since you look like you want to do something else." He quips, seeing you fidget slightly. You bite your lip in guilt.

"Sorry," You mumble, looking away. "But I want to work on it later."

"Why'd I walk you here, then?" He chuckles, finding it completely pointless.

"Well, I still wanted to spend time with you, just not doing class work." You say, looking everywhere but him. When he realizes you're blushing, that wrenching feeling Sehun felt yesterday returns tenfold, and he's sure his face is red, so he looks away from you, too, pretending that made him invisible.

"Ha," He laughs airily, unsure of what to say. "Um... what did you want to do, then..?" He asks quietly. Is he supposed to ask in this kind of situation? Or is this when he's supposed to deny you and leave? To end it before it can escalate? Would it escalate? Would he want it to stop if it did?

"I don't know, I was going to offer to watch a movie, but your reaction is making me regret ever saying anything." When he looks back at you in embarrassed surprise, he sees a small frown hiding behind your blush. "I didn't mean it in any way but platonic." You reassure him, but he starts shaking his head.

"No, no, I didn't think you did." He says. "It's just... well, I guess I'm glad you offered, is all." He confesses, not realizing he felt that way until he said it. Has he always had the desire to get to know you?

"Oh," You utter, blinking in shock. "A-Alright. A movie's fine, then?"

"It's perfect." He says a little too eagerly. He internally slaps himself for it. He honestly isn't trying to look desperate for a friend, but if he's being honest, you'd be the first one since his freshman year of college. Then Sehun internally slaps himself for thinking you even wanted to be friends with him. Maybe you just want a break from all the work, and are including him in that down town to make him feel better.

But you smile at him, and Sehun thinks it's brighter than a thousand suns. He's never seen something so dazzling in his life, and he's left wordless as you stand up with the bag of chips, walking over to your bedroom. "T.V's in here, let's go pick a movie."

Sehun allows himself a moment or two to collect himself before following suite and taking his usual spot on your bed. He's acutely aware that he's in your personal space now that it's not about homework, and his palms start to sweat out of nerves.

What is wrong with me, he thinks irritably, wiping them on his jeans. He's never felt this way in his life. He's starting to abhor the wrenching thing in his gut because it makes him aware of all the unnecessary things. Like your hair color. He's never cared about it much, and thought about it even less. He's never noticed how bright your eyes shone, either.

For a split second, Sehun is breathless as he stares at you, because he thinks he sees the stars in your eyes. I'm imagining it, he tells himself, but it's there. The night sky is all in your eyes.

Then, with a deflating realization, he figures out why. You must have installed them last night or before class this morning, since they weren't there before, but white Christmas lights hung around the perimeter of your ceiling, lighting up the room. He didn't even notice the lights were off because they illuminated the small room so well.

"Hello? Earth to Sehun?" You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Maybe you do belong in that club." You chuckle lightly, waving two DVDs in his face. "I said, which one do you want to see?"

"Oh," He says distractedly, glancing at the movies before pointing to a random one. "This one."

"Okay," He watches you with a newfound fascination as you put in the disc, before joining him on the bed. You lean against the headboard comfortably, looking not at all how he's feeling inside. "You chose a comedy, so I hope you have the same humor as me, or else I'll be the only one laughing." You gander at him, grinning.

Ah. He's looking at the sun again.

Seriously, Sehun thinks, smiling back before looking at the T.V. screen. What the hell is wrong with me?

(Continued in Part 6... Deep Dark)