#only because they want to see Five miserable with a mannequin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stargildedskies · 4 years ago

Text

A Song Among the Stars

Chapter count: 2/?

Rating: Mature 🔞

Relationships: Grand Admiral Thrawn/Original Female Character

Tags:

Space Opera (literally)

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Never by thrawn

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Star Destroyers (Star Wars)

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Chiss (Star Wars)

Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars)

Masquerade

The Empire shows off

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Total word count: 5,506

Chapter 1: Overture

Song suggestion: Reflections- Toshifumi Hinata

I lingered in the bath, fully understanding that I was only delaying the inevitable. The warm, aromatic water swirled around me as I began to dread the next few hours. Soon, the handmaidens assigned to prepare me for tonight would arrive to ensure my compliance.

At an earlier point in my life, I would have resisted all of their attempts to shove me into the various gowns, gems, and the absolutely appalling shoes that had been chosen for me. I had actually bitten the first girl that tried to change my outfit forcibly.

The handmaidens were all extremely wary of me after that incident, but, somehow, three of them had managed to become my only true friends on Coruscant. Despite my best intentions to hate everyone, Talle, Kaia, and Ahni were the only ones who bothered to understand my story.

Though each of us was from a different planet, we had all been taken from our homes by the Empire. We all served high-ranking Imperials, but my main role was different. I was a piece of Imperial propaganda. I was painted as the poor girl from the Outer Rim whose singing talent was discovered by the Empire and given a place to shine for the whole galaxy to see.

My train of thought was immediately interrupted by the sound of three very familiar sets of footsteps entering my room and a sing-song voice that rang out, “Oh Lyra! It seems that you’re stuck with us yet again.”

I let out a genuine snort before retaliating. “Kaia, you know nobody else wants to be anywhere near biting distance of me. You’d have to be personally requested by Lady Tarkin before anyone would consider switching jobs with you, and that’s saying something.”

I suddenly shuddered as I remembered my last encounter with her. Thankfully it had been brief, but it had still felt like an eternity. “That woman is so unpleasant.”

The second voice jokingly mused, “I don’t know, sometimes you can be almost as miserable as her. Now come on out of the bath. We have to start getting you ready.”

“Just five more minutes Talle.” I groaned, “I can just feel that tonight will be particularly long.”

Kaia laughed as she poked her head into the refresher and handed me a mug. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that, and that’s why we’re here ten minutes early.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Before you even begin to ask about it, here’s your shig.”

I shot Kaia a friendly scowl before immediately perking up at the mention of my favorite tea. I had always been partial to caf, but there was nothing better than a steaming cup of herbal tea before a performance. The citrusy scent of the behot immediately filled the small room, and holding the warm mug in my hands was instantly comforting. I let out a sigh of pure bliss, “Stars, you are a wonderful friend.”

Kaia winked before exiting the refresher. “Oh, I know.”

As I enjoyed the last few minutes of my bath, the tea brought back memories of my home. Before the Empire had taken me, a cup of shig and a hot bath would have been considerably rare, and the chances of both happening on the same day, even rarer.

Back on Ero, life was more mundane. My father always had quality goods on hand, but as a trader, he couldn’t just let his daughter drink all of his products. There were also no fancy bathtubs because they were a waste of precious drinking water, so almost everyone used sonic showers instead. I could resent the Empire all I wanted to, but there was no denying that I was at least well provided for. Somehow that made me hate my captivity even more.

I gripped my mug as I fought the other memories that tried to resurface. It had gotten easier to push them down as the years passed, but the pain was still there. Flashes of my capture, my time spent held on a Star Destroyer, the captain that had trapped me in his quarters…... The last thing I needed was to slip back into these memories.

Then there was a gentle hand on my shoulder. The sudden presence made me jump, but I saw Ahni’s smiling face when I looked up. Her face was both a comfort and a constant reminder that the Empire had hurt many people besides me. She had a beautiful deep green complexion marred by the scars from her capture that ran across her face and entire body. Ahni rarely spoke, but she was still extraordinarily expressive and always had ways to make her emotions known. Realization flashed across her face before she bent down and hugged me.

We shared an understanding moment of silence before Kaia yelled in from the other room. “Come on, Ly! We have to get you into all this kriffing fabric sometime today. I heard that we managed to get one of the better options, but tonight everything is special, so there’s more to do than usual.”

Stars, I almost forgot, I mentally berated myself. Tonight’s not only the biggest party I’ve been expected to perform at so far, but it’s the kriffing Masquerade too.

I immediately began cursing under my breath in every trade language I knew as I leapt from the bathtub, wrapped a robe around myself, and ran out of the refresher, closely followed by a very amused Ahni.

My apartment was quite lovely for basically being a prison. I had a plush bed with privacy curtains, a small vanity, a bedside table, a closet filled with outfits, and a tiny enclosed balcony. Having a private refresher made it very close to luxury.

I walked over to the vanity and had a seat. I had been prepared for Imperial events far too many times and knew the procedure that was about to happen by heart. I used to protest that I could get ready myself, but preparing for an Imperial ball required way more thought and perfection than anything else and by now, I put my trust in Kaia, Talle, and Ahni.

Tonight demanded absolute perfection.

The Masquerade was a collection and celebration of the Empire’s most significant members, and my role was to be the sparkling gem in the center of everything. I knew my true purpose tonight involved way more than my renowned singing ability. My presence tonight was pure propaganda. I was a message to every person on every planet in the Empire. This could be you. The Empire is generous. If this insignificant girl from the Outer Rim could be here, you could be here too.

I had already been warned about the consequences if I fell short of what was required tonight.

Hours later, the process was finally complete. Talle had powdered, colored, and shaded my face to her precise standards. She had even filled my lips in with a deep red pigment and darkened my eyelashes to complement my icy blue eyes. Not to be outdone, Kaia had coaxed my long blonde hair into an elegant, intricate updo inlaid with black and white quartz.

The dress came last, and it was stunning. When Ahni opened my closet, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Whoever had selected it had undoubtedly wanted me to stand out. There would be no shortage of finery tonight, but I was to be resplendent.

Talle was completely astonished for a long moment before she spoke, “I do believe this is the least horrid thing they’ve picked out for you.”

Ahni nodded vigorously in agreement while Kaia and I remained utterly speechless. The dress was breathtaking, even just on the mannequin.

Getting into the dress was a three-person endeavor, but the struggle was utterly worth it. The long, form-fitting black dress perfectly hugged every curve from the floor up before tapering just slightly above my cleavage. There, the material shifted to the left, wrapped behind my neck, and then formed a sleeve that draped down my entire right arm. However, the most remarkable thing about the dress was the fabric. Any and every way that I moved caused the material to shimmer like the thousands of stars twinkling in the night sky.

I was provided a single thick, gold cuff for my left wrist, and even though the hem of the dress would cover them, heeled slippers made out of the same fabric as the dress.

Talle smiled and carefully handed me the final missing piece. “Now, now,” she jested, “you can’t go to a masquerade without this.”

The mask she handed me was so intricately ornate that it easily could have been mistaken for black lace, but it was actually made from a lightweight metal inlaid with dozens of sparkling diamonds. When I put it on, it rested just above my nose to conceal the upper half of my face beautifully.

As Kaia secured the whole thing in my hair with more pins and gemstones, Ahni produced a floor-length mirror from the closet. In my performances on Eros, I had worn dresses that were considered elegant in the Outer Rim, but there was no way they could ever compare to this. For the first time in my life, I was stunned at my appearance. I had never been overly confident, but now I felt absolutely beautiful.

Talle laughed, “Just try not to stop any hearts tonight. The Empire might lose important officers, and then we’d all be in trouble for making you look this good.”

Kaia placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her snickering, and Ahni looked highly amused by the thought.

I just rolled my eyes, “I think their partners would probably get to me first.”

That sent everyone over the edge, and we all laughed to the point of tearing up. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ahni went over to open it, and two officers decked out in their Imperial best stepped into the room. The shorter officer locked eyes with me and blushed furiously before looking away.

The taller one finally spoke, “Good evening Miss. We will be your escorts for the night. If you wouldn’t mind following us, we have a speeder waiting to take us to the venue.”

I smiled at the officer, “Thank you, I appreciate it. If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, I’ll finish up and be out in a second.”

He nodded and signaled to the other man. They stepped outside, and I immediately pulled Ahni, Talle, and Kaia into a big hug. “Thank you all for your help and for being my friends; you make this so much more bearable. I’ll see you when I get back tonight.”

After a few seconds, we broke apart and finished our goodbyes. I smiled at my friends one last time before walking out of the room to join the officers.

________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Aria

Orchestra tuning: The Imperial March (Glory of the Empire)

Lyra’s final song: Roméo et Juliette, CG 9 Act 1: “Ah, je veux vivre danse ce rève” sung by Aida Garifullina

*TW* brief Attempted assault/non-con towards the end of the chapter

The officers outside of my door stood so close that I almost ran headfirst into the taller one when I stepped out.

“Apologies, Miss, we thought you’d be a little longer,” the man managed as he smoothly sidestepped me before acknowledging his previous blunder, “It also seems like we’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves.”

He briefly paused to take his place beside his partner before continuing. “My name is Captain Dreycolt, and this is Lieutenant Arkmad. It’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance and we both actually have you to thank for our presence at the Masquerade tonight.”

Arkmad, who was still noticeably red in the face, nodded sagely. “None of the higher-ranking officers wanted to be stuck with a job at the party; however, the rest of us were fighting to even be included. We happened to fall at the perfect place on the pecking order,” he smiled slyly.

I raised a single eyebrow at Arkmad and gave him my most saccharine smile, “Well, I’m glad that this will be an enjoyable job for you, even though you’re stuck with me.”

His face flushed several shades deeper, and he started to stammer. “M-My apologies M-Miss. I n-never meant to imply….”

Dreycolt promptly tapped him on the shoulder to cut him off before turning back to me and smoothly taking my hand. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, slowly raised it to his lips, and gallantly kissed the top of my hand. He smiled up at me through lowered lashes, “However, any job that is this beautiful couldn’t possibly be so bad.”

Now it was my turn to blush and I prayed the mask hid most of it because Dreycolt was definitely an attractive man. His caramel-colored hair was neatly trimmed with darker eyebrows and eyelashes framing his warm amber eyes. The uniform he wore fit him exceptionally well, and the slight stubble on his chin tickled my hand as he pressed his lips to it. After what felt like an eternity, he released his grip, and my hand returned to my side.

There was no doubt Dreycolt’s distraction from his lieutenant’s blunder had worked as intended. I could tell he knew as much from the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You flatter me, Captain. If all Imperial officers are as pleasant as you, perhaps tonight will be more enjoyable than I expected.”

Of course, all officers aren’t as kind or practiced in flattery, I thought darkly. These two seem bearable enough to talk to, so I’m at least grateful for that. After all, they’ll be keeping me company for most of the night when I’m not on the stage.

His annoyance at the situation briefly flashed in Arkmad’s eyes before he cleared his throat. He did not seem to enjoy being sidelined for his misstep.

“We should be on our way by now,” he chided. “The airspeeder has priority clearance to travel outside of normal traffic lanes, but I don’t want to explain why the Empire’s star performer is late for her practice time with the orchestra.”

He was, of course, right. Dreycolt jokingly bowed and gestured out into the hallway. “Lead the way, Miss.”

With the Captain and Lieutenant flanking me, I walked through the twisting hallways of the building towards the balcony where our airspeeder was docked.

I was still somewhat dreading the Masquerade, but at least the ride would be pleasant and I would even get to see the sky again. It sounded like such a small thing to enjoy, but coming from Ero to Coruscant was a massive shock in so many ways. I could always see the sky and the stars glittering at night in the Outer Rim but Coruscant was a completely different story.

Though my apartment was beautiful, it was nowhere near the skyline. I played an important role, but it was definitely not important enough for me to live among the rich and powerful. The towering buildings above me kept all traces of natural light from finding my little room, and while artificial light was better than living in the dark, it held no comparison to the real thing.

When we reached the airspeeder, Dreycolt jumped into the driver’s seat, and Arkmad helped me into the back before taking his place in the seat beside him. At the press of a button, a smooth, clear dome slid overhead and enclosed the craft.

I couldn’t resist making a joke. “For both your sakes, I’m glad there’s a roof. You would have to deal with my very unhappy hairstylist if her work was ruined.”

Dreycolt let out a deep-chested laugh, and even Arkmad’s stormy facade cracked into a smile before the airspeeder pulled away from the building, and we were finally on our way.

Since I was expected to be at the venue early to rehearse, night had not yet taken over the cityscape. The sky was cloudy as usual, but light still fell to glisten and reflect across the tops of the tallest buildings. The view was absolutely breathtaking.

I all but shoved my face against the clear dome to take in all of the incredible scenes spread out below. Thousands of speeders, taxis, and transports wove around the many buildings, each with a different purpose and destination. I was beyond captivated by all the people and their freedom to go wherever they pleased, whenever they wanted to.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at one of the most palatial homes on the highest level I had ever seen. Dreycolt stopped the speeder at the balcony, although calling it a balcony was a massive understatement, and Arkmad helped me out onto the landing. I had become accustomed to the splendor displayed by the most influential Imperials, but this was on another level entirely.

An enormous garden lay spread out beyond the balcony’s opulent landing pad. The path we walked down extended its way throughout the entirety of the grounds and wrapped around a massive central fountain before it continued up into a set of stairs that I could only guess led to the main ballroom.

Statues depicting the most famous Imperial victories lined both sides of the walkway, which eventually branched off to different garden sections on each side. Upon closer inspection, the central fountain proudly displayed the Imperial Crest carved into stone so dark it could’ve been mistaken for a solid shadow.

Every single hedge, bush, or flower we could see was maintained to standards of perfection that would impress even the Admiralty of the Imperial Navy. The sweet scent of the many exotic flowers lingered in the air, and the sounds of water trickling from the fountain made the garden almost seem peaceful.

Dreycolt let out a low whistle that made both the lieutenant and I jump. Evidently, he had passed the speeder off to another officer while we were distracted. “Stars. I had heard the constant squabbling over who would get to host led to an amazing result, but this is insane.”

Arkmad nodded, “Someone told me the Emperor personally picked the host and venue. I have no idea who was picked, but they certainly did an outstanding job with the preparations.”

“I wish I were able to walk around,” I sighed wistfully. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a real garden.”

Dreycolt smiled, “Well, Miss, perhaps after your performance, we can arrange that.”

The grin that crept across my face was hard to hide as that simple thought became all of the encouragement I needed to get through the night. As the three of us began the walk to the ballroom, I realized that whoever had designed the path had done so with women’s shoes in mind, as it was completely smooth and comfortable to walk on. Kriffing hell, they really thought of it all.

Before long, we reached the top of the stairs and entered the ballroom. I didn’t think anything would outshine the garden, but I was so very very wrong. The garden was the pinnacle of control and order, but the ballroom exuded absolute elegance.

As we reached the top of the stairs, another officer was waiting to announce our arrival, but I was so captivated by my surroundings that I barely heard what he said. Beyond him was the main dance floor. It looked to be made out of the same dark stone as the fountain, but it was polished so thoroughly you could easily see your reflection looking back at you if you looked down. At the far end of the room, a small but wide set of stairs led up to the stage where the orchestra was busily setting up. More stairs just inside the entrance led to the upper floor, which was filled with tables draped in brilliant white cloths for people to sit and enjoy the spectacle of the dancing below them. A massive, crystalline chandelier hung over the ballroom and blood-red sashes decorated the balconies.

There was so much more to see, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t there to spectate.

As I walked up to the stage, I stopped to greet the conductor of the orchestra; Skath Farri was an old friend from the conservatory where I had trained. He was invited to Coruscant for his considerable talents and was never permitted to leave. Now, he conducted the Imperial Orchestra. No one could know our relationship was anything more than professional, or we’d never see each other again.

“Ly! You look gorgeous, my dear.” He greeted me with the usual platonic kiss on the cheek and inconspicuous wink. “Are you ready to shine tonight?”

That was his unique way of checking in on me. He was very aware that I had never entirely given my voice, or heart, to the Empire. I followed orders and sang the songs they wanted, but the emotion that drove my greatest performances was still in the Outer Rim. There was a marked difference between my performances here and Ero, but only someone like Skath would ever notice. I still played my part of the obedient songbird, but I refused to give them all of me.

I smiled back at him. “Just about as ready as I’ll ever be. They sent me a rather impressive list of everything I’m to perform tonight. At the very least, I came prepared.”

Skath just smiled knowingly before he shooed me onto the stage to begin warming up with the orchestra. Time seemed to stop as I rehearsed, but before long, the guests started to arrive and I was sent over to wait in my spot in the backstage wings until it was time to perform.

I could only see the stage, but I heard names, both familiar and not, being announced upon their entrance. The ballroom began to fill with voices as the guests trickled in. All of a sudden, a musical cue played, and the room went deathly silent. A ghostly hologram flickered to life in the center of the stage, and the shadowy form of the Emperor appeared.

“Welcome, my friends. I trust you will all enjoy tonight as a celebration worthy of our great Empire.” He paused for applause before continuing. “Now, it is my wish that you use this time to reflect on the victories that brought us to this moment. I assure you there will be many more in the future.”

The Emperor stood for even more cheering before holding up his hand to silence the crowd. “Now, let my Masquerade begin!”

His hologram flickered slightly before disappearing altogether as the lights dimmed, cuing me to get on stage. I walked out to stand in the center of the stage, and as soon as I reached my place, the lights slowly returned to their former brilliance.

I was no stranger to performing, but having every single Imperial in the room staring at me was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully, before they could settle in, Skath cued the orchestra to begin with a flick of his baton. The opening notes of the first piece, a current favorite on Coruscant, swelled to life, and I began to sing.

Almost immediately, the officers and politicians turned to their spouses or began to venture off in search of a dance partner. The crowded dance floor began to clear slightly, as others had no interest in dancing and were only there to make connections. The first song ended with tremendous applause, and I began the second. You can do this. Just take it one piece at a time.

By now, I was calm enough to enjoy myself and to watch the dancing and it quickly became apparent that everyone in attendance had tried their best to impress. The ladies wore beautiful, elaborate dresses made out of the best materials and representing the latest fashions from every corner of the Empire. Politicians displayed the most richly colored and finely tailored clothing they owned and Imperial officers were in their usual dress uniforms, but no one was seen without a mask.

There were all kinds of masks on display. Some were crafted entirely from gems or precious materials to show off resources from their home planet. Others pulled designs from legendary animals or myths. There were even some covered in exotic feathers or flowers, but every mask was distinctive in its own way.

Hours passed as I continued to sing. Slowly but surely, I made my way through the extensive list of songs on the program until only one remained. The last song required using a specialized instrument, so I retreated to the wings for some water while it was being set up.

Suddenly, Skath appeared and sprinted towards me. He spun me around to face him fully, and I was in shock at how frazzled he looked. Even his voice was strained. “Lyra, you have to trust me. I have no idea who asked for this, but they were important enough to change the final song we planned. Every member of the orchestra was given the new sheet music, and a stand was set out for you.”

“They want me to sight-read a piece on a night as important as this?!” I gasped indignantly at the thought.

Skath’s face was grim. “No. You’ll know it, but you won’t be happy about it. We don’t have any time left, so we’ve got to get back on stage. For what it’s worth….. I’m so sorry.”

My stomach sank. If he was this upset… I had no idea what to expect. However, there was no choice but to walk back to my place on stage and pretend nothing had even happened. With every step, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew.

It was so much worse than I ever could’ve expected. There was no way anyone here besides Skath should know about this song, but here it was in front of me. It was my favorite piece of music and the only one I’d sworn to keep from the Empire forever. The piece that had been the star of my first major performance on Ero after I left the conservatory.

Before I could even finish my thought, the orchestra cued up. The first few notes began, and every single one of them felt like a knife to the heart. My muscle memory kicked in, and before I even knew it, I was singing.

Thoughts flew through my head while I choked my way through the opening verse. What would I do? Do I keep my promise and hold back, or do I seize the chance I was forced into and truly sing from my heart? Memories of Ero, my family, and my friends all returned as the song continued. My voice began to flow over the music as I made it my own. I remembered my father’s smile and how proud he’d been of me for my music.

Courage suddenly coursed through me like liquid fire. I’d show every kriffing Imperial here what a daughter of the Outer Rim was truly capable of! I was wrong to hold back my emotions before. They could take me, bring me to this place, and shove me on a stage, but they could never control my voice. The Empire wanted me to be their emotionless puppet. My voice wasn’t exactly quiet before, but now it rose to fill the entire ballroom. I was going to burn myself into the mind of every Imperial present. Whoever requested this song would not see me subdued; they would see me triumphant. I poured every ounce of bottled-up emotion into my music, and my voice soared. Then, I had sung the final note, and it was all over.

You could’ve heard a code cylinder drop in the ballroom after the orchestra finished. The dancing had all but stopped, and people were leaning over the balcony to watch me. I curtsied, preparing to exit the stage and receive whatever punishment was in store for kriffing up the Masquerade, but then the thunderous applause began.

I kept my curtsy for as long as possible before my knees started to buckle. Everything left in me had gone into the song, and I barely made it into the wings before I collapsed. Fortunately, Captain Dreycolt was there to catch me before I hit the floor.

I smiled weakly at him. “Since the orchestra is taking it from here, now might be a good time for me to get some fresh air.”

He grabbed Arkmad, and together they helped me out one of the side doors into the garden. I didn’t want to be seen in my weakened state, but thankfully the garden was empty. Most people seemed to be still dancing or otherwise occupied. Those that were in the garden didn’t appear to have ventured this far.

Dreycolt stopped and pointed at the hedge maze, “There’s a small sitting area in the middle. The only way in or out is through the maze. Why don’t we take you to it so you can rest? Arkmad and I will stand at the entrance and exit to make sure you aren’t bothered.”

I had no complaints; the idea sounded fantastic. We made our way through the maze until we reached the center. It was small and only had enough room for a bench, but it was paradise to me. Arkmad helped me onto the bench before making his way to the exit. Dreycolt gave me one last worried glance, turned around, and headed back towards the entrance. The crisp night air felt wonderful on my face, and I began to relax. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and started to feel normal again.

The sudden sound of footsteps startled me. Assuming it was Dreycolt or Arkmad, I rose to meet them. For the second time that night, I was profoundly incorrect. A cold, sly voice broke the silence as the face that haunted my dreams stepped into the area. “Hello, Lyra. I bet you thought you’d never see me again.”

Icy fear washed over me as I was thrown into complete shock. Standing in front of me was Girerd Bost, the captain that took me from my home and attempted to violate me in every way possible. The starlight shone on his face, illuminating his narrow, glacial eyes and the nasty scar to the right of them. I hissed at him, “Captain Bost, what an unpleasant surprise.” I gestured to his scar, “It’s a real shame that didn’t heal better.”

He had the decency to look hurt by my cutting words as he moved his pale hair to the side and softly traced the scar. “Unfortunately for you, it’s Commodore Bost now.”

Before I could even blink, he lunged at me, grabbed me by the throat, and shoved me down onto the bench. Bost leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “Those two boys waiting for you were certainly brave. They tried to argue with me, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from a Commodore no matter how much they wanted to.”

He paused briefly to trace his other gloved hand over my face. His touch revolted me and made my skin crawl; he seemed to take pleasure in my discomfort before continuing, “Now, there’s no one nearby to interrupt us…”

At that moment, he made the mistake of stroking my lips. It was my turn to lunge forward, and I bit down on his hand hard. Bost screamed and released my throat to grab his bleeding fingers. I leapt up from the bench and bolted past him, sprinting as fast as possible towards the maze’s entrance and praying that I wouldn’t hit a dead end. He was chasing me by this point, screaming obscenities and threats of what he would do to me. Finally, an opening in the hedges appeared. I glanced behind me to see if Bost was close behind, but as soon as I turned my head, I suddenly collided with a very large, solid thing.

