#or one of light hope's last ditch efforts to follow her original directive

[incoherent-orca]

you've grown.

and of course, the princess

[redandbrown]

Truce

“Hermione, stop running from me!”

A flash of light came from Hermione’s wand and knocked over a desk in front of Ron.

Ron countered with his own wand sending the desk flying towards the wall before it even hit the ground. He kept advancing towards her.

“Go away, Ron!”

She continued to retreat. A pile of books came flying out of a nearby bookcase to land in his path.

“Not until I know you’re ok! Damn it! Stop running!”

As if a gigantic invisible hand had appeared, the books were all pushed back towards their original home in one fell swoop.

He sped up his pace before she could block him again.

In a panic, Hermione started to run backwards. She lost her footing and started to fall when Ron’s strong arms grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up.

He kept his arm firmly around her middle to stop her from running again, and used his other to force her to look at him.

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She started sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking with fear, adrenaline, embarrassment, anger. She wrenched herself away from Ron’s embrace in one last-ditch effort at preserving her dignity. Ron waited a minute, then gently pulled her back into his arms.

He held her while she cried, not saying a word. After what felt like a lifetime, she was too exhausted to shed another tear. She knew Ron’s shirt was soaked from her sobbing, but all she could focus on was his warm breath in her hair, and the way he smelled like mown grass and leather, and his large arms wrapped around her protectively. She breathed him in, relishing being this close to Ron after weeks of no communication at all. She didn’t want to move for fear that she would never get to do this again.

Ron had to be the one to pull away. Her heart sank into her stomach.

“Lumos,” he muttered. A light appeared at the tip of his wand, and she realized he was looking her over. His eyes ran over her face, her neck, her chest, her arms. They stopped at her shoulder where her dress had been torn. He grabbed her hand and held it up to his wand light, so he could examine that limb further.

Then his eyes landed on her wrist. His jaw clenched. There were angry red marks in the shapes of fingerprints that wrapped completely around it. The marks would no doubt be purple tomorrow.

“That fucking tosser!” Ron said angrily.

“Ron, I’m okay,” she said trying to placate him.

His eyes immediately snapped to hers.

“What else did he do? Did he hurt you any where else? Hermione, where did he hurt you?” He demanded.

“Ron, no I- I don’t think so. It just happened so quickly! I managed to get my arm free, and I grabbed my wand. And I just hexed him and ran.”

Ron looked murderous.

“Hermione, I’m taking you back to the common room.” It was clear by the tone in his voice, this wasn’t up for debate.

He held the the door open for her and light poured into the dark, empty classroom from the hallway.

Hermione stepped outside and looked at her wrist again. She could sense Ron standing behind her. She muttered a quick healing charm, and then directed her wand at the rip in her dress.

They started walking back to Gryffindor tower in silence. Ron had put his hand on her back protectively, and she noticed he was looking everywhere, like he was searching for something.

‘More like someone,’ she thought gloomily.

“ ‘M so stupid,” she muttered under her breath. What was she thinking, inviting Cormac to the party? She knew he was arrogant and entitled, but she didn’t realize it was that extreme.

And to her utter horror, Ron had shown up just as she had made her escape from Cormac. Ron must have been doing rounds. She didn’t expect him to follow her, though. Why would he? They hadn’t talked in weeks. And he had a girlfriend now. A girlfriend that wasn’t her. She ran into the nearest classroom she could find hoping to wait him out, but it hadn’t worked.

“Don’t do that,” he said, still too busy looking for McClaggen to look at her when he spoke.

He grabbed her hand to still her as he looked around a corner, like he thought the wanker was gonna jump out at him. When he saw no one was there , he finally turned to face her. Those beautiful blue eyes looking in to hers. Oh how she had missed them.

“Don’t blame yourself for what he did. You didn’t make him a giant prick, Hermione.”

He put his hand on her back again indicating he wanted her to keep moving.

“I know, but I knew he was an abhorrent troll when I invited him to the party. I only did it to-

She felt her cheeks heat up. They both knew why she did it. Because he had done it to her first.

“So, uh, where’s Harry at do you reckon?” Ron asked changing the subject.

They were waiting on the staircase as it moved to the floor they needed.

“Oh I don’t know. Probably still at the party with Luna,” Hermione said in a small voice.

They stopped outside the portrait of the fat lady.

They looked at each other, neither ready to go in yet. Because they both knew as soon as they did, this temporary truce was over.

“Ron, you better go in. Lavender will be waiting for you.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes when she said this.

Ron let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah” is all he said as his shoulders slumped and he gave the password.

“Won-won!” Lavender bounced off the couch as soon as she saw him.

“Back from your date so soon, Hermione? That didn’t last long,” she said with a smirk.

“Hey! Lay off!” Ron said irritably.

“Oh Won-won! I was just making conversation!” She said dismissively. “Come and sit with me on the couch!”

Ron allowed her to lead him away and didn’t bother to look back.

Exhausted by the whole evening, Hermione headed for her bed.

The next day was bright and sunny outside, a stark contradiction to the mood Hermione was in. Harry sat with just Hermione in most classes now, since Lavender insisted Ron sit next to her.

They split off after lunch when Harry and Ron had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, but Hermione had Ancient Runes. She headed to the library afterwards expecting to have some time to study by herself.

Harry plopped down in the seat next to her.

“Hi,” Harry said tiredly. “Have you started on your Transfiguration homework yet?”

“Harry, what are you doing here? You usually spend your free period with Ron.”

“Yeah, normally, but Ron got detention.”

“Detention? For what?”

“For jumping on McLaggen in the hallway. He just went mad. One minute Ron was walking next to me. The next I was trying to stop him from pounding on his face.”

“He got in a fight?! An actual fist fight? With Cormac?! Harry, he could have been expelled for that! What if Ron had really hurt him?”

“Aah, Hermione. I doubt they would expel him over a fist fight. I mean, it’s not like he was beating up a first year or anything. Besides, McLaggen can hold his own. He’s not a small bloke is he? And he should learn to pick on someone his own size…” Harry trailed off as he seemed to realize he had maybe said too much. He looked sheepishly at Hermione.

“Ron told you?” She asked, her cheeks heating up. She didn’t know how she felt about this. She wasn’t really surprised. It was Harry and Ron after all. They told each other everything.

“Are you ok? If I had known he was gonna get rough with you… I should have stayed close by in case something happened.”

“Harry, I’m fine. Really. More embarrassed than anything. I’m really worried about Ron, though. I mean what was he thinking using his fists like that? Did he forget he’s a wizard? When’s the last time there was an actual fist fight in Hogwarts?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “It probably happens more than you think, Hermione. Sometimes it just feels good to pummel a tosser with your fists.”

Then it dawned on Hermione. “Hang on…you knew, didn’t you? That he was going to attack Cormac?”

Harry ran his hand through his already messy hair.

“Well, he never told me he was going to, but I figured it would happen. I mean it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Remember in second year when he tried to curse Malfoy for calling you a mudblood?”

They both laughed at the memory of Ron coughing up slugs.

Hermione’s joy was short lived as she remembered the present. She looked down at the floor.

Harry awkwardly patted her on the back.

“You know, you could talk him-

“No! It’s not going to happen, Harry, so stop asking!”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

“Besides, when would we talk? His face is always glued to Lavender’s,” she said rolling her eyes.

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So uh- what does Lavender think about all this?”

Harry shrugged as he pulled out some scrolls and quills from his bag.

“Dunno. She wasn’t there. She doesn’t take Care of Magical Creatures. And she wasn’t in the hallway when we got back to the castle. Hermione, I have something I need to tell you about Malfoy and the party last night-

“SHHH! This is a library! Have you no respect?!” Madame Pince was standing directly over him looking down her vulture like nose.

“Apologies, Madame Pince,” Hermione offered. Hermione suspected that Madame Pince had it out for Harry, ever since she had over heard him talking about Filch.

Hermione thought they could finish their conversation later in the common room when Ron was too busy hoovering Lavender’s face to notice anybody else.

She sighed. How could one person make her feel so safe and loved one minute, and so infuriated the next? She couldn’t think about this anymore. It was too complicated. Hermione pulled out her Transfiguration book and focused on something she actually understood.

[miniature-space-hamster]

Wrote a fic that was a byproduct of me trying to figure out how Kaidan and Karina Shepard had their first kiss. It got a little spicier than I originally intended. This takes place before the rest of my “Soft Place to Land” fics. Anyway, hope you enjoy.~

Shepard cursed to herself as her eyes darted from screen to screen on her omnitool, trying to find a solution. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with Mako, but the vehicle had lost all communications. Even the sensors were failing her, and she was beginning to lose her patience. Kaidan laid outside the Mako, almost entirely under the vehicle, trying to look for any possible damage underneath. He’d never say it out loud, but with the way Shepard drove this thing, he was half expecting to find a large rock lodged in the vehicle, but there was nothing. He grumbled to himself before pulling himself up, and leaning against the Mako as he poked his head through the doorway, towards Shepard. “It’s all fine down here. I don’t know what happened.” He paused for a moment, kicking the dirt slightly as he watched the growing winds whisk away the dust cloud that formed at his feet. “Wish Tali was here. She’d probably know what to do.”

Shepard looked up at the ceiling of the Mako to stretch her aching neck, they’ve been at this for nearly an hour with no luck. “Same, but we couldn’t risk it with the suit rupture.” It was just a pin prick moments before departure, but Shepard sent her to the medbay immediately before she got a severe infection. Shepard considered asking another teammate to come, but it was such a minor task and she didn’t want to postpone scanning the planet for necessary resources any further. She knew the two of them would be fine. They were supposed to be fine. But now she definitely missed the Quarian’s expertise.

Shepard smacked the dashboard of the Mako in equal parts irritation and last ditch effort to try anything. Kaidan jumped slightly at the sudden sound. Shepard was always quiet, sometimes almost unnervingly so at times that he half expected the motion to not make a noise. But, to both of their surprise, the dashboard came to life, bathing her in its golden glow.

“Are you reading me, commander?” Joker's voice was nearly inaudible against the overwhelming amount of interference. It sounded like he's been trying to contact them for a while now. From what she could make out, his voice sounded strained with desperation. He needed a sign that they were okay.

“Barely, we’re having some trouble with the Mako.” Shepard grumbled into the microphone, trying to use her omnitool to sharpen the signal, but it didn’t help much.

“There’s a storm coming. A bad one. We won’t be able to pick you up in the middle of it. You’ll need to sit tight until it’s over.” The irritation was evident in Joker’s voice. If they had a window for rescue, it seemed that it had long since passed.

Shepard gave Kaidan a look, seeing the wind whipping the stray hairs that fell down to his brow. She tried to hide the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was near pitch black darkness on the horizon that blocked out the setting sun, and it was approaching at an alarming speed. Kaidan gave her a nod in understanding, they needed to move quickly. “There’s a cave not far from here. We can park the Mako there for shelter. “

Shepard nodded as Kaidan hopped into the passenger seat without hesitation, providing directions. She could feel the wind trying to rip control of the Mako from her grip. She found herself constantly having to overcorrect the wheel just to keep the vehicle moving straight. She kept her fingers off the boosters, for fear of flipping the vehicle. Her knuckles were white and her hands were shaking by the time they were in the cave.

The vehicle lurched in protest as she hit the brakes a bit too hard, too eager to take her hands off the wheel. Shepard craned her neck to get a look at the cave’s ceiling, wondering how much she trusted it’s stability. It felt weirdly claustrophobic having such a big machine nestled in a cavern this size. It was a tight squeeze. They'd have difficulty getting out on either side, but they were free from the wind and what sounded like hail.

Shepard looked to Kaidan with a somewhat sheepish grin, feeling somewhat responsible for their predicament. She found herself mentally going back through the calculations and reports in her mind, trying to find out where she went wrong. This wasn’t in her reports of the planet.

“Well, I guess we better get comfortable.” There was a sigh in her voice as she took off her helmet and untied her hair. She let her hair fall naturally with a slight shake of her head.

She met Kaidan’s eyes and she couldn’t tell over the darkness of the cave, but she could’ve sworn she saw him blush. He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before pulling up a box that rested by his feet onto his lap.

Shepard saw the shine of the dashboard against his teeth as he gave her a slight smile before reaching in and handing her something. She took the item, unsure of what was in her hands for a moment, before realizing it was a sandwich. “I, uh, noticed you didn’t get a chance to eat before we left..” he seemed unusually bashful as he placed a hand on his neck.

She looked at the sandwich, and again at Kaidan. She tried to figure out when he had the time to do all this. She completely forgot to eat today. She didn’t have the time to have more than a cup of instant coffee, and even then it went cold before she took her first sip. It felt like the work Hackett sent her was never ending.

She gave Kaidan a nervous smile as a silent thanks, finding herself at a loss of words as heat rose on her ears and neck. Kaidan continued to pull out two beer bottles before untwisting a top and passing one to her. “Before you say anything, technically our shift ended an hour ago.” He gave her a sly grin that she couldn’t help but match as she took a bottle.

“Well, we might be stuck here for the night...” Her voice was wary as she pressed the cold glass bottle to her lips. She was never one to lax on regulations, but after today she needed a drink. Despite nothing going right today, she couldn’t help but be thankful for the choice in company.

She took a bite of her sandwich, unable to remember the last time she had something that wasn’t prepackaged and in the form of an energy bar. With her hunger finally catching up to her, in this moment it was the best thing she’d ever eaten. She looked at Kaidan, seeing the golden light of the dashboard reflect the warm, bronze flecks in his eyes. “Thank you…” She looked away quickly afraid she’d get lost in the depths of his eyes.

Kaidan held back a smile, as he pulled out a sandwich for himself. He noticed how her features softened as she ate. She finally stopped clenching her jaw as she took a moment to accept their new situation. This was about as relaxed as he’s ever seen her, on or off duty. He felt like these were the moments when he got to see the real Shepard. She was so sure of herself on the battlefield, but in moments like this she let herself be vulnerable. It was a word he never would’ve normally associated with the great Commander Shepard before getting to know her.

Shepard expected to feel a nervous tension rising in her chest. It’s only been two days since they both admitted to maybe feeling something for one another, though neither were quite sure what it was yet. Kaidan suggested seeing where things would go if they went out during shore leave. Despite these mutual feelings, she still found Kaidan easy to be around. Shepard struggled to open up and connect with others at times, being as painfully introverted as she was, but Kaidan never forced herself to be someone she wasn’t. He was content to be near her, even if she didn’t have anything to say at the moment. She never felt pressured by his presence to put on her usual facade of commander.

After finishing her sandwich, her hunger sated. She felt her mind shift to other needs. Shepard shivered violently, feeling the storm’s chill enter her bones. The nights on this planet often dipped below freezing. She heard the rattle of her armor, feeling another violent wave fill her body. She noticed Kaidan was rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Cold?” She asked, already knowing the answer. She paused for a moment as she climbed into the back of the Mako. There was an emergency blanket, but only one. She held it up for him to see. It felt thin, but it was better than nothing. “We’ll have to share.”

Kaidan quietly followed her to the backseat, trying to hold back his grin. There was more leg room here, without any bulky tech to get in the way. They both stripped themselves of their outer armor, letting their chest plates and gauntlets litter the floor, leaving on the more comfortable inner layer.

Kaidan was the first to sit, finally feeling the strain of the day cause his muscles to ache. He stretched his legs as he slouched to get comfortable. He rested an arm on the back of the seat, inviting Shepard to sit next to him. She first took a cautious seat before curling up beside him, realizing that they’ve never touched like this before. Was he always this warm?

Besides the time she pulled him away from the beacon, she’s never touched him at all. But even in that moment she only thought about his safety, not how it felt to be curled up next to him. She found that her desire for warmth overcame her sense of modesty as Kaidan wrapped them both in the blanket.

She twisted herself closer as she felt her body shiver violently. She rested her legs on top of his as Kaidan wrapped his arms around her. His warmth quickly filled her body as she leaned in his direction, pressing their bodies flush. She tried to tell herself that this was solely for warmth, and it was, but she so desperately wanted to explore his body with her hands.

She tried to speak, about anything to pull her thoughts away from the body pressed against her own, but any and all words were trapped in her throat as a flush rose on her face. She tried to wash down the heat in her face with what remained on the beer. Kaidan was usually the one to speak, and Shepard would listen, but he too was silent in this moment as he watched her trying to gauge her reaction to their close contact.

Shepard met his eyes, nearly black in the darkness, but still warm nonetheless. Her eyes trailed down to his lips, wanting desperately to know what they felt like, before her eyes yet again met his. She didn't want to yearn for him like this, reminding herself that he was her staff lieutenant. Her pulse quickened as she reached for his face, nervous she was taking things too far. Her hand softly grazed his stubble and rested at his jaw. In the near pitch dark she caught herself focusing on the softness of his skin.

Kaidan’s eyes widened, but so did his smile. He let a hand gently trail up her neck, resting at the base of her skull. He applied the slightest gentle pressure as he stroked her scalp, without pulling her in, as he invited her to come closer if she wanted. He was fully prepared for rejection, they were after all in an emergency situation.

Before Kaidan even realized it, her lips locked with his own. There was a moment of tender uncertainty as they tried to find one another’s rhythm. They settled for a slow pace, as they gently explored the expanse of one another’s lips. Shepard liked the way Kaidan’s lips felt on her own, tasting the beer on his breath. He felt almost electric as she gently bit down on his lower lip. The smell of element zero filled her lungs and made her head feel fuzzy. It was unfamiliar to her, but pleasant nonetheless.

Shepard let her free hand dance on Kaidan’s torso, before resting behind a shoulder blade, trying to pull him in closer than their bodies allowed, as their kiss deepened as Kaidan’s tongue momentarily slipped into her mouth. Kaidan propped up his legs to pull Shepard closer. She readjusted herself so she could straddle his lap without breaking the kiss. He let his tongue explore her lips, memorizing their shape, while his hands gripped her waist. His tongue traced the scar that marked both lips and trailed upward.

Shepard pulled away to catch her breath, not realizing how long she was holding it. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she bit her lip, holding back a smile. Kaidan in turn let his head drop back against the seat as he also tried to steady himself, with Shepard still straddling his lap.

Shepard cursed to herself, quietly but against Kaidan’s ear. He turned to her direction, “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Shepard held back a laugh, “No, that’s not it…” She paused as she groaned again in frustration. “I shouldn’t want this.” She poked his chest gingerly. “Ishouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I sh-“ her voice trailed off as she again tapped her forehead against Kaidan’s shoulder in frustration.

Kaidan took a deep breath, “You aren’t taking advantage of me if I also want this, Shepard.” She met his gaze as he ran a finger across her forehead, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear.

They looked at one another for a long while before Shepard finally spoke up, “Karina.”

Kaidan gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Call me Karina.” She felt her pulse in her throat. He just kissed her senseless, why did this somehow feel more intimate? “Any fraternization rules are pretty much out the window now. At least when we’re alone.”

Karina could hear the smile in his tone. “Then you should call me Kaidan.”

“Alright, fair enough Kaidan.” She laughed, feeling another wave of blush rise in her face, but she didn’t make an effort to hide it this time.

Kaidan felt his stomach flip. Something about the way her accent made the syllables roll so softly from her tongue. He really liked hearing his name in her voice and couldn’t wait to hear it again.

Hope you liked it.

[soopersara]

Date

Well... as it turns out, it took a little over a year before I got a chance finish this one, but I got there eventually! @zutaradreams​ has probably forgotten all about this request by now, but I come bearing some very, very belated fluff.

AO3 | FFN

Prompt #18 from this list, originally Day 4 of Zutara Week 2010

When Katara takes a post as ambassador in the Fire Nation, Zuko wants to celebrate her and give their friends a proper sendoff. But their trip to the Equinox Festival doesn’t go quite as he planned.

⁂

"Well, I think that settles it." Katara plopped onto the bench next to him. "We've been ditched."

"Seems like it." Zuko's mouth was dry, and he scuffed his sweaty palms against his trousers.

This was not going according to plan. And technically, it was only half his plan anyway. So it wasn't really his fault that it was all going sideways.

It had been almost three years since they'd all been together in the Fire Nation. Almost three years since he'd had a chance to see Katara for more than a few days in a row, since he'd been able to talk to her outside of letters and political meetings. And the rest of his friends too. Of course he'd missed all of them.

But he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that it was Katara who occupied his thoughts most often.

And now they were back together, all of them, and while the others were preparing to leave in a few days' time, Katara was here to stay. It had nothing to do with him personally. He knew that. The Southern Water Tribe needed an ambassador in the Fire Nation, and Katara was far and away the best candidate. That didn't mean that he wasn't excited to have her back. That certainly didn't mean that his feelings for her had gone away. He was only human, and he liked her very, very much.

