#so far her approach to that stuff has always been really interesting and clever

[mosswolf]

so i started middlegame which won out on the poll and one of the quotes at the beginning is from a. deborah baker which is. that's just one of seanan mcguire's pen names right?? did she quote herself at the start of her own book??

[milliebobbyflay]

Okay so I've spent a while thinking about how to word my actual problem with homestuck 2, and the works that make up post-canon homestuck more broadly. I think a lot of people resort to nitpicking bits of awkward writing or art in some attempt to pinpoint a source to an underlying sort of hollow uncanniness, which is funny because homestuck's supposed golden age of acts 1-5 are themselves FAR more of a tonally inconsistent mess of odd character beats, jokes that don't always land, and janky looking art.

Homestuck 2 has been written and drawn by very talented and passionate artists from the beginning, I think the actual issue comes down to a mix between the general pitfalls of hiring fans and the particulars of hussie's outsider background and unorthodox writing style.

First is the issue of hiring fans in general; while it can seem like an easy shortcut to finding talented writers already familiar with the voice and story of the original work, you have to be very aware of how fan culture operates. Beyond the obvious pitfalls that fans are unlikely to approach the story from a detached perspective, there is the larger issue that past a certain point fandom becomes essentially self sustaining. Once a fandom has existed for a long enough period, its most avid members have likely spent FAR more time engaging with other fan works than they have with the original art object. Fandom and the art it produces are, in this way, a sort of a folk tradition; artists are imitating and responding to other artists, characters become archetypes through which to explore certain ideas and dynamics, and the values and tastes of the most prolific and influential fan artists become as inseparable from a participants mental image of the character as the original work itself.

For an example, the affected theatrical mannerisms and cruelty Vriska adopts while in her Mindfang persona have become inseparable from the popular view of the character. Despite the fact that it's heavily signposted as a sort of role playing performance from the jump and she's more or less dropped it by the back half of the comic, it was nevertheless how she had acted in the bulk of her scenes around the time the ur-texts of homestuck fandom were being written, and as so an understandable misread of a character became inscribed into the fandom canon, and by extension her characterization in Homestuck 2.

All of this is extrapolated by the sort of unorthdox, building-the-plane-while-flying-it manner in which Hussie's writing style developed.

Based on his commentary, I get the sense that Andrew is an incredibly clever and thoughtful writer who lacks the theory and vocabulary to precisely describe his process. He tends to communicate in sort of abstract metaphors which aim to bridge the gap in explaining the actual conscious process he uses to plot his stories, but the way he talks about technical nuts and bolts writing craft stuff gives me the impression that his approach is largely intuitive, bordering on unconscious. He's a lot better at describing how he writes than what he writes or why.

You can of course piece a lot this together—his approach to art draws from the tradition of videogame spritework, where the visuals exist as a utilitarian vehicle for conveying information first and a work of illustration only inasmuch is needed to serve the greater story. His character writing draws more from a synthesis of literary fiction, sitcom writing, and "making up a guy" style posting humor, where characters are defined more by their life experiences and underlying psychology than by their goals and values, but also seem to have largely been constructed backwards from a starting point of a funny or interesting manner of speaking. Importantly though, I don't get the sense that these were conscious decisions, just that to Hussie they seemed like the logical way to approach these tasks, and I don't really think he could outline them in a way that would actually help a new team of creators grok how to draw and write in a way that feels like homestuck. I also don't think Hussie could actually explain the psychology that undergirds his character writing, I think he was mostly just drawing on his own life experience and imagining how this sort of character might logically speak and act.

As a novelist, and Hussie is one, both your thought processes and the sum total of your worldview and life experience are just as important to your work as the actual conscious decisions you're making, and I think that where there are gaps in understanding, the new writers are filling in the gaps with both a more conventional approach to the creative process and over a decade of accumulated fanon, and I think that's why homestuck 2 never really rises above feeling like a very well-made fanfic to me?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prerequisite

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attempt to move on from your time with Professor Hansen, but can't seem to shake the past.. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, some Lloyd Hansen

A note on reader characters:

For clarity,  each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Flora, previously featured in Below Average. This fic also features characters from various installments.