The hedges made it way too dark for me to see, but from the soft grunt I heard during the collision, it was another man. I recoiled backward defensively as Bost rounded the corner. The mysterious man glanced at him, looked back at me, and seemed to judge the situation quickly. He swiftly stepped in front of me to block Bost’s path. At this point, all my dignity flew out the window, and I hid behind his tall figure. I just had to trust fate that I was better off with him than with the Commodore. In contrast to Bost’s loud cursing, the other man’s voice was impossibly soft and collected when he spoke. “Commodore, I believe this woman would like to be left alone.”

Still distracted by his hand, Bost howled, “Just who do you think you…..”. He looked up at the man and abruptly shut his mouth. Before he could re-open it, my unknown hero spoke again. This time his voice had a definite edge, and an unrecognizable accent slightly marred his words.

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #thrawn fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #also on ao3 #star wars rebels #star wars the clone wars #star wars legends #Thrawn x oc #mitt'raw'nuruodo

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agathaharknes · 4 years ago

Note

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

#yennaia #tissaia de vries #post: ask #ship: yennaia #writing*#sityiatwru*

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loungelizardatwar · 5 years ago

Text

Even 58-year old time travelling asassins deserve hugs

Here’s another fic with Ticklish!Five because I’m in love with one (1) feral gremlin asassin boy and I want him to be happy. Anyways I hope you enjoy! Also I may not have proofread this well enough because i’m embarrassed so if you see any errors let me know lol

It was times like these when Five really missed Delores. He was drunk as shit on the couch at Elliot’s, clutching the bottle in his small hands with a miserable look on his face. He still couldn’t believe that the fucking world was going to end again because of them.

Five thought about trying to find the department store before, but he found out that the building hadn’t even been built yet. So his lovely Delores didn’t exist in this timeline. He sighed, taking another swig of liquor with a grimace.

Elliot was sitting in a chair nearby, watching the man in a child’s body with a leery yet sympathetic look. He didn’t trust him fully yet but he felt bad seeing him look so miserable. He had no idea what Five had been through so he couldn’t really offer him any help.

Five was lonely, and deep down he really just wanted someone to hug him. But his pride kept him from telling his siblings that. He was a highly trained assassin, not to mention he was 58 years and 14 fucking days old and he figured that murderous old men like him didn’t deserve hugs.

Somewhere in his mind he had hoped that at least one of his siblings would have been happy to see him again. Instead they all blamed him for stranding them even though he was just trying to save their lives. He remembered how Vanya and Allison had hugged, even though Vanya had amnesia and didn’t even remember her. It made his heart ache. He wished that he shared the bond that the rest of them had.

Five slumped against the couch, taking in shaky breaths as he tried to steady himself. He missed his family every single day for those 45 years in the apocalypse and he spent all that time trying to get back to them. Now that he found them again they were all angry because of him. Because I failed them. He took another long sip from the bottle, feeling angry tears prick at his eyes.

“Hey Five, are you okay?” Came a familiar voice.

Shit. It was Klaus. He must have snuck in while Five was lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Why do you even care?” Five sniffed and wiped his eyes, trying to play it off casually.

Five deflated at the concerned look Klaus gave him, and he sighed as Klaus sat next to him on the couch. He could tell that his brother could see right through him.

“Why wouldn’t I care? Tell me what’s going on in that crazy head of yours, old man.” Klaus put a hand on his shoulder and Five tensed up.

“First of all, don’t call me that an’ don’t touch me.” Five slurred slightly, taking another large sip of alcohol. He swatted his brother’s hand away.

“Okay, fiiiiine. You must have had a really shitty day.”

Five scoffed. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Klaus fixed Five with a look that he couldn’t quite read, and he was curious about what he was about to say.

“I might be able to help you relax, if you’ll trust me.” Klaus said with a twinkle in his eyes. He couldn’t help the little smirk that took over his features.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the bubble of curiosity Five felt in his belly, or the fact that he really did miss Klaus and his antics. Whatever it was, something made him feel like he could trust Klaus to cheer him up.

“Fine. Do whatever you think will help. But I’m not responsible for your injuries.” Five put the bottle down on the floor next to the couch, crossing his arms and looking at Klaus with a pout.

“That’s all I needed to hear!” Klaus grinned at the sight of his 58 year old brother pouting like the petulant child that he looked like. He started poking at Five’s sides, delighting in the startled squeaks he got.

“H-hey! What the fuck! Dohohon’t do thahahat!” Five hissed, swatting at his brother’s hands. He wasn’t really surprised at that Klaus would choose such a childish method to cheer him up. Five acted like it annoyed him, but deep down he knew that he probably did need to lighten up at least a bit.

“Awww, but Five! You’ll feel better if you let yourself laugh. I’ll stop though, if you really want...” Klaus went to move away, and Five panicked.

“Wait!” Five all but shouted, sounding more desperate than he meant to. He suddenly found himself blushing for the first time in years. He didn’t want to ruin this playful moment with Klaus.

“I mean, it’s okay. I trust you Klaus. You can keep going.” Five sighed and smoothed back his hair, a nervous habit he picked up over the years to self-soothe.

Klaus instantly lit up, not expecting this reaction from Five. He figured that his brother would probably tell him to fuck off and blink away, but he was very intrigued to see him blush for the first time he could remember. It was a cute look on his childish face.

“Oh really?” Klaus cocked his head to one side in fascination. “This is great! Thanks, Fivey!” He grinned and clapped, letting out a giddy giggle,

“Ohohoho shihihihit! Heheheheh!!” Five squeaked, falling into helpless giggles. He curled into himself, making Klaus smile at how child-like he really looked when he laughed. Meanwhile the alcohol was making Five feel weightless and warm, and he had to admit that he already felt a little happier. But he couldn’t stand the delighted way his brother grinned down at him. It made Five want to die of embarrassment and strangle Klaus at the same time.

“Are my eyes and ears deceiving me or are you actually enjoying this~?” Klaus teased, suddenly snatching up one of Five’s hands in his own and using his other to lightly tickle Five’s palm. Klaus knew that it was one of his brother’s death spots.

“Sh-shuhuhuhut up! ’m not- fahahack! Klaus, NOO! HAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEASE! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE!” Five screamed and cackled, frantically flailing and trying to pull his arm away.

Thanks to Five’s powers, his palms and wrists were incredibly hypersensitive. On a scale from 1 to 10 they were easily a 13, where as his knees were more of an 11. In other words, it tickled so much that Five wanted to crawl right out of his skin.

Klaus laughed, letting go of Five’s hand. He couldn’t believe that a highly trained assassin such as Five could be rendered to begging just from the lightest touches on his hands. Klaus hoped that none of their enemies found this weakness or Five would be screwed. He snorted at the thought.

“I’ll leave your hands alone for now,” Klaus teased with a soft smile. “You feeling okay?”

“Th-thanks.” Five croaked, greedily sucking in air. He was still smiling, his dimples and blushing cheeks on full display. “I’m fine, I just..need a minute.” He closed his eyes, sighing and laying back against the couch.

“Of course, take your time.” Klaus grinned at him, ruffling Five’s hair. Usually Five would roll his eyes and push him away, but when he nuzzled into Klaus’s hand, Klaus realized with a pang of guilt that Five must be touch starved.

But how could he not be? Spending 45 years alone in an post-apocalyptic wasteland with only a mannequin to keep you company didn’t offer much room for happy, cuddly moments. But then, that wasn’t all there was to it, was there?

Klaus was struck so violently by the revelation that he visibly recoiled. Nobody has hugged Five since they were kids. It made Klaus feel sick, to imagine how that must have felt. To know that after all those years apart from his siblings, not a single one of them even missed him enough to give him a hug.

And here they all were again, reunited after they all thought they would never see each other yet again. Five had saved their asses, though he may have separated them in the process and they threw it all back in his face.

“Hey Five?”

“What?”

Five pushed himself up, resting his head on Klaus’s shoulder. He felt content in his tiredness, happy to lean on somebody other than himself for once.

“C’mere.” Klaus opened welcomed arms,

doing all that he physically could to not cry.

Klaus felt so fucking shitty for never giving any thought about what Five had done for them. But he knew that he deserved it and that he needed to be there for his drunk brother. It was the least he could do.

Five lazily opened one eye, giving Klaus a funny look. “Why?”

“Can I give you a hug?”

Five wasn’t sure how to respond, as if he was taken aback by the audacity of the question.

“You want to?” Five tried to hide the way his voice wavered as he asked. He hated feeling vulnerable like this, but his family was the only exception.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Klaus almost couldn’t believe him, but he could understand where Five’s wariness came from.

Five just sighed, looking so utterly sad that Klaus could hardly bear the sight of it. He put his arm around Five’s small shoulders, and he almost couldn’t believe his ears when he heard a sniffle. Then, when Klaus felt Five’s breathing grow shaky he was right. Five was crying.

Klaus had maybe 5 seconds to register that before Five was clinging to him for dear life, crying like he had never heard before. Klaus did all he could do to hold Five, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down but the man in child form was a sobbing mess.

It wasn’t long before Luther came in, seeing the scene unfolding in front of him.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking concerned and slightly sad on seeing number Five sobbing into Klaus’s chest.

“I-I don’t know! All I did was ask Five if I could give him a hug and now he’s stuck to me like a sad baby koala bear...I just hope he doesn’t try to bite me.” Klaus sighed dramatically, but he didn’t really mind. He hoped that Five could tell.

“Ah, shit.” Luther sighed, awkwardly sitting next to Klaus and Five on the couch. All three of them hoped that the couch wouldn’t break, but it seemed fine despite it’s creaking. “What should we do?”

Klaus shrugged, but he was smiling like he had an idea.

“Five, buddy? Are you in there?” Klaus asked, giving a gentle poke to Five’s side.

Five twitched, still sniffling and clinging to Klaus.

“Leave m’ alone..” He croaked, sighing deeply as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Are you okay?” Both Luther and Klaus asked at the same time, wincing as they realized how they’re both such mother hens. A trait they probably picked up from Grace, bless her circuits.

A few moments passed of Five’s shaky breathing and quiet sobs, until eventually he got his bearings enough to look up at Klaus. His eyes were red and puffy underneath, and his hair was a complete mess but somehow he looked a little better. Klaus was sure that the relief of crying was probably good for Five. It just pained him so much to see it.

“Yeah, i’m okay.” Five finally said, covering his mouth with a hand as he yawned.

Klaus chuckled, and Luther gave Five a fond look. They were both so glad that he was alright.

“I bet you’re exhausted. You can nap on me if you want.” Klaus suggested, adjusting his position so they were both more comfortable on the couch.

Five hummed, considering the idea.

“Here,” Luther said, reaching to grab a small throw blanket. He tossed it over Klaus and Five, smiling a bit as he watched them get comfortable. It sure was a funny sight, seeing the usually grumpy number Five cuddle up to Klaus. But everyone knew that Five had been through the most out of all of them, and he deserved his rest.

#the umbrella academy #tua #number five #number four #ticklish!five #I just want five to be happy and laugh for once dammit #also he needs to REST.#tickle fic #tua tickle fic #the umbrella academy tickle fic

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bubble-tea-bunny · 6 years ago

Text

searching for sunshine

[tamaki suoh x reader]

author’s note: tamaki suoh is my anime bf i love him so much. this has been a psa. inspired by this prompt

word count: 5,147

It feels like the opening scene of a romance novel, the way everything begins.

The sky is clear and blue this afternoon and the air is pleasantly warm, enough to go without a coat and enjoy the occasional cool gust of wind tickling the skin. Downtown sees a fair amount of people traipsing up and down the sidewalks, the main street lined with boutiques featuring the latest fashion and trendy cafes with chalkboard signs advertising their specials for the weekend.

Tamaki’s roped Kyoya into joining him at the shops, on the condition Tamaki be the one to pay for lunch. That had been an easy deal to make. The agreed upon restaurant is at the corner of the current block—it’s expensive, Kyoya had made sure of it, but both of them know the price is no issue. Still, Kyoya doesn’t like to make things so simple, but Tamaki supposes that’s just one reason he likes him so much.

There’s ten minutes until their scheduled meeting time and as Tamaki is wont to do, he gets distracted a mere four shopfronts away from his destination. His walk until now had mostly been casual glances into the windows, scanning this season’s collection but with no desire to stop and get a closer look. That changes as he slows to a complete stop, standing before a mannequin donning a gray jacquard cotton jacket, paired with casual slacks and sneakers. Tamaki hums in thought, hand on his chin, and mentally runs through his wardrobe for any outfits he might be able to put together with that jacket. He’d been eyeing a similar jacket from last fall, but the pattern and colors hadn’t been to his taste. This one, however…

Kyoya can wait an extra five minutes, can’t he? Tamaki has walked up to the front door and nodded in thanks to the security guard who pulls it open for him before he can come up with an answer. But in the back of his mind as he walks up to an employee to inquire about the jacket, he’s thinking Yes, he can. Not as if it’s anything new anyway, and Tamaki knows he’ll be left grinning and chuckling sheepishly when he finally arrives, late, and with a shopping bag in hand (because he’s quite sure, now that he’s been shown the jacket for inspection and he’s started to feel the fabric, that he will be leaving with it).

He shrugs off his cardigan and tosses it on the back of one of the plush sofa chairs so he can try the jacket on. It fits him well, shoulder seams lining up perfectly, and it isn’t too long. The material is soft to touch, and he notes to the employee assisting him that this would suited both for colder and warmer weather. I might just buy it then wear it out of the store! he jokes.

Deciding to purchase the jacket had been quick, but he gets even more sidetracked as he starts to inquire about the rest of this season’s editions (he had, admittedly, not been following the collections too closely recently) and it seems Kyoya would have to wait an extra ten minutes instead. Though luckily his patience is spared from any more delay, for Tamaki glances quickly at his watch in the middle of conversation and realizes he should get going. He says he’d like to buy the jacket, and he meanders around the store as the employee takes it to the back of the store to pack up for him.

The shop had been receiving a steady flow of customers in his time here, but now it’s quieted down to just a few others. Your laugh is what grabs his attention, and his eyes find you where the bags are, a quilted leather purse with a little tassel slung on your shoulder, which you observe in the mirror, angling your body to see how it goes with your outfit. He doesn’t catch the context of the conversation with the employee helping you, and thus isn’t certain why you’ve laughed, but that matters little to him compared to the laugh itself and, more importantly, the smile on your face. It stays there, a small upturn of your lips, even after the amusement from the joke or the funny quip wears off, and he’d like the softness of it to lull him to sleep.

And perhaps Kyoya’s patience hasn’t quite been spared.

Tamaki pretends to browse the backpacks, a sly attempt to get closer to you. He wants to say he isn’t eavesdropping, but if he did, he’d be lying. With his gaze on a leather backpack and his fingers tinkering with the zippers, he overhears your hesitation about that particular purse, wondering if maybe the one you’d been considering before would be better. The employee asks if you’d like him to take said bag back down from the shelf so you could compare, and that’s when Tamaki finally looks up. You’re still wearing the quilted leather purse.

“I think that one suits you nicely.”

You blink and twist around to see who’s made the comment, and Tamaki’s prepared with a friendly grin. Your confusion melts away and it gives way to that wonderful smile again, and you ask curiously, “You think so?”

Tamaki hums in affirmation, and, taking your continuation of the conversation as a positive signal, leaves the backpacks behind to join you in front of the mirror. He stands off to the side and tries not to crack a smile too big as you strike a couple of poses, giving him varying angles from which to judge just how well this bag matches your style. Of course, he doesn’t know you well enough to say if it truly suited you, but he’s always had a knack for this kind of thing.

“Quilted leather is a sophisticated choice,” he elaborates. “Mature and modern.”

Your eyes narrow thoughtfully as you mull over his words. (You are so cute!) And your smile could light the deepest reaches of space. “You’re right. It does look good.” You undersell yourself. It looks great.

Tamaki chuckles and nods his approval, then tilts his head curiously, glancing at your bag then over at the shelves to appraise the other colors choices for this model. “But maybe get it in antique rose… That is the color this season.” Thank goodness he’d had that conversation about the new collection just a few minutes ago.

The employee who’d been helping him finally emerges, his jacket tucked away in a box, which has been placed into a bag, ready to go. She calls out to him and he tells her he’ll be right there. He turns his attention back to you briefly, hating to have to part ways.

“I hope I could be of help,” he states.

You smile. “You’ve been plenty. Thanks.”

He’d like to be a whole lot more to you. You’ve quickly found a spot to settle down in a corner of his brain, and he thinks about you the whole duration of his walk to the restaurant (“You’re twenty minutes late, Tamaki!”) and then some.

Kyoya gets an earful over lunch, and he doesn’t react the entire time Tamaki recounts the experience but Tamaki doesn’t mind because he knows Kyoya is listening. At the end of his spiel, Kyoya just has one question: Did you get her name?

Tamaki deadpans. “I didn’t…” It’s a quiet confession, as if he’s embarrassed, or more accurately, as if he’s shocked that he’d never asked for it. He’d liked you enough that he really would have enjoyed talking to you more, but the employee had come out with his jacket and Kyoya had already been waiting so long and—!

Had he been flustered? He definitely didn’t feel as though he was, but it was difficult not to be set at ease by your little grin. Maybe it made him forget, maybe you made him forget that he was supposed to be the one charming you and not the other way around. Where had the Tamaki Suoh, king of the host club, been? A club where sweet-talking girls is literally his job. Had you outdone him, to captivate him before he could do it to you and what’s more, to do so without words?

His heart beats quicker at the realization that that is very much what happened and the fluster was merely delayed. He feels it full force now, the disappointment to still not know who you are and the shock to have been caught off guard like this. And he bemoans to Kyoya, repeating miserably I didn’t get her name, Kyoya…! It’s halfway to an exasperated sob of disappointment and Kyoya sighs at the theatrics.

“Who knows, perhaps you’ll run into her again,” he remarks in an attempt to comfort the distraught blond.

“I’d need a whole lot of luck for that,” Tamaki responds, huffing hopelessly.

“You’ve had luck on your side many times before. What’s one more?”

Tamaki purses his lips and acquiesces with a noncommittal shrug. Even if that were true, when’s the next time he’d come across you? Who knows how long that could be! For now, the image of your amiable grin would have to do, to keep him going, to keep him motivated to be on the lookout. He’ll dream that the glint in those kind eyes of yours are glittering from affection and not just the overhead lights of the shop with its carpeted floors and plush chairs and complimentary bottles of expensive sparkling water.

Come Monday, Kyoya’s forced to hear the same speech again as Tamaki recounts his conversation with you, this time to the rest of the club. He’s standing, too jittery with excitement to sit as the memory of you is pushed to the forefront. Everyone else is lounging back on the couches, all with varying expressions of confusion and amusement as Tamaki gestures enthusiastically. The tone of his voice denotes just how taken he had been with you. And in a fit of his textbook histrionics, he brings the back of his hand up to his forehead, eyes closed, like he’s feeling faint.

“She was mesmerizing.”

Hikaru raises a brow. He’s never seen Tamaki so caught up on anyone, at least not genuinely. He’s played up this act when on the clock for the club, dazzling girls left and right and professing them to be the apple of his eye, the forbidden fruit in the garden he would gladly partake of. To be honest, it’s a bit… strange to see it now, real and unrehearsed. “I bet.”

It’s only partly sarcastic, but before Tamaki gets the chance to be annoyed, Kaoru interjects. “Then ask her out.”

Tamaki’s hand goes from his forehead to clutch at his chest and he looks offended at the proposition. “Are you out of your mind?! She’s gorgeous, and when I say gorgeous, I mean traffic collision-causing gorgeous.”

Honey tilts his head. “Wow, she must be really pretty for you to say that, Tama-chan!” Mori grunts in agreement.

“You never have a problem talking to girls,” Hikaru states. “She’s really got you hooked, hasn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but also…” Tamaki sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t ask her out anyway because I may not have… exactly… asked for her name.”

Kaoru’s eyes widen. “So you don’t even know who she is?”

“Then how will you ever see her again?” Hikaru asks.

Tamaki groans, the panic setting in once more as the twins remind him of his initial doubt. He laments that he has no idea if he’ll ever see you again and he really messed this up big time and how could he be the president of something like the host club if he missed something so simple and maybe the charm’s only good when he’s the one in control because it’s clear that with you, you were the one with the reins and he was letting you steer by no will of his own. Is that what it felt like to be at the mercy of his own allure?

“Now now,” Kyoya interrupts before Tamaki digs himself into a hole of self-pity, finally looking up from his accounts book. “We all know Tamaki’s got a fair amount of luck. Who’s to say he won’t see her again?”

“Me,” Hikaru mutters. Kaoru lightly elbows him but he’s cracked a small smile, unable to be contained.

Tamaki glares at them, brow twitching. “I heard that.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll run into her!” Honey reassures. “Maybe even soon!”

Tamaki sighs, still not entirely convinced but grateful for at least some consolation. Keep dreaming he tells himself, and typically such a statement denotes cynicism and a warning not to hold one’s breath, but he says it with an optimistic authenticity, a reminder to keep the thought of you close, because maybe it’ll bring you closer to him, and he would indeed have the pleasure of crossing your path again.

Murmurs of a second-year transfer fill the halls one day, and the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a new student. She’s coming from another prestigious academy outside the country. She moved here after her father, one of the higher-ups of an investment bank, was moved to the local branch. The girls gossip and giggle, hoping she’s nice and exclaiming they can’t wait to meet her. The boys wonder if she’s cute.

Tamaki flips to a new page in his notebook in preparation for the following lecture and smiles a little as he picks up bits and pieces of the chatter in the classroom. The new student is in his class, so they’re more excited than the rest. He’s looking forward to meeting her, just the same as everyone else, and he ponders if he could persuade her to visit the host club. He knows just the trick—he’d sweep her off her feet, pull her in with sweet words and the suggestion that her sweet company might be better enjoyed with sweet treats. And so why not stop by to see him? He’ll serve her tea, admire the gloss of her lips once she takes a sip and admit that he yearns to taste the remnants of the rose tea still settled upon them.

He’s too busy smiling to himself at what he considers to be a very well-thought-out plan, to notice that the teacher has arrived and the rest of his classmates have settled into their seats. It’s only when the teacher begins to speak and alert them of the arrival of the newest student that he looks up.

Either luck truly favors him or he’s done so much fantasizing that fate could ignore his desires no longer and conceded to his pleas. His eyes widen at seeing you at the head of the classroom, and you also seem to have noticed him right away, as you’ve already been watching him. He can’t hear the teacher introducing you over the buzzing in his ears, and he’s paranoid this is actually a dream, and he fell asleep at his desk, and you’re not the one who’s joining his class and he’ll just wake up later to find out who it is.

“—so make sure you help her feel welcome here!”

At the end of the teacher’s little speech, you bow slightly in respect, enunciating your words so everyone can understand as you say thanks, and remark that you hope to be a worthy addition to Ouran Academy.

Tamaki still can’t wipe the shock off his face even as you proceed down his row, to the empty desk two spaces back. Your gaze momentarily finds his again and you smile, small and imperceptible but one of recognition and his heart will probably burst out of his chest any second now. He catches a whiff of your perfume, vibrant and refreshing—it reminds him of Biarritz—and it’s only now that he registers the bag on your shoulder, fashioned with quilted leather and colored an elegant antique rose.

Sure, fate’s made it simpler by pushing you together, but it didn’t make it completely easy. Tamaki’s not the one to sweep you off your feet first. It’s the gaggle of girls who swarm around you during every break period that sweep you away. You’re occupied with them the remainder of the day, and Tamaki spares occasional glances in your direction, checking for any opening to insert himself but finding none.

By the end of the school day, he hasn’t said a word to you, and duties to the host club have him in music room 3 directly after his last class. He gushes about you to the others again, but he does so even quicker than before due to the short time allotted before the club opens its doors for the day. I can only hope that those girls convince her to come here! he states, desperation apparent in his voice. She’s so close yet so far away!

Hikaru shakes his head at Tamaki’s woe is me dramatics. The fact you’ve ended up at the same school was already a lot for him to process. It seems too ridiculous to be true that the very girl Tamaki had run into has come here. By this point, you stopping by the music room had to happen at least once. He addresses this to temper the president’s distress. “If she’s already at Ouran, she’s bound to end up at the host club eventually.”