It had been Zuko's idea for the group to spend some time together before Sokka and Suki left. It had not been Zuko's idea to go to the Equinox Festival. That had been Sokka's suggestion. More specifically, Sokka had suggested a double date at the festival.

Zuko had tried to protest the idea, he really had. He and Katara were not dating. This couldn't possibly be a date. He just wanted to see his friends again before they left. And spend time with Katara. Mostly spend time with Katara. But not on a date.

Not that he would mind dating Katara. In fact, Zuko would have been delighted to date Katara. But he was fairly certain that Katara didn't feel the same, and Zuko was working very hard to learn how to quit while he was ahead.

But then Sokka had talked a lot and very quickly, and somewhere along the way Zuko must have agreed to the plan because the next thing he knew, he was standing sheepishly outside Katara's door and inviting her to the festival.

He really needed to figure out how Sokka did that. It would make his most crotchety advisors so much easier to deal with.

To Zuko's surprise, Katara had agreed. She even seemed excited about it. And Zuko had begun to hope that the festival might still be the kind of celebration he had pictured. For all of them. But mostly for Katara.

Then Sokka and Suki had ditched them.

He snuck a glance at Katara. She'd taken to wearing deep blue Fire Nation silks sewn in traditional Water Tribe styles. The color, she had informed him, was reserved for warriors at the South Pole, and now that she had earned the right to wear it, she had no intention to ever wear another shade of blue again. Zuko couldn't blame her. She'd more than earned the honor.

But it was a bit of a problem too. She was luminous in her warrior's blue, and it made it exceptionally difficult for Zuko to look away.

"Since we're here anyway," he began, voice rough, "Maybe we should—" He gestured lamely at the festivities.

Agni, why was this so difficult? He spoke in front of his advisors every day, and they were much less pleasant than Katara.

She followed his gaze, then turned back, smiling. "You're right. We definitely should."

⁂

Katara was tempted to tease him. Zuko, the wise and beloved leader of the Fire Nation, who had an impeccable sense of direction honed by years at sea, was completely lost in the middle of a festival in his own city and getting more flustered by the minute.

"I just don't understand! The street performances should be in the theater district. It doesn't make sense to have them anywhere else!" He grew more and more animated, punctuating every point with a broad sweep of his arms.

The impulse won her over. "I don't know about that. I think it would make more sense to put them in the straw-hat district," she deadpanned.

"Why on earth would we put street performances in the—" Zuko met her eyes and stopped short. His brow furrowed, and he made a grumpy little sound. "You're trying to tease me, aren't you?"

Grinning, Katara took hold of his arm. "I'm pretty sure I'm succeeding."

Zuko made another grumpy noise. "For the record, we don't have a straw-hat district. This isn't Ba Sing Se. We're not big enough to be that organized."

"I'm glad," Katara answered, still holding his arm as she kept pace beside him. "It's going to take me enough time to learn my way around as it is."

Zuko's hand rested ever so lightly on top of hers. "I'll make sure you don't get lost."

Katara's heart fluttered. She'd missed him. Exchanging letters was nice, but it was nothing compared to being with him, being able to talk face-to-face. A few peace summits and meetings a year just wasn't enough. But she hadn't expected to find herself alone with him so soon. Not unless it was on official business of some sort.

She suspected that Sokka and Suki had ditched them deliberately, though she couldn't decide whether it was so Katara would be left alone with Zuko, or so that Sokka and Suki could spend some time alone. The latter made more sense, which was exactly why she suspected the former.

She felt her cheeks burn and looked forward. "Good. I wouldn't want to make the Fire Lord's personal guards search the city every time I step out of the palace."

"I'd look for you too if you got lost."

Katara looked up in time to see his warm golden eyes soften. Her grip on his arm tightened just a fraction, and Zuko looked away, clearing his throat.

"And—uh—of course the city makes a lot more sense when the theater district isn't full of koalasheep petting stalls."

Katara laughed. It did look a little odd to see children petting fluffy animals in front of ornate, gold-trimmed theaters, but as far as she could tell, the festival had overtaken the whole city.

"You really had your heart set on finding the street performances, didn't you?"

He reddened. "I was looking forward to it. I heard from the palace staff that there was going to be an outdoor production of Love Amongst the Dragons."

She poked him in the elbow. "I seem to remember you complaining about having to watch that play."

His lips pressed together. "I complained about having to watch that play at Ember Island. It's a good play. The Ember Island Players are just bad."He paused briefly. "I guess we're not going to find out if this one is any good if I can't figure out where it is."

"Too bad you're in your fancy Fire Lord clothes. Otherwise you could climb up on one of these buildings to get a better view." She snuck a sideways glance at him. "Or does that only work when you have your mask with you?"

He scowled. "Very funny."

"You're grumpy," Katara observed, smiling.

He frowned. "I am not."

"Grumpy because we're missing a play."

"I'm not."

"You're the grumpiest."

She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Stop."

"Fire Lord Grump."

He made a valiant effort at scowling but gave in when she laughed and hugged his arm.

"I'm not grumpy, Katara." The smile was evident in his voice, and when she looked up, the soft warmth was back in his eyes.

Her stomach did a pleasant little flip. "See, now I believe you." She let her head rest briefly against his shoulder. It felt good to be close to him again. Tugging him forward, she wound her way up the street, past a cluster of children ogling a pen full of moo-sows and the parents watching from a few steps back, past a tall woman giving another group of children an impassioned lecture about the gentle nature of komodo rhinos while holding one by the bridle.

Zuko fell in step beside her, following her lead, still wearing that small, soft smile whenever she glanced back at him.

Katara gave his arm a light squeeze. "Do they perform Love Amongst the Dragons very often? Maybe we could see it some other time." She motioned toward yet another petting stall. "When the theater district isn't full of moo-sows and koalasheep."

He reddened a little, but this time, it was softened by the warmth in his eyes, by the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm sure we could. If you want to."

She felt something warm inside her. "Deal."

⁂

Her hands stayed steady on his arm, a gentle line of connection between the two of them. He softened into it. He liked the contact with her, the sensation that felt almost like tenderness.

She was just making sure that they didn't get separated. Zuko knew that. That didn't make his heart beat any slower or his face feel any less warm.

He cleared his throat and looked ahead. He was a grown man. The Fire Lord. He shouldn't be blushing so much just from the sensation of Katara's hand looped around his arm.

They wound their way past the last of the animal pens and up to the next street, where a wave of aroma washed over them. Spices and cooking meat and sweets—every type of food he could think of mixed into a single, heady aroma.

Katara groaned, and her grip tightened on his arm.

He looked down at her. "Katara? Are you okay?"

She looked up at him, her lower lip jutting out a bit. For all that she'd grown, for all that she was more graceful and mature than he remembered, she could still manage the most adorable pout he'd ever seen.

"I just realized that I'm starving." She eyed the food stands ahead. "Possibly to death."

He couldn't hold back a snort. "Somehow I doubt that last part. I've seen you sneaking into the palace kitchens in the middle of the night.

A finger found its way into his ribs. "Only because you were sneaking around too. I'll have you know that I'm very sneaky about my midnight snacks."

He rolled his eyes and poked her arm back. "The sneakiest. That must be why I hear you walking past my door both ways every single time." He paused, turning his eyes down the street again. "Though you are a lot sneakier than Sokka, I'll give you that much."

"So generous." Her head swiveled from side to side, eyes wide as she examined all the carts and stalls and trays of fried snacks stacked into ornamental spires and pyramids and spirals. "What do you recommend? I don't even know what most of this stuff is."

Zuko gave his best thoughtful face. "Well, my favorite are always the fire flakes—" He cut off with a laugh when she jabbed her elbow into his side.

"Something I can eat. I'm a waterbender. I'm not supposed to breathe fire after I finish a snack."

"Wimp."

"Says the man who couldn't eat a pickled eel squid when he visited the South Pole last time." She smiled up at him, and Zuko's heart sped up. "I mean it. What's the best thing here that isn't so spicy that it'll burn me from the inside out?"

He considered. There were kabobs of different types of meat, all richly marinated, and several of them probably too spicy for Katara's liking. There were savory buns packed with spices, and dumplings smothered in peppery broth. And fire flakes, of course. She wouldn't like any of those. But everything else seemed equally likely. Stopping in place, he scanned the booths. There had to be something that would blow her away. Something more special than the cakes and pastries she was always stealing from the palace kitchens, sometimes to deliver to him, and sometimes not.

Something special enough to make up for the play she wouldn't get a chance to see tonight. Something special enough for her.

A smile crept over his face, and he cupped his hand over hers. "Wait here for just a minute. I think I know exactly what you'll like."

⁂

Katara waited. Not because she wanted to—she had her own money, and she was perfectly capable of picking out her own snacks. But Zuko had darted off through the crowd so quickly that she didn't really have a chance to stop him, and the crowd was so thick, so bustling, that she was a little afraid of getting lost if she moved too far from where he'd left her. Though she'd grown, she still wasn't tall enough to see over the crowd, and Zuko, though tall, wasn't so absurdly tall that he stood out from the rest of the crowd.

She was a tiny bit apprehensive. She trusted Zuko, of course, but he was almost too excited, and he really didn't understand how terribly spicy Fire Nation food could be. He didn't know that some of the milder treats that he'd sent along with his messages while she was still at the South Pole had given Gran-Gran an upset stomach or that Sokka had taken the spicier treats and challenged the rest of the warriors to an eating contest that left them all in tears. Of course, Katara's tolerance was considerably higher than Gran-Gran's, but she didn't want to accidentally make a fool of herself. She was enjoying her time with Zuko too much.

Only a few minutes passed before Zuko emerged from the crowd again, beaming, his eyes crinkled in joy and excitement. He held a small paper pouch between his hands and stopped a few steps away from her.

"Close your eyes."

Katara raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"I'm not sure I trust that smirk." She stretched upward, and Zuko raised the pouch so she couldn't see inside.

"Uh-uh. No peeking or you'll ruin the surprise. Eyes closed."

Katara made a face. "Fine. But if you're trying to feed me fire flakes, I will blow stinky spice-breath in your face."

"Noted. Now open your mouth."

She obeyed, and she felt Zuko come closer by the soft, ever-present heat radiating off of him. She wanted to lean even closer, to rest against his chest and get lost somewhere in his arms.

Zuko popped something small and dense onto her tongue. "Okay. Try it."

Almost the instant she closed her mouth, she was hit by a rush of salty, sour tang, and her eyes popped open. It was chewy, whatever it was, and the outside encrusted with a thin layer of crispiness. As she chewed, the sharpest edge of the flavor wore away, softening into a sweet, mild taste.

"What is this?" she asked, staring at Zuko, wide-eyed. It was a bit like some kind of dried fruit, but it wasn't a type of fruit that she recognized, and the slight hint of salt remained as she chewed, and she could have sworn that she knew the flavor from something, but it was just different enough that she couldn't place it.

"Do you like it?"

She nodded. Whatever that thing was, it was wonderful.

Zuko's smile grew. "Candied ocean kumquats. I remembered that your family ate them stewed when you were all in the Fire Nation, because—"

"Because they're just like sea prunes."

Zuko nodded. "I don't really get the appeal of stewing them, but the candied ones are pretty popular."

Katara couldn't keep her smile from growing wider and wider until it felt like her face would crack. The candied ocean kumquats tasted good enough on their own, but Zuko had chosen them just for her, and he knew her well enough to know that she'd like them, and he was right, and—she reached up and snatched the paper pouch from his hand. If she didn't do something quick, she was going to be in very real danger of kissing him.

"Just for that stewed sea prune blasphemy, I'm taking the whole bag."

"Hey!" he protested. "I didn't say they were bad. Just—slimy."

Grinning, Katara popped another little candied kumquat into her mouth and spun out of his reach. "I'm keeping them. All of them."

Zuko seemed to catch her teasing tone and caught up with her in just a few steps. "Give me one."

"Why should I?" She gave a little sniff and held the pouch out to the other side. "You called my favorite food slimy."

One of his long arms snaked around her, and Katara yelped, pulling the pouch in against her chest.

Laughing, she ducked under his arm and stepped back a few paces. "You'll have to fight me for them, Fire Lord." She folded the top of the pouch shut and dangled it out at arms' length.

"Are you sure you want to challenge me? I'm taller than you. I can reach wherever you try to hide them."

"You may be taller, but I'm hungry, and a very nice man just bought a snack for me." She opened the top of the pouch again, just enough to slip out another piece of candied kumquat between her fingertips.

Zuko took that as his chance to lunge, and caught her by the waist, lifting her off the ground.

Katara couldn't stop laughing. Through the irrepressible fits of giggling, she saw him laughing too. Her heart fluttered. How had she forgotten how wonderful his laugh was? It was rare, but every time she'd ever heard his laugh unweighted by stress, every fiber of her being lit up along with him. His arms around her waist were warm and strong, and being pressed against his chest was every bit as perfect as her imagination had suggested. She would be perfectly content to stay pressed up against him forever.

Smiling, he came to a halt, and holding her with one arm, grabbed the pouch with the other. "Got them," he said quietly, not pulling the pouch away from her.

His breath brushed against her cheek, and she realized anew how close he was, his face only inches away. In fact, with the way he was holding her, with her feet dangling a few inches from the ground, she was perfectly level with him. So close that if she just leaned in—

Her lips crashed into his, and she saw Zuko's eyes widen for the briefest moment before she closed her eyes. She'd kissed before. Not often, and not with many people, but this one felt different. There wasn't fluttering or uncertainty, there was no feeling that she was going to lift off the ground and float off into the sky. This felt like landing. This felt like reaching shore after weeks at sea, like her feet on solid ground after flying away from danger. This felt like home.

She only pulled away when Zuko's grip on her waist slackened enough that her feet touched the ground, and she stared up at him, breathless. Zuko's face had gone crimson—even his scar looked a shade darker than usual, and his eyes were wide.

"You—you just—"

"Did something I've been thinking about for a long time?"

"You did? You have?"

Katara smiled and pulled the pouch of candied ocean kumquats out of his loose grasp. "And I think I won these back." She dangled the pouch in front of him again.

Zuko kept gaping at her for a few seconds longer.

She looped her free hand through his. "Did I break the Fire Lord too?"

"Maybe." He looked down at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. "Definitely a little bit."

"Hmm." She squeezed his hand and turned for the food stalls again. "In that case, I'm going to have to have you point out your favorite food in this whole place, and it'll be my treat."

"And if I say that it's fire flakes?"

She leaned a little closer to him as a cluster of people pressed past them down the path. "Then it might be a little while longer before I try that kissing thing again." She snuck a glance up at him through her lashes.

His mouth curled into a slight smile, and he returned the pressure on her hand. "Then I think I can handle finding another favorite."

[thegoodprincess]

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 2

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.1k [series, ongoing]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence [a stabbing occurs]

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

(I recommend listening to this song while reading)

Together We are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 2. Fate

“Fate has a funny way of intervening in people’s lives.” ― Katie Ashley

It was a few months later in the dead of winter when I was walking near the Han River. Due to the icy temperatures the river was partially frozen. The ground surrounding it was coated in a fresh blanket of snow that came down earlier in the day. A chilly breeze nipped at the tender flesh of my cheek, causing an involuntary shiver to rake down my spine.

Sighing out my condensed breath formed a cloud that mingled with the crisp air. I glanced up at the sky. Overhead the pale moon glowed bright, illuminating the night sky against the backdrop of countless glittery stars. Looking around I stood alone admiring the the way the shadows created by the city lights flitted across the pavement. It was quiet, not eerily so, but in a way that emphasized the bare stillness of wintertime. Most people were at home presumably getting ready to go to sleep as it was fairly late.

I was waiting for my next patron to arrive: a man who was going to be murdered during a robbery gone wrong. This was a common occurrence for me. I was one of many angels of death. I was not a malevolent force. I did not decide who lived and who died, and how the act itself was carried out. I simply collected the souls of the fallen and escorted them to the afterlife.

It was bittersweet condoling the newly deceased once they realized their predicament. I would allow them to say their last goodbyes to loved ones and others they deemed fit before they departed into the light. But it was harrowing having to witness death first hand and being strictly forbid from interfering.

I had seen countless people perish a variety of ways. I had seen it all from natural deaths having to do with diseases or natural processes like aging, to accidental deaths like car fatalities. Suicides and homicides were some of the worst. While death was inevitable, loss of life done by the hands of oneself or by another wasn’t. There always lied a choice, humans just choose to be masters of their own and sometimes other’s destinies.

While I was a creation of purity, I had been become well acquainted with grief. It was almost as if I was stuck in an endless cycle; each time the metaphorical wound was healed it was being habitually ripped open. In the grand scheme of things it was woefully the one major downside of the duty. Tonight would be no different. I would again begrudgingly be a bystander to yet another fateful demise.

As if on cue an older man adorn in designer clothing came into view, walking cautiously with shifting eyes assessing his surroundings. His shoulders were tensed and his pace was quick as he shuffled across the sidewalk. He looked genuinely frightened as if he was paranoid that someone was following him, and I guess he wasn’t wrong.

Then seemingly from the shadows a man wearing a black ski mask and gloves appeared from behind some foliage. He snuck up and roughly grabbed the older gentleman from behind with gloved hands, startling him.

The two men fought for a short while until the masked man managed to get his forearm around the older gentleman’s neck. He began to strangle him. However, I don’t think the masked man’s intent was to maliciously murder him. Rather he was meaning to strangle the older man to the point of him passing out. This would ensure that the masked man could steal his wallet without the risk of being followed and potentially caught.

But nevertheless, the masked man exerted lethal pressure for way longer than necessary to the elder’s neck. The older man’s knees began to buckle and his struggling became less erratic. Regardless of the older gentleman involuntarily becoming compliant, the masked man had yet to let up his hold on him. The older gentleman’s arms dangled limply at his sides. He was dying.

Just then a third party came into view. I was bewildered as I wasn’t expecting anyone else to show up. A young man with a bag slung over his shoulder was inching closer and closer, until his face came into view. He seemed vaguely familiar, the distance between us was making it hard to distinguish certain features.

Then almost instantly I recognized him. It was the boy whose face I had found to be bewitching. He was indelibly engrained into my memory. While I had stopped secretly hoping to catch a serendipitous glimpse of him when I was out, there hadn’t been a day that went by where I didn’t wonder what he was doing, who he was with, or if he even frequented the same places.

He still looked the same dressed smartly in a white turtleneck, tan trousers, wool trench coat, and tartan print scarf. It was apparent that the overcast winter weather had subtly lightened his complexion by a few shades. The only significant difference about him was his hair. His once dark locks had been dyed to a golden blonde hue. In addition to the new color, the parting of his hair now showcased his entire forehead.

Regardless of the butterflies that had erupted in my abdomen from seeing him again, the feeling dissipated all too soon as my stomach sunk. There had never been a greater time where I wished he hadn’t show up, especially considering the circumstances of this situation.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

My veins ran cold, as if the very ice water of the river before us, coursed through them. Every hair on the back of my neck rose on end. I silently prayed he would turn around back in the direction he came from and not involved himself. But I was sorely mistaken. He stopped in his tracks, witnessing the killing of the elder. Swiftly dropping his bag, he ran over to help.

What ensued caused me to let out an audible gasp. The boy threw a hard punch and was able to stun the masked man momentarily, as the criminal fell to the ground. Assuming the masked man to be knocked out, the boy then attempted to help the older man who fell to his knees gasping for breath. Crouching down, the boy pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. But his attempt was short lived.

Rising from his place on the ground a bit disoriented, the robber fumbled around in his front coat pocket and hastily pulled out a small pistol rashly pointing it at the pair with a quivering hand. The older gentleman cowered low behind the younger boy, almost as if he was using him as a shield. The boy’s arms immediately came up to surrender, remaining perfectly still. The gunman agitated at the boy’s heroics fixed his aim directly to the boy’s chest. He was purposely planning to deliver a fatal shot to his heart. All to quickly the gun shot’s sound reverberated off the concrete. I could only watch in horror.

In that moment the world seemed to turn upside down. My mind was reeling. I felt dizzy, bile crept up into my throat while all I felt was I was my heart slamming against my ribcage. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet exited the barrel of the gun. Naturally the boy screwed his eyes shut while he tensed his entire body, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. A second later he flinched backwards.

Shortly after the deafening crack of the bullet penetrated my eardrums, I squinted my eyes to check where the boy had been shot. To my relief the middle of his chest was still intact, but a bright red substance began to slowly spread from his shoulder region and seep down into the area where his heart lay beating. The gunman had indeed missed his intended target, and instead shot clean through the boy’s left shoulder. The boy’s facial expression twisted into a state of confusion, shocked at what had just occurred. I assumed the adrenaline numbed his senses, altering his frame of mind.