Note: Finally got this on paper.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms as you narrow your eyes at the front of the lecture hall. It's your last choice in elective but the only one you could get to pad out your schedule. Law. Hardly riveting stuff.

What's more intriguing is the professor. No, no, you haven't acquired a taste for them, if anything Hansen taught you to be wary of them. The very lesson that has you glaring down at Professor Barber, waiting for his first slip.

You're not clever by any means, you're just the only one looking for the signs. The same ones you saw in Tweed at your first meeting, those that you catch in yourself, and the other girls who won't say the truth aloud. 

Brownie, that's the one. You see the way he looks at her and you note how she stays after class, every week. Only three weeks so far but a pattern is a pattern.

You twist your pen, the nib poking out, then do it again, retracting it. The clicking noise forms a tempo at your listless fidgeting. You have a study date tonight with the girls, what’s one more? You’re forming a habit of taking on lost souls, yourself just another wisp floating in the void.

You scribble down the date for your next quiz, your mind hardly processing the words as you guide the pen. You’re trying to plot your approach. You think you have an idea.

As Professor Barber dismisses class, you slide your notebook into your bag and hike it up onto your shoulder. At the edge of the row, as usual, you quickly descend as Brownie stays in her seat, waiting and watching her feet. You catch the small glances aimed in her direction from the man behind the podium.

You take out your phone and quickly text Cookie; ‘you got room for one more?’

You don’t wait for an answer. You don’t care. You’ve made up your mind, it’s a warning, not a question.

“Hey,” you come around the front row. The girl doesn’t seem to hear you. Or she’s ignoring you, “um, Brownie?”

She looks up, startled. She sends a look towards Barber but you ignore him. You cross your arms and sway, your skirt stirring around your legs.

“Remember me?” You ask, “you lent me your pen?”

“Oh, uh, I remember,” she squeaks, her voice thin and raw, as if she never uses it, “hi.”

“Um, so,” you try to sound casual, “I’m not really a law student. English,” you touch your chest and smile, “and I think I could use a study buddy, if you’re interested?”

“Er, oh?” Her brows draw together, “I don’t know…” she scratches her neck, another peek at the professor, “I–”

“Do you have plans? Or maybe you already have someone to study with,” you look away and frown, “sorry, I just figured I’d ask. I need someone to help me make sense of all this. I’m totally lost.”

There’s a subtle rumble, a noise you likely wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know to listen for it. You don’t even glance back at Barber as you hear him packing up. You sit in the chair next to Brownie and smile.

“I just figured you’re like, the smartest person in the class, and I need this grade to bring my average up. Please?”

She chews her lip and plays with the high collar of her turtleneck. She hides beneath her lashes, shrugging before she manages a tiny nod. Her fingers flutter and she shivers nervously.

“I can help,” she presses her fingers to the ribbed fabric of her shirt, “sure, I…”

“Me and my friends are meeting tonight, we’re getting pizza,” you chirp, “wanna tag along?”

“Friends?” She bats her eyes at you frightfully.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re all super friendly and they’ll love you.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not very…” she speaks so quietly you have to lean in to hear her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say much,” you assure her, “Cookie always bakes way too many brownies. You could help us finish them, huh?”

She looks terrified. Her mouth scrunches and shifts back and forth as she measures her options. You know exactly what she’s thinking. That man will be disappointed. Well, let him be. Unless he wants to step forward and admit that he’s fucking a goddamn student.

“Hm, okay, but… just for a little. I can’t stay very long.”

“Just until I figure out what actus reus means, alright?” You stand and send a sharp look towards the professor. He quickly dips his chin down in feigned concentration as he looks over his notes. Not today, fucker.

“Okay,” she gets up and lifts a crochet bag, her hand shaking as she tucks away her laptop in the slouchy purse, “um, I’m sorry, but… I forgot your name.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you wait for her to pass you before walking at her side towards the door. She’s still hesitant and reluctant as she looks over her shoulder, “Flora.”