“Yes, eventually…” Tamaki assents with a sigh. “But I would prefer sooner rather than later.”

They’re not left to linger on the conversation for longer than that, as Kyoya announces it’s time to open. The boys are always booked straight through, and the first appointments start coming in almost immediately. Tamaki take a deep breath, then dons his kingly smile and gets to work.

He tries to imagine each girl is you, and it pushes him to layer on the extra charisma. When they melt at his words and his proclamations of love and devotion, the pride he feels comes from fantasizing that it’s you who turns into a puddle before him. If your charm was at 100 percent, he would just have to increase his to 200.

The room always smells like roses and Tamaki hasn’t kept count of how many he has given today. The scent is gentle, beautiful like all the girls he has the privilege to entertain, but deep down he’s longing to take in the fragrance of that French seaside town and pretend that the warmth of the sun shining into the music room is washing over him as he sits on the white-sand beach and listens to the lapping of waves on the shore.

Before any of the host club members know it, they’ve run down their list of appointments and the day’s activity is at an end. None of them is ever cognizant of the time and it always comes as a surprise when the crowd dies down and Kyoya announces they’re done. The tea sets clank quietly as they clean up the space in preparation for tomorrow. The tables are put away, leaving most of the room bare save for a couple of couches which are too large to bother moving every day.

Hikaru and Kaoru are discussing the last girl they had as they stack saucers, and how adorable she had been, trying her best to guess which twin was which with a deep blush on her cheeks. She had it right the first time Hikaru recalls. Kaoru chuckles. But she’d been so flustered, she kept changing her answer!

Once the room is cleared and they’re about to make their leave, a knock on the door interrupts their conversations. They look to the entrance and watch as the knob is turned and the heavy door is pushed back. Your head peeks through the gap, curious eyes double-checking the room you’re at before finding the group of boys standing in the middle.

“Oh, um…” you start quietly. Remembering that trying to speak while halfway hidden is no polite means of conversation, you step fully inside, but remain by the door. “Some girls told me I should visit the host club, but I didn’t get a chance until now. Music Room 3 right? Though it looks like you’re done for the day…” You chuckle nervously, motioning to the almost empty space.

Every host club member but Kyoya turns his gaze to Tamaki, who hardly seems to notice, for his attention is solely on you. He stutters, some incoherent words leaving his mouth like he’s forgotten how to speak. You purse your lips, staying where you are and unsure if you’re able to venture in farther. You’re smiling as you look at them (but Tamaki can swear you’re looking right at him), though as the seconds tick by you wonder if maybe you should leave.

“I mean I can always… come back tomorrow?” you suggest, now a little confused.

“Nonsense.” Kyoya pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and steps forward. “Miss [Name], how have you been enjoying Ouran so far?”

Your smile is more at ease now that the conversation is going somewhere, and you tell him you love it here. Everyone is so nice! He follows up with questions as to how your father is settling in at his new location, and how his own father is looking forward to doing business with yours. You nod, mentioning how your father has also expressed interest in working with The Ootori group.

The clearly familiar air between you surprises the others, but Tamaki most of all. He has already blocked out the business talk between you and Kyoya, and interrupts it with an exclamation, equal parts shock and betrayal to discover Kyoya knows, and apparently has already known, who you are.

“You know her?!” Tamaki yells, stumbling forward and clutching Kyoya’s shoulder to shake him to and fro.

Kyoya is nonplussed by the action, and instead seems inconvenienced to be treated in such a manner in the presence of the child of another noteworthy businessman. “Of course I do, Tamaki. You know I like to get acquainted with notable people such as [Name]. We met a couple of weeks ago, during dinner with her and her parents.”

Tamaki slowly stops shaking Kyoya and stills, but his fingers are still curled into the fabric of his blazer. He considers the timeline with this new piece of information, and weakly, he voices the revelation which has come to him. “So you already knew it was her…? When I talked about her that one day?”

“You talked about me?”

Tamaki’s eyes shoot to you at your question, and his cheeks heat up at inadvertently admitting that to you. But you don’t appear to be weirded out or put off, judging by your smile, flattered that you had stuck with him as much as you had that he felt the need to share his experience with his friends (he would yell it from the rooftop too if you wanted him to). Still, he can’t help laughing nervously, spluttering and shrugging that yeah, okay, he did, but he wasn’t being creepy about it he swears and it’s just he’d really enjoyed the conversation he had with you even if it was just two minutes and about something so bland as bag colors—

“I can hardly recognize him,” Hikaru murmurs so only the other three host club members with him can hear. They’re all still standing in the center of the room, unintentional spectators to the situation unfolding in front of them.

“Yeah, who knew Tama-chan could be so awkward!” Honey exclaims, and he doesn’t try to lower his volume the way Hikaru had.

Tamaki looks mortified as Honey’s words hang in the air, but those following few seconds of silence are broken by your laugh. Everyone looks at you, though you’re hardly bothered, and Tamaki would like to hide away. Was the club just out to embarrass him? At this rate, you might not take him seriously!

“Well, [Name], while the host club is closed for the day,” Kyoya states, “I think we have the space for one more.” He turns to Tamaki, brow raised expectantly.

Tamaki, even for all his nerves, thankfully catches on quickly. “Yes, of course!” Then he turns to you and your little grin, and he’s a snowman on a warm, sunny day. “That is, if you’d have me?”

Your grin grows. He’s melting at an exceptional rate. “I would.”

Kyoya ushers out the rest of the host club members, who smile and wave to you in greeting as they pass you on the way to the doors. As soon as they click shut, and the two of you are alone, Tamaki ushers you to one of the lone couches. Internally he’s sighing with relief that there’s no one else here anymore. Now the others can’t embarrass him further.

“We usually give every girl a rose, but I’m afraid we’re all out for the day. If you’d like some tea, however, I could make you a cup.”

You smile but politely refuse, not wanting him to go out of his way. They’d already clearly been prepared to leave when you got here, and you don’t want him to do extra work after you have also left. Tamaki nods, says All right, and his chest blooms with warmth at how considerate you are. We can just talk then.

He joins you on the couch, watching as you set your bag on the coffee table, and he compliments the color. “It looks cute on you.”

“Thanks,” you respond. “I did have a little guidance from someone.”

“Whoever it was guided you well,” Tamaki teases.

Your eyes twinkle, and he wants to go stargazing with you. “He did.”

Then you turn the tables on him, bringing back up the topic of him having mentioned you to his friends. He smiles sheepishly and confesses, more easily now that you’re alone, that yeah, he had. But I just couldn’t help it, he elaborates. I had the passing thought that you were pretty, but then I got closer, and we started talking, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Even now, you blow him away, and it doesn’t matter that you’re in the same floor-length yellow dress as all the other girls at Ouran. You wear it so well to begin with, but what you wear better than the rest, and what he cares the most about, is that smile. It has found a home on your beautiful face, and you’re the sunshine cascading over him in Biarritz and the cool ocean breeze and he is overwhelmed but in all the right ways.

He has no dramatics, no acting to exaggerate his feelings. In this moment, he isn’t host club Tamaki. He is raw and unfiltered, just Tamaki. And everything feels backwards, that he is the one who’s quiet and shy, and his skills at waxing lyrical, as though fed the words by the gods themselves, have gone out the window. He doesn’t want to mess up in front of you, to make a fool of himself, but as you duck slightly, to slide into view of his downturned gaze, a fond smile on your face, he thinks he must be doing something right.

“I went to a jewelry shop after I bought the bag,” you say. He’s looking at you now so you sit back up straight. “I saw a pair of amethyst earrings and it reminded me of you.”

“It did?” he breathes out, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and to be honest, he almost doesn’t.

You nod and hum. “They reminded me of your eyes. They’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen, you know. I couldn’t get them out of my head.”

His heart wrenches to learn he has been on your mind, and it almost hurts how hard it twists. Never once had he anticipated it might be the same for you, that your seemingly inconsequential conversation about what purse you should buy would stick with both of you. To the point that perhaps you too have been longing for the time to come when you saw him again, and you watched the sun rise and set and rise again, all the while longing rife in your little sighs as you wonder when that might be. He would have searched for you all the way to the end of the galaxy, and maybe, maybe, maybe, you would have done so for him too.

He slowly cracks a smile, cheeks reddening, and he doesn’t know what to say but you don’t need him to say anything as you giggle at his lack of response. You’ve not seen him in action in the host club, so you don’t have any reason to tease him for acting so uncharacteristic. To you, this is how he always is. But you’re fine with taking the lead as you ask him questions about the school and about the city, wanting to know more about your new home, and he is happy to answer and tell you stories, and even offers to show you around.

If he falls into the bottomless pools of your eyes he’d like to stay there forever. Do they feel as warm as they look? The more you two talk, the more Tamaki realizes that what charm you had pulled him in with, had entranced him wholly and utterly, had been just a taste of your true potential. You had much more in store, and he realizes he is no match for you. Not that he minds being the one to be swept off their feet.

By the time he walks you out to your car, pulled up to the front gates of the school grounds, which are much quieter now that everyone has left, you’ve made plans to go back downtown on the weekend. He pulls open the door for you.

“Don’t forget to stop by the club tomorrow!” he reminds you. “3:15 sharp!” You aren’t in the schedule for tomorrow, but Kyoya would make an exception. (If he didn’t, Tamaki would make him.)

“Sharp, yes, got it!” You give him a thumbs up. “I’ll see you, Tamaki!”

You tuck your hair behind your ears so you can see clearly when you slide into the backseat, and as you do, Tamaki catches a glimpse of the amethyst earrings you’re wearing. You don’t notice his smile, which stays there even after your car has driven off, even as he stands on the sidewalk and watches as it disappears around the corner. And he knows confidently that yes, you would have ventured to the edges of the galaxy to find him again too.

#ouran high school host club x reader #ouran high school host club imagine #tamaki suoh x reader #tamaki suoh imagine #ohshc x reader #ohshc imagine #ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #ohshc #bubble-tea-bunny

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wykart · 6 years ago

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Haunting Five

Alas, I have descended from the realm of copious fanart to full-blown fan fiction. I can’t get enough of these characters so it’s time to create my own content I guess.

Five killed alot of people, probably more than Hazel and Cha Cha given how well-renowned he is within the commission, Klaus would definitely have something to say about this.

Summary: Ever since Klaus made the (regrettable) decision to stay sober, the ghosts that he's successfully kept at bay since childhood have been coming back in a big way. Those who die violently and unexpectedly often harbour resentment towards those who killed them, and what could be more violent and unexpected than meeting your end to an elite time-travelling assassin like Number Five. Needless to say, Five has a whole undead entourage following him around, and Klaus is finding it difficult to cope.

read here on ao3 or under the cut

Sobriety was overrated, and not just because his head was always pounding and the world felt harsh and cold, but because the ghosts were clawing their way back into his mind, more and more all the time. He hadn’t seen so many since those nights in the mausoleum. It was as if he was more visible now, without the drugs to muddle his mind, they flocked to him, desperate to use him as a middle man to get back at the world, desperate to find someone that could hear their voices. He couldn’t blame them. Maybe he could even come to welcome them if they’d think about shutting the hell up every once in a while.

Whenever Five came into the room, Klaus left. At first, everyone assumed it was simply because Five was a self absorbed asshole, which he was, but Klaus had grown used to self absorbed assholes after growing up at the academy, and he’d developed an immunity. He tried his best to be subtle about it, though he didn’t really need to be, his siblings barely seemed to notice when he left the room, all too wrapped up in their own thoughts. That, or they just assumed Klaus was just being Klaus, a man with the attention span of a hyperactive toddler who was always waltzing in and out of their lives whenever he needed something from them. Usually cash.

As the days went by, the figures that gathered around Five became clearer, amassing like a congregation in the pews. It always seemed to be those who died violently and unexpectedly that were the loudest. Everyone that Five had ever killed had died this way, usually simply because the commission decided that they were a liability to the continuation of time and space. Needless to say, they were pissed.

Time came when Klaus couldn’t bare to be around Five for more than a few minutes, let alone pay attention to whatever he was saying - usually something condescending or insulting, or both. He would find a way to casually slip out of the conversation without drawing too much attention to himself. Then, he’d go and stand in the hallway propped up against a wall with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears, fighting the urge to wander down to the darker parts of town for something to ease his pain. That’s exactly the position in which he found himself after Five had barged in on another of Diego and Luther’s arguments (which Klaus had been spectating like a football match), sipping a martini and telling everyone to stop being so childish. There was still something incredibly uncanny about seeing a thirteen year old school boy day drinking while glaring at them all like there was drool dripping from their mouths. Although they’d stopped throwing punches, Luther and Diego were staring one another down from opposite ends of the living room, pacing and surveying one another like wild animals. Five sat down beside Klaus, tutting and shaking his head.

“You know, I think they’ve actually regressed since they were thirteen, I didn’t think that was possible but,” he took another sip and cleared his throat, “here we are.” He turned to Klaus, who was already feeling uncomfortable as the ghosts began to converge on him, muttering. “What are they arguing about this time anyway?”

“I have no idea,” he answered, “and in a way that makes it more entertaining, I can pretend it’s about who ate the last cookie instead of all those serious adult things we’re all yelling about nowadays.”

Five nodded thoughtfully, going to take another swig of his drink. Klaus raised his hand to stop him from putting the glass to his lips. “You know, you should probably give the martinis a rest little buddy.”

Five rolled his eyes, reminding Klaus of the stubborn kid they’d lost sixteen years ago, the kid who’d role his eyes at anything and everything. The man that had returned was often jarringly different from the boy that the Hargreeves children remembered, but it was times like this when the old Five shone through. “Must I remind you that I’ve lived more than long enough to drink whatever I want, whenever I want it.” Five snarked. This was the moment he’d been dreading, an inescapable one on one encounter. Five would see right through any bullshit excuse he’d pull, he might not care, but he’d see.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it old timer, but that’s a perfectly good thirteen year old liver you’re fucking up, maybe just take it easy for a couple years.” Five just scoffed and went back to his drink.

A woman was screaming. Screaming his name and cursing the boy that sat beside him. An old man muttered in another language, blood pooling around white hair. Klaus was on edge, and he missed he days he would spend traipsing from gutter to gutter, living off thrills and empty air. And speed, there was that too. It was a miserable life, but at least he was alone. Ben was beside him, but Klaus could barely hear his voice in the din. At times like these, Ben was the only thing that kept him from going insane. He was the only one that could see what he saw, and could understand how he felt.

“Just stick it out,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. There was an illusion of touch, even if Ben’s hand would just phase right thought him. “Just a little bit longer and he’ll go back to the bar, you can sneak off.”

“Yeah, I know where I’ll be sneaking off too,” he sniggered, under his breath, "right to my fucking dealer."

“Don’t say that,” Ben encouraged, “it’ll get better, you just need to learn how to control them, it’s gonna take some time.”

Five must have noticed that something was up, between all the twitching and grimacing and looking generally freaked out. “Doing ok there?” He asked, eyebrow raised, considering his brother the way one might look at a pitiful, sort of disgusting beetle struggling on its back.

Klaus barely heard what he said over all the noise. He glanced sideways at Ben. “He asked if you were ok,” he said.

“Christ, of course he did, what a stupid question.” Klaus chuckled to himself, which only further raised Five’s concern. Klaus cleared his throat hastily, “Yeah, yeah I’m always fine, always,” he repeated, whispering. Five shrugged.

Luther had been the first to give up the testosterone-fuelled staring contest, leaving Diego to slump down on the couch opposite his two brothers, no doubt intent on brooding for as long as possible. A lot had changed since they’d all lived here as kids, but not this - the cycle of tension between the two self-appointed top-dogs of the family. It was sort of comforting in a sad way, in the same way that it comforted the others to see that little Klaus was still rolling joints and pouring his life down the gutter. Their scars ran deep.

For a moment the room was silent - well, silent for everyone but Klaus, who had never known true silence all his life. The ghosts kept calling out to him, as if he could help, some of them didn’t even realise they were dead. The career of a time travelling assassin amassed a collection of colourful characters, some of them must have been gone for centuries.

“Take it easy with those drinks, Five,” Diego said, as his brother went to get himself another hit from the bar. Five threw his brother a dead-eyed glare and continued on his way. Diego looked to Klaus as if to say ‘can you believe this kid.’ Klaus shrugged and basked in the brief relief of Five leaving his side and his undead fan club concentrating their attention elsewhere.

“You’re right, Delores,” Five’s voice sounded from across the room, “I don’t think either of them have had an original thought in their lives.” Diego badly suppressed a chuckle and rolled his eyes. Klaus answered him with a nervous laugh, a little too enthusiastic for the context. Truth was he only had half a mind of what was going on, the other half was listening to this 19th century French lady screaming his name with about as much coherency as one could have if their throat was sawn through with a serrated trowel. They were only getting louder, the more he thought about them the more visible he was. Go away, he thought, I can’t fucking help you.

“It’s scary, being where they are now,” Ben reminded him, “if I didn’t have you here, I would’ve been lost, just like them.”

“Yeah ‘cause I’m you’re fucking saviour,” Klaus mumbled, smiling to himself.

“Don’t push it, asshole. Just concentrate on them, your brothers, remind yourself what’s real.” Diego barely seemed to notice their little conversation, he was too busy seeing how many times he could spin a knife in the air before catching it.

“Well, I should be going,” Diego announced, sheathing one of his many knives and getting up from the couch. “You should come with me to the gym sometime Klaus, you could really use the, err,” he indicated towards his brother, skinny and shaking, “exercise.”

Five was coming back. Klaus shook his head vigorously, which only served to make to voices blur together. He wished he had something to smoke. Ben was saying something again, but his brother’s reassurance only added to the cacophony. Any comfort he could offer him was lost. The boy sat down opposite Klaus, arm draped over that weird mannequin. “Yeah, ok Delores I don’t need you on my case too. I’m drinking this martini, just deal with it.”

Klaus cleared his throat, as if to remind himself that he still existed underneath all the noise. “Hey, uh, Five, little buddy?” he mumbled, voice raspy, “you think you could tell them to shut up, just… just for a second.” He brought trembling hands up to his ears, clawing at the sides of his face. He couldn’t help but feel like a kid again, a kid locked in the dark while skeletons burrowed into his mind.

Five rolled his eyes, he didn’t have time for Klaus’ bullshit. “Thought you were trying to stay sober.”

“Oh, I’m sober alright, I’m so fucking sober that it’s like Dia de Muertos up in here.” He laughed, high and choked. “In case you’d forgotten, this is what sober is for me. You starting to see why I’ve avoided it for the past seventeen years?” The woman with the trowel in her neck was wailing, all of them trying to get his attention, as if he could do anything. “Lady can you SHUT IT!” He shouted. In surprise at being acknowledged, she actually stopped, for a moment anyway.

Five cocked his head to one side, examining empty air. As if concentrating hard enough would let him see what Klaus couldn’t avoid. “There are ghosts here?”

“Yeah, there’s a shit ton of ghosts here,” he said, matter-of-factly, “and they’re all royally pissed off!” He sighed, looking out at them all. All the gruesome wounds and twisted, sorrowful expressions, begging.

“Why are they hanging around this old place?” He inquired, taking another sip of his drink.

Klaus chuckled. “They’re here because of you. Jesus, Five, you killed a lot of people.” Five was taken aback, as if he’d never considered the resentment of the people he left behind, walking in these lonelier planes. They had been jobs to him, every single one. Just another step on his path back to his family.

“What, are they all just… standing there?”

“Oh yeah, standing, sitting, screaming like a fucking BITCH,” he directed that last outburst towards trowel lady, who shut her gurgling, bloodied mouth properly this time. “Dude, why would you stab her with a trowel that’s just cruel.”

Five was reminiscing, searching for some vague memory. “There was nothing else around, I had to improvise.” He sighed, looking Klaus in the eye for more than a fleeting moment for once. “This is why you’ve been avoiding me, then.”

“Oh, you noticed.” He said, waving his hand around in the air absent-mindedly. “I figured you were too, how shall I put this,” he paused, “far up your own ass.”

Five glared at him. “I notice everything, Klaus,” he sighed again, setting down his drink on the side table and letting the mannequin slide out from under his grip. He leant forward, brow furrowed. It was his thinking face, one of Klaus’ least favourite of Five’s expressions. “Why do they stick around? What do they want from me?”

“I’m not sure they know what they want,” Klaus considered. He usually avoided thinking about the ghosts at all, let alone their motives for being such colossal pains in his ass. “You were a hitman so, they died quick, right? Unexpectedly. Most of them are probably innocent too, I mean shit, Five, there’s a couple of kids here.”

“It was necessary, for the fate of the world, and for me to get back here.” Klaus suspected that rhetoric was more for Five’s benefit than anyone else’s. Everything was always necessary, no matter how fucked up.

“Oh, you don’t need to convince me of that, maybe you should try preaching to trowel lady instead.”

Five cleared his throat, a little reluctantly. “Uh, trowel lady,” he began.

“You don’t even remember her name?”

“No, I don’t remember her name,” he hissed, indignant, “I don’t even remember what she looked like.”

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ben’s voice sounded from beside him, finally discernible.

“Shut up, Ben,” Klaus whispered, “why don’t you get all buddy-buddy with her, seeing as you’re both dead.”

“Wait, what did you say?” Five asked. Klaus shushed him and leant back, resting the back of his head on the top of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s just,” Klaus began, “it’s never been this bad before. Back when we were kids, there’d be a few stray corpses hanging around, plus a couple of perps we’d done in on the job – crushed by Luthor, slashed up by Diego, ripped to gory little pieces by Ben.” Ben shot him a look. “Sorry,” he added, under his breath. “It’s only getting worse, most days I can’t even hear myself think, especially when you’re around so, thanks for that.”

Five went quiet for a moment. It was strange for him not to come out with some quick quip that made him sound both intelligent and like an utter asshole. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and he was. “And I’m sorry to all of them too, if that’ll make a difference.”

“Well, it might, I don’t know how this shit works.” Klaus sighed and looked back at his brother. The faces that swam around the corners of his vision were fading to a mottled blur. “Thanks, Five.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smirked, that shit-faced sidewards grin. He picked up his drink again, putting it to his lips.

“Nope!” Klaus cried, getting to his feet. “Nope, absolutely not,” he snatched the drink from his brother’s hands.

“Hey, what the hell!”

“No more martinis for you,” he poured the contents of the glass out onto the carpet.

Ben rolled his eyes, “really?”

“What,” he hissed, “I’m improvising.” He cleared his throat, addressing Five, his face now wiped of that smug expression. “Only thing you’re getting now are apples and oatmeal, young man”

Five opened his mouth as if to retaliate. He shrugged instead, “fine, fine!” He spat, getting to his feet. “I’ve got work to do anyway, come on Delores.” He hauled the mannequin up with him, one arm wrapped around its disembodied torso. He muttered to himself as he traipsed up the stairs, “alright, alright Delores, you win. No more damn martinis.” And to think, Klaus pondered, they’d almost had a moment of familial bonding.

“That’s right, go to your room now,” he called in a sing-song tone. “So, Ben, I think that went well,” he muttered, grinning. The ghosts were still there, of course, they never really left, not if her was planning on staying sober. Some of them shuffled up the stairs after Five, some continued wandering, muttering, it was infuriating. But, he considered, it was better. Something was actually getting better for once in his life. He could get used to this.

#tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #bentacles #number five #five hargreeves #the boy #the seance #the horror #diego hargreeves #number four #number six #luthor hargreeves #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fluff and angst

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keyofjetwolf · 6 years ago

Text

The Chosen: All the notes and answers to shit you wondered about for years

Hey. Hi there. How are you? I’m good, thanks for asking.

So, you remember when, at the beginning of the year, I said I was officially retiring my Buffy the Vampire Slayer continuation, The Chosen? If this is the first you’re hearing of it, a) SORRY TO DROP THAT ON YOU, and b) you may want to read this post first.

All caught up? Awesome.