The older gentlemen looked like he wanted to help but he remained unmoving still afraid to come out from behind the boy. The gunman tried to shoot again but to some miracle his trigger jammed. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, the older man quickly abandoned the boy, scurrying off without looking back. But the boy was too weak to follow, he remained holding his shoulder nearly doubled over. The pain was beginning to set in.

In an effort to make due with the boy, the gunman reached into his interior coat pocket to withdraw his hand holding an odd black object. It was revealed to be a switchblade when he subtlety flicked his wrist and the blade sprung out. Since the older man escaped on the boy’s behalf, the masked man felt it was only fair the boy be robbed instead. The boy assessing the situation held out one of his hands as if to plead for mercy. A pained grimace painted his pretty face.

Then I saw the boy’s lips begin to move. The two appeared to be exchanging words. I felt petrified, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their voices came out distorted, sounding more like unintelligible mumbles than any actual language. It was as though they were talking underwater.

In a last ditch attempt to save himself from further harm, I saw the boy slowly reach into his back pocket with his good hand and pull out his wallet. He dangled the wallet in front him to show the criminal before he chucked it into the snow at the criminal’s feet, hoping this would satisfy the man.

The man hastily grabbed the wallet off the ground and excitedly opened it to reveal its contents. But his smile soon faltered, boiling anger brewing in his eyes instead.

Originally it seemed he didn’t intended to stab the boy after already shooting him in a fit of blind rage, the knife was just the extra assurance he needed to intimidate the boy into cooperating. But the boy stuck his nose in business that didn’t concern him and ultimately costed the masked man.

Not only did the boy escalate the situation and cause the victim he purposely targeted to get away, but the masked man wasted time and energy grappling with the boy which increased the likelihood of him being seen and or arrested by the authorities. He went through all that troublesome effort and for what? Some chump change he could have easily pickpocketed off someone on the subway. He was throughly pissed.

The criminal was going to teach the boy a lesson. Taking the measly amount of bills out, he hurled what remained of the wallet back into the snow. He stalked closer to the boy ready to attack with a sadistic smirk.

Slowly the boy began taking small steps backwards subconsciously putting distance between him and the impending danger. Unfortunately he was unknowingly inching closer to the water.

But all hell broke loose when the boy accidentally slipped on some dangerously slick ice that caused him to lose his balance. He then clumsily stumbled backwards and plunged into the frigid water of the river, breaking through the ice in the process.

The gunman realizing the gravity of the situation, almost instantly snapped out of his aggressive trance-like state and stood there with a blank expression. It was then that he began to visibly panic, nervously looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed what had just happened. He apprehensively neared the edge of the river and looked as though he was debating whether to help the boy or not. But he knew if he did, it would only further incriminate him.

Deciding to conceal his involvement in tonight’s events, he plucked the jammed gun and wallet from the snow and hurriedly planted the two respective items by the river’s edge.

The gunman made it appear as though the boy had committed suicide by first shooting himself and then falling into the river. He subsequently raked his feet sloppily over the snow in a back and forth motion to disguise his shoe prints. Once he was pleased enough with his work, he bolted off fleeing the scene.

Quickly wrenching myself from my deep stupor, I rushed over without taking a second to assess the severity of my actions and immediately jumped in to rescue the boy.

[dalgikiss]

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 11

Iwaizumi wonders if there really is such a thing as ‘best of both worlds’, watching the volleyball bounce off of Hanamaki’s forearms.  

If there is, he thinks it’s in another universe- one where he could hang out with his friends and his girlfriend at the same time, laughter shared between all of them like a bag of his favorite chips and late movie nights that resulted in the rewatching of Tangled or Godzilla for the hundredth time while Matsukawa fell asleep on your lap and Ryuoko wasn’t busy trying to convince Iwaizumi to ditch them all. 

In this universe, however, the ‘best of both worlds’ seems more like a dream, an unattainable goal but he’d much rather eat glass than give up trying. 

He misses the ball, snapping out of his reverie when it bounces off the tips of his shoes and decides to sit out for the rest of the practice game when it almost hits him in the face. 

Oikawa later wonders if he should bring up Past Iwaizumi’s confession-that-wasn’t-a-confession to Present Iwaizumi and after watching Iwaizumi miss the ball again for the third time in a row, he decides he will.  

x.

Matsukawa sits next to Iwaizumi after practice on the locker room bench, towel draped over his head and waits. 

Iwaizumi’s apology is swift, “Sorry about the shit performance back there, got a lot on my mind lately” 

“Wanna talk about it?” Matsukawa asks, not really expecting an answer. Iwaizumi was the type of guy to keep his problems to himself, the only visible sign of stress shown is how much more easily frustrated he got over trivial things. 

Iwaizumi glances at the blue towel wrapped around Matsukawa’s head before tilting his head back to look at the dirty ceiling. 

“If your girlfriend asked you to choose between her or someone you loved, what would you do?”

“Damn, she asked you that? I always knew Ryuko was a bitch but-”

Iwaizumi gives him a pointed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, not my place”

“Anyways, if I was in your place,” Matsukawa continues, “I’d probably find a way to get her to compromise, unless she’s asking me to choose because of a dumb reason”

A dumb reason? 

Was this a dumb reason? 

Matsukawa lets out a groan as he stands up, feeling his sore muscles protest and iwaizumi is vaguely reminded of his dad for some strange reason. The blue towel that was originally on Matsukawa is placed over Iwaizumi, covering his eyes. 

Before he can protest, Matsukawa’s speaking again and iwaizumi is glad his face is hidden behind the slightly damp towel. 

“Is it because of [name]?”

Matsukawa begins to walk away, the sweaty shirt beginning to stick to his chest uncomfortably. “She’s been staying away from you so Ryuoko doesn’t get mad. Do what you will with that information” 

The slam of the locker doors accompanied by the sound of Matsukawa almost catching Hanamaki’s fingers in the process is the only sound that faintly reminds Iwaizumi he has to also get dressed but it’s only when Oikawa smacks his back that he decides to move. 

The walk home is the same as ever, Oikawa goading reactions out of Hanamaki and Matsukawa and it’s almost like nobody notices the mood that Iwaizumi’s in if you didn’t catch the worried glances each one of them cast to his brooding form. 

It’s only after Hanamaki and Matsukawa have left first after their stop at the convenience store that Oikawa says something to him. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles and them you’ll be even uglier than usual”

Iwaizumi doesn’t even have energy to retort, a deeper frown setting on his face. With a sigh, Oikawa picks up his pace and stops right in front of his sulking friend. 

“Yo, mov-”

“Talk to me”

It’s not the same Oikawa Iwaizumi’s used to seeing- the one that once flirted with the entire teaching staff and had them wrapped in his finger, the one that had more than half the school’s population and then some vying for his attention- no, this was the one that bared its fangs at his nearest opponent, the one that was sneaky, silent and waiting in the shadows. 

“I said, ‘talk to me’” 

He folds his arms across his chest, staring into Oikawa’s eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about” and it takes all of Oikawa’s strength not to take a page out of Iwaizumi’s book and smack the back of his head. 

Instead he clears his throat and moves back to the side, letting the both of them continue their walk home- at least that’s what Iwaizumi thought.

He’s jerked in the opposite direction of where they’re supposed to go, his legs struggling to keep up when Oikawa begins to run and the park where they used to spend their summer days and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other without tripping over himself.

“Sit” Oikawa commands, practically throwing him onto the sandy floor and he wants to tell Oikawa he’s crazy, our uniforms are going to get dirty But the look on Oikawa’s face makes Iwaizumi decide not to argue. 

He lies on the ground, body relaxing into the floor without another protest with Oikawa following suit. It’s slightly cold, Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he folds his arms behind his head, but it’s comforting. 

It’s getting late, the last of the sun’s rays stretching as far as they could with their best efforts to light up the sky but the two of them don't move, even when the light is long gone and the street lamps have turned on and the silence between the two of them stays.

It’s Oikawa who breaks it first and the sentence makes Iwaizumi take a sharp breath. 

“Remember when you liked [name]?”

“Shut the fuck up”

“I’m being serious” Oikawa rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to watch Iwaizumi’s expression. “What happened?”

Iwaizumi sighs, a deep breath released from him and he let his eyes fall shut. “Nothing happened, it never did”

“Is that why you took Ryuoko’s confession?” 

“Yeah”

It hurts, he realizes, looking back. The fleeting moments he thought that something, even the smallest thing gave him hope that you perhaps liked him back- from the first time you grabbed his hand in the middle of some scary movie to how you laughed at even the smallest jokes he said. 

He stares at the sky, eyes fogging over. “I can’t keep waiting for someone that may just never like me back” 

It was easier back then, before Ryuoko was introduced into their lives, when his brain only thought of you. It was always for you, from the shirt he decided to wear in the morning to the brand of body wash he used because you had casually mentioned that Iwaizumi smelled the best out of the four smelly boys you spent all your time with. 

The day Ryuoko confessed outside by the giant Gingko tree outside of the back entrance, it had rained right after Iwaizumi accepted it, as though the skies had cried when they heard him accept it and they had raced back inside, her hand in his, laughing over their damp hair and wet clothes. 

He pretended to like her sharp nails and her too-hot palms that hold on to his and makes it feel like his hands are overheating, convincing himself he would grow comfortable, grow used to it and it still takes him a few seconds to remember not to pull away when it’s her, not you. 

He shivers slightly when the wind blows, picking up bits of sand and gravel that swirl on the ground and Iwaizumi takes it as a sign to go home. He stands up, shaking off his pants and holding his hand out to Oikawa’s who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a long time. 

“Let’s go home, it’s cold”

Oikawa grips his hand in his, letting himself be pulled off the floor to start their walk home. Before they separate, Oikawa grips Iwaizumi’s wrist in his hand, brusingly hard. 

“You should have waited a little longer”

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎃 Frightful October Act IX, #26 ~ Howl (Yongguk Bang)

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Supernatural, Romance, Fluff, Werewolf AU

Word Count: 2,484

Pairing: Reader x Yongguk

World: B.A.P

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

When you were thirteen-years-old, your parents planned a camping trip as a last-ditch effort to save their failing marriage. They did their best to act like everything was all fine and dandy around you, but you weren’t stupid. You heard their hushed arguments when they thought you were sleeping. You noticed how your mom started going to work early and staying late so she didn’t have to be around her husband. You noticed the sadness in your dad’s eyes when he smiled at you.

You knew that everything was breaking apart around you, but there was nothing you could do, especially when they were adamant that everything was fine. It was beyond frustrating.

Your mother cleared her throat from the passenger seat, turning around to look at you. “Are you excited, Y/N? The Autumn trees are supposed to be gorgeous! It’s a full moon tonight, too, so there will be plenty of light.”

You knew how hard your parents were trying for your sake so you forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m hoping to get a lot of nice pictures,” you tapped the camera sitting on the seat beside you.

Your dad glanced in the rearview mirror before turning his gaze back to the road. “Let’s make some good memories this weekend.” You could hear the words he didn’t speak out loud, ‘Because this will probably be the last time we’re all together.’

The car got silent after that. You lent your head on the cool glass, watching as orange and brown streaked by the car.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

You pushed yourself up with a sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. You had been trying so hard to sleep, but the hushed arguing coming from your parent’s tent made it impossible. ‘I’m so tired of this. I just want a moment of peace.’

You slipped on your jacket, grabbed your camera and put on your boots before stepping out into the chilly night. You made no effort to be quiet, but your parents were too busy arguing to pay attention to the crunching of fallen leaves as you walked away from camp.

The full moon was high in the sky, illuminating the darkness around you. It was so large and looked so close, like you could reach out and touch it. Several trees were bare, their leaves scattered across the dirt below. Crickets were chirping in the distance, pausing their song only when there was a gust of wind. It was so peaceful, so beautiful. You easily got lost in the serenity of the nature that surrounded you, taking pictures of anything that caught your eye.

As the night slowly dragged on, the temperature started to drop, the cold wind penetrating your jacket and making your body shiver. You thought now would be a good time to return to camp, but you had no idea where you were or what direction was which. You pulled out your phone, but there was no signal and the cold was quickly draining the battery.

With a heavy sigh, you fell against a thick tree, one whose leaves were not affected by the cold, and you slid down to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest in a vain attempt to keep yourself warm.

The bushes rustled in front of you, followed by a deep growl.

Your body tensed up, eyes widening as a ginormous wolf stepped out of the bushes. It was easily larger than a great dane, it’s body full of muscle and thick fur the color of dark chocolate. Its eyes were a piercing gold, full of knowledge and age, and they were staring straight into your own.

You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep the fear from reaching your voice. “I-It’s okay, boy. I’m not here to hurt you. I… I got lost in the woods, I promise I mean you no harm.”

He regarded you curiously, tilting his head to the side as his ears flicked. He was sizing you up, determining if you posed a threat. He stepped forward, his large paws snapping branches as he moved closer. You were terrified of this creature, but something deep down told you that he wasn’t going to hurt you. He had a calming aura about him and you felt your body relaxing on its own. His large muzzle lowered to your hand, gripping the sleeve of your jacket between his sharp teeth before giving a tug.

Carefully, you brought yourself to your feet, not wanting to make any sudden movements. He started through the bushes, pausing to look back at you until you started to follow. Following a giant wolf through the middle of the woods in the middle of the night probably wasn’t your brightest achievement, but at the time, it felt like your only option for survival.

The wolf led you to a small clearing. On the left was a tall rock that towered above the earth before curving outward, providing the small indent with a roof. As you approached, five wolf heads lifted into the sky, their noses twitching as your scent reached them on the breeze. As the brown wolf started toward them, a sense of urgency overcame you.

‘I… have to take a picture of this,’ as fast as lightning, you lifted the viewfinder to your eye, snapping a picture of the wolves. All of them turned to stare at you, their golden eyes shining under the moonlight. You swallowed hard, unable to move. Would they take this as an act of aggression and attack?

The brown wolf huffed before turning around to get behind you, pushing his head against your back until you started to move toward the cave. Your heart hammered loudly in your chest and you wondered if they were planning on eating you.

The wolves, all brilliant shades of brown and black, started to shift until there was a bare spot on the ground. You glanced back at the brown would, who nodded. Moving slowly so as not to startle them, you stepped over long limbs and thick tails, and settled down onto the spot, the rock warm.

One by one, the wolves start to shift closer to you, their bodies like heaters as they pressed in on your body. The brown wolf settled down behind you, using his teeth to pull you backward by the jacket until you were lying against his large body. You turned onto your side and hesitantly reached a hand out toward his head. His golden eyes locked with your own, but his head didn’t shift from its perch on his large paws. Your fingers gently brushed through his fur. It was soft against your skin.

Your eyes started to grow heavy, breath evening out as sleep claimed you.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

Your parents found you the next morning with the help of the forest ranger service. You woke up alone in the cave, still surrounded by warmth. At first, the only thing you could think about was the pack of wolves that had shown you such kindness, mercy, and trust, but when you noticed your parents holding hands, that became your sole focus. That night, they had learned what was truly important to them – all of you being together and alive.

It was like their love had been revived.

They stopped fighting over everything and, even though it took some time, the wounds between them started to heal. For the first time in years, the three of you were a family again.

Four Years Later

You stifled a yawn as you exited the school. Even though it was the third week of October, it was sweltering outside. The sun was shining brightly against a clear, blue sky and you hated it. The heat made you tired and sweaty and you hated it.

An arm was slung around your shoulder, bringing you against a warm body, to which you groaned uncomfortably. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”

You met the dark eyes of your best friend, Jackson, who was pouting as you shoved his arm off of you. “S’hot,” you muttered.

“Why yes, I am hot, thanks for noticing~” he wiggled his eyebrows as you deadpanned. “The gang is going camping this weekend. Wanna come?”

The thought of being stuffed into a tent with another human being in this ungodly heat didn’t appeal to you in the slightest. “No thanks.”

“You’re no fun!” he stomped his foot dramatically and you just shrugged, walking away.

Your parents had gone on a month-long cruise to celebrate their anniversary, so you had the house to yourself. You stifled a yawn, throwing your bag on the bed and rifling through the dresser for some shorts and a tank top. At the very bottom of the drawer was a photograph, but you didn’t remember putting one in there. Curious, you pulled it out from under a pair of jeans that you haven’t worn in years and examined it.

‘It’s the picture of those wolves,’ your thumb lightly rubbed over the brown wolf. Only half of his body had been captured in the shot, but his eyes were staring directly at the camera as if he had expected you to take their picture. You missed him, and your heart suddenly started to ache with longing. ‘I wonder… are those wolves still in those woods? Would they remember me?’

Chewing on your bottom lip thoughtfully, you pulled out your phone and texted Jackson, letting him know that you had changed your mind. After packing what you’d need for the three-day trip, you set the picture on top before zipping up the backpack.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

“Ow!”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Jackson hopping on one foot while he held the other. His face was twisted in pain. Seojin rolled her eyes at his over-dramatics and continued to set up the bright orange tent. There were five of you spending the weekend camping – Jackson and his cousin Seojin, Max and Jun, and yourself. You had lucked out in getting a tent all to yourself. Originally, Yumi was supposed to be joining you, but her brother woke up sick and she couldn’t make it.

You felt bad for her because you knew how psyched she had been for the trip, but you were also thankful for not having to share a tent. You hadn’t come on the trip to have fun though. Your only goal was seeking out the wolves that had saved your life and your parent’s marriage all those years ago. You were yearning to see the brown wolf, so much so that you almost stomped off into the woods in the middle of the day. Of course, Jackson saw you and asked what you were doing. You didn’t want to be followed, so you forced yourself to wait.

Night finally fell, but Jackson was a night owl and it took him much longer than the others to finally go to sleep. With careful steps, you headed into the forest. It was hot as hell, even with the sun gone from the sky, and it wasn’t long before sweat started to roll down your face. You didn’t even know where you were going, you just let your feet carry you, hoping to see that beautiful wolf once more.

Crickets were chirping loudly, an owl hooting in the distance every few minutes.

You leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, your breathing labored from the heat and the sheer lack of your athletic ability. ‘This is hopeless. There’s no way they’re still here.’

With a disappointed sigh, you turned to go back the way you came, only to realize that you were lost again. You trudged through the woods, muttering under your breath about how much of a bad idea this had been. You saw a break in the trees and headed for it, hoping it was camp. Your eyes widened as the rock formation came into view, but the small indent in the rock was empty. You slowly approached, lifting up the image of the wolves.

Your eyes slid closed as you tried to remember that day. You could feel their warmth, the softness of their fur, the coldness of their noses against your skin, and… the look that the brown wolf kept giving you. Even now, you didn’t know what emotion lingered in those eyes, but you remembered it well. You missed them so much.

“You seem sad.”

You whipped around, eyes locking with a man’s. He was tall and thin, but you could see his toned stomach when the wind kicked up his loose white shirt. A few strands of hair fell over his brown eyes, which bore into your own with a warmth you had never experienced before.

The man smiled softly as he approached, his long fingers grasping at the hand that tightly held the photograph. His eyes never strayed from yours and you swallowed hard, feeling your heart rate increase. This man held a familiar aura, but you were sure that you had never met him before.

He reached out his other hand, gently brushing away the hair that clung to your sweaty forehead. He leaned in, his plump lips brushing the shell of your ear as his warm breath fanned over your neck. “You’ve finally come home, my queen.”

Your knees turned to jelly at his husky voice and your body fell against his firm chest, his arms around your body. Behind him, five men stepped into the clearing from the tree line. They flickered in your mind between man and wolf and you rubbed at your eyes.  He gently took hold of your chin, forcing your face up. Your cheeks burned as your eyes flickered to his lips, wanting nothing more than to feel them against yours.

‘What… is happening to me?’ you didn’t understand. Normally, if a man approached you in the forest in the dead of night, you would have kept your distance, yet here you were, pressing your body farther against his. Your body felt like it was on fire, your mind hazy. The feeling of his strong arms around your body, his scent of fresh earth after the rain, it was driving you crazy.

He chuckled, his sharp canine tugging at your bottom lip. You didn’t hesitate to close the distance, throwing your arms around his neck to bring him closer as your lips moved in synch. The five men jumped into the air, their bodies shifting to wolves as they did so. They ran around the two of you at full speed before stopping and howling at the moon.

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You tugged at his hair, hearing a deep, guttural growl from within his chest before his canines sank into your flesh, easily breaking the skin as he branded you as his own. You gasped in pain and pleasure, nails digging into the back of his neck.

───── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ─────

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 26 – Hand of Icarus

Once his decision was made, 3rd Elder could reach the rendezvous in no time.

Or rather, he managed to near the rendezvous.

Or rather, his decision was on standby for a final revision.

Here he was, to meet the Union agent whose allegiance shared the same goal as that of Helga.

However, as his destination drew closer, he could not define his own heart. He could not define his own heart’s desire.