💮

“This is Brownie,” you introduce the mousy addition to the girls as she tries to fade into the blue wall, “she’s in my law class.”

She doesn’t move. She just looks up with round eyes as the others cheerily call out their welcome, already clustered around the table amid coffee cups, laptops, and a few baked goods. The scent of cinnamon mingles with the stale caffeine.

“Welcome, Brownie,” Muse gives both of you a start as she appears at the girl’s other shoulder, “I’m Muse! Oh, you have wise eyes.” She flutters around the girl, a boa around her shoulders, “you would look wonderful in jade. Yes, it would highlight your undertones.”

Brownie frowns and mutters, but you can’t tell if it's a thank you or just a whimper.

“She says I’m a sapphire type,” you remark as you wave her away from the door, “you can toss your coat with ours,” you motion to the bench bench piled with outerwear, “then I’ll introduce you to the rest… they’re not as bouncy as Muse.”

Brownie gives up her dark gray coat and steps out of her plain boots. She dresses in a very simple way. Turtle necks, corduroys, nothing with much shape or structure. Her style can be best described as part of the wall.

“So,” you walk just ahead of her. She stays behind you as if trying to hide, “Tweed, Foxy, Sunny,” you point out the three girls at the table, “you met Muse,” you look at the artsy wraith fluttering around the counter, “and Cookie, our host.” 

The woman in question puts down a plate of sugar cookies, “hi, nice to meet you! I’ll find an extra chair.”

Brownie doesn’t say a word. You realise it might be a bit overwhelming. She reminds you of Tweed in that way. You point her to a chair and assure her you’ll take whatever Cookie comes up with. She sits, hugging her bag in her lap as she stares at the table.

Foxy gets up as you head for the counter, you pause and look back at Brownie, “you want some tea? Something to drink?”

She chews her lip before she answers, “water, please, if that’s okay.”

You nod and go to the cupboard. Foxy comes up next to you and leans on the counter as you shift to pull out the water jug from the fridge. You come back to her as she keeps her voice low.

“What’s up with that one?”

“Law professor, I think,” you mutter, “could barely get her here.”

“Fuck, another one, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, you know, shitty men everywhere,” you fill the glass, “I brought her here to try to forget all that. Like the rest of us.”

“Sure thing,” she taps the countertop with her nails and pushes off.

You put the jug back and take the water over to Brownie as Cookie emerges with a small white stool. You accept it, the seat lower than the rest so that you feel like a kid at the table. You pull out your laptop and open it up. Your phone slides out with it and you catch it as notifications flash on the screen.

You tap your thumb to expand the preview; Insta, emails, and a text that neither surprises or interests you. Professor Dillhole’s message is swiped away without reading a single word. You got your grade and now you’re done with him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“So, Brownie, you’re in law? Are you going to be a lawyer?” Foxy asks.

Brownie shrugs and nods. You wonder for a moment how she’ll manage a courtroom when she can barely give a vocal answer. Well, she has lots of time to figure that out.

“That’s really cool,” you say, “you know, I don’t have the mind for all that. I can’t really sort out one act from the rest. I’m more into bigger narratives than the tiny details.”

She looks at you, still hugging her bag. She’s ready to leave at any moment.

“Why don’t you stay a while?” You poke her bag, “how about we compare notes? I’m sure I missed all the important stuff. This tort gibberish is doing my head in.”

She puts her chin down and slowly lifts the flap of her bag. She slides out her laptop and gently lowers the bag between her feet. She opens the lid, almost reluctant, and her desktop comes to life. You see the email in the corner right before the notif flicks away. A.Barber… Mmm.

For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. You hope your impromptu invitation doesn’t cost her anything. That he doesn’t hold it against her. You should’ve thought of that sooner.

“Let me find…” she trails off, her finger running over the trackpad.

You wait patiently. No, you don’t feel bad. She deserves this. Like the rest of you, she needs a place to get away. Just a single space where she doesn’t have to be crushed under his thumb.