I told you guys I’d share my stuff. This right here is that. I’ve searched through countless backups, terabytes of data, the remnants of three computers, AND MY SOUL (not really my soul; it doesn’t have a convenient find option), and I think this is everything. If there’s anything left of The Chosen that isn’t contained here, then it’s almost certainly lost to time and I wave it a fond farewell.

But don’t worry. There’s a lot here.

What I have for you are all the notes, plans, and ideas that I had written during the time when The Chosen was pretty much my entire world. From late 2003 to mid 2005, I was on my Buffy creative shit, and OH THE PLACES I WANTED TO GO. I’m not sure I’ll ever not be sad that, in the end, I couldn’t do it the way I wanted. Still, I’m glad to finally be showing you where we were heading.

I’ll try to give this as much order as I can, but my notes were strewn across a mass of files, and in some cases, I straight up can’t remember what the fuck I even meant any more. Feel free to ask if you have questions! Just be prepared that the answer may have to be an apologetic shrug.

I’m not sure what to wish for you all in the reading here. Closure, of some kind, I suppose is what we’re really all after. So closure it is! Happy closing, friends.

Thank you so much for allowing me to have captured your interest and attention, and for accompanying me and these characters I loved on the journey toward the ending I hoped for them.

** Any comments from present-me will be marked in this format. Otherwise, everything is untouched from how I wrote it whenever-the-fuck ago. Section headers are either as I named them at the time, or taken from the file name.

S8 Ideas

General Ideas

Rogue Slayer girl ' 'Full Circle'; Faith-centric.

Possessing demons ' personification of control ' W&K breakup episode.

Xander gets powers, but in exchange for his humanity. Comes to realize that his humanity is what his friends need, and he gives up the power.

Dawn's key powers are reawakened ' ability to unlock and enter doorways to parallel dimensions/realities and back again. Episode where this happens and she visits a parallel world (where she is the Slayer?). Possibly triggered by Doc, seeking to reawaken Glory?

Monster that eats body parts to rejuvenate them.

Emotion sucker.

Incubus that tries to seduce Buffy in her dreams.

Siren/rock group ' playing in club.

Faith/Buffy/other Slayers hunted for sport.

Super Slayer, enhanced by the DC. Big Bad? Guinea pig.

Legion of Super Slayers, created from life force of girls who reject the offer to join the DC.

Things to Name and Figure Out

The name of the new town.

New town is in center of three-Hellmouth triangle, consisting of Cleveland, Ohio, Syracuse, NY, and Washington DC. The gang is settled in a fictitious town in Pennsylvania, not far from Williamsport.

Name derived from three? Trinity, Trillium, etc.

The name of the Bronze replacement. (The Vortex?)

The name (and personality) of Kennedy's new Watcher.

The name (and personality) of the turncoat (the girl Giles talks to in Ep #1)

The name (and personality) of the girl Faith recruits (future cannon fodder)

Better name for the Dark Council.

Better name for the Dark Coven.

Assorted Ideas and Quotes

Scene: Someone shopping at a local bulk warehouse place. How much to Slayers eat? A LOT.

Possible use for the drug from "Helpless" that neutralizes Slayer powers?

Scene: Junior Slayers fighting monster. One says "You ARE the weakest link... Goodbye!" The others make fun of her for using such an outdated pop culture reference. She pouts that they should add a class about banter to the Slayer curriculum.

QUOTE: "D'you ever think sometime we should, you know, run AWAY from the blood curdling screams?"

QUOTE: Buffy doubts Tara's return. Willow: "What, you hold exclusive resurrection rights?"

QUOTE: Tara and Dark Coven guy. Tara: "She'll kill me. After I do this...Buffy will kill me." DC: "After you do this, will you care?"

QUOTE: "Excessive? I think you and excessive have already met in a head-on collision and exchanged insurance information."

QUOTE: Tara talking about doing stuff with Dawn: "You know, shopping, getting our hair done ... girl things." Willow: "I like your girl things."

QUOTE: Someone's sick, but denying it. They cough, get an accusing glance. "I just have something stuck in my throat." "Yeah, it's called ILLNESS."

QUOTE: Faith to somebody, possibly a young Slayer, who goes on at length about what they're going to do to a bad guy or deal with some serious challenge or something similar. "You're full of crap, you've got no idea what you're talking about. (beat) But you mean what you say, so that's gotta count for something."

Notes

1st ep

fate of SS's

Dawn's powers

X taking Watcher's courses

G distancing

W going to grad school

B/T going back to school

prophecy bits

G gets ring

Buffy bit - blood

Ante released

Season 9 Ideas

based on 7 samurai - group of people want to come in and hire the seven to clean something out

something happens where buffy or dawn disappears and the other goes to find them

core four have notoriety as evil forces (four horsemen) with some other community

sdhs reunion episode

"Demon that draws strength from guilt, hate, love, etc. Especially bad if it gets hold of Faith..."

---

I had a really cool thought about Buffy and relationships while I was in there though, which I think I'll have to work into The Chosen.

A common thread in each of her big relationships (Angel, Riley, Spike) is that when she tells them she loves them, they don't believe her.

Well Angel does, but he doesn't think she loves him enough. When he leaves, it's despite her telling him over and over that she loves him enough that him being a vampire and them not being able to do "normal" things doesn't matter. He doesn't believe her, and so leaves.

Riley tells Buffy during their big pre-him-leaving fight, that when she says she loves him, he "doesn't feel it". His disbelief in her and her words causes him to leave.

Then there's Spike. Final episode, Buffy finally tells him that she loves him. "No you don't. But thanks for saying it." And then he dies.

At this point in Buffy's life, there are a lot of reasons why Buffy wouldn't want a relationship in my opinion. But not the least of which is the fact that she MUST be able to answer the question of why none of these guys she loves ever believe her? (Even if you don't think she did love Spike, to Buffy I doubt that would matter -- HE didn't believe her EITHER [and how dare he not believe me, by the way!]).

It's a concept I just managed to sort out (in the shower, of course), and I don't think it's an "obvious" connection, but I do think it's an extremely valid one. I think before I'm done, I'll have to work this into the story somehow. And not resolve it, because I don't think it's easily resolved, and I think it's an issue outside the scope of what I'm trying to do, but I think the issue should be raised.

Season 9 Episode Ideas

Episode where everybody speaks in rhymes. Possible reintroduction for Faerie character?

De-aging episode, Giles' 50th birthday. Courtesy of Ethan Rayne. ("Many Happy Returns"?) Zaps Giles, Willow, Buffy and Xander back to four or five or so, leaving Tara, Faith and Dawn to look after them.

Episode dealing with the murderers in the group: Faith, Willow and Giles. Finch's son/daughter hunts down Faith to (confront? get revenge?) for his death. Sub-plots for Willow/Warren and Giles/Ben. Interesting to note that Faith is the only one who has ever shown any regret for her murder.

Herculean labors parallel. Xander? ("Labor Day"?)

Seven deadly sins with each main character embodying one of the sins? The one least like themselves?

Buffy: Greed

Willow: Sloth

Xander: Pride

Giles: Envy

Tara: Wrath

Dawn: Lust

Faith: Gluttony

Some other Slayer in the past, fighting an enemy that arises today. The gang have to read through the old Watcher's diaries to learn about him and how she defeated it. Shows this old Slayer and her Watcher via flashback. Maybe our Big Bads?

The characters get sent into Faerie Tales where they're forced to sort of act out the tales they're in.

Inanimate creation of some sort (puppet like) who makes other inanimate objects come to life. Specifically mannequins, by switching them out for real people. Some Scoobies, of course, fall victim to this.

Xander getting set up on blind dates. Amusing segment where Xander explains to date after date about what happened to his eye, each reason becoming more and more outlandish. Finally he just gives up and tells the truth - "It was gouged out by a crazy preacher man." The date laughs: "You're so funny!" Could end with Xander getting fixed up with the girl we introduced in S8 and possibly have seen a few times since then - Xander's love interest.

Revisit ideas: nameless, faceless army for the good guys, what are we doing with our army?

Tara dealing with family issues. Why am I back? Madrigan as new father.

Banan the collector

Alt world where Core4 seen like 4 horsemen (Title: "The Four"?)

Conversation where some characters are guessing who would've been the next successor to the Slayer line.

"Other side" episode with dead characters

Buffy/Dawn ep about Buffy's role in Dawn's life. Seeing the others intreract with her, wondering what her place is in Dawn's life. Parallel with flashbacks about VS and her sister. Starts with Buffy finding Grip and Dawn making out, leads to Buffy giving Dawn "the talk" and failing miserably. ("Sometimes, after you and a guy ...... they CHANGE.") Dawn learns nothing, goes to Tara from there, who knows nothing about having sex with a guy, but is supportive and encouraging. Buffy overhears and then begins to try to find how she fits into Dawn's life. We learn at the end that although B/D are vastly different from the VS and her sis, the bond is still just as strong.

Willow (and Tara) meeting up with Willow's parents again.

Big Bads

Vampires, return to the simpler times a bit. Not apocalyptic, but personal. Female vamp with a real mad-on for Buffy. Pissed because Buffy failed to save her? Also possibly some sort of vampire army. Fem is a modern-day Sun Tzu, right hand to this guy in charge of everything.

Addition (3Jul04): After some discussion, we're leaning toward making the femvamp a Slayer who was turned waaaay the heck back when. Possibly held or captured by some other vampire later on in life, and she was released by the head of the army, thus earning her allegiance. Maybe she's Japanese and thus very honourable? If we take her from 1600 or 1700's Japan, that might work out well. Might also give added weight to why her soul has no bearing on halting her quest for vengeance - honor demands that her sister's death be avenged. Possible imagery: maybe she was tortured by whoever held her? The mental image of big ol' cross scar over her eye is intriguing.

Season 9 Episode Chart

Notes

Need to work out (soon!) everybody's hell stuff so it can be incorporated into earlier episodes.

Willow versus hacker vamp idea. Why? What's at stake? Possible fill for humour ep at 9x16?

Corollary: Replot Willow's arc through S9 and possibly into S10.

Get new prophecy for Giles.

Work in at least one other prophecy stanza this season. Important to figure out soon. Who, when, how?

** This was a chart which doesn’t translate well to Tumblr, so I’ll break the cells apart and show column separation with ||

Updated - 22 June 2005

Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus

9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills Hitakno || Group

9x02 || Dante || Faith comes home || Faith

9x03 || Slone || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || Group

9x04 || Vamps/Demons || Yuugana arrives in Trillium, Xander quits the Council || Xander

9x05 || Belastung || Tara goes home. || Tara

9x06 || Ethan || Giles birthday, Scoobies regressed || Giles

----------------- NOT YET AIRED -----------------

9x07 || Slayer || Demon girl on run from Slayer. Buffy and Slayer at moral odds. Dawn key powers awaken fully. || Buffy/Dawn

9x08 || Amy || Amy cashes in on Willow's debt. (Fake) Buffy accompanies. || Willow

9x09 || D'Hoffryn || Xander makes a wish that Anya hadn't died. || Xander

9x10 || The Furies || The Furies drive Finch's child to revenge. While they're here, they decide to spread the love. || Faith/Giles

9x11 || ??? || Funny episode - Camping trip? || Group(??)

9x12 || Yuugana || Faith visits Hazel's parents (Xander accompanies). Upon return to Trillium, is attacked and nearly killed by Yuugana. || Faith/Xander

9x13 || Yuugana/General || Sister's parallel. Buffy and Dawn, Yuugana and Hitanko. Yuu's backstory. General arrives, drains Willow and Dawn. || Yuugana/Buffy

9x14 || Yuugana/General || Buffy insists that the gang re-ensoul Yuugana. They do so; it makes no difference. Buffy attacked, put in coma. || Buffy/Group

9x15 || Antediluvian || In an effort to save Buffy, Tara, Xander, Dawn and Kennedy go in search of Ruth, and the Antediluvian. || Tara/Group

9x16 || ??? || Funny episode - ??? || Willow(??)

9x17 || The General || The General's plans come to fruition. || Group

9x18 || Giles' Demon || A demon Giles thought defeated years ago comes back to continue their arrangement. || Giles

9x19 || 7 Sins || The Seven Sins are unleashed on the Scoobies. || Group

9x20 || The General/Yuugana || The General releases Yuugana and they formulate a new plan involving Dawn. Yuugana kills the General and takes Dawn as bait. || Group(?)

9x21 || Yuugana || Part 1. Yuugana takes Dawn into the Private Hell place where she was recently kept. The Scoobies must follow. || Group

9x22 || Yuugana || Part 2. The Scoobies fight their way through their personal hell. Buffy vs Yuugana. || Group

Original Chart

** “VS” stands for “vampiric slayer”, so Yuugana before she had a name.

Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus

9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills the VS's sister || Group

9x02 || Serial killer || Faith comes home??

9x03 || ?? || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || ??/Group(?)

9x04 || ?? (vamps?) || VS arrives in Trillium || ??/Group(?)

9x05 || ?? || Tara goes home. VS denied immediate revenge. || Tara

9x06 || Amy || Amy collects on debt. Wants Will to help her get a book. || Willow/Buffy

9x07 || Ethan Rayne || Giles birthday/regression || Giles

9x08 || Doc || Dawn & Doc - Key powers fully awoken || Dawn

9x09 || Finch's child (furies?) || Murderers haunted by past || Faith (lesser: W, G)

9x10 || D'Hoffryn || Xander's wish (Anya) || Xander

9x11 || VS/?? || Sister's parallel episode || Buffy/Dawn

9x12 || Monster in woods || Camping trip (Tara and blade of grass) || Group

9x13 || VS || Buffy vs. VS -- VS ensouled, Buffy drained || Buffy

9x14 || VS minions(?) || Buffy injured. Group goes after Antediluvian || Tara/Group

9x15 || ?? || "Labor Day" (Kenn still around) || Xander

9x16 || artifact || 7 Deadly Sins || Group

9x17 || Computer Program || Willow and the computer program || Willow

9x18 || ?? || Faith visits Hazel's parents || Faith/Xander

9x19 || Demon || Demon that's possessed Giles. Comes every 10(?) years. || Giles

9x20 || General || Fight with General - General loses || Group

9x21 || Demon Dimension || Four Horsemen ("Four"?) [Abortive attempt by VS to separate Buffy from her strongest allies?] || B/W/X/G

9x22 || VS || Big battle -- Buffy vs. VS || Buffy/Group

Yuugana

need: how does Buffy come to believe what she does about Yuu? Conversation beforehand? Difficult. Why doesn't Yuu just kill her? Could make threat, but then Buffy is gambling with everyone, and makes no sense why Yuu nearly kills Buffy later. (Especially as threat will come when Buffy falls unconscious.)

Buffy must be able to draw conclusions ahead of time. Paint picture of Yuu that Buffy will be privvy to. Draw parallels b/w Buffy's life and Yuugana's life. Buffy will internalize.

NEED: When/How will gang find out that she is Yuugana? When will this name be dropped? How? May be good if we can draw General as being very, very powerful. They're afraid of him. Getting Yuu on their side would be huge in fighting him.

Idea: General nearly kills Dawn, draining key powers. Yuu saves her. Buffy thinks it is because Yuu knows what it's like to lose a sister. In truth, Yuu isn't ready for Dawn to die yet - that will be the most painful blow of all.

buffy believes -- utterly believes -- that Yuugana will be good if given her soul. Spike was good, Angel was good ... maybe all vampires can do good if given the chance? Who is she to be judge, jury and executioner?

Internalized: this could be me. What would I do if someone killed Dawn?

** I found two sets of Season 9 character arc notes. The first set are what I think what I was mainly working from, but I’m not 100%.

Character Emotional/Plot Arcs – Season 9

Season Theme: Consequences

Buffy

Will be target of the Big Bad’s wrath as a consequence of killing the BB’s sister early in the season. Buffy’s primary emotional arc will be in the realization that every action, even the most seemingly natural or inconsequential, has far-reaching repercussions, that affect not just Buffy but those she loves.

Willow

Willow’s emotional arc returns to one that was never resolved or given enough attention (or mangled thanks to magic=crack) – control issues. Throughout Willow’s history on BtVS, she’s exhibited time and again a deep NEED to control the things around her. Her need for this never changed, save for her becoming so paranoid she was afraid to breath for fear of killing everyone in S7. Her catalyst for these deep-seeded emotional problems re-emerging stem from a few basic changes. 1) Tara’s back, and Willow doesn’t think she can take losing her again. 2) The Big Bad has made things very, very personal. And Willow remembers only too well what happened last time a Big Bad vampire took things personal. 3) This Big Bad is smart. Really smart. In some ways, even smarter than Willow. And for all the enemies they’ve faced, Will’s never had to go against someone who’s been able to out think her before. And she freaks.

We’re going to have to be careful with this one, though, because we don’t want a return to “Willow Uses Way Too Much Magick” again. We’re therefore going to have to find others ways in which Willow exercises that control trigger finger. Her computer skills could certainly help out to a degree, as well as her smarts, but we’re going to have to be careful. We definitely don’t want a rehash of S6’s problems. Willow is – or very much should be – wiser than that now. And while Will has sort of always had a bad case of “the ends justify the means”, we don’t want a rehash. So care is needed.

We could help to show this by maybe having Willow do something like casting a really powerful protection spell that somehow backfires. What will be vitally important here is taking care to make it very clear that Willow isn’t relying on magick for every little thing (no spells for decoration or closing curtains) … the magick is simply her most powerful tool for keeping everyone safe. This should NOT be about black magick, but about a need for control.

NOTE (4Jul04): After discussions, will probably meld Will's character arc with the fact that Buffy and others (Tara and Giles probably excepted) don't fully appreciate or realize the pressures they put on Willow to come up with the answers and be the big gun, while simultaneously not wanting her to go too far. Magick is bad, except when they need it. They don't accept their own consequences for the actions they push her toward. This still feeds into Willow's character flaws above - her need to protect everyone, to be the best, to keep the nasty stuff at bay.

Xander

Xander, being the human element, will have the root of his emotional arc derive from one of the most basic of human desires: to live forever. Not in the biologically immortal sense, but by wanting to live on long after he’s died. Xander realizes that of all his friends, he is the one that history is least likely to remember. The odds on him being studied in school centuries from now are next to nothing. Buffy will be recalled as the world’s most successful Slayer. Willow as the witch whose spell changed the world. Giles as the founder of the new Watcher’s Council (and new world order?) Any history mentioning Willow is almost guaranteed to include Tara as well. Dawn and her Key potential is fascinating and going to be mentioned … but Xander? There’s nothing so remarkable about Xander, he feels, and thus begins his quest to somehow ensure his own immortality to history.

This might somehow be triggered by the emergence of a new sort of threat. With Slayers all over the world, there’s absolutely no way that NOBODY is going to notice them. Even if people in the Buffyverse have shown time and again that they’ll simply ignore what they either can’t or are unwilling to understand (gang related, PCP), not everybody is so willing to pull down the veil. Thus begins the emergence of a conspiracy theorist, someone who somehow has managed to trace his story to Slayer Central. In doing so, he somehow manages to put a level of importance on each of the Scoobies … except Xander. Which stings.

Xander would eventually come to realize that while history may not remember him, those he loves certainly will, and when all’s said and done, that’s enough for him.

Giles

Giles’ arc will come out of an inevitability – his age. One of the earliest episodes will be reflecting on the fact that Giles is now 50. He’s done such a good job with the Council that much of the bureaucracy continues without his direct involvement. He’s not really keen on that side of things anyway, so he’s not sorry to see it go. But what he does want to do instead is get into the thick of things physically. But, unfortunately, he simply can’t anymore, and it’s a lesson he very much doesn’t want to learn. Giles will ultimately come to realize, however, that while he can’t swing a sword to match the Slayer, what he DOES have is his incredible mind, which will certainly be put to great use in the confrontations with the Sun Tzu-like Big Bad. The fight could not be won without Giles’ intellectual input.

Tara

Tara will spend much of her arc wondering about her place. When she was alive, she had some difficulty in fitting in. And it wasn’t until just before her death that she really started to come into her own. A year and a half has passed now, however, and things and people have changed. Tara aspires to be more than just an extension of Willow, and as voiced in “Family”, she wants very much to feel useful to the Scoobies.

But Tara’s need to find where she fits extends beyond simply within the Scoobs. Tara has a very definite sense of nature and balance, and her being brought back from the dead is something of an abhorrence to her. She can’t quite shake the feeling that in order for her to have been brought back, something had to go out in her place to keep the balance. What that may have been disturbs her beyond words.

How exactly these issues become resolved is currently unclear. Tara should certainly remain the moral and emotional center of the Scoobies. She has more power now, but power was always Willow’s contribution, not Tara’s. On the death thing, perhaps something mystical helps her? Maybe the big Wicca chick we bring in at the end of S8 can help somehow? Show that Tara’s coming back was, in its own way, as natural as her passing was UNnatural. Her return is, in and of itself, a righting of the scales.

Dawn

This is a big year for Dawn. She’s a senior in high school. She’s turning 18. She’s becoming an adult. Oh, yeah, and she’ll finally figure out that she’s got all those Key powers still. Dawn’s story will be about transitions. From childhood to adulthood, from being just a normal (as normal as she could be) girl to having all those powers as the Key and whatever that implies for her. We will also need to decide this year where Dawn’s going to college (her awakening Key powers could be a good excuse to keep her local).

Faith

Faith’s story is going to be about guilt. Hazel’s death at the end of the previous season happened right before we ended the whole thing, so at that point we will have gotten to see precious little carryover. This is the time to dwell on that. Faith would feel tremendous guilt over Hazel’s death – Faith is the one who recruited Hazel, who brought her there. She was Hazel’s mentor, and Hazel sacrificed herself for Faith. We don’t want to retread over the “do I belong here?” line, since we’re dealing with that in S8, but Faith should certainly be questioning whether or not she should be leading little girls into dangerous battles. It’s one thing for Faith to risk her life night after night, but another entirely to be responsible for the lives and deaths of others. Unsure how this will resolve, but it seems the logical arc for Faith given the closing of the previous season.

Big Bad

NOTE: We’re going to have to come up with a really good reason why Willow just doesn’t ensoul the vamp chick … or she does and it makes no difference at all. Could be an interesting commentary about vampires and souls. Hm.

The more we’re discussing this, the more we’re liking this idea. The notion of souls in the Buffyverse has always been sort of hazy at best. Loosely, they seemed to be of the opinion that getting a soul somehow made you good … but there are countless number of humans in the world (and the Buffyverse – look at Warren) who are human and, one therefore assumes, have a soul. Yet they are still capable of great evil. Even more so than some demons that they encounter. So despite however neat and pat Buffy likes to make it sometimes, a soul does NOT automatically mean that someone is going to be good. And maybe that throws her for a hell of a loop. Willow ensouls the BB, but it doesn’t make one bit of difference. Vengeance is, after all, as much a human emotion as anything else, and the BB still wants Buffy to suffer horribly for what she’s done. At most, the BB may feel some measure of guilt for the people that she’s had to kill over the past 300 or 400 years (however long she’s been vamped), but as it turns out, she doesn’t. She looks at it with the detached, cold impracticality possessed by Slayers – she did what she had to in order to survive. Maybe she wasn’t a fan of torture (we’re painting her very logical and such, so this should work okay), and simply did what she needed to. The Slayer in and of itself is very predatorial and most definitely a survivor – there’s not necessarily much difference between them, and this will further demonstrate that fact.

This could also further add to Willow’s continued feeling of being out of control. This SHOULD have worked and didn’t.

Season 9 Character Arcs

Buffy:

Buffy's arc will deal with a continuing gray area between what is good and what is evil. What is a soul really? Does having a soul make you good by default? The vampiric Slayer will prove that's not necessarily the case. Additionally, Buffy will be trying to sort out a few things about her life. What does she ultimately want to do? She could very well be the first Slayer in history to die of old age. Does she want to be involved with that all her life, or does she want more? Would Buffy maybe like to return to school? (Might be fun to have her and Tara going back to school together.) Around midway point, Buffy is nearly drained to death by vamp Slayer, she must rely on others to take care of her - doesn't always have to be the strong one.