What am I doing here?

Why am I here?

What is it that I really want?

When he was composing a list of potential cleaner running a shutdown tour of Crombell’s facilities, as requested by Lunark, he intentionally omitted Helga’s name.

He figured he would be able to plan Union’s come-back with her, if she had terminated her loyalty to Crombell (given that he would be able to reason with her to join forces).

As the orange-haired agent pointed out during their actual encounter, it has been a while since he had last donned the cloak of a Union elder.

But that did not mean he had forgotten Union’s purpose and his own identity.

When he was typing up the list in his room, he could swear he did not feel like giving up on Union at all.

However, as he was half-forced to regularly supply organic resources to Frankenstein’s island, he could feel shifts in his world, his view, and his thoughts.

Union. Elder. Modified human.

Those had long become his identities – replacements of his birth name.

As he came to walk among ordinary humans in ordinary world, however, he could feel his values melting away.

Experiment. Body modification. Apex of the world.

The very values he oh-so-dogmatically believed to be the stairway to the rise of mankind melted away like salt dipped in water.

He has scolded himself to snap out of it a number of times.

To his dismay, the dam of his heart was long cracked, and the one question that sprinkled through his broken dam ultimately flooded his entire heart.

What if......?

His body perhaps affected by a complex concoction of questions and doubts, 3rd Elder could realize a tad later that he got sidetracked, far from the point he wanted himself to be at.

He found himself in midst of busy streets, teeming with people despite the hours.

A couple that could at last make some time to enjoy a date, after endless studies and part-timing.

A group of teenagers who ditched tomorrow’s quizzes and exams just for once to have some fun.

A middle-aged man, as fatigued as he could be with overnight shifts, who was nonetheless delighted as he was heading home holding a doll that his daughter had been whining about.

Everyone was wearing those faces plastered upon every single visitor of the mart he had been just before running into Helga: etched and weathered by the weight and challenges of life, but nevertheless happy.

Their faces hinted not a chance for Union to dare butt into their lives.

No, their faces hinted that they had no need of Union in the first place.

They were just too busy and happy being faithful to their own lives.

Now that he has seen for himself yet again, the question drowning his heart raised a huge wave of distress, which caused a pregnant resonation of self-questioning with an inaudible splash.

What if......?

What if the very purpose and existence of Union are vain?

What if the Union’s objective to elevate mankind is a self-chosen blindfold to enslave itself to greed and avarice distorted from Union’s founding mission?

What if the world does not need Union any longer? What if the only thing left for Union to do is to disappear from the world?

That was when 3rd Elder violently shook his head in vicious gut reaction.

‘What are you thinking...?! You are the elder of the Union – the only elder of the Union!’

His eyes were shut so tight he could almost feel tears erupting from his eyelids.

In fact, he felt like breaking down in tears. He was terribly perplexed, addled, and confused.

Ever since he moved into Frankenstein’s island, and until he encountered Helga, he has trodden the world of ordinary people full of ordinary life.

And the said world did not let him walk without getting anything in return; it showered him with misty pieces of ordinary life.

And now he realized the ghostly downpour has become a deluge, his lower body engulfed by water heaving and boiling with ordinariness.

Now he could not tell where his heart belonged – the underwater world holding his legs fastened, or the dry and airy world above.

‘Is it too late to go back...?’

The white-haired man halted in his steps. He has never felt so hesitant, so lost.

Should I just go back to Frankenstein’s island?

Should I just pretend nothing ever happened and cross back the sea?

Should I just forget about Helga’s offer and return to my daily life?

Daily life.

That was when awkwardness hit his head like an angry rhinoceros, and 3rd Elder mockingly snickered at himself.

‘Since when did you ever get to identify an ordinary life as your daily life? You are an elder of the Union. Your daily life is nothing like those of these people. It is far from peaceful and plain, but instead full of experiments, body modification, combat, and struggle.’

His self-admonishment refreshed his memories about the reason why he ever sought Korea, and 3rd Elder started to move.

He had a slimmer of hope that once he gets to the rendezvous, reality will snap into him.

And thus he made it to the coordinates where Union had lost 8th Elder, Zarga, and Urokai.

The location looked much cleaner than the last time 3rd Elder had witnessed through a picture, perhaps because KSA ran recovery procedures in the meantime.

Though it was now basically a desolate, barren desert of concrete and cement, at least millions of years away from regaining its original features.

A perfect antipode for 3rd Elder’s heart, tossing and turning and twisting in agonized questions even a second before his arrival.

No, he was still tossing and turning and twisting and agonized questions.

He had hoped his heart will be correctly calibrated once he reaches his destination, but he still could not sort out what direction he should take.

‘If I say yes to Helga’s offer, then I...’

I what?

He retorted to himself, with no answer echoing back.

He could not figure out what was holding him back, yet he could swear that before downfall of Union, he would have made his choice without a second of delay.

Yet here he was, with the ordinary life he had seen and heard and weaved so far churning and constricting and calling him.

‘But if I give up on this opportunity, I...!’

I what? What now?

Again, there was not a syllable he could summon to spell out what was in his head.

Feeling attachment and uncertainty for both choices, 3rd Elder grit his teeth with a bony screech and clenched his fists dead-tight.

That was when a voice interrupted his reverie of pain and panic.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sir.”

He did not expect he would hear her voice, which was why he could not hide his flinch as he turned his head.

“...I had no idea you will be waiting for me.”

“For some reason, I had a feeling you will find this place today, so I opted to switch with the agent that was stationed here. And lo and behold, look what Lady Luck brought in my path. I guess she is real.”

Helga stage-rejoiced, her face visibly smug.

An indisputable sign that she was already certain he was here to take her hand.

“At last the time has come. It is time to show those insolent insects that had dared to fling a fishing net to drown the sun the meaning of retaliation! And with you on our side, we will prove without a doubt that our rise back to glory and vengeance is more than just a dream.”

Smiling fully in confidence, Helga struck out her right hand, which 3rd Elder gaped at wordlessly.

Her hand was silently but pressingly inviting him to come out of water now. It was telling him playtime is over.

Not surprisingly, he could not grab it outwardly.

He had been a buoy precariously rocking and lurching in the storm; he had yet to recover and realize what he was faced with.

Helga added in a clearer voice, perhaps because she could not detect resolution from her audience.

“You’re not going to turn my labor in this trip, my agent’s contribution in his duties, and time and effort from all the bodies and souls consisting Union into nothing, are you?”

And just like that, Helga’s words brought a gruesomely effective influence upon the man.

For he finally was given the answer for what would become of him if he were to delete Helga’s offer from his head and return to Frankenstein’s island.

He was reminded of the faithful applicants for experiments he had coordinated in the past, assigned for body modification project that was basically a suicide mission. He recalled how they nevertheless firmly believed their sacrifice will serve as basis for Union to make bigger attributes to mankind’s welfare and growth. He regretted – in fact, he is still regretting – how they had not a single chance to be appropriately rewarded for their sacrifice.

He was also reminded of his personal followers, who had run endlessly in promiseless toils for mankind, full of pure sense of responsibility and passion.

And he was reminded of how he had to struggle to shake off his own tears so he could keep forward, even as he watched with his own eyes how terrible such martyrs’ ends were.

And he will turn everything into nothing.

He will deny himself, deny them, and deny everyone if he were to turn down Helga’s offer, just because he had been dwelling in ordinary world for a few weeks.

Having finished his projection in a speed of light, 3rd Elder moved his arm and held Helga’s hand.

“Welcome back, sir. Now we will show them that the world is ours. The world belongs to Union. And we are still here. We are not fire. We are the sun. We are merely taking refuge under the horizon. We will prevail once again, and we will never fade or fall. A sun does not fade or fall.”

As he watched how Helga was piercing the air with her nose, 3rd Elder for some reason was reminded of the story of Icarus – a boy with wings forged with feathers and wax who coveted the sun’s position and was severely punished with a permanent, lethal plummet towards the nether depths of the sea.

And for some reason, he felt like he was watching Icarus inviting him with a hand to a deadly race towards the sun.

But he had already held the said hand, which already pulled him out of the waters.

Now it is too late to go back, even if it would later turn out Helga really was Icarus.

The only thing he could do was to make sure he would not let the abyss below take over him along with the owner of the hand.

But what if I’m wrong? Whispered a teeny-tiny voice in his head.

‘No. I’m being psychotic here. I mean, Icarus’s hand? Give me a break. That’s not happening. I won’t let it happen.’

Their sacrifices, our labors, and my tears are not wrong.

They are not wrong.

We are not wrong.

I am not wrong.

Hence the 3rd Elder muffled his wariness and a bit of guilt, screaming from within until the very last moment of his self-navigation of heart.

(next chapter)

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, but at the same time I had a lot of trouble, especially with parts that describe 3rd Elder’s anguish and shifts in thoughts. I wanted to make an allusion to the story of Icarus from Greek myth, and I think I did a fair job of it lol. And thus you have seen 3rd Elder joining forces with remaining agents of the Union. Stay tuned to find out what will happen as a result!

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy 235 & 236:  Clint Eastwood as a postal delivery man and our pirate has domestic desires . . .

Hello all, I apologize for the delay in my posts.  I am one of the many people who had to change from a job of going into work to working entirely from home and online only.  I have found the transition to be incredibly difficult - I have always had a strict division in my work/home balance.  Add on top of that the fact that I live alone with my cat, my parents are almost 2,000 miles away and my brother is currently in Tokyo has made things very stressful.  I don’t mean to dump this on you [readers], but sometimes I think it is better to at least say these things since a lot of other people are dealing with this or some version of these situations.  It sucks, it is messing with my life and I am trying to deal with this situation.

Okay, enough about me, let’s get to GK.

Chapter 235 starts with Boutarou and Sugimoto about to have a showdown (to the death since Sugimoto just wants his skin). It starts out with Boutarou sizing up Shiraishi, he appears a bit playful and curious that Shiraishi is still in Hokkaido - based on Shiraishi pre-Asirpa/Sugimoto/Kiro he really was a self interested guy.  You’d expect he’d make his way back to Honshu and have some fun going to red light districts.  The fact that Shiraishi has a pensive look means he’s trying to think a way to deal with this situation and also reacting to the assumption of his personality.  He immediately sees Sugimoto reaching for his bayonet and realizes they need to ask him if he know more information.

I really have grown to like Shiraishi - he was a successful escape artist, indicative of being a smarter than average guy and he’s already putting the pieces together that Boutarou would have more information on the Ainu as he sees Sugimoto in his murder mode.

Shiraishi is able to de-escalate the situation by calming stating an assumption on his part.  It is gamble, but based on what he learned from Heita, it is a good gamble since the thought things over pretty well.

This is enough information to get the pirate to stop and then he’s excited that they are thinking the same thing as him.  Shiraishi is close enough to Boutarou to keep Sugimoto at bay who in this panel looks like a predator coming in for a kill after stalking.  Sugimoto is hunched over, almost creeping forward like a cat while Shiraishi is upright and super relaxed.

Shiraishi’s statement is enough to get more information out of Boutarou, he then tells them that there is a rumor that the tattoos are useless to figuring out the code.  This is enough to snap Sugimoto out of his murder mode.  Excellently played Shiraishi!

They are interrupted by the fact that the pirate gang notices another paddle boat is coming the opposite direction and there are soldiers on it and if they are from the 7th it would be bad news.  Only then does Sugimoto realize that of course Boutarou would have men working for him and it causes him to pause.

Boutarou has an excellent reaction to things, he calmly gets the boat moving again, and his men, keep the passengers under control.  The postman is the introduced, our Clint Eastwood stand in as he’s armed to protect valuables sent via the post.

We can see where this is going . .  . there will be a shoot out on the boat and Asirpa is still out cold.  It looks like they will be in the clear, they pass by the other boat as they wave over.

Shiraishi is nervous as he hopes the plan works with little issues.  Asirpa then wakes up as the postman readies his handgun.  The postman thinks he took out one of the pirate gang members and causes enough of a commotion that the other boat notices the gunshot.

Unfortunately, his “excellent” aim had nothing to do with him.  Instead, it was all from Vasily sniping them one by one from the boat with the horses.  This is the worst outcome possible, it makes a huge scene, escalates the entire situation, and takes out most of the pirate gang a disadvantage to Boutarou.

Sadly, our inexperienced postman makes terrible decisions wasting his ammo from his revolver for no reason and then someone finds Sugimoto’s lost rifle.  Cue Ogata lecture.  Oh wait, Ogata isn’t present, yet we as readers can hear his “tch” sound.  In the meantime, due to Vasily’s sniping, the other boat is worried about saving the passengers and turns back around.

Thankfully, Boutarou thinks quickly on his feet.  He takes control of the boat and he turns it so that he can ram into the paddle wheel of the other boat.

By incapacitating the drive system of the other boat, they can leave them stuck in the river.  Very clever moves and it additionally, breaks the rope that kept Vasily tied to the boat.  He’s now stuck in a small boat as they escape from him.

This all in all is a good situation for Vasily even if he doesn’t realize it, keeping him away from the rest of the group means, there won’t be another shoot first, ask no questions later situation.  The man he should have sniped was the postman, not the pirate gang.  As usual he goes for clean head shots, indicating he doesn’t snipe the same way as Ogata, who frequently thinks about his most effective way to do things.

Back to the action where our postman from hell now has Sugimoto’s rifle is and still fighting back awkwardly and is under the indication that his men were shot by him.  He goes into a calm mode as he looks at his options to take out the man.  Meanwhile, Sugimoto is just trying to dodge him and not die due to the man’s recklessness.

Boutarou has an expression of complete seriousness, he cares for his gang and he’s going to do what it takes.  Being the wild man that he is, he manages to swing the anchor into the passenger galley and Sugimoto luckily is able to yell to Asirpa to protect her as she gets the man down as he goes for the backpack.

Of course Sugimoto goes back to angry murder mode as Boutarou hits him in the face with the anchor as he gets close enough to punch him in the stomach under the pretense that he may have hurt Asirpa.

Yes, Sugimoto, you lost your rifle, and your inability to keep an eye on your firearms lead to this entire situation and he’s now back to “who cares - kill the man and skin him” mindset.

Quick summary of the chapter

1.) Shiraishi remains the brains of their group.  He was on the path for the most information and least amount of violence, but that didn’t work out. 

2.)  Boutarou is a clever guy.  He has a good balance of using his brain and calmly and effectively making decisions.  The fact that he’s friendly with Shiraishi tells me that he is a more complicated convict that some of the others and will continue to be a major force in this story arc.

3.) Vasily is a giant liability.  He can’t effectively communicate with the rest of the group.  He snipes the wrong people resulting in a more complicated situation and he eventually gets ditched.  His sniping style is clearly one of simple execution.   There is no way that he’s as intelligent as Ogata and lacks the ability to play a long game at all.  In a way, he may even make Sugimoto feel good about him being around b/c he can write off snipers as being all like Vasily and therefore, puts Ogata in that category even though he’s no way close to it.  The fact he wasn’t with the rest of the group to see what was happening made things far worse, what did he gain by sniping some of the pirate crew?  Nothing. 

4.) Sugimoto put Asirpa in danger.  By rushing off to deal with things and leaving her out of his sight, losing his rifle and being stuck in murder mode, he endangered her.  If he truly wants to protect her, he can’t just leave her out of his sight.  He deflects everything in the name of always following short term actions.

Chapter 236 starts with several pages of Boutarou and Sugimoto fighting each other.  Both of them have white murder eyes as they beat the shit out of each other.

I think the fight between these two is to show us how tenacious they are.  They are able to put everything into the fight - it is a brutal all out brawl between them and they hold nothing back.

In the meantime, the postman wastes his last shot with Sugimoto’s rifle and Asirpa is able to cleverly kick him off into the water.  Then Asirpa is able to stop Sugimoto as she gets onto the deck with her bow at hand (not sure where she put his rifle).  Sugimoto’s eyes return to round and black with a little sparkle in them, indicating that he’s out of his murder mode.

By her actions, she was able to get the postman off the boat and all the commotion can calm down, it gives Shiraishi the opportunity to also get Sugimoto to stop with reason to talk to Boutarou.

Boutarou seems unfazed by Sugimoto’s switch from murder to normal.  To me it indicates that they must have a lot in common as he looks at him with some sort of “kindred spirit” vibe.  It may just be me, but both men appear to have on/off switches for their murder modes.

Shiraishi then asks him about the rumor to be unable to solve the code, and Boutarou gives him what he knows.  We finally learn the origin of the Baroto skin; Wakayama had found one of the other convicts; he killed him and skinned him.

We get an extra image of a naked Boutarou as he reveals he lost it via gambling.  Wakayama states the odds of all of the convicts being alive to be found and skinned is too to low as two of our previous convicts are shown how they died.  He was confident that was a moot point and even went as far to see how Wilk may have just messed with everyone, because he could.

This then connects to what the candy peddler said - that Wakayama was disappointed; likely due to the fact he lost the skin and also the fact that if he thought about what happened to other convicts, it really is a pointless quest.

Despite all of the skins they’ve found, Wakayama and Boutarou have valid points.  Boutarou tells them that it gave him a reason to give up on trying to find the skins, but thought if he tried to figure out where Wilk hid the gold, it would be worth the effort.  He then asks them if they’d like to join forces with him.

To keep them intrigued in him and his goals, Boutarou tells them what he wants to do with the gold.  He wants to leave Hokkaido, move someplace warmer in SE Asia and then become a major producer of agricultural products.  He sees himself making himself the ruler and he wants to start a large family.

His idea is exceptionally childish and still is mis-placed colonial/imperial feelings but it is coming from his own personal experience.  Shiraishi is less than amused and Sugimoto tries to almost hide his feelings on the idea of why everyone wants the gold to rule a country.  Boutarou is very perceptive he asks Sugimoto about his family.  As Sugimoto states he has none, it leads him to ask what caused them to die and Sugimoto tells him it was due to TB.  He then reveals that his own family died of smallpox.  This lead to his childish dream of creating his own family that wouldn’t be shunned due to disease and he used this concept as the way to keep him going - the side effect is that he used his dream as his way to push through everything.

All of a sudden their brutal fight makes so much sense - neither of them have something to lose related to their family.  Their lack of a family back home allows them to be reckless idiots.  And this leads to a much awaited Sugimoto flashback!  Finally!  I have to admit that I’ve been waiting for this for a loooooooong time.  I was thinking it would happen on Karafuto due to Sugimoto’s vision during the snow squall - this just shows us how deep his denial of this is.

With Sugimoto’s dead looking black eyes, we can tell that even before his father died, he had reached the same mental state as many of our other characters where they “broke” inside.  Ogata around age 9, Tsurumi with the death of Fina and Olga etc etc.  We learn that Sugimoto’s family have a weakness for being kind and caring towards others, so his father feels bad for his situation.

I want to know exactly what his dad did that leads him to say that he was always helping people even if he shouldn’t.    Does this mean that his father got overly involved in things?  That he was also overly emotional and rushed into things without thinking them through.  Argh!  I want to know more about Sugi-dad.

Sugimoto sits outside of the house as a cat approaches him.  As stated in the footnotes at the end of the chapter, the cat is supposed to prevent TB.  Sugimoto then wonders if due to the cat’s aloof nature, perhaps it isn’t helping with curing his sick dad.  He tells that cat that it is useless too, this implies that Sugimoto himself feels useless to help his father. 

The cat then walks off to do its cat things as Sugimoto stands up and prepares himself.  His clenched fists and determined expression in the last panel show that he’s made a decision.  In an attempt to give him ‘release’ his father tells him to leave their home.

He is told that for him to live for his own sake isn’t a bad thing.  This tells us that Sugimoto has a hard time being selfish, he’s clearly done actions for the sake of his family without any regard for his own feelings and self care.  He leaves the house as his father coughs in the room.  He’s nervous and unsure of the decision at first.  He’s sweating as he holds his feelings in.  But the wind blows through the trees and he makes his verbal commitment to not lose.  He begins to cheer himself up and it leads to the dramatic panel.  He declares that he’s immortal!

So, before his father has died and he burns the house down, he has made his first declaration of how he will live his life - he will be immortal.  We now know this attitude was created before he enlisted in the 1st and fought in the war. 

He then snaps back to the present as Boutarou asks him what his dreams are.  The facial expression of Sugimoto is one of almost confusion/panic/thought

The fact that Sugimoto can’t answer him easily, indicates that Sugimoto has been living without any dreams for himself.  Just living without a long term goal.  His various shades of his eyes show us that he’s never been asked this question before so directly.  It isn’t about Umeko and Toraji.  It is about him.  And thus, his father’s statement makes more sense now; Sugimoto doesn’t want things to be about him; then he’d have to face himself.

The chapter then ends with them arriving at their destination.  Again, Boutarou is reasonable with the passengers; they just take the registered mail money and leave the passengers with their money and unharmed. 