Willow:

Willow will come to the realization that her magick is of no use against the Big Bad this year. What is Willow without her magick? What else can she contribute? Progressively, other things may fail as well, so that Willow is systematically deconstructed and having to find her true purpose and how she can contribute outside of her raw power.

Xander:

Xander will explore his roles this season. He's said that he won't be forgotten or shoved aside, so then the question becomes, how will he contribute? It's up to Xander to answer this question. He tries his hand at a variety of roles - maybe a Watcher, maybe a husband (though he's already "failed" at that one). Come the end, he realizes that his role is support, and it's the role he's always fallen into naturally.

Giles:

Giles is pulling away from the others. He's beginning to see the Slayers as nameless, faceless people. He realizes that he'll have to sacrifice them - and some part of himself - again at some point in the future, so he's subconsciously distancing himself from the pain. He's slowly becoming the Old Council. Comes to realize that while he may have to distance himself from the body as a whole, it doesn't mean he shouldn't have any attachments at all. And that he can be those two people - the one that can love them, but still sacrifice them for the greater good if necessary (which will work, as Giles will ultimately sacrifice himself, NOT for the greater good but because he doesn't want them to die). ** Which may be a good time to point out that I was going to kill Giles next season, kisses.

Tara:

Tara's quest this year will be for her place. She's died and come back, but this isn't "right". There is a balance in things, and she feels she's upset that balance. She'll explore her past and her family to find out why, in a grander sense, she's back and how she fits in now.

Tara and Willow:

Tara discovers that Willow has somewhat enshrined her as a result of her death and return. Willow caves to Tara almost constantly, and it's beginning to affect them both, but Willow can't bring herself to fight with Tara as a result of what happens every time they fight. She doesn't want Tara to go away again. They must fight, they have to learn that it's okay. Tara pushes it with Willow and makes it happen. Maybe when Tara goes to visit her family, that's the catalyst.

Dawn:

Dawn becomes victim of the time-old adage, "be careful what you wish for". She's always wanted to be a Scooby, but now that's beginning to conflict with her other desire to be a regular teenaged girl and her other big desire: to be an adult. All these worlds are colliding and Dawn's not sure which is more important. Blows off Scooby things for friend-things sometimes. Blows off friend-things for Scooby-things.

Re Grip: They're getting closer, but she keeps having to put off things with him due to Scooby situations. Grip notices and (kindly) confronts her, wondering if she really just doesn't want to see him anymore but doesn't know how to tell him. When he finds out about the baddies, he'll back away, needing time to process. Poor Dawnie.

Faith:

Faith will spend the season getting back onto the redemptive path she's been on for years. She doesn't feel bad that she killed Judith and is wondering what the means (somewhat like when her mother died). She'll learn that just because she's stumbled doesn't mean she's fallen. She begins in England, hiding out from Trillium. Thinking she should go solo, it was easier when she didn't have anyone else to worry about. Doesn't want to go back, but Kennedy pushes her. Once back, Faith avoids everyone. Should Giles maybe get Faith into therapy?

Buffy agitated that Faith isn't really being punished. Faith points out that a lot of people around Buffy are killers and they've never been punished either. Buffy needs things black and white, Faith is another shade of grey and it's getting harder and harder for her to do her job.

Xander gets to the heart of things too much, and Faith doesn't want to deal with that. Finally it's Willow who lets Faith know that there's someone who DOES understand. It's the first step in getting Faith back into things, but she still doesn't want to teach.

Maybe at some point in the season, Faith takes off? If so, Xander should probably pursue. (Might tie in nicely to Xander's "what's my role?" arc. Perhaps he has a job interview or something that he can't miss out on that will further define him, but he misses it because he has to help Faith, and that's the choice he makes) Could be where Hazel's death gets resolved. Goes to Hazel's house and parents for that?

Faith's murder issue will probably come to a head when she's face-to-face with Finch's child. Kid wants revenge, and Faith understands that. States how it won't make anything better, but gives up and says that if s/he wants it so bad, just take it. S/he doesn't, of course, which would probably disappoint Faith to a degree.

Maybe show Faith just starting to teach again at the end of the season, rather than some big culmination. Maybe she's forced into it when the VS keeps the other Slayers occupied? Buffy would be elsewhere at the time.

The Big Bad

** These are some of my earliest notes, as reflected in how I’m using my placeholder names like “Dark Coven”. A lot of it deals with what happened in S8, but it outlines the larger arc, which would have come to a head in S10.

What the Bad Guys Want

The Dark Coven is seeking to reawaken The Old Ones. As per Giles in “Welcome to the Hellmouth", the Old Ones were driven out when the lost their "purchase" on this reality. The last vestiges of the Old Ones fed on a human, mixed their blood, and created the first vampire. This proves that humans were around during the time of the Old Ones. He also states that vamps, demons and some magicks are leftovers from the time of the Old Ones.

The Dark Coven is a group that has been around since the time of the Old Ones. They are in allegiance with them, and are currently seeking to free them. In their current incarnation, they are very, very close (comparatively speaking). The Old Ones are sealed away somewhere by a series of extremely intricate locks, well nigh impenetrable. But they actually are already well on their way to opening them.

More than anything else, the DC is a master of manipulation with OODLES of patience. They've been working on freeing the Old Ones since their imprisonment. As is eventually revealed, they have been twisting events with the Scoobies for years, bringing them to the point where the Old Ones are ready to be freed.

When the Old Ones Roamed

They were, quite simply, lords of their domain. They are few in number, but unfathomably powerful. As with many nigh-omnipotent beings, however, they became bored and complacent. They began to tinker with things and began creating demons, unleashing them on the world. The demons, however, were little more than slaves, and no matter how evil, nothing much likes being enslaved. The demons, together with humans (quite possibly including the Shadow Men from "Get it Done") were able to ensnare the Old Ones -- you can't kill them, but they were imprisoned. Once the Old Ones were gone, their power slowly vanished, diminishing their partners/lackies/etc. (like the DC), and leaving the created demons and humans to fight over the rest of the land.

Season 6 Manipulation

The DC, although powerful, are themselves, collectively, unable to open the remaining locks (if they could ever open any at all). However they soon discovered one girl, Willow Rosenberg, who had the innate ability to channel the energies necessary to set things into motion. She just needed the right motivation to get the power.

Exactly how far their manipulation into these events goes, we don't know. What is for certain is that they fixed it so that Tara would be shot and killed by Warren's stray bullet. (The reasoning for this idea: there's absolutely no way the bullet could have possibly killed Tara in the way it did. Warren was in the backyard, running away and shooting upwards. Tara was standing by the bedroom window on the second story. The bullet shot through the glass, and through her, at no angle at all. Obviously in-show this was done for dramatic purposes, but they left a door open for outside creative interpretation and I’m going through it.)

As they knew it would, this prompts Willow to become hell-bent on revenge and absorb enough power to destroy the world. She goes to Kingman's Bluff, raises the effigy of Proserpexa, and begins to funnel her energies into it. Had she done this enough, she would have raised one of the Old Ones herself (or Proserpexa could have take the next step in unlocking one of the doors), however Xander interceded and saved Willow before this could happen.

NOTE: Perhaps Xander's interception is what was actually needed here? I always found it interesting that he completely blocked and seemingly absorbed all that power Willow was throwing at the effigy without even blinking. Was this maybe super-charging him for something? Could this maybe be key to what they will need to save him from later on? (S10 stuff.)

The Proserpexa angle maybe have been removed, but the DC didn't mind -- Willow had now unlocked enough of the power within herself to open another lock.

Season 7 Manipulation

This stems from a whole lot of S7 never really standing up to much scrutiny. Take, for example, the scythe. Caleb and the First spend SO much time and energy in uncovering the scythe, claiming to know how very important it was to NOT allow Buffy & Co. to get it -- when if they hadn't even been trying to get it, Buffy wouldn't have ever known it was there. This in and of itself seems to make ZERO sense, particularly since it never seemed to be that the First could use the scythe himself -- it was all about keeping it from the Slayer. So, very stupid to not only sit on the darned thing, but to ACTIVELY BRING YOUR ENEMIES TO IT (the "trap" in "Dirty Girls" leads Buffy and the Slayers to the vineyard, They never would have bothered going there otherwise).

My reasoning: The First is also an Old One. And he set his plan up specifically to fail. He himself is immortal, he cannot die. And he doesn't really give a crap about ubervamps and Bringers. Their plan all along was to make the Scoobies unleash the scythe to awaken all the Slayers.

Why? As mentioned in "Get it Done", there is a well of Slayer power. That well is usually filled nearly to capacity. It was, after all, only being used by Buffy, and then Faith. The fact that the emergence of a second Slayer did nothing to diminish either's power indicates that it's not shared on that kind of level. In addition, the awakening of all the Slayers at the end of "Chosen" didn't seem to cause any sort of power drain. Instead, we theorize that the well is deep, but has a finite capacity. When Willow did the spell, she in essence pulled the stopper on the well and drained it dry. This well, however, happens to be one of the keys to freeing the Old Ones, and once it drops to a certain level, the "door" that it locks is open.

Moving on -- The Chosen

When Slayers die now, one is not called in their place. There is a finite number of Slayers in the world now. When they die, their Slayerness returns to the well. Only once it reaches a certain level (presumably it's "default" state, pre-spell) will the "natural" process resume. The DC obviously don't want this to happen, as once it "refills" to a certain point, the door will close again. Hence their working with the Assemblage of Merodoch (previously, "Dark Council"); by harnessing and funneling the Slayerness into an already existing Slayer, it does not return to the well, hence no refill.

But that isn't the only reason the DC are working with the Assemblage. The AoM also has another key: an angel that they're keeping chained up in the deepest sublevel of their headquarters. This angel has, perhaps, been around as long as the Old Ones themselves. Perhaps he even aided in imprisoning them. He was captured shortly thereafter, however, and has remained that way ever since (we're talking pretty close to pre-recorded history here, as long as the Slayer line has been in existence, possibly longer).

Idea: The angel can only be freed by a descendant of one who imprisoned him in the first place. Maybe a Giles?

He is a key -- maybe something he says? His true name, perhaps? The DC want him, but the AoM have him and won't give him up. They have said, however, that once Order is restored to the world, they will provide the DC with the means to do whatever they need to do with him. The DC is okay with this -- they're currently getting something from the Council (someone to alert them to the need to funnel Slayer energy and someone to keep all that tiresome business together while they focus on the really important stuff).

Like good ol' Willow Rosenberg.

They call Willow "The Sangerand" ("the bloody"), and they should absolutely not be done with her yet. Willow's independent further role, we don't yet know, but she commands their greatest amount of attention. Her, and Tara. ("The Curat", or "the pure"?)

When they resurrect Tara, it is ostensibly under the guise of killing Willow. However the true reason is to fulfill Tara's part of this prophecy (which includes her death, resurrection and making the choice to not kill Willow), possibly including the sharing of power that Willow will need to do to save them.

Thinking on it, it would be cool to have each Scooby play an important role somehow in all of this. Sort of like their being together in this way was a fated thing. "The Chosen" indeed.

**ADDENDUM** I really like this idea of each Scooby playing a particular role. This could still lead up to the eventual death of Giles, which in and of itself will provide the beginnings of the Coven's downfall. They do whatever they're doing to Xander, which will kill him - but that won't matter because his role in unlocking the door will be done. Will is going to be doing the spell to save him, which will kill her in turn, but that's okay too because her part is also played in releasing the Old Ones. Giles, however, has NOT yet done his part, and he completely surprises everyone when he takes Willow's place, thereby saving both Will and Xander. This totally throws the Coven for a loop, though obviously they must still be able to do what they need to without Giles, else their plans are over with right then and there. It's crucial that his sacrifice NOT be part of the DC's plans, else it takes away from its poignancy.

Will need some sort of prophecy-type thing detailing what is needed to be done to release the Old Ones. Should be nice and vague, but with meaning once you figure it out.

Scooby Designations

Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody")

Tara: The Curat ("the pure")

Xander: The Vedere ("the sight"), The Asar ("all-seeing eye") -- "The Baani" ("The Architect" - Urdu)

Buffy: The Kusari ("the chain"), The Revenire ("the returned"), The Gula or The Bau ("Lady Who the Dead Bring Back to Life")

Giles: The Verhaal ("the history"), The Shoukin/The Infria, ("redemption"), The Shin'ar ("Land of the Watchers")

Faith: ("the dark"), ("the restrained"), ("the wild")

Dawn: ("the cherished"), ("the gateway"), ("the portal"), ("the key")

The Prophecy

Opening Quatrain

Buffy :: The Trimarga :: Three Path A heartbeat thrice begun A death mark thrice given All roads lead to the town of three When her spilled blood shall spill again

Willow :: The Sangerand :: The Bloody Blood flowing, blood taken Forces awoken, decline and ascent Blood given, life exchanged Freely, she will fall

Xander :: The Baani :: The Builder Grief and rage, life's destruction Mind and body, life's cohesion Heart and spirit, life's devotion Melding, merging; essence anew

Giles :: The Tezan :: The Way Forger of paths, the first and his kin The demon wields the plague of black Summoner, banisher Pierce the barrier, paths renewed

Tara :: The Curat :: The Pure Birth and rebirth, the cycle complete Connected to evil, untainted Power innate and power borrowed Through the light she will free the ancient one

Dawn :: The Amelatu :: The Gatekeeper Living energy made flesh and form Younger in life, older than death Truth altered, life shed And the walls will fall

The Slayer Well Solitary hunter, night's enemy She alone will stand When the well is drained and strength is shared One becomes Many

Closing Quatrain And so it is written Seven locks hold fast The masters expelled, the world cleansed Until the Chosen play their part

Seven keys for seven locks From the first to fall, five score and one If all locks turn, the door lay open And the Old Ones shall reclaim the Earth

Buffy: The Trimarga ("three path" :: the triple path of Knowledge [jnanayoga], Devotion [bhaktiyoga] and Action [karmayoga]). Three times her heart has started beating, three times she's been marked by a vampire (Angel, Dracula and the Vamp Slayer [yet to happen) and in town of threes(??). Something to do with blood - some of it needed to open the lock. Blood of a Slayer is already potent, and Buffy's was obviously enough to close the portal in place of Dawn.

Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody"). Willow will cast a blood-sacrifice spell, that will enable her to willingly exchange her life for another. It has to be this spell based upon how Mads and the others are killing Xander. Very, very powerful, only she can do it. The flow of the energies will open the lock.

Xander: The Baani ('the builder"). Xander is the "incuabator" for two very powerful magicks. They don't impact him directly, but it is his nature - his very self - that will enable them to merge within him to create something new. The first blast came from Willow on Kingman's Bluff. The second, from the orb destroyed in "Win, Lose or Draw". Madrigan will take Xander around the mid-point of S10 to extract the magicks from him. It will kill him in the process, but that's of little concern.

Giles: The Tezan ("the way"). Giles' role is to obtain a ring that has been in his family for generations upon generations. Unknown to those recently, the jewel of the ring actually contains a demon - a demon that was the original cause of the Black Plague in the 1330's. Giles' ancestor, a powerful warlock for the Council, was the first human to pierce the barrier between this dimension and a demon dimension where he summoned a demon and bound it to his service. The demon was sent to China, where it was supposed to take out a group of other demonic creatures trying to open a Hellmouth there. It did indeed do that, but not before starting the plague. The Council, rather than destroy the ring and banish the creature, said "We'll control it better next time." The ring's purpose was eventually lost,. Giles is supposed to release and then banish the demon, again piercing the dimensional barrier and opening that lock. ** He dies instead, sacrificing himself to save both Willow and Xander. Oops.

Tara: The Curat ("the pure"). Tara's lock will open upon her freeing the Antediluvian. The Antediluvian is an angelic creature that was captured by Robespierre's ancestors. Its imprisonment means the lock is sealed - its freedom opens it. Tara is able to free it due to her lineage as a witch, her purity of spirit, her completed cycle of birth and rebirth, and (by binding with Willow) her immense white magick power creating the necessary conditions. Ruth, Tara's grandmother or great-grandmother, was also thought at one time to have been the Curat, but was not. However she does recognize the qualities within Tara. (Perhaps the Antediluvian, despite its imprisonment being a good thing, can do great good if it's released?) ** Later in S9, Tara and Co. would have freed the Antediluvian to save Buffy after Yuugana’s attack.

Dawn: The Amelatu ("the gatekeeper"). Dawn herself is able to open the lock. Not a lot of detail here. We'll need to sort out somehow or another that Dawn will do this ... or perhaps she already has? There seems to be little better time for Dawn to have opened the necessary lock than when all the dimensional walls were coming down.

Additional Lock: The well of Slayer power being drained. This was done by Willow in S7, but is not Willow's specific key.

Additional Info: Once any lock falls, there is a "timer" of 100 years for the rest to fall, or they all lock again.

** It may not escape notice that Faith is not part of this prophecy. That became by design, not oversight. I loved how this idea of “The Chosen” worked into the larger series theme, but I also hate the ideas of fate and destiny being controlling factors. Faith was going to be my argument against all that. When all the prophecy pieces were revealed, Faith would (rather defeatedly in her Faith way) note that she had no part to play. But she is the embodiment of being Chosen, as the characters choose to have Faith by their side and fuck prophecy anyway. Their unreserved acceptance of Faith, and Faith’s acceptance of THAT, would have been the culmination of her character arc in S10 (and my series).

S10 Ideas

Something to do with tarot cards, with each member maybe being a particular card?

Several characters get thrown back in time to an earlier season. Dawn especially should go, as she wasn't around then.

stained glass idea. couples. Buffy left free. Valentine's day ep.

"The Impossible Dream" - Man of La Mancha lyrics

Faith having conversation with Kendra -- result of illness, injury, or prophetic dream

** An episode I was definitely going to do, but frustratingly can’t find any notes for (making me feel there must be SOMETHING else out there somewhere but fuck me if I know where) had Willow and Tara going to Los Angels and visiting Lorne’s bar, Caritas.

S10 Ending

Everyone ends on a thematic note, their actions in the final battle bringing together 10 years of development:

Giles's sacrifice makes victory possible - by finally following his heart rather than his duty he saves the world.

Xander, by virtue (and surprise) of simply being Xander, strikes the final blow.

Willow succeeds only by keeping herself in check, refusing to break and believing that she can win.

Buffy's victories come from not only sharing herself (mentally to Willow and physically to Faith and Kennedy) but truly, finally, accepting that she's not in this alone.

Dawn makes the sacrifice she was destined to make from the moment she was created.

Tara is the touchstone, giving the strength and support to everyone else and the lifeline that ultimately saves Dawn.

Faith has no greater role handed to her by fate -- but she's here and kicking ass so screw you, fate.

(work on Kennedy, she ends up fighting w/ Buff and Faith, but does she start there? maybe she and Faith start with Tara and Dawn?)

IDEAS

Seneca final battle. He's winning. Standing over Buffy, gloating smile. Then he finally speaks. Something like, "I've waited a long time to--" Then he gets skewered (Faith or Kennedy, maybe both.) He can't say anything else, just gurgle. He dies, and the Slayers stand over him.

Buffy: "Blah blah blah. You know, just once I'd like to meet a bad guy who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

Kennedy: "No lie. Still, I wonder what he was going to say?"

Faith: "Who the hell cares?"

Buffy HAS to be part of final Madrigan fight. She goes initially with Xander and Willow. Xander gets struck down by Mads, seemingly dead. Buffy gets nailed too. Willow needs Buffy to get through this though, and Buff gives Will her strength (flashback to "Same Time Same Place" as well as early Chosen w/ Willow and Buffy being so attuned -- see, not a throw-away plot point! Planned all along!) Leads to good "final" conversation/bonding with them as they search for Madrigan in the mental plane.

Earlier in the season, Madrigan extracting the magick from Xander. Very painful for Xander. Madrigan talking to him though, very chatty, very casual. Xander trying to dig for info, Madrigan clearly seeing through it. He likes the cliche though (exposition while acknowledging how clunky and stupid it is to have exposition here). Mads being real bastard (passively though) to Xander this whole time, noting how Xander isn't even really important in and of himself, it's only what others do with him that counts (maybe include little side wink-nudge point, it's what's inside Xander that matters). Mads ends the conversation by apologizing. "Sorry dude, this has gotta suck for you. Hey, you know what I like to do when I'm down? TV! You like 'Murphy Brown'? I've been Netflixing it." He and Seneca proceed to sit down and watch while Xander is essentially tortured behind them. Mads just turns up the volume.

Season 10 Final Fight

Buffy, Kennedy and Faith will go after Seneca.

Willow and Tara will be walking along in the facility when they're attacked. Tara is thrown away from Willow, who is then going to be caught behind an impenetrable shield with Madrigan. He wants to face her alone on an astral plane of sorts. Tara can't join her. Willow is depowered somewhat as a result of the spell she was casting to save Xander. Madrigan wants to fight her, however. Will surprises him - she thought like him and figured he would do this. As a result, Xander is piggy-backing with her, and she's not alone. Madrigan says that he knows Xander, and Xander won't kill him. He's wrong. X: "He don't know me very well, do he?"

Meanwhile, the door to release the Old Ones is opening and they can't stop it. Or they think they can't. Dawn realizes that she, being the Key, can. She begins to do so, but it's taking so much power, it's essentially killing her. Dawn is reverting to pure energy form. Buffy screams at her, tells her not to, but Dawn says she's spent the past five years wondering - feeling, even - that she should've died on that tower. Now she knows that she wasn't supposed to die, she was supposed to live to do this. "This is the job that I have to do." Buffy can't stop her. Tara fights though, won't let Dawn go. Tara eventually passes out and Dawn disappears. The energy is gone and so is Dawn, but the door is closed and locked again.

Not long after, Buffy goes home. Willow and Xander are with Tara at the hospital (she’s drained but okay). Buffy seems to be alone. She's completely dispirited - Dawn is dead. She enters her room, only to find Dawn there. B: "What are you doing here?" Shades of Dawn's first appearance. Turns out (as we'll learn in the final episode) that Dawn has given up all of her Key powers - for real this time. She is now, completely and utterly, a very real, very normal girl.

** And finally, I give you all with this. It’s a rough sketch of the scene after Giles has died, so would have come about 2/3rd of the way through Season 10. I wrote this in 2004, about a week after the death of my grandfather. I like to think that, if I’d gotten that far, this would have been one of those moments that would have stuck with you. I certainly would’ve tried.

Giles Death Reactions

These are a sequence of silent scenes.

We first see Faith in a darkened training room. She's punching a punching bag.

We're in Giles loft, the lights all dark. The door opens, and Hannah's standing there, on the threshold. She doesn’t enter.

We're in a hospital, private room. There are two beds. The one on the far left contains Xander. He looks gaunt, pale, near death. But breathing. His heart monitor gives a steady readout. Dawn sits next to him, inbetween the two beds. Tears are streaming down her cheeks – simply falling, she's not sobbing. She watches Xander with a fearful, worried expression, then turns to the next bed. There's Willow, also pale and drawn. She doesn't look well either, though not quite as bad as Xander. Tara sits on the other side of the bed, as close to it as she can possibly get. One of Willow's hands is held up in both of hers, Willow's fingers resting on Tara's lips. Tara's eyes are red – she's obviously been crying too. She meets Dawn's gaze. Neither smile.

We're in Giles' office. Buffy is standing in the doorway. Her face is blank.

We're back in the loft, Hannah's position mirroring Buffy's. She walks inside and finds herself drawn toward Giles' stereo system. She runs her hands over the CD collection, full of albums and songs from their past.

Faith's punching of the bag increases. She's venting, her jabs more vicious, more focused. Over her shoulder, we see Kennedy watching.

The hospital. Dawn runs a hand through her hair and wipes her eyes after watching Xander intently. She turns to Willow and watches as Willow opens her eyes and blinks. Dawn watches in surprise, and Willow seems to sense the scrutiny. She turns to Dawn and smiles – just a small smile, a pained one, but it's something. Dawn's face breaks into an expression of pure joy and relief, and she says something. Tara has either been locked in thought or asleep, Willow's hand clutched to her forehead, but her head jerks up at Dawn's words. She focuses on Dawn for the briefest of moments before her eyes go back to Willow. Willow is already looking at her, and she smiles again, a bit stronger this time. Willow says something too, and it causes Tara to laugh. The laugh turns into a sob of relief though, and Tara kisses Willow's hand several times then leans over and kisses her forehead. Will is weak, but is able to give Tara a one-armed hug, kissing her on the cheek, then turning to Dawn and extending her other arm. Dawn is there in a heartbeat, also crying in relief.