Since the postman was looking in Sugimoto’s backpack he revealed what was inside of it.  Heita’s skin and his tobacco case.  So now, Boutarou knows that they ran into Heita and he’s clearly not alive anymore.  Good eye, Boutarou!

Clearly, the next chapter will have more drama in relation to this discovery.

Quick summary and conclusions;

1.) Sugimoto is most similar to Boutarou.  He spends so much of his time othering and making the convicts inhuman; just the skins.  Boutarou has too much in common with him.  The tenacity to fight to the death, carrying the PTSD from losing their families to disease and the feeling of helplessness.  The difference is that Boutarou thought deeply about his childhood motivation and has accepted it for his future plans and motivation.  Boutarou has the ability to self-reflect and use it in a pro-active fashion.  Sugimoto has revealed that he has been running away from facing himself since before his father died.  This is terrible - it tells us that Sugimoto’s problems go back even further than we originally realized and he went to war already wounded and broken.  No wonder he continues to be reckless; he was as broken as Ogata was going to war.  The Ogata-Sugimoto similarities gain another point for how they were both broken before enlisting in the army.

2.) Sugimoto clearly hates cats and the link to Toraji’s nickname of Tora-chan and Ogata add to it.  The black cat let him down unable to help his father recover from TB.  He’s been surrounded by cats, people with cat nicknames, or cat like characteristics.  It is obvious that he’d lash out a those with the overlap and Ogata is our most obvious easy target.  A random black house cat let him down.  All other future cats will let him down.  The link to Ogata is so obvious with his aloof attitude and ability to float between groups with little attachment.

3.) We finally learn the origin of the Barato skin.  I’m glad to know that it was a skin that was lost by Wakayama.  It shows that many of the more rational convicts knew when to give up with the hunt for the skins and it was key in highlighting the Hijikata-Ogata alliance of convenience.  It also highlights that with Asirpa knowing the code, it is likely that not all of the skins are critical.  @goldenkamuyhunting​ had an excellent meta post about what this could mean for the hunt for the skins.  I reblogged it before this post if you missed it.

That’s pretty much all I have for now!

[theliterateape]

In The Young Century

By Dana Jerman

MY GRANDFATHER WAS IN A MOTORCYCLE GANG IN THE NINETEEN-TEENS. He lived in L’el Shoal, Nevada with a man named Felix who customized motorcycles that he built exclusively by himself in a garage that he also built. He allowed my grandfather to live with him above the garage because my grandfather, albeit poor, was savvy with machines, and very attractive. The young and unmarried Mexican women of the town would follow him home like lost kittens in the rain—helpless at his raw charm. My grandfather had in his charisma a bold streak, which gave him a power and magnetism often working in his favor. It was this lucky part, unfortunately, that precipitated the joining of a gang.

Once there was a man who came thru L’el Shoal in the early summer of 1919 bringing with him three young women of breathless beauty – his daughters. He had been taking them all, five originally, with him across the west in an effort to marry them off to men of trade and culture. In place of the first two daughters, his caravan contained a refrigerator and a gramophone. I do not know all of this story’s lurid details, however my grandfather, being impetuous and observant, went to the man with Felix’s prize motorcycle, offering it for all three of the remaining daughters. The man was reluctant, but my grandfather triumphed. He had spoken with the women the evening previous—sneaking into their camp only an hour after learning of their presence. The women saw his heart and asked him for help. They felt their sisters were married off to ancient, unkempt men who would only neglect them. In order to reunite with their sisters the remaining three vowed to stay together and were attempting to hatch a plan when my grandfather arrived.

Felix was dually upset, as you can imagine, on hearing that his most favored possession had been traded. Then he met the daughters, who were of the understanding that it was in fact Felix’s generosity which had saved them. My grandfather smiled the rich, knowing smile of the stealthy hero when he recalls the moment that the sisters retreated to the bedroom with Felix in a gesture of much gratitude. The kind of smile I believe he wore that night when he sat in a wooden chair in the long driveway before the garage. The end of his short cigar a dusty red star against a black sky dancing with specks of white fire, as he came to tell me the story of how he met my grandmother.

She had put her fist through glass to get out of a burning building when she was young. Her right hand had long soft indents of scars running past her knuckles and up onto her wrist. My grandfather told her that upon seeing her scabs and scars he knew that she had a place in heaven because it looked as if an angel had already tried to grab her by the hand and take her where it wanted. But it wasn’t an angel, it was a ferocious fire. A fire she started, and not accidentally…

Late in her thirteenth year she began work in a factory in the town of Campus near the county line. She made coats and worked both as a seamstress at a sewing table and a large spooling machine. The coats were big and designed for very cold temperatures. The kind Campus, Nevada, would never see. Almost a hundred workers occupied the cramped and dingy two-story building. Her uncle, her last living relative with whom she lived, also worked in the factory, there on the second floor, assembling zippers from thick silver teeth that came in big metallic canisters and glittered like shards of moon rock. Of course my grandmother, much like my grandfather, had a flash-in-the-pan quality about her that gave of sex and temper. Rebellion and direst justice. Qualities that she did not share with the authorities in the factory.

My grandfather smiled the rich, knowing smile of the stealthy hero when he recalls the moment that the sisters retreated to the bedroom with Felix in a gesture of much gratitude.

On her sixteenth birthday, and just as she and her fellow workers were getting back to their stations after a celebratory lunch, one of the suits came onto the floor to tell them that they were again to take a cut in pay. This time almost a quarter of the rate, which had been reduced by nearly ten cents a month previous. The workers froze, aghast at the news. A middle aged woman broke the silence, crying. Her cries soon escalated to wails as she sank to the floor. “I have to feed my children. My children will die! How will I feed them? My babies!!” Two women rushed to her side but she seemed inconsolable. My grandmother, standing a few feet away felt her hands reach up to grasp the sewing machine and the table to which it was crudely attached. In one motion she dumped it with an undeniable crash to the floor. The crying woman looked up. Pairs of eyes shot surprise at my grandmother, and through the sea of gazes one of the floor managers darted toward her. 

She sped in the other direction, toppling other sewing tables after her. By this time three floor managers were giving chase, but she was small enough to dart under the low-lying metal casing of the large industrial spooler. There was a lot of noise and shouting by this time, but my grandmother knew just what came next. She reached for her cigarette matches in her apron pocket and began to light the massive bobbins. Moving down the row, crawling fast and watching from the floor as the flames climbed the yarn and smoke began to billow at the ceiling. The workers went fast for the exits when she was pulled from under the spooler and tied to a sewing table chair by a floor manager. She tried to fight him, but the smoke was beginning to make her eyes itch and water. The fire had spread almost instantly. Flames snatched furiously over everything as the windows were being thrown open so all could make an escape. My grandmother toppled the chair and got low to the ground. She felt for a match as she knew some had tumbled from her pocket while she was being tied. She found a way to strike it and burn quickly through the yarn, the same she had used day after day to make the thick winter coats. She coughed hard on her hands and knees, unable to look up. Her eyes and lungs crowded by smoke.

My grandmother was always keen of her surroundings and knew that the quickest way to extract herself would be through the hole in the floor. An open chute where the finished coats went into oversized laundry bins. She only hoped that there would be enough coats to catch her, and there were, though the basket was nearly on fire. In the dusty factory the blaze spread as if it had been set in a dry forest and now the first floor was charring rapidly. It was then that she shattered the window and freed herself. Bleeding from deep gashes to her knees and arms, her eyes burned and felt as if they were swelling. When she could get up a moment later she limped to the front of the building and began to call for her uncle. One of the workers ran to her. In a coughing daze grandmother did not recognize her. “Mila…Mila! Your uncle brought out a young boy just a moment ago, but he raced back for you! No one could find you! Mila… Mila! Do you understand!?”

Mila turned back to face the building only to watch the second floor collapse into the first. Knowing her uncle had been trapped she screamed, and had to be held back from the entrance. A floor manager appeared, patchy black from the smoke, and struck my grandmother, attempting to apprehend her. Two men moved in on the floor manager and in a flash everyone was crowded around the fighters.

Grandmother escaped and ran from the factory and the workers to the apartment she and her uncle shared. He had the only key, and she had to break yet another window. She felt her hand begin to ache once she was inside. She moved to lie on the soft worn thatch rug of the center room floor. Catching her breath, coughing, she felt over the back of her hand and picked out a long razor of glass. After discarding still more glass from her arm, she crawled to a basin to rinse off the blood. Sixteen years old and she looked to herself in the smudged punched tin mirror as if she’d just turned sixty. Falling asleep in the bath she awoke with a jolt hours later, suddenly consumed with the dream that she was being drowned by a floor manager. A few tiny shards of glass hovering and glimmering at the top of the pink water.

Before the light of the next morning she collected most of her things and all the money she could find in the apartment and began to walk out of town. A long walk on roads that wound out through dried up river valleys and were not traveled by many. L’el Shoal was still thirty-eight miles away when she was picked up by a man in a brand new gray car. Somehow they got around to talking and he admitted he owned a factory and should she come work for him. He’d make a comfortable life for her, he said, and when she protested with remarks made deliberate and simmering with pride, he decided to put his cigar out in a gash on her knee. Like a tiger sprung from a trap she responded by swinging her heavy bag into his face, caving his nose in. The car lurched and she tumbled out into the loose gravel, the tiny rocks pushing into the bandages on her ankles and hands. Her brand new burn wound round, quarter sized, wet and trickling.

Grandmother sixteen years old, and my grandfather was twenty-one. This age gap didn’t make much difference. Not when he helped her up out of a ditch near town early the next morning, her body stiff but yielding. Small enough to fit between him and the motorcycle. Her pack on his back. His jacket reversed and over her shoulders to shield her from the wind. She had always liked to sleep. But working at the factory kept her from six in the morning to seven in the evening. Grandpa said she slept for two days straight. “Got up to piss and drink some water once shortly after that. Then I knew she’d be okay.” he recalls. The light in his eyes appears to brighten: “Next night I came home late and she is waiting up. She asks me where she is and what day it is, and if she can have some coffee or a cigarette. I say yes to the coffee, then tell her I only smoke cigars. She says “Not while I’m around.”

He takes it to mean she doesn’t like the smell, but we know it’s something different. She does not leave the garage for a week, though she knows she can and is not afraid. One night my grandfather helps her clean and re-bandage her wounds and she admires his way and the closeness of him surges through her. She moves to kiss him and he accepts her. She offers her kisses like she was made out of love and nothing else. For my grandfather, memories of what it was like to be kissed by other women drop away like the last stars at daybreak. In the days that followed, he taught her how to ride a motorcycle.

[adrenaline-roulette]

He’ll save every one of us Chapter 1

Brian May x Reader with side notes of Roger Taylor x Original female character

Preview: “If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

Chapter one: The Midnight Librarians 

You twirled your drum stick between your fingers, your foot tapping against the stage floor impatiently as you scanned your eyes across the sea of pub goers all awaiting your band to start performing. The crowd had been growing steadily for the past hour, though it wasn’t until five minutes ago that you and your bass guitarist Bree began to stress. This was your first performance for the summer break, and the pub had booked you to play every Friday and Saturday night until the Universities all went back, at the time you had all been beyond excited to have a steady gig for a little while, though now, sitting under the beating stage lights, you realised this could very well be your first and last gig! Your band had been booked at the last minute, only receiving the news of your time slot at the beginning of the week.   It wasn’t impossible to perform your set without your lead guitarist, but he did provide back up vocals, and the songs just wouldn’t sound the same without his harmonies.  The drumstick stopped abruptly in its spin, as you snapped your attention towards Bree, who had stopped tuning her guitar, an identical expression of worry etched across her face. Gesturing your head towards backstage, she eagerly nodded, and you both scurried off the bright stage, leaving your audience to wait even longer for the music to begin.

You kick the backstage door open, storming off into the carpark, your fists clenched at your sides as you go. Bree follows a ways behind you, choosing to express her anger in silence, unlike you, who decided to scream as gutturally as possible. It was an excellent way to ruin your voice just before a gig, but you couldn’t give a damn any more.

“Where the fuck is he?” You growl, as you stomp over to Bree’s station wagon, kicking the rear tyre in frustration. “He had better have a bloody good excuse for not showing up! And if tries to pull the whole, ‘Oh, I didn’t realise that was tonight!’ shit again, I’ll rip his head off!”

Bree puts her hands out in front of her, a sign that she came in peace and meant no harm. “Last I heard from him, he promised to be here, maybe something bad happened?”

“Unless he’s either dead or dying, then I fail to see what would cause him to bail without notice.” You mutter, turning your attention back to putting as much effort as possible into breaking your targeted tyre.

“Jeez Y/N, could you maybe not destroy my car? We need to get out of here somehow, if we plan on ditching that is?” Bree sighs, stepping closer to you, now that you had calmed down somewhat.

“If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. Stopping mid kick, you turn on the spot, regarding the new arrival with an unamused expression.

You fold you arms across your chest, tilting your head to one side as you look over the man stood before you. He had chin length hair, which looked to have been ironed into straightness within an inch of its life. Though you could imagine if he let it grow out that it would suit his angular face far better. If his voice wasn’t as gentle as it was, then his height would surely make him quite intimidating, though you found yourself unafraid of the newcomer. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” You shrug, as Bree grins beside you.

Bree rests her hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner, before directing her eyes on the man as well. “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

  “Well, not to offend you both. But Roger is the reason as to why your band has the next few weeks booked to play here, instead of us.” He sighs, a half smile tugging at his lips. He looks far too exhausted to be out on a Friday night, stress from final exams likely putting a large amount of pressure on him, as with most of the other pub patrons. “He decided not to show up for a few of our gigs last month. The manager told us, that unless we could guarantee the whole band would be there, then he couldn’t book us anymore. Unsurprisingly, we couldn’t promise Roger’s being there, so our booking got cut.”

Tough blow you think to yourself, as you allow your arms to fall to your sides, fishing out your pack of smokes from your back pocket, retrieving one and sitting it between your lips, Bree passes you her lighter and, you inhale deeply as the flame kisses the end.  “Sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation, I think we’re about to be out of luck soon too. Our lead guitarist is MIA.”  You tap the ash off the end of your cigarette, watching it fall to the gravel beneath you. “What’s your band called? We tend to know most of the local university acts, I’m surprised we haven’t seen you around before.”

“Currently, we’re known as smile. Though there’s been talks of changing it to Queen. That is if Freddie has anything to say about it. I’m Brian by the way, my mother would have my head if she knew I didn’t introduce myself sooner!”

“Well Brian, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. But I really must get back to what I was doing and plotting our band mates murder.” You say lightly, gesturing to the car behind you.

Bree scowls at you, punching your shoulder lightly. “Whoa now, I said it was fine for you to kick things, not to murder people!”

“Sorry, it’s a fine line. Guess I crossed it.” You shrug, though you grin over at her, watching as she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Any chance I could get your names before I leave? You know, so I can keep an eye out for your band?” Brian asks, a slight nervous lilt to his voice.

You lift a quizzical eyebrow up at him, he seemed harmless enough, and from the sounds of things he understood your frustration on difficult band members. “I’m Y/N, and this is Bree. The band’s called, the midnight librarians.”  You offer with a small smile.

“That’s bloody awesome.” Brian chuckles, as he turns on his heel and heads back towards the pub, stopping as he reaches the door. “I hope to see you around Y/N….” He smiles, before heading back inside.

“You have to marry him!” Bree declares, throwing her arm across your shoulder, as she steals the smoke from your lips, taking a long drag. “He’s gorgeous, plays in a band, lives somewhere near us. He’s perfect!”

“I like the fact that the only things on your check list to get married, are looks, job, and location… Besides, I’m busy plotting the perfect murder here. I can’t very well start planning a wedding.” You smirk, as Bree finishes off your cigarette, stamping out the butt on the ground.  “Really though, what are we going to do tonight? Do we go on, just the two of us? Or do we just pack up and leave?”

Bree sighs deeply, running a hand across her forehead as she mulls over your words. “I suppose we could see how we go with just us?” She begins, before being cut off, once again by the back door slamming open.

“So sorry to intrude my darlings! But my dear Brian here,” The stranger takes a moment to gesture behind him, just as Brian emerges from the door, waving shyly. “Was just mentioning the predicament you have found yourselves in, and of course he didn’t think about mentioning it at the time, but he is our lead guitarist. A rather good one at that if I do say so myself. Perhaps he could help you out tonight?” The young man flounces around before both of you, his long hair bouncing around as he takes long strides. There’s an air of theatrics around him, and you can only imagine they type of stage presence he would have. “I’m Freddie, lead singing of Queen. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”  He smiles, bowing before the two of you.

“Oh, so the name change is official is it?” Brian chuckles, as he stands beside his bandmate, arms folding across his chest.

“Of course, it’s official, it’s perfectly outrages! Just like me!” Freddie decides, with a voice of finality.

You look at Bree, who has a matching look of unsureness etched across her features. “Not to be ungrateful, but how would Brian be able to help us? If you mean for him to play along side us, while the offer is very kind, he doesn’t know any of our songs. He’s never even heard of us before. He wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Bree offers with a shrug, watching as Freddie comes to a complete stand still in front of you both.

Freddie frowns deeply, looking between the two of you, and back at Brian, the cogs in his brain working on overdrive. “I’m sorry, what did you just say my dear?”

Bree blinks slowly over at Freddie, taking in his look of pure confusion. “I said that Brian doesn’t know our band or music.” She begins, before being cut off by a loud laugh from Freddie.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! Brian knows all about the midnight librarians, he’s been following your band for months now! He was the one who recommended your band to the manager, when he said he needed to replace us!” Freddie laughs, wiping a fake tear away from the corner of his eye.

You mouth drops at this revelation, turning your attention entirely on Brian now. “So, you do know us then?” You grin, resting your hands on your hips. Brian has the good decency to blush at having been called out.

“I saw you putting up flyers for the band a little while ago, I like to hear new music.” He shrugs lightly, lowering himself down to sit on one of the stairs bellow the backstage door. “I decided to check you guys out at one of your gigs, thought you sounded pretty damned good, and have been keeping an eye out for your other shows.”

“If by keeping an eye out, you mean going to every bloody show and dragging us along too!” Freddie yells across the parking lot. “No offence my dears, your music is wonderful!”

You stand over Brian now, resting your hip against the banister of the stairs. “So, you’ve been stalking us, have you?”

“If by stalking you mean going to your gigs like any other university student. Then yes, I’ve been stalking you.”

“He also said something about having a class with Y/N!” Freddie calls once again, causing Bree to laugh hysterically, and Brian to groan.

You can’t help but laugh, the poor man was being picked on mercilessly, and you loved it! “So, should I give you my bank details now or later?”

Brian groans, resting his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on his bony knees. “I swear I’m not a creep! It’s honestly just a coincidence we share a class. It’s only one as far as I’m aware, and I swear I don’t know anything else about you!” Brian pleads with you.

You grin down at him, before taking a seat beside him on the step. “Don’t stress Brian, I’m honestly quite flattered that you take the time out of your life to come and see us perform.”

“He also knows your favourite colour, your middle name, your dorm number, and where you like to go after class to get a coffee!” Freddie sings, as he leans against Bree’s car beside her, resting against the bonnet.

Brian glares across at his friend, Freddie waving merrily at him with a grin. “I can assure you, I know none of the above.”

“That’s a relief. If you did, I would have to call the police, I think! I’m sure they would have some questions for you.” You smirk, as you lean your forearms against your knees. “Do you think you would be able to play with us? I know it’s a huge ask, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t your idea. But you might very well be our only hope.”

Brian watches you intently, mulling over his next words. “I may not be perfect, but I can try my hardest. It won’t be exactly how it usually sounds, but I’m pretty good at picking things up on the fly.”

You nod in agreement, facing Bree across the way. “Alright Bree, we need to make a decision now, before we’re told to leave. Do we try our best with just us, accept Brian’s offer, or just call it quits?”

Neither of you want to let this night end badly, so the option of packing up and leaving is not your first preference.  Besides, if you do leave now, you won’t get paid, and that really isn’t ideal. “If Brian thinks he can match us, then he’s in!” Bree finally answers, and you grin at her.

“Well Brian, it looks like you’ve got yourself a gig tonight. We’ve got the guitar all tuned up and ready to go, so she’s all yours.” You smile, as he stands up, reaching a hand down to you and pulling you up after him.

“Now just know this, lovely ladies, you cannot keep him! He’s my guitarist, and we will need him back eventually.” Freddie warns, a playfully serious look on his face, as the four of you make your way back inside of the pub.

“You’d better watch out Fred, I might like performing with them better than you lot. Might find yourself in the market for a new guitarist!” Brian smirks, as the three of you make your way onstage.