Giles' office. Almost trancelike, Buffy moves further into the darkened office, which is lit only by the lamp on the desk. As she walks, her eyes are drawn to things. The rows and rows of books that Giles surrounded himself with. The bookcases that Xander built, not only filled with books but also decorated with knickknacks – various small statues and effigies and an Owl plushie. She looks to the opposite wall, where hangs a variety of pictures, but dominating them all, easily the biggest and with the proudest placement, is a picture of Giles, snapped at a moment none of them were expecting. He was obviously the victim of a random group hug attack – Buffy, Willow, Xander, Tara and Dawn, all hugging him fiercely. Giles has that look on his face where he's trying hard to be annoyed with them, but is secretly loving every moment. Buffy's movement into the office hasn't halted, hasn't slowed from its already snail's pace. She's at the desk now. Bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, she sees a cup of tea, only half-drunk, as though Giles will be returning any moment to finish it. Most prominent, however, are the sealed envelopes on the desk, several of them, each bearing a name. We see Buffy's name on the top one, and can see hints of other's beneath: Willow, Xander, etc. Giles' glasses rest nearby.

Faith is almost in a frenzy of kicks and punches now. Her teeth are clenched and she looks like she wants nothing more than to have the bag turn into the Grim Reaper himself so she can pound the crap out of him. A hand rests on her shoulder, and Faith whirls around to see Kennedy there. Faith looks like she might just start beating the shit out of Kennedy as well, but then Kennedy takes Faith's hand and puts a stake in it. Faith looks down at it questioningly, then looks to Kennedy. Kennedy holds up her own stake. Faith's eyes narrow and she nods, just slightly.

Hannah's by the window in Giles' loft, simply looking out, looking at nothing in particular. She hugs herself and her head drops as she starts to softly cry.

In the hospital room, Willow casts an anxious look at Xander still motionless in his bed. She looks first to Dawn, then Tara, who says something that causes Willow to relax considerably. She smiles, but soon realizes her smiles aren't being returned. She again looks questioningly from one to the other, but neither speak. She's getting really worked up now, scared, and Dawn starts to say something. She doesn't get far, though, before she can't speak any more. Willow turns immediately to Tara, who picks up where Dawn left off. Willow watches, still afraid. Then the fear turns to disbelief. She's starting to cry now and she shakes her head in denial. She looks to Dawn, looking for someone to tell her that what she's heard isn't true, but Dawn can only cry. Willow looks back to Tara again and says something, begging for it not to be true. Tara can only look at her with sympathy and matching pain as Willow dissolves into tears.

Giles office. Buffy is sitting in the corner, her back against the wall, curled in on herself. We can't see her face, but her shaking shoulders tell us all we need to know. She's hugging the Owl plushie for dear life.

CUT TO BLACK

** And that, my friends, is that.

#jw writes stuff #btvs: the chosen #IT TOOK ME LONGER THAN I THOUGHT #and now i'm officially drained and exhausted goodnight

54 notes · View notes

anonthenullifier · 6 years ago

Note

Do you think Tommy and Billy would ever given a tour of Stark Industries? I mean their Dad did technically help run it in a previous life.

Thanks for the ask! I don’t think this is what you were looking for, but it is the first thing that came to my mind after reading your ask. I do apologize if the characterization is off at all, I don’t usually write from either of the twin’s perspectives but it was the only way to do this story . Hope you enjoy!

“And now we move into what many consider the true heart of the tour,” a peppy smile goes with a peppy wave of her arms and the impressively uniformed pep in the tour guide’s step, “the hall of heroes.”

“Kill me now,” Tommy groans next to him, mood perpetually spiraling downward for the last hour, “please just blink me out of this reality.”

The field trip isn’t that bad. Well, it’s not great, but it could be worse, like the time they went to the wastewater plant and there was a leak. “This is the last room.” It is also, admittedly, the worst room to be in as children of Avengers. Being in a shrine devoted to worshipping your parents and family while surrounded by peers that already view you differently kind of sucks.

“We’re at Stark Industries,” Billy waits for his brother to make some sort of point, shrugging off the aggravation in his voice and inspecting the first generation uniforms of their parents. The plaque has an asterisk that leads the eye down to a note stating all uniforms on display are originals, graciously donated by the heroes except for The Vision’s (Billy frowns at the unneeded The) which is a replica due to the still unexplained power he has to shift molecules.

Tommy begrudgingly joins in staring at the uniforms, “This crap is not what we should be seeing. We’re not fucking tourists.”

“Language.”

Dad has been trying, and failing miserably, to curb impolite language, so when he is not around, Billy takes joy in turn-coating his allegiance and policing it. “Oh bugger off, traitor.” They both laugh at the loophole they discovered early on. If dad doesn’t realize they’re cussing, then they can do it freely, until mom stares them down, anyway. “I’m serious, I want to see the top secret stuff, not,” he flings his hands out at the post-Thanos uniforms, “this.”

They’ve listened to their grandpa wax poetically about his innovations, sat dumbfounded at the technical questions from both their dad and their other science minded relatives. There is so much more than old Iron Man uniforms and the ten different shields good ole Captain America has used to protect freedom. “Mom and dad are meeting us at the end, we could just ask-“

Tommy recoils at the comment, side-eying him the same way you would a person espousing mind control through frozen corn kernels on the street corner (though that actually ended up partially correct and led to a few months without corn in the house and deep, empty looks on their parents’ faces). “You trying to steal the funkiller crown from dad?” Hands turn Billy toward a small, gray door with a white and red sign stating Authorized Personnel Only. “You know the good stuff is back there.”

“No,” even if they can easily distract the chaperones and slip away from their classmates, it’s not worth it. “In less than a day, I get to go with Teddy on a houseboat.”

Tommy’s unempathetic stare is typical when matters of his relationship come up, “And…?”

“And I’m not risking it.”

Billy moves on to the current day display (all replicas), fingers tapping through the buttons on a screen introducing him to the training rooms and the Stark tech that is changing not just the world but universes too. Unfortunately the twin devil on his shoulder follows. “We won’t get caught.”

“We get caught 91.35% of the time,” a stat so graciously computed by dad three weeks ago when Tommy ran (literally) out and got them Taco Bell for lunch and then proceeded to proudly eat his chalupa in front of the teacher monitoring the lunchroom.

A scoff signals this fight is nowhere near done, “One, even dad admits his computation is flawed,” a margin of error assumed of plus or minus five percent for instances of misconduct that went fully undetected, “and two, that means we have a ten percent shot at success.” This is said as if ten percent is equatable to seventy five.

“Or we don’t and I have a hundred percent shot at a weekend without mom and dad.”

“Traitor.” Tommy shoves him out of the way, taking over control of the interactive display. “Yo display lady.”

A pleasant, lightly accented voice streams from the luminescent screen, “How may I help you?”

“Where are these rooms?”

A three second lag exists between the question and response, “Official training rooms are located at the Avengers compound, while beta-testing and highly complex simulations are housed here at Stark industries.”

Tommy stares at him, assuming this is somehow convincing. “No.”

“How many records are held by Vision?”

More silence and then the screen displays a table of dates and times, “Vision,” no The this time, likely because it was programmed by grandpa, “has eight time trial records across the two facilities.”

Another look from his brother implies this is all they need to know. Billy shakes his head. “And Scarlet Witch?”

The screen dissolves before providing new information. “Scarlet Witch has five records for time and three for amount of damage caused.”

“Go, mom!” Tommy is always more impressed by damage than time, something Steve has issues handling in their own training with the Young Avenger Initiative. “What about as a team?”

It’s to the credit of Tony’s programming that the AI understands the request in relation to the prior two questions. “Scarlet Witch and Vision, as a team, hold ten time records and eight damage records, including a combined record on training course Twenty Three, level of difficulty Wish You Were Never Born that has gone unchallenged for over eleven years.”

“Unchallenged.”

A smarmy confidence rests in Tommy’s eyes and finally the logic of his questioning clicks. “No way.”

Tommy glares at him before returning to the screen, “Where’s that course?”

“Course Twenty Three is located here at Stark Industries.”

There’s something infuriatingly infectious about his brother’s need to rebel as a means of satisfying his drive to surpass others. It’s so tempting to say yes, but Billy digs his heels in, refusing to go along yet again with one of Tommy’s plans that, though always fun, never have fun consequences and dammit, he wants to spend the weekend with Teddy. “Not a chance.”

Exasperation fills every inch of Tommy’s flail. They move on and the silence is nice, if not a bit unsettling. “Question.”

Billy makes sure his annoyance is firmly on display. “What?”

“Would you rather try and break their record or,” a lightning fast push spins Billy around, “watch Cody manhandle mom?” Mortification gnaws at his resolve, their classmate groping the mannequin from the brief time the Scarlet Witch wore a leotard and tights. It’s when Cody makes direct eye contact with them and starts pantomiming his intentions that Billy’s hands snap shut, blue energy tingling under his skin. “You take him down, guarantee that houseboat is gone.” An arm loops amicably around his shoulder, pivoting him towards the authorized access door. “We go see the good stuff and you have slightly better odds.” Billy is turned back to Cody, who has only grown more vigorous in his lewd gesticulating, “No houseboat,” and then back to the door as if there are only two options, “or a shit ton of fun and possibly a houseboat.”

Billy sighs and Tommy’s mouth tips into a beaming smile. “Fine.” Immediately his mind starts justifying the decision, an 8.65% chance not the worst odds in the world, plus, if they aren’t in the room when the prototype of the next-gen Iron Man happens to fall on Cody, then no one can point at him as the culprit.

Wordlessly they carry out the escape, Billy always taking on the role of distraction through subtle manipulations of perceived reality and Tommy gleefully vibrating his molecules to slip through the wall and open the door. “Let’s go.”

For some reason, he had assumed walking through the door would be like that one movie they watched, with the oompa-loompas, a door opening and a world beyond imagination appearing before them -flying suits, disappearing materials, explosions, scientists in white coats and blue gloves. Instead it’s just a hallway with beige walls and linoleum floors and doors lining the way. “So, what’s the plan?”

A thrilled, unconcerned lift of his brother’s shoulders drops their chances of success at least a percent, “Walk like we own the place and see what we find.” It’s sadly not his worst plan.

And walk they do, Tommy’s chest puffed out and arms swinging in casual authority. Technically, they sort of own some of the place, via dad’s stake in the company, so it’s not like they are being overly deceptive. Each hallway looks the same, making it difficult to track exactly where they are going, until they find another door stating Credentials Required and a face scanner affixed to the wall. Tommy doesn’t even hesitate in shimmying through the wall, so Billy follows, hands parting the space in front of him so he can walk through, closing reality behind him with some hesitation, certain there have to be cameras somewhere tracking them.

That concern is tossed aside because now they find the cinematic reveal, an open hangar in front of them with some sort of alien-esque ship on the ground and four floors of glass doored, luminescent laboratories spanning the reach of their eyes. “The good stuff.” This is far better than replica uniforms. “Let’s go find the simulation.”

“But look at this stuff!”

The self-confidence he had admired earlier also goes hand-in-hand with a tendency for fixation. “Yeah, I see it.”

Billy does his best to keep pace with his twin, who has a habit of speeding up his walk when excited while forgetting other people can’t move nearly as fast. That combined with Billy’s desire to peer into every lab space and marvel at the work, makes their trip stream by incomprehensibly. He thinks he saw a phasing suit, maybe a new particle generator, some sort of extraterrestrial looking staff, a portal to a mountain side, what he thinks might be a baby raptor, and also their grandma, who he usually loves seeing but pulled Tommy out of view before she could spot them. “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

“Nope.”

“Fantastic.”

“Where are you going?”

The voice is instantly recognizable, one they’ve grown up hearing and it’s a little judgmental and a little bit amused. Tommy swings around and puts on the fakest innocent smile the world has ever seen. “Hey, Grandpa!”

Tony smirks, unconvinced by the tone of the greeting, but he isn’t angry, which is a good start. “How are my favorite rebels doing?”

“Great, on a field trip.” Billy is in awe of people like Tommy and Tony who can act so natural, can just ooze bravado and a sense of entitlement on a whim.

There is a nod and a contemplative droop of his goatee. “Seems you got lost.”

Tommy nods along, “Yeah, been trying to find our classmates, have you seen them?”

Now Tony chuckles, slapping his hands together, giddy at the lie but still showing no signs of annoyance or reprimand. “I have not, but I imagine they can’t phase through walls like you two can.” Billy, personally, wilts at the calling out, while Tommy shrugs again, matching Tony’s stance and attitude. “What do you two want to see?”

“What?” It comes out before Billy can catch it, surprised at the quick approval of their misdeeds.

“I asked what you wanted to see,” Tony stares at them, concerned he has somehow slipped into another language, “There has to be a reason you barged through my walls.” Learning to function in both the superhero world and just being a teenager with parents who have rules you don’t agree with, requires an ability to spot entrapment, certain phrases purposely worded as openings for waltzing right into admonishment. When neither of them take the bait, Tony acts hurt, a shake of his head and a pained, expertly acted, clutched chest. “I thought I was the cool, eccentric grandfather,” a smile threatens to wash away Billy’s anxiety as Tony continues in pantomimed betrayal. “Is it Thor? Would you tell Thor what you want? I mean, I don’t blame you, those gorgeous, puppy dog eyes are a killer.” A snigger from Tommy and all apprehension leaves the atmosphere, Tony’s toothy grin absolving all guilt of their sneaking around. “Seriously, what do you want to see? I’ve got a brand spanking new interdimensional travel lab, some Skrull-based camouflage trials, there’s a spaceship downstairs, Helen has an updated, palm-sized cradle.”

All of it, every last one is what Billy wants to see, but Tommy beats him to the request, “We want to do simulation twenty three, Wish You Were Never Born.”

Understanding dawns on Tony’s face, “Want to show the parental units up, huh?”

“Yep.” Tommy is close to vibrating through the floor.

“It’s really dangerous,” the mood darkens until Tony presents them a masterclass, uncaring shrug they’ve seen numerous times in his press conferences and Senate hearings, “but I’m not your parents and so it is my duty to aid and abet your delinquency.”

An ecstatic arm closes around Billy’s shoulder as they follow their grandpa down four different hallways and three staircases, emerging into a vast, utterly empty warehouse. “You all have suits?” Tommy whips off his sweatshirt to reveal the Stark crafted, green and white suit he always wears under his clothes, yanking his goggles from his back pocket and pulling them down over his face. Since this seems to actually be happening, Billy waves his hands, materializing his own caped suit in place of his jeans and t-shirt. “All right then, let me go upstairs real fast.”

The climb into the observation booth is agonizing under Tommy’s uncontainable excitement, his feet a blur as he warms up, running in place. “Quick disclaimer, boys,” they look up at Stark’s face through the window, “there are numerous things that can seriously maim you in this course, kind of why your parents hold the record, the whole made of vibranium slant your dad’s got going makes him uniquely qualified to handle a lot of this and your mom is terrifying as well, so together, magic.” A seed of doubt sprouts in Billy’s mind, yet it is not given time to be nurtured a, “Anyway, best of luck!” and then the room comes alive around them.

To say the difficulty level name is apt is a bit of an understatement. At any given time there are over a dozen different foes, and for each type of challenge, there are at least a dozen individuals within it. It ranges from laser guns, incendiary robots that look an awful lot like Ultron, replicas of the Black Order, phasing, flame wielding alien things, and Billy’s least favorite right now, microscopic, swarming jellyfish that blister the skin on contact. In amongst the chaos of fighting, he can hear Tommy cycle between “Shit, shit, shit,” “Oh my God!”, “What the fuck is that,” and maniacal glee. Slowly, and painfully, they take down the threats, sometimes combining forces to remove a particularly difficult foe, and sometimes splitting up to decimate the weaker challenges.

Looming over them is a very large clock, ticking away at their time and next to it, is the record of their parents. Their own clock continues, the numbers growing more similar to the goal and Billy assesses the surroundings, only taser faced bear-like creatures and giant bouncing orbs made of some sort of sticky, burning compound left. “Tommy!” His brother skids into view, mouth in a perennial smile and lungs heaving as he waits for the next strategy. “We have ten seconds, I say we vaporize.”

What seemed impossible is proven wrong, Tommy’s lips curving even higher as he fiddles with his goggles. “You hold them steady.”

“Will do.”

It’s a technique they birthed from their mistakes, the possibilities of their powers unknown and often discovered in embarrassing and unintentional ways. Like vaporizing soccer fields during gym class. Billy winds his powers around the last group of adversaries, wincing at the weight of their resistance as he adds more and more force to his hold. While he does this, Tommy runs a large circle around the bound creatures, legs pumping faster and faster with each lap until even Billy can’t track his position. That’s when it happens, a sonic boom that spreads through the warehouse, shoving Billy to the ground, puffs of smoke making the air murky, and then there is a “Hell yeah!” and the telltale sound of the buzzer their own training uses to signal success.

Tommy collapses on the ground next to Billy, “That was amazing.” All Billy can manage is a nod, lungs and body aching. “Do you think we did it?”

“Though impressive, unfortunately you were 8.65 seconds over.” Disappointing, but not bad. Far more worrisome is the unmistakably even English accent informing them of their failure.

Billy strains to sit up, glancing over his shoulder at the deep scowls of disappointment on his parents’ faces, next to the apologetic wince of Tony. “Fuck.”

“Language, William.” Tommy snorts and is met with a jab of blue to his chest.

Two strikes in less than three seconds and the houseboat is most definitely floating away, “Sorry, dad.”

“What are you two doing here?” This time it’s their mom, her accent thicker when she’s angry and currently it sounds like she just moved here from Sokovia.

A hand pats Billy’s arm, a reassurance that really isn’t helping. “The field trip was just so boring.” Nor is Tommy’s attempt at defending their choice providing any hope of bringing the boat back. “We just wanted to see stuff.”

The intercom clicks and they are presented with a predictably logical alternative, “You could have asked us after the field trip. You had shown interest in a more detailed tour the other night, hence the reason why your mother and I were meeting you here instead of at home.”

Billy flops his head to stare deep into his twin’s goggled eyes, “I suggested that.”

“Shut up.”

Another click and mom is back on the microphone, “We’ve been speaking with the Altman’s,” any last, clinging hope withers away, “they were really looking forward to having you with them this weekend,” the feeling is mutual, “they suggested a nice compromise.” He waits to learn what this is, worried if he asks it will harm any goodwill left. “They invited all of us along on the trip.”

Despair is far heavier than the physical toll of the course, and isn’t helped at all by the thumbs up next to him and the out-of-breath, “Yes, I love houseboats!”

#billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #tony stark #ask anon #mine #deathofink #replies #the maximoffs

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arttheweapon · 7 years ago

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5 songs that made 10 year old me FEEL things

Our story begins in the year of our lord 2006. It was a different time, a simpler time. I still had a bright yellow CD-playing Walkman, which I mostly used to listen to The Indigo Girls’ album Rites of a Passage while I rollerbladed around my backyard (I wasn’t allowed to go outside of it yet). All my cred came from my pink Razr phone, which could only be used to call my parents in emergencies. That is to say, I had no cred.

Picture, if you will, this girl: 10 years-old. Bad hair, worse teeth, a purple and orange Moosejaw t-shirt. Summer in rural Michigan. That kid is walking up the gravel road from her grandma’s house on the lake to go feed the horse that lives a half mile away some wrinkly apples. She’s stolen her older brother’s iPod, and is JAMMING to all the songs her mom doesn’t want her to hear. Songs like Ben Folds’ cover of Bitches Ain’t Shit, and pretty much all of Green Day’s discography. Just picture it. Fat red cheeks, crooked center part, and temporary butterfly tattoos.

Nostalgia is cool again, so here is the list of songs that made that kid up there feel things, things she had no context for, no name for, but felt nonetheless.

Honorable Mention: Monster by Meg and Dia, Here’s to the Night by Eve6, Miserable at Best by Mayday Parade

5. White Houses by Vanessa Carlton

Let me preface this by saying I first heard this song through a Teen Titans amv on Youtube. If I didn’t mention that this whole segment would be dishonest, because to this day I still think of Raven when I hear this song.

That being said, 1000 Miles ain’t shit compared to this song. I remember watching the actual music video and wondering if she had a twin, because I didn’t know that video editing existed (I was similarly confused upon watching Lindsay Lohan’s best work, The Parent Trap). Is this song about losing your virginity at ballet camp? Yes. Did I know that? No. I had never had a crush on a boy in my life. Perhaps that’s the fault of excessive Indigo Girls listening, but I digress. When I listened to the quiet, wounded “maybe you were all faster than me”, I was touched. Yes, Vanessa, in my heart it is the five of us. Did I even have five friends? Debatable. But in my heart they were there, in white houses.

4. Iris by GooGoo Dolls

Admittedly, this song is not from the emo days, but you can’t deny that it has that spirit. I have no doubt it was an influence. I mean, seriously, “everything is made to be broken”? That is some emo shit right there! I eat it up every damn time! At ten years old, I didn’t know this applied to hearts or souls, I thought it was a very sad song about dishware. But god, that broken plate got me. I was ready to get the super glue. Also, “I don’t want the world to see me, because I don’t think that they’d understand”? HOO BOY. I relate to you, sad ghost with broken dishes. I relate.

Every time this song plays in the vicinity of my parents now, they fondly recall how four year old Claire thought the lyrics were “everything hates to be broken”. Honestly? That works too, but is a little more Paramore-esque than the real lyrics. See Let the Flames Begin from Riot! (2007).

3. Dark Blue by Jack’s Mannequin

I had never been to a school dance, because elementary schools don’t have those last I checked, but this song is how I imagined it would be. Alone in a crowded room. It would flood. An ambulance would be there, picking me off the floor. This, right here, is a prime example of pop-punk boy voice. The pounding piano, nasal tones, and declaration of isolation marks it clearly as a product of its time. If I’m being honest, it still goes hard as hell.

2. It Ends Tonight by All American Rejects

It Ends Tonight made me feel some sort of deep existential sadness. I had no idea what was ending, but I was mourning it with my whole little heart. The long trick is over, people, it ends tonight. Tyson Ritter asked for a little insight, and as a literal child, I had none, but I sure felt that maybe it was best you leave me alone. Leave me alone to feed these apples to this horse. I mean, this song made me feel at least as sad as when in the first grade I drew a picture of my family under a rainbow and another kid ripped it up. At least. The music video for this song is like a modern version of Nocturne in Black and Gold, shooting off fireworks into an inky black sky and watching the lights sparkle and die. I’m sure that’s what they were going for, I’m sure they’re huge fans of Whistler.

1.Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance, and actually just all of The Black Parade

Where it all began. The Black Parade is a lot of angst to be contained inside of one little body, but there I was. Famous Last Words was my favorite, filling me with some sort of manic zeal for life. Living just to spite the enemies inside your own head didn’t register at all, because at the point my head was all friends. All I knew is that it made me feel powerful, and ready. The download always skipped just a tiny bit at the opening of the guitar solo in Welcome to the Black Parade, which persisted no matter how many times I played it. Probably because my brother downloaded all his music off of Limewire. I remember sitting on the bus on our class trip to the zoo and mouthing “misery and hate will kill us all”. I showed my friend Meghan the music video for Ghost of You (yes I know that’s from Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, I’m not an amateur) and definitely cried over Mikey Way tragically dying on the beaches of Normandy. I was slightly scared by Gerard Way but that was probably just because I was attracted to him and didn’t know what to do about it. In any case, he was a masterful storyteller, and I hung onto every word. If you can make a midwestern child raised on puppies and glitter with no mental health struggles (yet) feel all that emotion, you are something super special.