“Don’t you dare! We’re already struggling to find a bassist, don’t make us have to find a lead guitarist too!” Freddie cries dramatically from the wings of the stage. You only just manage to hear him from the noise of the audience, but you all get the general idea of what he’s saying.

As Freddie turns to leave, a young man walks up to him, a friendly smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he waves. “Hi, I’m John Deacon, I play bass.”

“You’re hired!” Freddie shrieks, as he grabs the young man’s wrist, and drags him towards the bar, leaving Brian to set up with his new friends.

  The three of you get yourself ready quickly, everything having already been set up by you and Bree earlier in the evening. Brian takes a few moments to get the feel for the new guitar, though he quickly picks it up, and within minutes the three of you are ready to perform. “Alright Brian, just follow on as best you can! We can do this!” You grin, trying desperately to stay positive, despite the less than ideal situation you had found yourselves in. “One… Two… Three!” You cry, counting the band in, as you crash down on the drums, Bree chiming in on the bass and Brian following with a riff which is relatively close to what it should be. Bree belts out the lyrics you had worked hours on creating, as you sing along behind your drum kit, throwing your heart and soul into this set.

It takes a little while before the audience warms up to you, though soon enough everyone is moving along to the music, feeling the rhythm course through them. You grin happily, rather impressed with how quickly Brian had picked up on his role in the band, even if he was just a temporary stand in, you didn’t half mind performing with him. Somehow, he kept finding his way over to your drum kit, grinning at you as you pounded out the rhythm to your current song. Occasionally he would play it up for the audience, playing directly for them when a solo came up, but he would instantly find his way back to you. You play for a solid hour and a half, before you all decide it’s due time you take a much-needed beer break. “Thank everyone, we’ve been the midnight librarians, with special guest Brian May on guitar. We’ll be back soon!” Bree calls out through the microphone, as you all climb off stage, heading straight for the bar.

As you reach the bar, you spot Freddie speaking with two other men, one with flowing blonde locks and piercing blue eyes, the other a brunette, with a permanently cheerful expression etched upon his face. “You were wonderful darling’s! Truly wonderful!” Freddie grins, as he hands you and Bree each a beer, both of you taking large gulps instantly, you were parched, and the cold drink was ever so soothing. “Brian, come meet John, we’ll be auditioning him this week, he says he plays bass.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brian grins, shaking hands with the younger man.

The blonde man, looks over at you and Bree, grinning at the two of you. “You look pretty good out there, don’t sound half bad either.” He smirks, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a drink. You glare at him, not at all liking how cocky he sounded. Though Bree smiles, a faint blush covering her cheeks.

“Thank you, I’m Bree, this is Y/N.” She offers the stranger, and you can’t resist rolling your eyes. Trust Bree to flirt with the first blonde haired, blue eyed floozy she meets at a pub.

“Roger Taylor, at your service.” The blonde grins, as he pushes past Freddie and John, to stand in between you and Bree.

Pursing your lips, you step aside, not really wanting to stand so close to the flirt fest that was occurring before you. “Is he always like this?” You ask, turning your attention to Brian, who could only chuckle in response.

“Just wait until he really gets started, he knows every pick-up line there is.” Freddie sighs, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Sounds like they’ll be perfect for each other then.” You mutter, noticing as Roger wraps his arm around Bree’s waist, stepping her away from the group. “Oi, blondie! We need her back in twenty!” You shout at them. Roger waves you off, while Bree nods at you in understanding. “Why do I get the nasty feeling we won’t be seeing her again tonight?”

Brian leans back against the bar, folding his arms over his chest loosely. “Oh no, he’ll bring her back as promised. Just not necessarily in the designated time period.”

“That really isn’t very reassuring Brian. Just want you to know that.” You grumble, shooting a glare over to the taller man.  You look over to the young man stood beside Freddie and offer him a smile. “Hey there, John was it? I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

John grins back at you, a small gap between his two front teeth prominent as he looks at you. “Nice to meet you too. You three really are quite good out there! Mind me asking what happened to your regular guitarist?”

“Nothing that can be proven.” You mutter darkly, before laughing. “We’re currently going with, either dead or maimed. But until further news, we’re just speculating.”

John blinks at you, a look of shock and surprise written across his face. “Are you always this dark?” He asks, taking a swig from his beer. He looks too young to be drinking, and you would wager a guess on Freddie having bought the young man the drink.

“It’s one of my many charms, I’m able to be as dark and depressing as I would like, and still get away with it, because I’m cute as a button.”

“Can’t argue with the logic.” Brian chuckles from beside you, and you grin over at him, accepting the full beer he held out to you.

“Shouldn’t I be buying you drinks? Seeing as you rescued us from an impending doom?” You ask, though eagerly take another sip from the cold bottle.

Brian takes a moment to mull over you question. “You’re right, that’ll be 40p.” He grins, holding his hand out, palm up awaiting his payment. “Nah, how about you buy the next round?”

“I think I can mange that.” You grin, as you lean against the bar beside him. The night carries on with you discussing the latest albums with Brian, Freddie and John. What was supposed to be only a thirty-minute break, ended up being closer to an hour by the time Bree and Roger returned. Both looked a little bit worse for wear, hair in tangles, and Bree’s lipstick smeared across Roger’s lips and neck. No one mentions a thing though, you’re just thankful she had returned to finish the set.

The three of you kick off once more, throwing yourselves into the music, just as the audience did too. You finished off with a song which involved a type of audience participation, asking everyone to clap along to the chorus. It always sounded fantastic when an entire pub full of people were clapping in time to your drum beat, with just Bree’s vocals accompanying you. Brian watched from the side, grinning as he allowed the two of you to finish the song. He would be lying if he said he paid any attention to anyone but you in that moment.

After another few rounds at the bar, the crowd had dwindled dramatically, leaving just a dull roar over the jukebox, now playing the hits of the Beatles. You and Bree make your way back onto the stage, starting to pack up your instruments, dreading having to fit your entire drum kit back into Bree’s station wagon. It was a tight squeeze, yet somehow you managed to make it work. Brian reappeared beside you, grin as you look at him in surprise. “Let me give you a hand.” He offers gently.

  You’re hardly able to say no, especially seeing as he had already picked up your bass drum and was walking with it towards the backstage exit. Grabbing your snare drum, you follow him out, ignoring Bree’s wolf whistle as she watches how quickly you run to catch up with him. You kick open the door, just as Brian reaches the car, carefully sliding the large drum into the back seat through the boot. “Thanks for your help, but you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ve loaded up my drums into this car more times than I can count.” You offer, as you come up behind him, waiting for him to move out of the way so you can slide the next piece of kit into the car.

“Is that your way of telling me I’ve over stayed my welcome?” Brian grins, turning to look down at you, as you move up next to him, with the next piece of the drum kit.

“What? No! That isn’t what I meant at all!” You gasp out. “I just meant, that you’ve already helped out so much tonight, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” You stammer, looking anywhere but his eyes, which were focused intently on you.

“I’m not still here out of obligation. I’m here because I actually rather enjoy spending time with you, and I’m trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out on a date.” He smiles, a light blush colouring he cheeks.

You bite down on your bottom lip, before finally looking up at him, your eyes meeting instantly. Standing on your toes, you press a soft kiss against his lips, watching as his eyes flutter closed. It only lasts for a moment, as you’re soon interrupted by Freddie talking obnoxiously loudly with John. “And over there you’ll see Roger’s van, which is how we get around to all of our gigs. And if you look to your left, you will see our guitarist snogging the living daylights out of his new, special friend.”

Brian pulls away, resting his forehead against yours as he groans. “Trust Freddie to ruin the moment.”

“And who said this was going to go any further, hm?” You laugh, reaching forwards to rest your hand against his shoulder, rubbing small circles against it with your thumb.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that!” He quickly defends, though soon notices the playful look on your face. “I’m going to have to get used to sarcasm with you, aren’t I?”

You nod eagerly, grinning up at him. “You would be correct in thinking so!” Slowly you step away from Brian, removing your hand from his shoulder as you do so. “So, how about dinner on Tuesday?”

Brian smiles, running a hand through his hair as he watches you walk backwards away from him and the car. “Tuesday sounds wonderful.”

“Great! You can pick me up at seven!” You call over you shoulder, as you turn on your heel as skip up the stairs to the door once again, disappearing behind it.

“Wait!” Brian calls out, just before the door shuts. You pop your head back out, regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll need your address to be able to pick you up!”

You purse your lips for a moment, before laughing. “According to Freddie, you already know where I live!”

“You know for a fact that I don’t!” Brian protests, his hands falling to his side I defeat, as Freddie laugh maniacally from Roger’s van.

“Well Brian, that sounds like a problem you’ll have to figure out! See you Tuesday!” You call merrily, as the door shuts behind you with a sense of finality, leaving Brian stood in the carpark, glaring daggers at the lead singer.

Read Chapter Two

My Masterlist

[shan282-ao3]

The Devil Has Come Ch6

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Original Female Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Nick Rye, Sharky Boshaw, Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Original Male Character(s), Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Character Death, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Bottom of The River

Summary: They should never have been there. Whitehorse and Pratt were right when they spoke against going to Eden’s Gate. They should have left The Project alone. They’d started something and there was no going back now. The lamb had broken the first seal and the deputy had been helpless to stop her.

Read below:

Hope County had been hit with a heat wave, the last two days had been passed in agony with the air-conditioning inside whatever car they traveled in. The only sound inside the pickup was choir music drifting softly through the radio. Sarah sat in the passenger’s seat counting ammo and reloading her weapons as well as Rook.

She’d told Rook about John when she’d gotten to the Rye's. Thankfully she’d still been there so Sarah had been able to pull her aside and tell her everything. Well not everything, she’d left out the weird baptism and the softer details from her two encounters with him. She’d had been rightfully pissed off that Sarah hadn’t told her sooner, but aside from that, she didn’t seem too worried. She had, however, decided that they stick together from now on if they went out to do something for the resistance they went together.

So they now found themselves sitting in the car on the side of the road waiting for a fuel truck to drive by. Falls End was running low and Mary May had tasked them with bringing some tankers back. Of course, that was easier said than done.

“You ready?” Rook asked and pointed down the road to a fuel tanker driving slowly towards them. Sarah nodded and loaded the clip into her sniper.

She grabbed the outside of the car and pulled herself out of the car so she was sitting on the open window, her shoes leaving boot prints on the seat. She twisted and raised the scope to line up her shot. She took a breath as she centered the crosshairs on the driver’s chest. Normally she would go for a headshot but if she did that they risked the tanker careening off the road and crashing into something.

She held her breath and fired, watching through her scope as the bullet impaled the man. The brakes squealed and it veered towards a ditch on the side of the road but came to a halt before going over. Sarah finally let herself breathe.

She dropped back into the car as Rook drove towards the tanker. They stopped next to it and Rook climbed out. Sarah waited in the passenger seat with her AR-C trained on the road in front of them in case some cultists decided to crash the party.

Something caught Sarah’s eye near the truck, Rook was dragging the dead Peggie away. Sarah jumped out of her seat to get closer, unsure of what it was she’d seen. When she got close to the tank she gagged, the smell of gasoline was sickening. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was she had seen. A stream of flame was shooting out from behind the driver’s seat, her bullet must have gone through the guy and into the tank. She hadn’t switched out of the armor-piercing bullets.

“Run!” Sarah shouted at Rook, turning on heel and sprinting back to the car and leaped into the drivers. She flipped it into reverse and skidded backward, stopping long enough for Rook to get in.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rook’s voice was frantic and demanding.

“I shot the tanker. When I shot the Peggie I hit the tank and ignited the gas.” Sarah craned her neck to look behind them as she reversed away.

“What?” Rook shouted, panic and anger coming across clear. “How the fuck?”

Sarah didn’t answer, a Resistance car drove past them towards the tanker. They both watched helplessly as the car got closer just as the tanker blew. The women screamed as the force of the explosion caused their bones to rattle.

Sarah couldn’t hear anything and there was a massive spot in the center of her vision. She fumbled around until she grasped the door handle and pulled it. She tumbled out of the car to the hot asphalt below. She swore and rubbed her head as she sat on the ground.

Rook stumbled around to the driver’s side and grabbed Sarah’s arm, yanking her up and pointing in the direction of the Resistance members, she was saying something that Sarah couldn’t hear. The van hadn’t exploded in the blast but a thick black smoke was pouring out of the engine.

Sarah followed behind Rook, trying to keep her bearings as they got closer. The vehicle’s occupants were passed out, Sarah followed her partner’s lead and opened one of the doors to drag someone out. The engine caught fire and Sarah tugged harder on the woman in her arms, there were still two people left inside, one in the passenger’s seat and one more in the backseat. She pulled the woman to safety and took a few steps towards the van again.

The explosion that followed sent her flying back onto her ass. Her hearing had been starting to return, extremely muffled but it had been coming back. Now the only thing she could hear was a high pitched ringing. Her head screamed at her to stay down as she shoved herself into a sitting position. The bright spot in her vision was worse now, she could see it every time she blinked.

Somewhere deep down she knew she should check the van, see if anyone survived. She should look for Rook, should check on the woman she’d pulled out. Yet once she’d pushed herself to her feet she found herself stumbling away from the explosion down the road. All other thoughts gone from her mind, she dragged herself past the car chasing safety, home.

It wasn’t long before cars rolled up. Sarah wasn’t surprised, she barely blinked an eye at the white trucks with the Eden’s Gate symbols painted on their doors. Someone tugged on her arm, hazy, confused, shocked, Sarah turned painfully slowly and made eye contact with Rook. She was saying something, Sarah just shook her head and pulled away to resume her walking.

A Peggie jumped from their car and walked towards Sarah, she stopped and looked down at her gun, safely tucked in its holster. She could draw it, she had time. She didn’t, just stopped moving and watched the man as he got closer. He grabbed her and slammed her against a nearby truck, she was numbly aware that it hurt. The barrel of a gun pressed against her neck and she took a sharp inhale if this was how it ended then so be it. She pushed against the gun and felt hesitation in the man.

Pain enveloped her chest and she looked up, past the man with the gun at her throat, to see another had shot her. Rook lay on the ground not too far away. Star and sparkles swam around her vision and the ringing in her ears got softer. Bliss bullets. Sarah closed her eyes and breathed as the bliss took over and she collapsed to the ground.

“Why the hell is she here?” Someone shouted and the sound of something breaking drifted through the doorway.

“She was with the deputy, I thought—“ Another voice, it sounded scared.

“You thought? You thought?!” Sarah groaned, the voices assaulting her ears made her headache worse. “I ordered everyone to leave her alone. You were just supposed to take the rookie not her.” Someone cried out in pain, Sarah tried to care but she couldn’t find the effort in her.

She opened her eyes hesitantly, grateful for the shitty lighting in the room she was in. It was dark aside from the few dim yellow lights hanging above, it was supposed to be menacing she was sure, but to her just felt comforting in a way. There was no one else around, she was finally alone. Except she wasn’t.

Someone cried out to her left, frantic and muffled. Sarah looked to the source, her eye’s fixing on Hudson who was tied to a chair in the corner of the room. She opened her mouth to say something but found she couldn’t, her mouth was taped shut. A touch of panic set in, Sarah looked wildly around to get her bearings, the binds on her wrist cut in every time she moved. Groaning from her right alerted her to Rook’s presence in the room.

The sound of metal squealing caught Sarah’s attention and she watched the door closest to Rook swing open. John stepped through, violence and rage painted on his face and obvious in the way he stalked into the room. Hudson was screaming, Sarah wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up, it was hurting her head.

John paused by Rook who was only now starting to stir but continued on until he stopped in front of Sarah. He grabbed her chin with a grip much harder than she was comfortable with and forced her head up to look him in the eye, turned her this way and that as his too blue eyes looked for something. His body language threatened cat violence, cruelty, all the pain to come, but the eyes that looked with her for a moment betrayed a certain softness, maybe even a bit of regret. It was gone as soon as she saw it though and he let her go, shoving her back a bit.

He bent down and picked up a toolbox of some sort before talking towards the workbench across from her. He dropped something onto the table beside Rook, who was now awake and obviously a little in shock at their situation.

John walked like he had an audience, his movements emphasized and drawn out. It worked to his advantage, all three of his captives watched intently. He stood still for a few seconds, Sarah wasn’t sure why. Hudson had stopped watching him and instead looked down submissively at the floor. He finally pivoted towards Rook and started to speak.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the Power of Yes.” He drew the last word out, there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground,” He wasn’t looked at Rook anymore, he had his back to her and was stapling something that looked like skin to his bench, “And I experienced pain after pain after paid—“

His stapler slammed onto the bench, everyone in the room jumped. For the first time, Sarah felt genuine fear when she looked at him. Before it had only been momentary panic or a sense of unease, but now, rage and cruelty lacing his voice and actions, she could barely breathe. She felt like a cornered rabbit staring down a hungry cougar, her instincts screaming at her to run but her body trapped against her chair.

“And when I didn’t think I could take anymore, I did.” His eyes darted to Sarah for a second as he walked towards Rook. “Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared. I was… clear.” Sarah watched his every moment, partly out of fear and partly out of some sick fascination. He sounded so at peace, and somewhat cocky, as he continued. “I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was… Yes.” Again he drew the word out and Sarah finally understood what Nick had meant when he said John Seed probably had a ‘yes’ kink.

Sarah kicked against her bounds and John looked at her sharply before continuing his little speech. Sarah had stopped listening, she tried to block him out and looked around the room, searching for some way out.

“Giving takes courage. The courage…” He stepped away from Rook and walked back towards his bench. He held eye contact with Sarah as he continued. “To own your sin. To etch it on to your flesh and carry its burden,” He turned his palms up in some guise of holiness and directed his attention back to Rook. “And when you have endured— when you have truly begun to atone— to cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see. My god that’s courage.” The image brought bile to her throat. He grabbed a screwdriver and stalked towards Sarah. There was a purr in his voice as he stalked towards her. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘yes’ so you can confront your weaknesses.” There was a manic excitement in him and he turned back around, his focus darting all over the place as he continued his rant and he voice got louder and louder. “Confront your sin. You will swim across an ocean of pain and emerge… free. For only then can you truly begin to atone.”

He stopped in front of his bench and leaned back against it, screwdriver held like a weapon. His arm tattoos were on display, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. “So. Who wants to go first? Hm?”

Rook and Sarah looked eyes, Hudson refused to look at anyone but the wall behind Sarah. No one said anything and John’s anger bubbled. “Which one? Hm?” Nothing. “This is lesson number one.” Hudson whimpered and struggled against her bonds, Sarah didn’t break eye contact with Rook. “Someone’s got to choose.” His voice was strangled, drawing Sarah’s attention. He looked at her with a mix of violence and what might even be fear. She said nothing, just watched him.

John’s patience broke and he turned around faster than Sarah had expected and threw the bench backward. “For fuck's sake we’ll start with you!” He practically screamed and walked menacingly towards Rook. He sounded so happy and at peace before he grabbed Hudson. He pushed her towards the door behind rook, she let out terrified shrieks as he told Rook about what he was going to do to her.

All Sarah could do was watch helplessly, her blood cold with terror. Someone came into the room and took Hudson’s chair out the room while she kicked at her bindings and screamed. “We can’t forget about our other deputy.” John pivoted and grabbed her chair, pushing her in front of him towards the door out. “I’ll be right back.” He told the Rook as he passed, he was practically squatting as he pushed her chair.

John didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Sarah didn’t bother struggling. Hudson’s faint cries could be heard carrying down the hallway until the eventually stopped and the only sound left was air hissing through vents above.

Sarah let her eyes wander, taking in the halls that John pushed her down, as she tried to sort out her thoughts. She was terrified, that was a given, but a small part of her deep, deep down knew that she’d be fine, she’d make it out of this relatively fine. Above the pain, she felt anger, anger at the cult and John. Not sure because he was planning to torture her, but also because he’d kidnapped her. Barely three days ago he’d promise he wouldn’t force her into confession and yet here she was. She shouldn’t have trusted him, she was an idiot.

“I’m… they weren’t supposed to take you.” John finally broke the silence when he’d pushed her into a room and closed the door behind them. He pulled the tape from her mouth and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as is pulled at her skin. “I meant what I said last time.”

“Fuck off,” Sarah swore, struggling uselessly at her restraints for a few seconds. Her hair was in front of one eye and he moved his hand to brush it away. She flinched back like she’d been attacked. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She practically spat, struggling again and her chair moved back away from him, she felt a small bit of triumph.

John looked a little hurt and pretty offended, but his anger quickly came up to mask it. He clenched his fist and kicked her chair away, it spun and banged against the wall. She had to physically spin herself back around to face him. “I’m trying,” He was practically seething, “to help you.”