Also, I run an MCR blog now so we all know how this story turns out.

#mine #long post #sorry I don't really wanna post this under a readmore #because then no one would be interested enough lol #anyway I wrote this for fun a while ago while procrastinating #here it is for you

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lafaiette · 8 years ago

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Warm Heart

Sequel to Warm Home. This time Scarlet catches a cold and Solas, still not used to sickness and diseases, panics and hates himself even more, because he’s the reason elves (and consequently Scarlet, too) can fall sick, now. Fluffy and a little bit angsty ; v ;

Her throat aches and her head feels light when she opens her eyes. Her sleep and dreams have been pleasant and beautiful as always, but something felt weird as she wandered through the Fade hand in hand with Solas. An odd feeling at the edge of the mind, like an annoying sting or light burn.

She probably caught a cold in Emprise du Lion, when she fell into a freezing river and drenched herself with its icy, uncomfortable water, which seemed to reach her very bones and whose touch left her only much later, despite Solas’ warming magic and the comfort of a bowl of boiling stew.

Her nose is running, she can feel it. It’s stuffed, too, and she scrunches it miserably, trying to find some comfort and let more air into her lungs, but that sends a great pang of pain run through her head and she whines pitifully.

She hates getting sick. Being sick meant not being useful back in her clan, and even though nobody ever let someone feel bad for it, the best huntress couldn’t afford to stay in bed. Also, despite the Keeper’s healing magic, the harsh Dalish life could worsen one’s conditions and she remembers one particular hard night when her fever refused to go down and her parents stayed by her pallet for the whole time.

She touches her forehead, then her neck and armpits and she knows she has got a high fever just like that time. She wonders if Solas knows any old elven magic to help her, but then she remembers the time when he got sick and he had no idea what to do and what a cold actually was.

He’s still sleeping soundly next to her and her next thought goes to his wellbeing. He risks to catch her same illness, if they stay so close to each other, sharing the same air. Keeper Deshanna never allowed the other members of the clan to visit a sick friend for that very reason.

She softly groans, both because her throat hurts immensely and because Solas will inevitably worry about her and believe he is the one who caused her to fall sick in the first place. He recovered from his cold just a few days ago and he will surely come to the conclusion that he was contagious enough to spread it to her. And that will lead him to feel terribly bad, guilty, something she noticed he does a lot, and she doesn’t want that. She wants him to be happy, not feel bad about himself!

She holds her breath and tries to crawl out of bed without waking him up. It shouldn’t be difficult, since he sleeps pretty heavily, but today of all days he does not or maybe he was already half-awake in the first place, because his hand immediately touches her waist and his husky, tender voice says, making heat fill her belly despite her miserable condition:

“Good morning, ma vhenan.”

“Ah.” She desperately tries to think of a way to avoid replying. He will hear her stuffed voice and understand what’s happening. But if she doesn’t reply, he will understand something is wrong all the same and then he will look at her face and see her shiny eyes and red, running nose.

Mumbling a quick prayer to the Creators inwardly, she turns to him, trying to show her best, healthiest smile, hoping her fever can’t be seen that easily. But just then, just as Solas’ lips curl into a bigger smile and her heart thumps faster, happily, in her chest, she sneezes.

Right on his face, with no way for her to hold it back, so sudden it was.

She gasps, ashamed and shocked, and she’s about to apologize when another sneeze comes and then another one. She whines, pressing a hand on her mouth and keeping her eyes shut, to avoid seeing Solas’ expression. She is definitely as red as the tomatoes her clan used to steal from the rich Free Marcher farmers, now.

“I’m sorry!” she babbles and her panic grows, because her nose is running more, now, and she has nothing to dry or blow it with. She needs to get up and take her handkerchief, but she feels too weak and feverish and her head feels lighter than ever.

“My love!” Solas’ voice sounds concerned and as panicked as hers and she tentatively opens one eye to look at him. There are still some droplets on his face and she groans, falling back onto her pillow and refusing to look at him again.

“Scarlet.” Solas’ worry is reaching infinite levels and she feels even worse. “Scarlet, are you sick?” He touches her forehead and gasps, then he makes a soft noise that sounds like a choked sob. “Yes, you are! Scarlet, look at me!”

She does and he’s giving her such a sweet, loving look that she can’t help but cuddle a bit into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” she repeats lamely, but he shakes his head, his long, calloused fingers touching her cheeks and hair in the most beautiful way.

“For what, my light?” he says and his voice is still slightly high with panic, the same panic visible in his eyes, too. “This is my fault! I should have…”

“No, it’s not.” she firmly says, glaring at him. “Solas, I’m sick because I fell into freezing water in the middle of a snowstorm. Not because you caught a cold.”

He sniffles and frowns, ready to berate himself, ready to bear the fault, but she hushes him with a finger pressed on his soft lips and continues, smiling sweetly, albeit a bit weakly due to the fever: “Solas, ma vhenan. It’s not your fault. Alright?”

He hesitates for a long while, then he begrudgingly nods and asks timidly: “What do you need? Tell me and I will bring it to you, even if it is in the Black City itself.”

She giggles, touched by his melodramatic concern, which is endearing and adorable, but then a coughing fit shakes her body and the panic in Solas’ eyes turn into full despair, as if he never heard anyone cough before, despite all the sick refugees they saw during their travels.

“Scarlet!” he exclaims, grasping her right hand and squeezing it tightly, so much it almost hurts. “I will go call the healer!” He jumps out of the bed, without even glancing at his clothes neatly folded on the couch next to hers, ready to dash out of the room with his night shirt and pants, the comfortable ones she sewed for him.

“Wait!” she manages to croak out and he immediately goes back to her, cupping her cheek and taking her hand again. She nods at the pitcher of water on the small table near the couch and asks timidly: “Could you get me some water, please? I’m parched.”

“Of course.”

He runs to the table and comes back to the bed in less than five seconds, filling a cup with water and handing it gently to her. He caresses her hair as she drinks it and when she’s finished, she smiles at him and says: “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else?” He kisses her and she makes an alarmed sound, looking at him with outrage.

“Solas! I don’t want you to get sick again!”

“Hush.” He smiles and brushes back her hair from her sweaty forehead. “Can I bring you something else? Food, more pillows?” His eyes widen and he quickly gets up, heading to the small storeroom where they keep their spare sheets, a broom, and the mannequin Scarlet uses to sew.

He comes back with a pile of blanket in his arms and he sets them all around her in what looks like a strategic plan, all in different points of the bed, ensuring no draft can touch her, that all her feverish skin is adequately protected.

“Oh, Solas.” she sighs fondly, looking at him with a sweet, patient smile. He also brought some furs and their bed looks like the den of a wolf, now. She can’t deny it’s marvelously cozy and warm, but her fever is making her sweat a lot and she longs for some kind of comforting cold.

“You must sweat to lower your fever as quickly as possible.” Solas says with a stern look before she can protest, already recognizing the pout on her face. He reminds her of Keeper Deshanna for a second. “I know how this works, now!”

“Fine. I’ll stay among the hot furs.” she gives in, smiling at him again, and he smiles, too, a bit relieved. Then he shows her something else he retrieved, a clean, large handkerchief, and he presses it against her nose, saying gently: “Blow, vhenan.”

She does so and he taps her nose with the handkerchief after she’s done. Then he kisses her again, making her groan in defeat, and looks for another cloth to put on her forehead.

“It will lower your fever.” he says, trying to sound sure and confident, even though his panic obviously hasn’t left him yet. “Here, found it! Where’s the water?”

“Right there.” she reminds him, giggling, pointing at the pitcher he left on the dresser near the bed. “Solas, calm down. It’s just a cold.”

“You need rest. You need good, nutritious food!” he insists, wetting the cloth he found with shaky hands. “You need… You need…” He takes a deep breath and turns to her, watching her feverish, shivering form, her red-rimmed eyes, her crimson nose and pale cheeks. His lips quiver for a second, his fear and sorrow shine through his eyes, then he attempts to regain his composure and says quietly: “You shouldn’t feel like this. You don’t deserve to feel like this.”

“Oh, vhenan.” She motions him to join her in bed again. “Everyone gets sick. It’s perfectly normal, especially after falling into icy water.”

“No, it is not.” He sits on the bed again, laying the wet cloth on her forehead. It feels wonderfully cold on her skin and she sighs with relief. “There was a time when the elves knew no sickness, no disease, except for those caused by wrong, corrupted magic. They didn’t fall ill.”

“That was a long time ago.” she reminds him and he brushes his thumb across her kind, warm smile. “Things are different, now.” Something akin to longing flashes in her golden eyes, like it does every time he speaks of ancient Elvhenan. “I know we lost much. It would be wonderful if no more Dalish and city elves could ever fall sick again.”

He makes a low sound that sounds like a whine, a lament, and he rests his forehead against her warm chest, listening to her beating heart. His hands are on her hips, stroking the hot skin he feels through the embroidered nightgown, and his next words are almost inaudible: “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. But we can do nothing about it.” she comforts him, caressing his bald head, and when he raises his head again, there are tears in his eyes.

“The elves deserve more than this.” he says. “You deserve more than this.”

“Solas…” She’s getting worried, now. She knows he hides a deep pain into his heart - Cole confirmed this multiple times with his cryptic comments -, but today he looks and sounds particularly sorrowful. Is it because he saw her being sick? Now that she thinks about it, she’s been badly hurt before and he always reacted this way, panicked, almost desperate, as if suddenly aware of her mortality, and sad, gloomy.

“I’m sorry. Ignore this old man’s words, vhenan.” He smiles, a small, weak thing that barely lightens his eyes up and shifts the muscles of his face. “I will go call the healer.” He kisses her chest and her lips, then he gets up, covers her better with the blankets and furs, and quickly leaves the room, not caring about the night clothes he’s wearing.

He’s back just a few minutes later, basically dragging the healer by the arm and speaking quickly, repeating all the symptoms Scarlet has. Cole is with him, a silent shadow that sits next to her and takes her hand, patting it gently, like a brother would do with his sick sister.

The healer touches her throat and forehead, looks into her mouth, checks her pulse and breathing, and then candidly says: “It’s just a cold, your Worship. With the right potions and food, you’ll be up in no time.”

“What about the fever?” Solas asks, glaring at the human woman. “The ache in her throat!”

The healer arches an eyebrow, eyeing him with amusement, and replies: “Those are the most common symptoms. Her Worship will have to bear with them for a short while.”

“But magic…! A spell might help her, let me try!”

“Like it helped you when you were sick, Messere Solas?” The woman shakes her head, her dry amusement moving from her eyes to her lips, too. “Magic can heal many things, but certain sicknesses are beyond a mage’s abilities. Otherwise, the poor and miserable of Thedas wouldn’t suffer like they do.”

Solas bites his lips and looks at Scarlet, who’s half-asleep, drifting between the waking world and the Fade, with its dreams and visions which will be probably stranger than ever, now that she’s affected by the high fever.

“My magic is strong.” he murmurs, a final protest against the healer’s words, but she doesn’t even listen to him and proceeds to list all the things Scarlet must eat to get better faster, food to be requested to the cooks, potions she will personally prepare and send later.

“Thank you.” Solas quietly says as she passes next to him and leaves. He’s been watching Scarlet for the whole time and once he’s alone with her and Cole, he quickly joins them. She briefly wakes up, then, and looks up at him with a drowsy smile.

“Hello, vhenan.”

“Hello, my heart.” He smiles, too, and caresses her hair. “Rest. You need to sleep.”

She makes a low sound and cuddles into his embrace. He helps her rest her head on his chest and she fights a little, at first, not wanting him to fall sick again, but he assures he will be fine and she’s too weak and sleepy to insist.

“Will you visit me in the Fade?” she murmurs, slowly closing her eyes, and Solas presses a kiss on her brow, replying tenderly: “Always, ma sa’lath. Wait for me there.”

Only when he’s sure she is deeply asleep, Cole speaks.

“You’re scared.”

Solas nods, swallowing, his eyes fixated on Scarlet’s serene sleeping face.

“I am.”

“Wounds and cuts and burns can be healed. They are outside and just a little bit inside, visible, and magic can reach them. But fever and labored breaths are hidden, you can feel them and hear them, but the spells don’t always affect them.”

Solas nods and he rests his cheek on top of Scarlet’s head, taking a deep, shaky breath that sounds like the prelude to tears. He keeps caressing her hair, his other hand stroking her right one.

The spirit boy waits a moment, then softly continues: “It reminds you of the Blight. It’s not the same thing, but you are not used to sickness. The only one you ever saw in the old, singing world was that red, mad one found in the wounded Earth.”

“Yes.” Solas swallows again and slightly moves his head to look at Scarlet. Tears are shining in his eyes, now, and Cole repeats, softer than before: “It’s not the same thing.”

“I know.”

“She won’t die, just like you didn’t die.”

“I know.” Solas looks at him, a tear running down his cheek. “But I can’t do anything to help her. I can’t help her, I am useless. My magic is useless.”

“You can stay with her.” Cole reminds him, smiling. “That will help her.”

He nods at her, adding: “Warm, he’s so warm. A strong scent, of trees and soil, of paper and old books. She feels safe and loved. She’s dreaming the wolves.”

Solas chokes on a sob, but he’s also smiling, now, and he presses light, delicate kisses on Scarlet’s happy face.

She wakes up much later. Cole left the room when Solas fell asleep, but her vhenan is awake, now, and he’s stirring the hot soup a servant brought straight from the kitchens, prepared using the healer’s instructions.

There are flowers and various gifts on the couch, “all gifts from the others”, Solas says with a smile. Dorian, Varric, and Cassandra came to visit, but left immediately after realizing she was sleeping and they promised they would come back later.

“How do you feel?” he asks, sitting next to the bed on a chair, the bowl of soup and a spoon in his hands.

“Better. I think the fever went down a little and my throat doesn’t hurt as much as before.” She sniffs the air and looks down at her body, groaning. “Creators, I’m sweating like a sinner in a chantry!”

Solas laughs boyishly and leans down to press a loud kiss on her lips, making her blush, babble happily, but also complain: “Solas, stop it, or you will get sick again!”

“No, I won’t.” he promises, smiling lovingly and moving the spoon near her mouth. “Here, vhenan. This will make you feel better.”

He feeds her – and it makes both of them blush and smile timidly at each other -, then he helps her lie more comfortably in bed, adjusting the blankets and furs around her. He brings her all the handkerchiefs he can find in their room, then he massages her feet while narrating a short story that makes both of them laugh.

She tugs at his night clothes – which he hasn’t taken off yet – and he’s soon back at her side in bed, an open book on his lap, her head on his chest like before, listening to him read and watching his fingers turn the thin, yellow pages with care. Those same long fingers also caress her hair and cheek and he often stops reading to kiss her lips.

After half an hour, the book lies closed on the dresser and they are holding each other under the heavy blankets and pelts. Scarlet’s fever is indeed lower than before and Solas’ panic subsides, as he sees her smile and talk.

“You’re so warm, vhenan.” she suddenly says, nuzzling the space where his heart beats. “You always are, but especially here, where your heart is.”

“It’s because you are my heart.” he says, kissing her face. “As long as you are with me, I will keep living.”

She laughs and giggles – and this time that glorious sound doesn’t end with a coughing fit -, but then she looks at him with love, because he was serious and he’s looking at her in the same way, and they are both smiling.

“Let us sleep some more.” he softly says, fixing the blankets on her shoulders. “I am sure the others will make sure to let us know they are here.”

“Will you visit me in the Fade?” she asks again, their ritual, while kissing the warm space where his heart is beating fast. And he replies, holding her safe in his arms:

“Always, vhenan.”

#dragon age #da:i #solas #scarlet lavellan #solavellan #lafaiette's fic #MY BABIES #wow i wrote angst it's a miracle #it's mixed with a heavy dose of fluff BUT IT'S THERE #i need to write a papa solas fic asap now

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marauders70s · 8 years ago

Note

Wow! I didn't know you write Harmione ones! I love them! Title: We Shouldn't, But I Really Want To Summary: Harry announces that he loves Hermione in front of everyone in the great hall by accident, and they kiss.

okay, full disclosure, i’m not a harmione fan, but i will do my best for you @hermione-who because a good writer can write a challenge and i think it’s super important for everyone to feel like their otp is welcome and supported

Sixth Year - Lightning Era

Title: We Shouldn’t, But I Really Want ToPairing: Harry Potter & Hermione GrangerSummary: It hit him like a thunderclap at breakfast while she buttered his toast.

“I just don’t get it,” Harry said as they descended the main staircase to the Great Hall. “They never even talked to each other. They can’t like each other. They’re too different. She doesn’t…I mean she - “

“Harry,” and Hermione said his name in her familiar, exasperated way. “You’ll hear it all from Lupin himself, but he and Tonks really are dating.”

“I don’t understand,” said Harry blankly. “They hardly say five words to each other.”

“When we’re around, Harry. It’s not like you go flirting with girls when you’ve got people watching you.”

Personally, Harry didn’t feel as if he could flirt with girls even without people watching him. Ever since the disastrous single date with Cho Chang - and the slight fact that everyone thought he was cursed or something spending all his time closeted with Dumbledore -

“And besides,” said Hermione, spooning yogurt into a golden goblet before adding fresh strawberries and cream. “What does it matter to you if he loves her?”

“It doesn’t,” and Harry couldn’t exactly explain his surprise and…malaise about it. He had thought… Remus had been devastated when Sirius had died. He had…

“And you’ve seen how miserable she is. She’s been pining after him for months. He only got up the nerve to ask her because she’s been saying how much she likes him in little ways.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, as Hermione pulled a few slices of toast towards her, wheat for her and white for Harry.

“Well, I don’t know,” and she laughed self-consciously. “Like she would always save him a plate after order missions. Or offer to team up with him. Or make him a cup of tea if she was having some.”

“But that’s not loving someone,” said Harry, bewildered, and accepting his toast from Hermione. “That’s just being a good person.”

“And when have you done that for anyone?” and Hermione’s voice had taken on a waspish tone that made Harry flush with embarrassment. She was right. He was crap at relationships, thoughtfulness being his worst quality.

“But-” and he didn’t know why he felt the need to argue the point. Hermione was almost always right about the feelings and things but he couldn’t help but point out: “You and I do those things. You’ve given me toast.”

“We’re at breakfast,” and Hermione’s voice was still testy.

“But you always butter my toast,” said Harry, something niggling imperceptibly in the back of his mind. “And you let me look at your homework. You hate when Ron copies your homework.”

“Well at least you make an effort,” said Hermione briskly, scraping her spoon against the sides of the scraped yogurt dish and savoring the last bite. “And speaking of, did you finish that essay for Flitwick due this morning?”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was continuing tallying Hermione’s small acts of kindness he had never really noticed before, and now was embarrassed that he hadn’t. How she always brought tea over in the cold library, or made sure she brought sweets back from Honeydukes, the kind he especially liked, if he didn’t feel up to braving the gawking crowds. And she had been the one to organize the DA for him, who believed in him…the one who had stayed up all night to practice the summoning charm for the dragon. Ron wouldn’t have done that. Ron might have tried, but he would have fallen asleep over the books around three or so and snored while Harry panicked.

And Hermione did little everyday things too, things Harry had to think about: she carried extra quills in her bag for him, in case his broke. He had gotten a headache from that perfume Ron had bought her for Christmas, and she had never worn it again, at least not around him. She had done things for other people too - Hagrid’s lesson planning, and hunting for Scabbers - but not so much as she did for Harry. Like making sure he had a Christmas gift, though they had only been friends for a few weeks his first year. Getting him a broom kit while Ron - supposedly his best friend - got him sweets. Loaning him books she thought he would like such as Quidditch Through the Ages; whispering directions in potions in years previous; never complaining that he paired up in every class with Ron, and she was always left with Neville.

“Harry,” and Hermione was nudging his arm with hers as she riffled through her bookbag. “I’ve forgotten my Ancient Runes textbook upstairs. I’m running up to get it. Can I grab you anything?”

Harry gaped at her. It had honestly never occurred to him how incredibly self-centered and absent-minded he was. Had he forgotten a book upstairs, he would have nipped off to get it without announcing it to anyone, much less offer to grab something for Hermione. Yet this was just like Hermione, doing small things for him in a way he didn’t even realize. Yet without her his life would be absolutely miserable.

“Harry? Anything?” and her voice was annoyed that he wasn’t answering her. Her bushy hair was stuck under the strap of her bag, and Harry felt it was outstandingly important that he help untangle it for her. He bolted to his feet, shoving back the bench, and grabbed her hair.

She went stock still as he tried to get it out. “What are you doing?” she asked, astonished.

“Helping,” said Harry, a little helplessly. “Or, trying.”

Hermione adjusted the strap of her bag, her brown eyes wide and taken aback. “Thank you,” she said finally.

“I’ve just realized that you do stuff like that all the time,” said Harry, but he could hear his voice as if someone else was using it, and he was on the line, a silent third party listener.

Hermione looked a little abashed, and blushed, not sure where to look as she extricated herself from the bench. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, quickly straightening up their dirty plates to make the house elves’ cleanup easier.

“You said - “ said Harry’s voice, and his inner self began to sense danger. “That Tonks does all those things for Lupin because she loves him.”

“Yes, of course she does,” said Hermione, still adjusting her skirt where the bag was riding it up through her robes.

“But you do that stuff for me all the time.”

“Well of course I love you, silly,” she said lightly, glancing around at the Hufflepuffs nearest them staring in interest, and the other Gryffindors snickering behind their hands. “We’re like family.”

“We’re not,” and the voice on the line kept speaking, and Harry began to back away from himself in horror. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t say that. He was crossing a line. There was no going back if -

“Harry-” the familiar two syllable plea for patience.

“I love you too,” and the part of Harry that was still very much awkward, sixteen year old Harry was balling up in rage and anger and humiliation, howling at the stunned looks on the audience’s faces. But his body just stood there, arms stiff at his sides, staring down at Hermione’s face.

“But I didn’t mean - “ said Hermione, trying to diffuse the tension with a laugh.

“Yes, you did,” said the Harry-automotan. A strange, braver mannequin Harry not at all ruled by his cowardice. “You’ve meant it for years. I was just too blind to see it.”

“Harry,” and his name was a mortified whisper, glancing at all the people around them.

“Tell me it’s a lie,” commanded false-Harry, and for some reason his shame and fleeting rage and embarrassed self crept closer; he felt wholer, more real.

“Of course I love you, Harry,” said Hermione, still placating, still trying to put him off. “Just like I love Ron and-” she gulped when he walked a measured pace forward.

He could hear a few girls gasp. “But I love you,” he said steadily. “I think I always have. I was just too stupid to figure it out.”

“You’re not stupid,” and her voice was a thready whisper again. “I never wanted to make it -”

“I know,” said Harry, taking the last step and gripping her shoulder with one hand. “You said it your own way.”

And in a thunderclap, he realized he wanted to kiss her. And the brave Harry that had been on the phone fled into the ether and all that was left was awkward, scared, too-sweaty Harry, staring down - when had he grown taller? - at her familiar face, his hand gripping her trembling arm. All he had to do was -

Hermione, as was her custom, did most of the work for him. She came forward more than halfway, and then Harry felt himself moving, willing his chicken heart and cold face to bend towards her and they were kissing. And it was easy. It was everything it wasn’t with Cho. It felt like they had always done it. Like it had felt when she had hugged him hard before he went to face Quirrell alone.

You’re a great wizard, Harry, she had told him.

He felt his other arm pressing her back, and he squeezed even tighter as he finally closed his eyes. Because you made me that way, he told her. But he didn’t tell it with words.

Send me a made up AO3 title and i’ll write you a drabble based off of it!

#harmione #drabbles #follower fun

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 4 years ago

Text

Da Capo - part 4

Part 1 , 2 & 3

A capriccio or caprice (in Italian, capricci), is a piece of music, usually fairly free in form and of a lively character.