“Help me?! You said this was my decision! You said I didn’t have to atone until I was ready!” Her voice rose with every word and she glared daggers at the man who she’d only days ago shared pleasant conversation.

“I know what I said.” He snapped and pulled the sunglasses off his head to run a hand through his hair, it left it looking disheveled. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Nothing you can do? You can let me go you asshole.” She wished she wasn’t tied up right now so she could punch his stupid, beautiful face.

John looked at her with almost sad eyes and pulled her chair close again. He crouched in front of her and rubbed her wrist with his thumb. “I can’t, word has already spread that I both deputies. If I let you go, Joseph would know and he…” He trailed off and Sarah felt the fight in her die.

John looked absolutely terrified at the mention of Joseph. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Rook about the first time John had grabbed her. She’d mentioned that when Joseph had shown up John had looked about ready to piss himself. Sarah’s heart broke for him, his life had been shit enough without Joseph adding to that.

“John?” Her voice was soft, almost maternal, and she wished she wasn’t bound so she could comfort him in some way. He looked up at her with what seemed like disbelief, why would she suddenly be nice to him? Sarah wasn’t sure why, but she leaned forward as far as she could and bumped his forehead with hers. “John?” He didn’t say anything, just pressed against her and just breathed for a few minutes.

Sirens shattered the silence and John shot away from her like he’d been burned. He looked wildly between her and the door before bolting out, radio in hand.

“The deputy escaped.” A voice crackled through the window and carried through the partially open door into Sarah’s room.

“Which one?” John’s voice was frantic and furious.

“Not Hudson.”

“Dammit! Find her!” John’s stomping footsteps carried down the hall and Sarah looked around for something to help her get out. She resorted to pushing herself slowly towards the door, it was a tiring process but soon she was at the gap. Except it wasn’t open far enough for her to get through and she couldn’t shove it open like that, the thing was fucking heavy.

Familiar panting hit her ears and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. “Rookie? Tessa?” She called out the gap and soon her savior stood in front of her and shoved the door open. “Took you long enough.” Sarah quipped half-heartedly as Rook cut her restraints.

“Sorry, I fell down some stairs.”

“Why?”

Rook gave her a deadpan look. “It seemed like something fun to do before leaving the torture bunker.” Sarah hummed in mock understanding and rubbed her wrists. “Did you see where Hudson went?”

“Nope.” Sarah shook her head and Rook swore. She handed Sarah her knife and the two went out into the corridor, running towards hopefully an exit.

[gffa]

Guess who’s crying because STAR WARS is full of feelings again? ALL OF US, THAT’S WHO. This is another collection designed to have at least a little something for almost everyone, whether you’re here for a ship or a certain era of the Saga or the greater SW tapestry, whether you want to cry about Anakin Skywalker or want to keep crying about the Rebels, whether you’re here for Leia Organa feelings or just want to roll around in a time travel that will hopefully eventually fix everything, there should hopefully be at least one fic that appeals! Star Wars fandom is so good at providing things to read (so much so that I still have at least a dozen novel-length fics on my reader that I haven’t even been able to start yet!) and so many of them are so, so worth your time to read. Bless all the authors making it even better to be a fan of this ridiculous series about space wizards and aliens and smugglers and good kids doing their best against an evil regime that wants to crush everyone! STAR WARS FIC RECS: TIME TRAVEL RECS: ✦ Drifting Starlight by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 60.3k    Just before the fateful Battle of Naboo, Qui-Gon Jinn is brought to the future, to the Clone Wars. He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows one thing for sure: He never, in a million years, expected the galaxy to end up like this. ✦ The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury, obi-wan & luke & leia & han & cast, time travel, 33.8k wip    After a disaster on the cosmic scale that Obi-Wan is still trying to wrap his mind around, he finds himself back in the early days of the Clone Wars, Commander Cody loyally at his side, Anakin at his back, and Sidious plotting against the Jedi at every turn. ✦ Death, Yet The Force (so rise and shine) by EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse), obi-wan & mace & tahl & cin drallig & qui-gon & depa & cast, time travel, 14.9k    In which the most eclectic group of time travelers wake up in 949 ARR (51 BBY) and attempt to unravel what the Force wants them to do and begin to take the necessary steps to ensure the survival of the Jedi in the future ✦ In Time by Ripki, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, 23.6k wip    When a mysterious holocron sends [Obi-Wan and Anakin] through time, they don’t only have to confront their past and future – but the present as well. ✦ Worldwalker by rainglazed, ezra & kanan & cast, time travel, 25.5k wip    Time travel AU where Ezra Bridger meets Caleb Dume the day after Order 66. ✦ twin suns by tripletmoons, obi-wan & cast, time travel, 1.5k    Obi-Wan Kenobi is six years old when he meets Ben. It goes like this: he falls asleep in the Temple and wakes up in the sand. PREQUELS RECS: ✦ So, How Was My Funeral? by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin & yoda & mace, 5k    “Obi-Wan, I need you to know two things. First, I love you so much.” Anakin looked his master in the eye, demanding full acknowledgment. “And second, I am going to kill you.” ✦ Though Lovers Be Lost by panharmonium, obi-wan & cast, 4.5k    When they tell stories about his life, will they speak of loss or love? You cannot have one without the other, after all. ✦ Catechin by ambiguously, mace & depa, 2.1k    Three times Mace Windu and Depa Billaba took tea together. ✦ untitled by swhurtcomfort, obi-wan & anakin, 1.7k    Anonymous asked: Hey, can I request an Obi-Wan with a bad fever getting taken care of by Anakin who is too stubborn to admit hes also sick? ✦ Old Sins Cast Long Shadows by zarabithia, ahsoka & obi-wan & anakin & padme (& building background obi-wan/padme), 12.8k wip    In this universe, when Palpatine asks if Anakin is going to kill him, Anakin does. While Anakin ultimately wins, it costs him his life. In this universe, the twins are raised by Ahsoka, Padmé, and Obi-Wan. ✦ We Will Abide by naberiie, plo & shaak, 10.3k    Light. Dark. Balance. Beneath the Jedi Temple, far below the chaos of Coruscant’s Galactic City, ancient halls and corridors sleep in silent darkness. Padawans Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are determined to explore them. ✦ memories like ashes at our feet by ambiguously, anakin & ahsoka, 4.2k    Darth Vader was gravely injured in the explosion of the Sith Temple. Now Anakin Skywalker has no memory of what he’s doing here with Ahsoka. ✦ valley of the shadow by darlingargents, obi-wan & luminara (& barriss), 1.6k    In which Luminara finds out. ✦ Queen of Peace by Sassaphrass, obi-wan & padme & cast (background anakin/padme), 20.2k    Padmé Amidala lives. Democracy is dead, The Jedi are Dead, and her beloved husband Anakin Skywalker is dead. But, Padmé is still alive. Her children are still alive. And maybe, just maybe, there is still hope. So, she’ll just have to keep going, and pray that someday all these terrible sacrifices will have been worth it. ✦ The Mathematics of Repair by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin, 4.6k    For raw teachers and rough-edged students building in the rubble: tiny steps are enough, provided they carry you in the right direction. Immediately post TPM, in short snippets. ✦ Scavenged Parts of Broken Hearts by crowleyshouseplant, mace & paxi, 3.1k    Paxi Sylo meets Mace Windu a second time. ✦ On the Third Day by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & bail & breha & leia, 3.4k    Vader’s patience has run out. ✦ Nothing by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, ~1k    A single split-second decision changes everything. ✦ A Ghost’s Embrace by AceQueenKing, shmi & padme & leia, 1.4k    Shmi Skywalker watches over her granddaughter, but she isn’t alone. ✦ Space Twins by glorious_clio, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.1k    Obi-Wan is tasked with bringing Luke to Tatooine. For his part, Bail brings Leia home to Breha. ✦ Eternal Darkness by Darth_Vodka, jedi & cast (& jocasta), 5k    When the newly anointed Darth Vader leads the 501st Legion to the Jedi Temple to execute Order 66, a last ditch effort to preserve the Jedi Order has unintended consequences. ✦ these little things called pyrrhic victories by RestlessWanderings, obi-wan & anakin, 3.6k    Or, the one where Obi-Wan follows Yoda’s orders and kills Anakin, which changes some things but leaves others the same. ✦ Tag by Imadra Blue, obi-wan & yoda, ~1k    A three-year-old Obi-Wan follows Master Yoda around the Temple. ✦ See No Evil by GirlwithCurls98, ahsoka & anakin & yoda & cast, 9.7k wip    When Ahsoka suffers a head injury, she loses something she thought would always be there. With the help of her friends, she learns how to adapt to her new reality, and how she can use it to her advantage, all while searching for a cure. ✦ A First Time for Everything by Ossian, obi-wan & anakin, 1.1k    Post-TPM, Obi-Wan and Anakin find a connection ✦ Time to Go by JediShampoo, obi-wan/padme & cast, 4.9k    Obi-Wan is leaving Alderaan and taking Luke with him. He and Padme must say their goodbyes. Stuff happens. ✦ An Interlude (The Passing of Some Days) by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & leia & bail/breha, 1k    Bail makes some calls. ✦ buy a dog by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, 2.4k    You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself that my father bought me. They are better than human beings, because they know but do not tell. -Dickinson OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Titles, Traditions, and Other Forms of Attachment by MarchofBirds, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 25.5k    Or: How Anakin’s relationship to the term “Master” changes throughout different stages of his life. ✦ Both Deserve Happiness by zarabithia, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    The Republic falls, but Anakin doesn’t. Together, Obi-Wan and Anakin lead the hunt to find Palpatine. Eventually, they have to face the fact that their relationship has changed. ✦ Tumblr Prompt Drabbles by Adelphrexia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.5k wip (sort of)    A collection of Obikin drabble requests originally posted on my Tumblr. Mostly smut, any warnings will be posted on the chapter they apply to. ✦ Lucky me by orphan_account, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, hooker au, 1.9k    Anakin might never have been found by the Jedi, Obi-Wan and he still are lucky enough to meet each other. ✦ Cuddle by Captain Starseeker, obi-wan/anakin, 1k    When having a rough, over worked day, it’s nice to just sit down and cuddle with your loved one. ObiAni fluff ✦ Yes, Master by Little Green Voice, obi-wan/anakin, 12.1k    It wasn’t only the words. It was the way they were said. And, if he was completely honest, it was also a little the words. Not so much about the ‘yes’ though, as it was about the “Master”. ✦ Pursuit by Icse, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, modern au, 16.3k wip    Ben Kenobi wasn’t interested in taking on a working student, […] still, he can recognize talent when he sees it and agrees to take on Anakin as his working student. He certainly didn’t plan on falling for him. ✦ Tagalongs by zarabithia, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia, modern au, 3.4k    Leia has cookies to sell, and her father is along for the ride. Had he known that someone as handsome as Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to purchase some, Anakin might have taken more than five minutes to get dressed. ✦ Naughty Padawans by salixbabylon, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, 1.4k    Obi-Wan, completely fed up with his padawan, tries something definitely *not* in the Master’s Handbook. ✦ Secret Fire by ambiguously, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 2.7k    Masters, especially human masters, would sometimes take their young students aside and offer them this experience. It was perfectly normal. ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ As Old As Rhyme by ambiguously, padme & luke, ~1k    Every night, someone sits next to Luke on his bed and sings a lullabye in a low voice in a language he doesn’t know. ✦ The Belonging You Seek by WiliQueen, luke & leia & ahsoka & cast, 30.9k wip    A chance discovery gives Luke and Leia a glimpse into who Anakin was, and leads them to more than they ever expected. More questions, more answers… and more family. ✦ Hear Me by crowleyshouseplant, anakin & leia & luke & cast, 3.2k    Leia struggles to reconcile Luke’s experience with his father and hers with Darth Vader. ✦ Spar by glorious_clio, liea & luke & wedge & han, 3.2k    Luke is desperate to learn the ways of the Force. Leia can’t really help him there, but she knows how to wield a blade. REBELS RECS: ✦ Is It Gremlins? by ncfan, sabine & kallus, 8.3k    This was not how Sabine expected to spend her afternoon. ✦ pas de deux by glorious_clio, kanan/hera, 1.9k    After spending all day in the cockpit, and with one more chore to complete, Hera Syndulla feels the urge to move. But even a simple moment can come with a hangup or two. Luckily, she has a supportive partner. ✦ Celestial Navigation by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 1.7k    Kallus doesn’t understand why Zeb’s not sad. ✦ Bank of Coals by Eclectic_Goddess, kanan/hera & ezra, 1.4k    “You should get some rest.” “I’m fine.” “That would be more convincing if you could keep your eyes open when you said it.” ✦ The Joy of Nescience by ambiguously, kanan & depa & ahsoka/rex, 2.1k    Three times Kanan Jarrus did not want to know. ✦ Symbios by bam_cassiopeia, ahsoka & sabine & aphra, 4.1k    Sabine and Ahsoka go on a quest for a boy and his purrgils. ✦ An Unexpected Encounter by codenametargeter, kanan/hera & hondo & katooni, 2k    It’d been enough of a surprise when Ahsoka Tano had turned out to be alive. Kanan definitely wasn’t expecting to find another member of the Jedi Order so soon and definitely not amongst Hondo Ohnaka’s pirate gang. SOLO RECS: ✦ Feelings Are a Luxury and This is War by igrockspock, han/qi'ra, 1.3k    Feelings are a luxury Qi'Ra can’t afford. ✦ tell me, get my shit together by paperclipbitch, han/lando & chewbacca & cast, solo spoilers, 5.3k    “I thought we were actively avoiding each other after the Trandosha Shitshow,” Han says. “We’re actively avoiding each other after the Iridonia Shitshow,” Lando corrects him, “the Trandosha Shitshow is That Which We Do Not Speak Of.” ✦ Falcon Heart by crowleyshouseplant, lando & l3, solo spoilers, 3k    Lando is reunited with an old friend. SEQUELS RECS: ✦ Relax and Fly Casual by igrockspock, han & ben & cast, 4.1k    A father-son smuggling trip is not the kind of quality time Ben had in mind. ✦ each offering of tenderness by victoria_p (musesfool), rey & leia & finn & poe & chewbacca & rose & r2-d2, 3.1k    “I can fix it,” Rey insists. “I can fix anything.” ✦ Waste Management by shadydave, leia & rey & finn & poe & rose, 10.4k    “Uh, hi,” says Finn. “We’re here to rescue you?” FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

[wackygoofball]

you once talked about the parallels between sigurd and jaime I have to point out hat sigurd is a dragonslayer who killed fafnir ( who was a dwarf who became a dragon after killing his own father fafnirAsked his father for gold. tyrion Asked his father for his inheritance (Casterly Rock). fafnir Murdered his father upon refusal. Tyrion Murdered his father in light of multiple grievances. tyrion will end up helping dany with her dragons and/or riding one so what if jaime kills tyrion

Hi megashadowdragon and thanks for the question.

I realized I didn’t meta in quite a while, but ohwell, real life calling and all.

First of all, I am impressed that you still rememberor found a way to dig up that comment I made… years ago. Anyway, I had to revisit my own post to check, butreally, the main intention of that post was to point out the many similarities thatcan be drawn between Jaime and Brienne and Sigurd and Brynhild, less so aboutmaking predictions about how those similarities may foretell the outcome of thestory. I hope that this came across and that I didn’t make it seem like I wasfirmly believing in Jaime and Brienne fulfilling the Sigurd/Brynhild saga frombeginning to end.

After all, GRRM uses tropes and themes rather thancopying word-for-word the narrative upshots of the story he takes from. Like,JB builds on the Beauty and the Beast trope in order to subvert it, but thatdoesn’t mean it’s going exactly congruent to the original tale in terms oftrajectory (I can’t seem to recall zombie!Cat to have been amongst the ensembleof Beauty and the Beast, LOL). So Itry to be cautious when it comes to making predictions based on mythologyparallels I can spot in a narrative. After all, GRRM mixed in a lot of mythology, Norse mythology *atlarge* being the first idea that comes to my mind, wherein Jaime fits multiplecharacters. Like, you can easily parallel Jaime with Norse gods like Tyr, amongothers. Or Christian mythology with the Jacob parallels. So… I am very carefulon that territory, which is why I dare not predict future outcomes based onother story’s equivalents. It’s far too tempting to just go down the rabbithole because every story parallel you choose will give you a potentiallydifferent outcome based on the trajectory of the story itself. I am much moresold on the BatB trope and trajectory because a) GRRM has affirmed that hebased JB on that trope, and b) tropes are not the same as following a storyfrom beginning to end along the exact same lines.

However, as you rightly point out, there are greatparallels to be drawn between Tyrion and Fafnir, both taking part in patricideand developing a certain greed (hence the dwarf turning into a serpent as they aresymbols for greed) for gold, which again plays well into the Lannister gold andred theme. And I am thankful that you brought it to my attention because – alsodue to my clear JB focus – did not even think about how Tyrion very well fitsinto the Volsunga Saga in that regard, and it may well be that GRRM drewinspiration from Fafnir when creating Tyrion’s character.

Yet, strictly following that analogy (for the sakeof the argument here), Regin is the brother of Fafnir who orders for hiskilling and enlists someone else to do it (Sigurd). Now of course, we caneither substitute Regin for someone to fill into that role and order Jaime todo it or we cut out the middleman for the sake of maintaining that parallel.  

But anyway, perhaps we ought to see it not so strictin terms of how the characters are related and more in terms of what they doinstead. Again, the trajectory for Tyrion maps neatly on Fafnir, as you assert,even more so in the books wherein he has embarked on a much darker route thanin the show (I won’t dig too deeply into the matter as my knowledge remainslimited on book!Tyrion, not having read those chapters in their entirety justyet).

Though that in itself should be telling, I think, withregards to Tyrion’s outcome in the overall series. I think the general themewill be that most characters will move into a gray area in terms of morality(safe for the clear villains that we have… like, Euron won’t become a graycharacter, Cersei won’t either, I daresay). Characters like Jaime are movingtowards the lighter spots whereas supposed heroes have become/are becomingmorally corrupted or at the very least tested in their morality and balancingit with the need to maybe do acts of dishonor for the sake of the people atlarge. The show did away with the dark tidbits of book!Tyrion’s journey why? We will only know once the finalseason airs, of course, but as others have put forward before me (and far moreeloquently than I do here), it may well be that show!Tyrion will move into moremoral grayness towards the end, whereas book!Tyrion may well get a redemptivemoment of some kind to move him back towards gray.

I tend to think that the show wants to link Tyrion’shaving to make tough choices between his family (Jaime) and the woman of nametitles to the grayness of his character. This has already been party exploredin season 7 wherein Tyrion was kind of hoping for Jaime not to be offed byHighgarden and looking completely devastated when he had to see what the womanwith many titles could do with a flying nuke and a bunch of Dothraki in an openfield. It was surely not without purpose that a) she questioned his loyalties beforeand after that and that b) Tyrion looked so clearly devastated and was made tobear witness of the apparent horror that the woman he chose as the one he meansto support can cause to see the overall goal of her ascending to the IronThrone being achieved. They also could have chosen to have Tyrion stay atDragonstone to await the news, but the fact that he bore witness to both thehavoc a dragon can cause on a battlefield plus the barbecuing of the Tarlys wassurely not without purpose. Which was now a long way of saying that I wouldn’tfind it farfetched if his loyalties were to become ultimately tested in season8, and further, that he will ultimately have to choose between his brother andthe mother of nukes.

While characters are supposedly uniting for thegreater purpose of fighting against the White Walkers now, I am by no meansconvinced that this is smooth transition from war to the Star.garyenRestoration Period towards the end of the series, which is to say that it maywell be that we are headed for conflict among the factions and that maincharacters who offered their support last season may still find their loyaltiesquestioned in their wish to seek power and may or may not ditch the groupeffort at least for a certain amount of time. Now, I don’t want to dig intothat whole matter because that is something people have sent plenty about and Ihonestly can’t be bothered too much about either the fandom-favorite theoriesregarding the restoration period or the hype of the characters mostlyassociated with said theories. I don’t discount their overall importance to thenarrative, I am just saying that I personally have zero shits to give besidethe plot purpose they fulfill for the overall narrative, but I have no personalinvestment in the lady with many names beyond her arc contributing to theoverall series.

But I derailed now again, sorry, I suppose I justwanted to position myself so that I don’t then get questions about a character Iam not invested in and don’t want to be bothered to bash on because, really, Ijust don’t care. The point I was heading for but kind of got away from is thatI am not entirely sure whether Tyrion *will* remain Team Lady of Many Names bythe end of the series. The fact that Tyrion’s and Jaime’s conflict has not beenwholly resolved just yet (while they wereon friendlier terms again, Tyrion did only so much as dodge the big questionsstill standing between the two – namely the consequences of his killing Tywinthat had direct impact on people Tyrion did not intend to harm with that, e.g.Jaime, Tommen, etc., for his own purposes of getting revenge on his father andI think the narrative set it up in such a way that when they met again for thefirst time in the vaults of the Red Keep that it was meant to show that Tyrionwas giving Jaime the same old argument as always instead of owning up to it)has me sold on the idea that something else is still coming with regards to thequestion of where his loyalties will eventually lie.

Now, to come back to the Volsunga Saga and theparallels to GoT/ASoIaF: I would also suggest another thought experiment justto explore the many ways of looking at it: Trade in Fafnir for the woman ofmany names (undeniable, the dragon connection is strong with her… and while sheis certainly no dwarf… she is not exceptionally tall, LOL, but now I digressfor sure). She had Khal Drogo kill Viserys with gold (hence, arguably, substituting Hreidmar, the father of Reginand Fafnir, for it), hence also having the gold aspect on her side and the ideaof greed being potentially subsumed in her ongoing quest for power even aftershe achieved to establish herself as Boss in Essos. Now fast-forward to (forthe show here) season 7 and Spoils of Warand have Sigurd (Jaime) go up against Fafnir (the woman of many names) afterreceiving orders from Regin who wants to see Fafnir gone (Cersei). Yet again,gold also plays a large role, and while Jaime is not successful in killing her,he was definitely going for it right there.

So, you see, I think that you can spin this manydifferent ways (which is the wonderful thing about literary analysis that Ilove so very much) and arrive at similar results. It neatly fits with GRRM’smode of paralleling and mirror characters. So the woman of many names does wellfit Fafnir the same way you can find reasons to see Tyrion being paralleledwith the serpent/dragon.

Now, to go back to the suggestion that Jaime may killTyrion… within the narrative, I just fail to see how he would pose such a*threat* that would make it necessary for Jaime to kill him. Tyrion… is only asdangerous as is the power he is granted. If Tyrion were to go completely rogue,hotwire a dragon and ride it into battle against his brother et al., then thatwould require some… serious turnaround and it would still make the dragon the more immediate threat to get outof the way.

Now, he could use wildfire to trigger Jaime into goingagainst Tyrion and make an attempt on his life, but I have my doubts regardingthe matter. I think wildfire will be vital to the plot in defeating the WhiteWalkers, and that it won’t be only limited to being at Cersei’s disposal,because let’s be real, it kind of loses effect and is in itself a gun she issitting on, waiting to be fired. And while Jaime will certainly be triggered byit, I think it makes much more sense for him to either then help evacuate thecity or help set up the trap for the White Walkers to walk into, seeing thenecessity. Now, if we spin this into the woman of many names going rogue andwanting to torch the capitol to thus blow shit up in red and green, then Jaimewould still have more incentive to be mad at her than at Tyrion.

If we spin it in such a way that Tyrion commits utterbetrayal towards Jaime a second time and Jaime found himself in a position ofauthority in the post-war times, then this would come close to Jaime having tosentence Tyrion to death, which I don’t really see happening, to be honest. Atleast I can’t come up with scenarios that would map with what we have been setup for in terms of character development over the past few seasons. While Jaimesaid that he would kill him, he evidently did not whenever he had a chance forit (if he was serious, he could have offed Tyrion in that vault with even justone hand and a tourney sword). Because just as evidently, Jaime loves hisbrother still, which made Tyrion’s betrayal burn ever the harder for Jaime, butthe more organic conclusion to such a conflict is that they talk it out or that Tyrion makes good onhis promise of when Jaime freed him from the prison where he said that he owedJaime his life, which makes him indebted to Jaime.

So I can actually see self-sacrifice to a certainextent far more prominently being one possible upshot of Tyrion’s arc than himgoing rogue on a dragon to require Jaime to slay his own brother instead ofhaving Jaime go through the motions of committing an additional act ofkinslaying. Generally speaking, I just don’t see Jaime offing any more of hisfamily members (and yes, that includes Cersei, the whole valonqar thing beingJaime and then going into suicide for *reasons* is nothing I am getting behind,but yet again, I digress and, yet again, I think people have written enoughabout that by now, so I would much rather focus on literally anything else). Because it would be sovery repetitive for Jaime and the Lannister clan at large. Cersei killed Lanceland Kevan and the in-laws Margaery, Loras, Mace… and kind of gave rise toTommen’s fall by making him watch that shit show *ahem*… Tyrion killed Tywin. Jaime(at least for the show… for *reasons*) killed a cousin and in-law Olenna uponCersei’s order. Like, honest to the Seven above, I don’t see the Lannistersdoing any more internal family murder. I think another family can well take aturn now.

So… to somehow tie those loose threads of thought togetherthat I have been spewing out now, anon… I think the parallel of Fafnir andTyrion most definitely fits, and I think there is a lot to be said about thesymbolism and even potential trajectory of the overall story, especially if youlook at book!Tyrion and his dark journey which neatly maps on Fafnir’s fallingfor the gold/greed. However, such analysis only ever takes us so and so farbecause, as I hope to have highlighted, we can recreate similar parallels byexchanging the players and it still matches. Because that just correlates withGRRM’s way of writing, which heavily builds on involving themes andpre-existing tropes, mythology, and narratives. That doesn’t mean we can takeone narrative and go to the end to determine future outcomes for GRRM’scharacters, though. It may well be that it will turn out eventually to be truefor one case, but at this point of time, it is simply too hard to guess whichone he may pick or subvert or abandon.

Though more on a sidenote, I will say that I would notfind it entirely unlikely if Tyrion ended up riding a dragon, as you pointed toin your ask. In fact, I would find that muchbetter than Jesus I mean King in the North riding one because Tyrion has builtup a significant relationship with those scaly nukes and I would much rathersee the dragons being okay with being ridden by a guy they learned to trustthan one that has the right Targ smell to him. But then again, I think dragonsare dicks, so maybe that is why they are more sold on the King in the North orthey just really want their mom to bang her nephew… so, who knows?

Now, speaking more in terms of *just* the show/books,I don’t think Jaime will kill Tyrion because I just don’t see where they would getthe conflict if the show has already hinted at it that there is more things toconnect them than keep them apart. If the woman of many names is supposed to bethe reason why, then Jaime should direct his anger towards *her* rather thanTyrion, and I do think that Jaime canmake that kind of rational decision, even with all those feelings involved. Thenarrative would have to make some true 180° to go back to where we basicallywere in season 5 to have Jaime be again all “I will murder him first chance Isee him.” And all atrocities I can come up that may trigger Jaime would almostalways relate to the woman of many names instead of his brother.

So, in sum: Tyrion and Fafnir parallels are awesome and I am grateful that you brought it to my attention because I missed the connection before. Ithink Jaime and Tyrion will pull themselves back together. I hope that Tyriongets to ride a dragon to prove that you don’t have to smell of Targ in order toearn yourself a ride on a nuke. And I most certainly hope that Jaime’s andBrienne’s narrative will end on an entirely different note than that of Sigurdand Brynhild because I remain sold on the idea that they are, against whatseems to be commonly believed by many people, headed towards a happier endingthan most will have in mind. Naturally, I may be totally proven wrong on thematter, but for now I reserve for myself the luxury of being in the hiatus ofsweet, sweet oblivion, wherein I can imagine all kinds of scenarios where Jaimeand Brienne live happily ever after, to finally get started on the Braime Bunch™,and that if Tyrion is meant to live till the end of the series, will spend his daysin good companionship with his brother.

*flies away*

[jemimacaleyreadallaboutit]

I’m also looking at movies for the project of ‘towers’ one of the movies I know that involves towers is ‘the towering Inferno’ which is one of my favourite movies it includes Steve McQueen and Paul Newman. The movie is about a party which is being held in a newly opened\built tower in central San Francisco, which later on in the movie sets fire because the man who owns it wanted to cut costs so there was dodgy wiring and everyone has to try to to get out unhurt, and they have to figure out how to put out the fire before more damage is done. The towering inferno is a 1974 American disaster film produced by Irwin Allen, featuring an ensemble cast. Directed by John Guillermin, the film is co production between 20th century fox and warner bros. The first to be a joint venture by two major Hollywood studios. It was adapted by Stirling Silliphant from pair of novels, the tower (1973) by Richard Martin stern.

The film starred Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, William Holden, Faye Dunaway, Fred Astaire, Susan Blakely, Richard chamberlain, Jennifer Jones, O.j. Simpson, Robert Vaughn, Robert Wagner. The music was done by John Williams and the cinematography was by Fred Koenekamp, and Joseph Biroc. Edited by Carl Kress and Harold Kress and Production company was by Irwin Allen

This film was released December 14, 1974 and the running time is 165 minutes. The budget for this movie was 14million dollars.

The film earned a nomination for the academy award for best picture and was the highest grossing film of 1974. The picture was nominated for eight oscars in all, winning three. In addition to McQueen and Newman.

Plot: architect Doug Roberts (Paul Newman) returns to San Francisco for the dedication of the glass tower, which he designed for developer James Duncan (William Holden). The tower, at 1,688 feet (515m) tall and 138 stories, is the worlds tallest building. During testing, an electrical short starts an undetected fire on the 81st floor just after another such short occurs in the main utility room. Upon learning this Roberts sees the wiring in inadequate and suspects that roger Simmons (Richard chamberlain) the electrical subcontractor and Duncan’s son in law cut corners. Roberts confronts Simmons, who feigns innocence. During the dedication ceremony, Chief of public relations dan Bigelow (Robert Wagner) turns on all the towers lights, but Roberts orders them shut off to reduce the load on the electrical system. Smoke is seen on the 81st floor, and the San Francisco fire department is summoned. Roberts and engineer will Giddings (Norman Burton) go to the 81st floor, where Giddings is fatally burned pushing a guard away from the fire. Roberts reports the fire to Duncan, who is courting senator Gary Parker (Robert Vaughn) for an urban renewal contract and refuses to order an evacuation. SFFD battalion chief Michael O’Hallorhan (Steve McQueen) arrives and forces Duncan to evacuate the guests from the promenade room on the 135th floor. Simmons admits to Duncan that he cut corners to bring the project back under budget and suggests other subcontractors did likewise. Fire overtakes the express elevators, killing a group whose elevator stops on the engulfed 81st floor Bigelow and his mistress Lorrie (Susan Flannery) are killed when fire traps them in the Duncan enterprises offices on the 65th floor. Lisolette mueller (Jennifer Jones) a guest being wooed by con man Harlee Claiborne (Fred Astaire) rushes to the 87th floor to check on a deaf mother and her two children. Security chief Jernigan (OJ Simpson) rescues the mother, but a reptured gas line explodes and prevents roberts and the rest of the group from following. The explosion destroys the emergency stairs which they must traverse to reach an exit door leading to a service elevator which can take them to the 134th floor, below the promenade room. They await firemen sent to blow up hardened cement blocking access to it. As firemen begin to bring the fire under control on floor 65, the towers electrical system fails, deactivating the passenger elevators; O’Hallorhan and other firemen must rappel from a stopped elevator down the elavator shaft to safely. An attempt at a helicopter rescue fails when high winds cause it to crash and set the roof ablaze. A navy rescue team attach a breeches buoy between the promenade room and the roof of the adjacent 102 story peerless building, and rescue a number of guests, including patty Simmons (Susan Blakely) dubcans daughter. Roberts rigs a gravity brake on the scenic elevator, allowing one trip down for twelve people, including Roberts fiancé Susan Franklin (Faye Dunaway) Lisolette and the children saved earlier by her and Roberts efforts in the stairwell. An explosion near the 110th floor throws Lisolette from the elevator to her death and leaves elevator hanging by a single cable, but O’Hallorhan rescues the elevator with a navy helicopter. As fire reaches the promenade room, a group of men led by Simmons attempts to commandeer the breeches buoy which is subsequently destroyed in an explosion, killing Simmons, senator parker and several other men. In a last ditch strategy, O’Hallorhan and Roberts blow up water tanks atop the tower with plastic explosives. Most of the remaining party goers appear to survive as water rushes through the tower, extinguishing the flames, through several- including the mayor of San Francisco (Jack Collins) are killed. In the towers lobby Harlee Claiborne, in shock upon hearing of lisolettes death, is given her cat by Jernigan. Duncan consoles his grieving daughter and hopes that such a tragic disaster will never happen again. Roberts accepts O’Hallorhans offer of guidance on how to build a fire safe skyscraper.

Books: in apart 1973, it was announced that warner bros, whose then production chief was John Calley, paid 350000 dollars for the rights to sterns the tower, prior to that books publication. This amount was larger than originally reported. The book had been the subject of a bidding war between Warner’s, fox and Columbia dropped out when the price reached 20000 dollars and Warner’s offered 390000 dollars.

[cftorch]

crash and burn (pt. 2) || solo

Summary: Johnny goes looking for a fight. Unfortunately, he finds one. Warnings: Violence, death

It wasn’t until he was three blocks away from his apartment that Johnny remembered the phone still clasped tightly in his hand. For some reason, the weight of it suddenly became unbearable, and he stopped in his tracks and stared down at it. He knew he needed to get the word out, knew he needed to text Sue before the Bugle picked up on the pandemonium at his apartment and put the pieces together.

Leaning against the wall, Johnny stared down at his phone until his vision blurred. He clenched his eyes shut with a sigh, ignoring the stinging sensation. In the end, he managed two words: dad’s dead. He sent the message out to anyone he thought might care, to Sue and Ben and Reed and Wanda and MJ and Peter. As soon as the message sent, he turned off his phone and stuffed it into his pocket.

It seemed to burn a hole there, the two words repeating over and over again in his mind, providing gruesome punctuation at the end of every flash of memory. The window shattered, the Skrulls landed on the carpet with a thud (dad’s dead). The heat burned out of every pore, filling the room with smoke (dad’s dead). The smell of alien flesh burning hit his nostrils and he thought it smelled eerily similar to the time Reed burned himself on the grill (dad’s dead). Franklin’s hoarse cry echoed through his ears and his shoulder twinged where the Skrull’s gun had got him and the words repeated over and over and over again like a mantra in his head, a never ending chorus reminding him dad’s dead dad’s dead dad’s dead dad’s ----

Johnny took the phone from his pocket and threw it into the street with a groan, walking away quickly to avoid the concerned glances that followed. The weight on his chest didn’t lessen and the words didn’t stop repeating in his head, but fuck, throwing the thing felt good for a second. For a second, at least he’d had control of something. It was that thought that drove him forward, that thought that kept him on his feet.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. On some level, he didn’t think he needed to be. He’d been targeted directly, that much was pretty goddamn certain. The Skrulls had burst through his window without bothering to disguise themselves, had carried guns capable of taking him out. For whatever reason, they wanted him out of the picture. Johnny was willing to bet they weren’t going to give up just because he’d incinerated a couple of them.

He walked until he didn’t recognize his surroundings, until there were more trees than buildings and the city lights were a faint glow behind him. It would be better this way, better if he didn’t have to worry about collateral damage. (If he’d been worrying about collateral damage before, if he’d  lead the Skrulls away from his apartment, maybe his father wouldn’t be dead now. The thought sent a dizzying wave of guilt through him.)

“All right, you stupid fuckers,” he yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth as he flamed on. “You wanted me? Here’s your fucking shot. Come and get me! Bring it the fuck on! I’m fucking waiting for it!”

For a moment, silence answered him, and Johnny wondered if he’d miscalculated. Maybe he’d really scared them off, maybe incinerating the ones in his apartment had been enough, maybe… A flash of movement behind a nearby tree caught his eye, and he threw a fireball in its direction. Something green darted away from the heat, and Johnny felt his flames grow hotter.

“Get out here you fucking cowards!” His voice was hoarse, and he hated the way it broke on the last word. He did his best to draw attention away from the slip, throwing more fireballs in the direction the Skrull had gone. Hearing something behind him, he spun around quickly towards the noise, faltering as he did so.

There were a lot of them. More than he’d bargained for, really; apparently they’d learned from their mistake, and any hope he’d had of them underestimating him again was dashed. There were at least twenty melting out from the trees, all armed with the same weapons that had killed his father. The thought brought Johnny back to himself, and he grit his teeth.

The heat was coming off him in waves, and he knew he was burning brighter than he ever had before. It felt hotter, too, and the Skrulls seemed to hesitate. Johnny used it to his advantage. He poured every ounce of anger and grief into his flames, letting the memory of his father’s unmoving chest and the blood soaking into his carpet and the sound of his voice as he failed to recognize Johnny fuel the fire. It came out hotter and brighter, the world around him going from yellow to orange to red to white as the heat built within him.

The trees around him seemed to vanish, and he watched with a sick satisfaction as the approaching Skrulls were incinerated all at once. An anguished scream clawed its way out of Johnny’s throat, and he let the flames burn for another moment before they shut off abruptly.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, he fell to his knees in the grass, breathing heavily. He felt oddly cold, as if the flames had sucked all the heat from his body. He figured today might be the first --  and likely only -- time he’d ever get to tell Reed Richards ‘I told you so.’ It turned out he could go supernova without destroying the world or killing himself.

Somehow, it didn’t feel much like a victory.

Sitting in the grass, Johnny felt utterly defeated. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t muster up any surprise when the skyline in the distance shifted. He was almost expecting it. It was like something Ben had told him once, the rule of Murphy’s Law: Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. And for Johnny, things always seemed to have a way of going spectacularly wrong.

There were about ten more Skrulls moving towards him quickly now, and Johnny didn’t have the strength to muster up anything even a fraction as impressive as what he’d used before. Going supernova might not have killed him, but it sure as hell wiped him out. He managed to get to his feet with some difficulty, though the world tilted underneath him. Flaming on made it tilt further, and it sent an unfamiliar shiver up his spine, but he managed to hold the flame anyways.

“Bring it… the fuck on,” he muttered, trembling hands raised as if ready for a fight.

One of the Skrulls laughed. “You can barely stand, burning boy,” he said mockingly. “I don’t think you’ll be putting up much of a fight.” It took almost all of his energy to throw the fireball at the Skrull, but it was fucking worth it to hear the laughter replaced with screaming. Johnny’s smile was all teeth as the rest of the Skrulls seemed to shrink back a little, looking nervous.

Unfortunately, they didn’t take long to recover. They were on him all at once, guns holstered. Johnny guessed they must’ve figured they wouldn’t need them now, and he was a little offended in spite of himself. He might be dead on his feet, but he was still the Human Torch. He was still a member of the Fantastic Four, still the same guy who’d had his DNA rewritten by cosmic fucking rays and lived to tell the tale. Exhausted and beat, Johnny was twice as dangerous as any Skrull goon on their best day. He took out six of them before they seemed to realize that.

The remaining three aliens stepped away from him, taking their guns from their holsters and leveling their guns at his head. Johnny set the ground on fire in a last ditch effort to throw them off. It took everything he had, his flames dying as he fell to his knees again with a groan.

Immediately, the Skrulls closed the distance between him and them, the guns pointing directly in his face. One of them used the barrel of her gun to push his chin up, and he met her eyes with defiance. “If you’re gonna kill me,” he ground out, “fucking get it over with. I hate the waiting.”

She scoffed, shaking her head as if he’d just suggested she swallow the moon. “You are far too valuable to kill, Jonathan Storm,” she said lowly. Something pressed against his ribs, and he had just enough time to register the sensation of it before a burst of electricity rendered him unconscious.

“K’lux,” Jazinda, the female Skrull, ordered, turning to the two behind her. The situation was far from ideal. Initially, a high-ranking Skrull had been chosen to replace Storm due to his positions within the Fantastic Four and the Panel as well as his relationship to heroes such as the Scarlet Witch. Unfortunately, both the original candidate to replace Storm and their second choice had been killed in the boy’s rampage. K’lux was still training but, given the situation, he would have to do.

Seeming to understand her unspoken order, K’lux nodded and began to shift, skin going from green to the same shade as Storm’s in a moment. The transformation was slower than it would have been in more experienced Skrull, and Jazinda refrained from rolling her eyes with some difficulty. “Go back to the city,” she ordered K’lux with a nod. “Do not approach anyone unnecessarily. Remember, you’re mourning.” She snorted at the word, amused at the fragility of humankind. She’d seen friends and loved ones alike slaughtered needlessly and gone on to fight without missing a beat. The human boy witnessed a single death and lost all control. It was truly pathetic.

Turning to her other remaining companion -- De’Lila, a fairly low-ranking female -- she nodded towards Storm’s unconscious body. “Carry him back to the ship,” she ordered, holstering her gun. “I think we can find many valuable uses for him.”

Were it not for the dozens of soldiers she’d lost during this retrieval, she might have found it in her to pity Storm for what was going to happen next. As it was, she was filled with a certain sense of vindication.

Whatever pain was coming to Jonathan Storm, it would be far more pleasant than what he deserved.