There was a weird itching or irk in a way as Harry longingly stared at his ceiling. The sound of the minute hand and second hand moving inside the glass of the watch was so incredible loud yet so unimaginably silent, you could only hear it if you wanted to, was harry trying to, perhaps. He was maybe waiting for the clock to strike 2 am just so he knew he could let go in the night. There's always been something so mystical or obscure or indefinite about the night that makes you raw, dangerous, vulnerable and maybe that's why harry was always afraid of the night, not the dark but the time where it comes to peel of your snake skin and show to the whole damn world who you are, who you have become, who you changed into. Harry might've loved the danger but this night, sleep didn't come to him, he was too busy thinking about the drenching in the rain and the river bank side, everything about it was turning into spontaneous reel ready to be put on for the show yet the reel was empty. The emptiness was Maybe because of the lack of the pretentious wall where there was nothing left to hide or maybe it were the emotions Harry had managed to conceal so well or buried underneath his skin so well that nobody but him knew what they were.

The clock stroke 2 am and the moving of the fan blades only offered so much distraction and harry got out of his own pretty bed with white cotton sheets and drank some water standing on the kitchen counter watching the phone with piercing gaze.

He stared at it long enough that impatiently without another thought after 10 minutes picked up the dialler, almost dialled the number, then stooped and went to bed, scurrying under his sheets and sleeping away the night.

But what happened the next morning was completely unexpected. Harry had just gotten out of his boring cubicle, losing jade in the crowd and ultimately landed up with some work to pair up the mannequin in a new fashionable way and harry was almost set into doing it when he heard the knock on the glass window he was working inside to design. Harry frowned as soon as his eyes landed on Draco standing there in a cute little Typical Paris beret and white oversized shirt with washed jeans. He wore those often.

Harry immediately went outside the building to meet Draco..

" how- how did you know I work here ?" Harry asked

" I didn't actually. I was passing by and I saw you and I thought I'd stop by and say hi " Draco replied tipping off on his toes then going back to standing on heels.

Harry pressed his lips in a thin line before replying " hi "

Draco grinned, bowing his head a little, then saying " hi "

They awkwardly stood there in silence hoping at least one of them would say something but fate maybe had others plans and jade interrupted.

" harry, June wants those new designs- and who might this gentlemen be ?" Jade asked smiling, offering her hand forward for a firm handshake with Draco.

" jade that's Draco, Draco that's jade. We work together, pretty much among the only few people I know around here " harry introduced them in the most awkward way possible and as if jade had sensed the awkwardness she spoke up.

"oh hey we're throwing a going away party for my roomate Tonight, why don't you come ?" She asked Draco.

" I- I'd-"

" we insist " harry urged

" I was about to say I will but now I think I really will have to despite the lie in my I will was I'd try " Draco tried to joke, failed miserably and then everything turned awkward once again.

" uh- I'm gonna go and get back to my work. You come to the party and harry, please be inside in five minutes " and she tipped back inside the building leaving them alone.

"so " harry whistled.

"So I guess I'll see you at the party, then " Draco " he perked his lips into a little pout before he turned a little so he could walk ahead anytime.

" uh Draco, not be to be awkward but you'd have to stop by my place Before you to the party " harry raised his eyebrows expectedly.

" why's that ?" Draco asked thoroughly confused.

" you- you don't know where she lives and I do therefore if you're going to the party I'd have to drop you off so that should explain why you'd need to stop by " harry bit the inside of his little Just a little in total subconsciousness waiting for Draco to Reply anytime soon.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment chuckling in Little soft sounds before he nodded " I'd stop by. 8 works ?"

" I'll see you then " for some reason harry did the finger guns which Draco awkwardly stared at then practically huried inside leaving Draco just there.

" you're hopeless " jade smirked.

" thank you for telling me what I already knew " Harry gave her a moment smile then morphed his face into a serious one and getting back to work.

____________________

Harry was in the process of wearing his shirt when the door was repeatedly knocked on that he had to practically run for the door holding onto his shirt for dear life.

" thank you for that. Why couldn't you had just done this after the dog had eaten me alive " Draco shivered as he hurried inside once harry had let him in.

Harry chuckled shutting the door behind him then clothing his shirt buttons off and only then turned to Draco.

" that was mrs. Pierre's dog. Kind of a mix. He's really sweet once you get comfortable with him "

" with a face like that, Merlin I'm fine with pocket dogs " Draco rolled his eyes then sitting down on the sofa waiting for Harry to finish dressing up.

" you mean the actual pocket dog or the pomeranian ?" Harry asked leaning down to wear his shoes whilst sitting on a chair.

" there's an Actual pocket dog ?" Draco asked almost amused

" yeah " harry nodded then tying his shoe laces. Draco only nodded in pure amusement but didn't remain on the topic any longer.

" ready to go ?" Harry asked 5 minutes after having checked for everything being intact in the apartment.

" as ever " Draco nodded getting up, with a small bouquet in his hand.

" whats the bouquet for ?" Harry asked with an amusing smile grazed across his face.

" ah- well it's a going away party and I just thought- well- should I discard this ? I didn't know what else to do or bring ?" Draco hopelessly asked looking at his bouquet as if he was finding some flaw to just leave it behind..

" I'm kidding- just teasing. She'd love that actually.. a huge botany fan really " harry chuckled softly then without wasting time led both of them outside.

They walked for almost about 7 minutes until they finally reached the destination and approached the rooftop as adviced before and mingled into the little party.

It was a fun, secluded, good good-bye party in every since if Draco didn't absolutely wanted to rip off the bouquet he bought into shreds..

" would you stop with that staring? It's not gonna kill me " harry laughed lightly then drinking a bit more of his water.

" you said she was a botany fan " Draco glared at harry

" well- I bluffed like they do while playing cards " harry shrugged with a frown, putting his glass on the table.

" I hate you for this. Now everyone thinks I'm the weird guy with flowers " Draco rolled his eyes.

" who cares what they think, I'd be glad if someone bought me flowers in a party. Shows you care " harry bobbed his head in a single nod as if trying to emphasise that it was a naturally good deed.

Draco rolled his eyes at harry again, setting the bouquet down on the chair and finally mingling into the party night.

They must've been pretty off or having a very boring conversation or maybe jade was just lonely that she joined them by the fence.

" Draco, right ?"

" yeah, jade " Draco nodded shaking hands with her again..

" harry told me about you actually. That little touring around Paris. Harry have an odd way of seeing things " jade pointed at harry who just shrugged it off, he didn't mind seeing things differently.

" that is true but I'm not complaining. I loved the night, couldn't have been better " Draco smiled and harry allowed himself only for a moment if it were only a moment to just openly stare at draco and admire whatever he'd missed upon ever since his arrival. He allowed himself to drown again in the reminiscent of all he had moved on from but for this one little moment, he allowed himself to be sat on a boat that took him back to where it all started, just with simplicity.

" I assume you won't be here for long, when do you leave for home then ?" Harry had heard jade asked and it only hit him then that draco wasn't going to stay forever, he was going to leave at some point and it unconsciously made his heart clench that he didn't know could happen.

" actually in 2 more days "

" you're leaving on Monday ?" Harry asked without acknowledging that jade had opened her Mouth to say something but had immediately shut it down upon realising she no longer could say anything else.

" oh, yes. I leave on Monday " Draco smiled at harry.

Harry chose to drink instead.

Later that night when they had been walking back to Harry's place in the dead of the night, harry had allowed his wonderment to finally approach his lips and let the words slip before he could've wanted to stop them, but that was the irrational part of him and he said it even if he didn't.

" you didn't tell me you were leaving so soon "

" you never asked " Draco smiled.

The wind howled between them in a soft breeze and the leaves on the ground crunched as Harry nodded repeatedly walking down the pavement..

" you don't mind it, do you ?" Draco asked finally.

" oh no, you were bound to leave sometime. I just never asked. My fault " harry replied with a thin smile then took a sharp right to his place.

" but I should've told you " Draco added..

Yes, he should've so harry could've prepared himself more, prepared himself better but then again maybe he was too good of an actor to let it effect him at all anyways anymore.

" your can't possibly cover all of Paris in 2 days " harry said after a while.

" I couldn't even if I wanted to. Paris is not just a one day place, it's more than just that " Draco nodded.

Harry pushed his back back softly, running his hand through his hair as his shirt filled inside with air and he let himself wonder again of the time when he had first came to paris on a simple trip but the city has made him stay.

" it is more than just that " harry nodded too.

" you didn't see the special notre dame or the trocadero or the arc De Triomphe or the cruise. Pity " harry clicked his tounge as he watched ahead of the road finding it hard to believe that time had flown soo fast.

" but it's not like I saw nothing. I saw the top of the Eiffel tower, the carousel, dipped my feets in the water, the love lock brigde. For all I care, it's better than sitting on a cruise with a bunch of posh people who discuss golf or people who would constantly come up and say can you click a picture of us "

Harry laughed softly shaking his head " that was a terrible french accent "

" gosh I knew " Draco vigorously single bobbed his head for a damned emphasis but upon watching harry laugh louder little by little, he let himself laugh too at his own absurdity.

It didn't matter who stared at them or how many people they woke up with their obnoxious loud laughter,all they cared about was this moment. This one moment which ever In history could have been a turning point if harry had not just simply admired Draco at the moment or decided to secretly store away the sound of Draco Laughing, if he had only done something but like every poet, Harry has taken away pieces of Draco and stored it into his bleeding heart hoping that one day when he'd press the paper to his heart, it'd get blotched and would leave a remarkable print that even van Gogh could not have painted because it was Only his own. Like every poet, he'd scream in this poetry one day, he'd bleed in it like the rupturing veins of how he didn't peel off his snake skin that night.

" I wish I could stay forever " Draco said after a while in a patient sigh as he stopped over the bridge over the river to get to Harry's place just to admire everything around them in one more moment. Harry admired too in that one more moment where he watched Draco admiring, he let his quill dip into his vein for ink and he wrote,

He wishes too, he wishes too.

I think safe to say that the last two chapters had turned out pretty shorter than the first one's. Anywho.

Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

#drarry #harry potter #draco x harry #harry james potter #hp fandom #draco malfoy #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #drarry fic rec #drarry ficlet #drarry fandom #drarry fluff #drarry squad #drarry stuff #drarry ship #drarry short fic #drarry fic #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fic

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mtg-weekly-recap · 8 years ago

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MTG Weekly Tumblr Recap: May 01, 2017

Nahiri the Lithomancer, Sorin Markov and Ugin The Spirit Dragon, Cartoon style. | @pazmonx

This week’s edition of the Recap has dodged the Ban-hammer! Let’s take a look at all the different formats that have been affected by banned and restricted announcements, as well as the heavily symbolism-laden Magic Story and some nostalgic fan-art. Join us for more wrap-ups than an Anointed Procession in this issue of the Magic: the Gathering Weekly Tumblr Recap.

1. Emergency Banning In Standard

Saheeli’s Lament | @planeswalker-umbral

In one of the more bizarre banning and restricted events, the powerful two card combo of Saheeli Rai and Felidar Guardian were conspicuously unaffected by the announcement on Monday, April 24, despite the infinite loop being missed by Magic R&D, and therefore not attracting the suite of answers that cards like Heart of Kiran and other standard powerhouses now have to face with the release of Amonkhet.

This news (or more specifically the lack of news) set many tongues a wagging as the merits and demerits of Wizards declining to meddle in Standard versus getting down and curating the format, with debate raging as to how the current meta with two dominant decks appearing far more prevalent and leading to far less innovation than Smuggler’s Copter and Emrakul, the Promised End (which were sent to the naughty corner last January) ever did. Just as the hand-wringing and bemoaning three more months of a bland Standard reached it’s peak, Wednesday brought an addendum to Monday’s announcement, Felidar Guardian was hit with the ban-hammer. It is interesting that one of the main drivers for both the non-action on the Monday and further action on the Wednesday was the earliest release of the new set on the digital platform, MTGO. This allowed R&D to see what a potential new standard might look like, and whatever data they drew, they felt it was big enough and scary enough to make the call. So what does this mean for standard? Well, the upcoming pro-tour should provide some answers, and like with many recently shaken-up formats, aggressive decks should see good representation (and some success) while the brewmasters work behind the scenes. Rakdos and Jund discard/hellbent seem to blend the best of Amonkhet and Innistrad themes, as well as many recursive graveyard strategies. Amonkhet also brings with it lots of interesting control strategies the might make more of a splash as the format goes forward, now that a Turn 4 instant kill is no longer a spectre hanging over it.

— Liam W, @coincidencetheories

2. Bans and Unbans in Commander

Brewing when they unban a combo piece | @phyrexian-without-a-cause

Following the official B&R announcement from Wizards for Constructed formats came one from the MTG Commander Rules committee: Leovold, Emissary of Trest is banned and Protean Hulk is unbanned.

Those who have played with or against Leovold know how insanely powerful he is. With “wheel” effects like Windfall, Whispering Madness, Dark Deal, and Teferi’s Puzzle Box and plenty of control elements, Commander decks led by Leovold easily stripped apart opponents’ hands with efficiency and consistency, making him miserable to play against. It’s only been eight months since Leovold was printed in Conspiracy: Take the Crown, but it was enough to demonstrate his power. At the moment, Leovold, Emissary of Trest still holds its $50-price tag since it is a Legacy staple in many Sultai decks (Reid Duke took down GP Louisville this year with True-Name Nemesis Sultai, which ran two copies of Leovold in the main).

The announcement of Protean Hulk’s unbanning was by far the most surprising B&R change of the week. For those unfamiliar with Protean Hulk’s power level, Flash Hulk was a deck that won the third-ever Legacy GP back in 2007 whose main strategy involved Flashing in the Hulk on t2 or earlier with fast mana (yes, even t0), sac’ing it and tutoring up 4 Disciple of the Vault, 4 Phyrexian Marauder, and 4 Shifting Wall. The artifact creatures would die due to SBA and the Disciples would immediately dome your opponent for 32.

While Flash got banned in Legacy as a result of this deck, the combo dream never died: Protean Hulk returned to the limelight in 2015 when Lantern Control creator Zac Elsik among a dozen other players brought a Modern Hulk Combo deck to GP Pittsburgh. Here’s the basic strategy: after discarding Protean Hulk to a number of loot spells in the deck then reanimating it with and sac’ing it to Footsteps of the Goryo or Makeshift Mannequin, search out Viscera Seer and Body Double, copying the Protean Hulk that just went to your graveyard. Sac’ the Body Double with Viscera Seer’s ability to search out Reveillark and Mogg Fanatic, which you sac’ to ping your opponent for 1. From there, you sac’ the Reveillark to bring back Mogg Fanatic and Body Double, copying Reveillark. Because Reveillark and Body Double can continuously bring back each other, you can bring back Mogg Fanatic an arbitrary number of times until your opponent has been pinged to death.

While I doubt anyone will run this 5-color combo in Commander, the unbanning of Protean Hulk has got the community brewing up what creatures they can tutor up and combo off within their current decks’ respective color identities. Within an hour of the announcement, Protean Hulk shot up from below 4.00 USD to over 21.00 USD, with many eager EDH players scrambling to get their copies. My brother and I jumped on the opportunity and bought 5 copies within minutes of the announcement: I snagged two MP copies off eBay for five bucks total, whereas my brother bought three LP copies from his LGS down in San Diego, CA for about three bucks each. We’ll definitely be looking into making a profit when we sell some of them but not all of them—my brother plans to slot a copy of Protean Hulk into his Rashmi Elves deck and sac’ing to either Birthing Pod, Eldritch Evolution, or Natural Order, fetching six mana dorks and Dryad Arbor and swinging in for a buttload of damage, especially with Concordant Crossroads or Akroma’s Memorial in play. Can’t wait to lose to him like that…

— Vincent B, @the-burnished-hart

3. Legacy and Vintage Bans and Restrictions

Sic Semper Tyrannis (Thus Always to Tyrants) | by @phyrexian-without-a-cause

The most recent B&R announcement has brought with it the end of an era. In Legacy, the linchpin card of the Miracles deck Sensei’s Divining Top has finally been struck down, taking the most prevalent deck, in terms of overall appearances in major tournaments, in the format with it. The reactions to the ban have, oddly enough, been pretty reasonable. Even some popular Miracles players like Joe Lossett have been pretty quick to say that they understand and they saw this coming for a long time. The ban also makes Legacy event coverage a lot easier to do, now that commentators no longer have to try to make activating Top seem exciting. This just goes to show that if you make a road sign and put it at WotC Headquarters, you can achieve anything (please don’t actually make a big road sign and put it out front of Wizards Headquarters).

In the world of Vintage, Wizards has gone after Monastery Mentor decks and slapped Gitaxian Probe and Gush with a Restricted status. Much like with Legacy Miracles, Mentor decks in Vintage have been running rampant and the bans of these “free” draw spells are meant to weaken this Vintage powerhouse. Not much has been said about how these restrictions are being taken, but most people seem to be in agreement with Wizards, or are saying that Mentor itself should have been the one to be restricted, based on the power level of the card. Nevertheless, this seems to be a positive change for the format.

These announcements have made people in the respective formats, or even outside of them that are interested in them, start experimenting to find the next powerhouse. In terms of how formats are taking their bans/restrictions, Legacy and Vintage seem to be taking their hits well, and, much like what Wizards hopes will happen whenever they make these announcements, the player-base seems to be growing and evolving with these new changes, producing more diverse environments for the people that make these formats their homes. One can only hope that these times of prosperity last, as this writer is trying to buy in to Legacy himself, and is excited at the prospect of jumping in to such a, seemingly, welcoming format.

— Colin M, @delver-of-seacrest

4. Magic Story Recap

The Hand that Moves - Ken Troop

Decision Paralysis | Original art by Vincent Proce

The plot of this weeks Magic Story, The Hand that Moves can be told simply, Nissa takes Kefnet’s Trial of Knowledge. But it’s the details contained within that are the meat of this tale. Firstly, Nissa finds her way to the temple of Kefnet merely seeking answers to the perplexing questions that surround the entire city of Naktamun and the influence of Bolas. The Vizier of Kefnet tries to ward her away, but her resistance to his clumsy attempts at mind magic as well as her quite remarkable status as an outsider to the usual warrior-caste system allows her to keep him off balance enough to attempt the trial in order to interrogate the God himself. The first bombshell that hits is Nissa’s first vision is of an Angel, who appears to be none other than Emrakul herself. Now there is obviously much illusion and subterfuge within these trials so there is no clear inference as to whether this appearance is Nissa’s fear, or even something more sinister, considering in The Promised End Nissa appeared most affected by the influence of Emrakul, as well as Nissa’s formative years on Zendikar where the Goddess Emeria was revered even among her people. Who does this version of Emrakul represent, or is she not even part of the test and something Nissa had latent inside her since Innistrad? Equally as strange is the affirmation that the Angel brings: “I can do anything I want. Anything at all. Remember that.” Visions and symbolism follows, with very physical sensations and in the middle of it Nissa begins to study the leylines and see the fabric of the trial, behind the sights, sounds and sensations. The Test seems to fight against her, the closer she pries behind the curtain. Images that seem to be Bolas’s influence across the multi-verse appear, followed by further reminder that the five gods were part of a pantheon of eight. Three figures that might represent the missing deities scurry to escape the protection of the Hekma. A focus on the mining and collection of a strange, blue mineral. A series of images of decay and destruction that if they don’t related directly to the Gatewatch certainly follow their way around the color wheel, then more imagery of the approach of the second sun that is most definitely not a second sun, and then -

Emrakul returns

The angel that is Emrakul that might not be Emrakul ask Nissa if she would be a pawn or a queen in the game. Nissa sees the trap that no matter her power if she falls for this choice she would only ever be a piece to be manipulated. The phrase “Be the hand that moves” echoes again from the Chess game Jace and ‘Emrakul’ played during The Promised End. Kefnet arrives full of pomp and circumstance demanding to know who was interfering in the Trial, scattering Nissa’s mental defences as Kefnet read her intentions. He declares that knowledge is not a gift to be given but a prize to be earned, and is about to dissolve Nissa’s mind, when “Emrakul”s advice stirs her to action, and she observes that Kefnet’s being is made up of leylines, something she has more than a little familiarity with, as well as noticing that there are several lines that are very off kilter. With a clumsy yet precise manipulation of those wayward leylines, Nissa is able to deflect the God enough that his attention wavered and she became to him merely an initiate who had passed his trial. Presumably the cartouche was waiting for her in the gift shop on the way out…

— Liam, @coincidencetheories

5. Fan-arts…

The Smallwatch | Original art by @erybiadraws

This weeks seems there’s been an interesting and wonderful trend towards the nostalgic, as we have been graced with many a fan-art of characters from our near, and sometimes not-so-near past. @alexgilbertart starts us off with the secretly unraveling Jace, Unraveller of Secrets from Innistrad. Another Innistradi visitor to be featured this week was @azami ‘s study of the studious soratami Tamiyo, the Moon Sage

Stretching further back in the mists of time, @pandoraeve brings us the foremost Praetor Elesh Norn as she dodges the blue shells in a Mario Kart, and @erybiadraws shows us the undulating Ulamog in its full glory.

Finally, a couple of sketches from @dancing-sword, including Garruk giving Chandra animal handling advice, and a drawing of the Tarkirs planeswalking power-couple, Narset and Sarkhan

— Liam W, @coincidencetheories

6.Vanilla Matters.

Murganda Petroglyphs | Original MTG art by Scott Altmann

The concept of ‘Vanilla’ in Magic is supposedly a simple one. A Vanilla Creature is simply on with no rules text (flavor text is allowed. Vanilla is a flavor, after all). Simply a creature type, a mana cost, power, and of course toughness. No effects on entering or leaving the battlefield, no activated abilities, and no keyword. Nothing. Mons Goblin Raiders, Grizzly Bears, Savannah Lions. The building blocks of a set, and usually filler cards for your limited or standard deck. But two topics have shone the spotlight on the humble Vanilla Creature this week, as @markrosewater ‘s Blogatog has been inundated with requests that if or when we travel to Murganda, we continue in the tradition of Murganda Petroglyphs from Future SIght block and have Vanilla Matters cards, or cards that bolster creatures without abilities. The trouble with this, as Mark Rosewater reiterates, is that the creatures themselves can’t grant their fellow vanilla creatures abilities, and there are only so many bonuses you can give to vanilla creatures before you’re giving them abilities, which make them no longer vanilla creatures which means they lose their abilities which means they are once again vanilla and oh no I’ve gone cross eyed. So MaRo has advised us all not to set our hopes too high on a visit to Murganda featuring Vanilla matters, especially as Murganda is already carrying the baggage of being the Dinosaur plane as well as somehow home to the Mimeoplasm. But that doesn’t mean that Murganda Petroglyphs itself can’t see a reprint…

Dovetailing with the discussion on Vanilla Matters was a check in with a recurring favorite of Blogatog readers, the Vanilla Mythic, which is precisely what it says on the box, a vanilla creature, at mythic rarity, that obviously has been subject to much speculation. Mark confirmed in a blog post that the mythic is doing just fine, and that we will see it later this year This has led to new speculation as to just what a Vanilla Mythic might need to be, to justify it’s rarity, starting with @sarkhan-volkswagen and continuing on in the various reblogs and replies.

…and finally: Friday Nights

Noted Magic content creators Loading Ready Run released a new episode of Friday Nights this week, as just in time for Amonkhet’s release. Friday Nights is a series following the group’s misadventures into the world of Magic, which has been running since 2012. This month’s episode is notable for callbacks not only to the eternal conundrum of the proper creature type of the multi-headed Nessian Asp, but also to the fearsome reputation of Kathleen’s Cat deck which first made it’s appearance in the groups short, ‘It’s Magic’ which reflected their rediscovery of the game, way back in 2010.

Thank you again for reading this week’s issue of the MTG Weekly Tumblr Recap. Hope to see you next week!

Interested in contributing to the Recap? Want to keep track of notable posts and trends throughout the MTG community on a given week? Or write a short blurb on a specific topic? Do you just want to make us aware of one specific topic or post? Please PM our main editor @the-burnished-hart or any of our staff writers

#mtg #mtg weekly tumblr recap #weekly tumblr recap #mtgwtr #legacy #commander #edh #standard #banned and restricted #fanart #amonkhet #mtgakh #vintage #modern

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