💮

You sit outside of Dean Drysdale’s office. His secretary types away at her keyboard and you twirl your phone in your grip. It’s mostly a paperweight these days as you ignore almost every message that comes in. Blocking didn’t work on that jag off.

You jiggle your foot anxiously. This meeting is important. You really need this scholarship and through the grace of your hard work, and the regrettable cooperation of a particular professor, you’ve met all the requirements. The last piece, an interview with the dean.

The clock ticks, drawing your attention in the stagnant office. It’s five after. The dean is running late. That doesn’t really matter, he can do whatever he wants. But you’re early and that can only help in his consideration.

You hear muffled voices near the other side of the door. Shadows darken the frosted glass emblazoned with the dean’s name and credentials. You sit up straight but try not to look too eager. The door opens and your heart falls into your ass. Fuck, not this guy.

“Friday,” Dean Drysdale claps Lloyd’s back as they emerge from the office.

“Can’t wait,” Lloyd returns but his eyes are on you, “ah, sorry,” he says to you, “didn’t mean to keep him so late.”

“No problem, professor,” you stand and grip the strap of your bag, masking your disgust with a smile, “Dean Drysdale,” you greet the other man, “nice to meet you. I’m Flora.”

“The one and only,” he doesn’t offer his hand, “looks like you’re running behind so better get started.” He points you into his office, “later, Hansen.”

He tosses the last remark over his shoulder as he turns to follow you through the door. You enter and hover across from his desk. You hate to be presumptuous. He shuts the door with a click.

“Sit,” he orders tersely as he rounds the desk and falls heavy into the leather chair.

You lower yourself. Your nerves are wily, especially after seeing Professor Hansen. You had no idea he was close with the dean.

“Hansen speaks highly of you,” he begins, “as do the rest of your professors.”

“Oh, I, that’s great.”

“So, I have thirty candidates. Why should I choose you?” He leans back, elbow on the armrest, posture nonchalant as he swivels.

“Um, well, I work hard. I keep my average up where it needs to be. I have gotten involved in quite a few extracurriculars, I helped with the library bakesale and–”

“Boring. Got it. That’s all in your application,” he dismisses, “just like all the other ones. Bunch of filler. But why you?”

You’re speechless. You prepared for this but you feel as if you fell into this from thin air. You don’t know what he wants to hear.

“How many parties have you been to?” He asks suddenly.

“What?” You can’t help your surprise.

“Come on. You’re a young coed. I know how it is. So, let’s narrow it down. Fall term, how many?”

You squint and look at the wall, thinking. You’re not much of a partier. You twiddle your fingers and count in your head.

“Four, maybe,” you push your shoulders up. “I don’t really… I mostly just spend my spare time with my friends–”

“Are they hot?” He chuckles and sits up, your mouth falling open. “Relax, I hate these things. So uptight,” he rolls his shoulders as he wheels closer to the desk and plants his elbows, “at least you're honest. The last six freshmen that sat there insisted on a big O. Think they would see the plaque and realise I’m not stupid.”

“Well, I… yeah,” you chew on the tip of your tongue. You really don’t know how to proceed. “I brought a portfolio of my essays–”

“No time for that,” he waves his hand at you, “think I got the picture.”

“Oh,” you frown.

He stares at you, poking his cheek with his tongue as his brows draw together. He hums and sits back, once more swiveling back and forth. He tilts his head and clucks.

“You’ll hear from my secretary,” he declares at last.

“That’s it?” You gulp.

“Yeah, whatever, I got about five more of these today and I need a fucking coffee,” he lifts his feet onto his desk. “Be a doll and send in Sienna when you leave.”

“Um, okay,” you stand slowly, “thanks for your time.”

He doesn’t respond as he takes out his phone. You hide your unease and leave. As you emerge you see the name card on the secretary’s desk. Sienna.

“Er, he told me to send you in,” you approach.

She looks up at you and snaps her gum, “great.”

She gets up as she rolls her eyes and you swiftly march past the desk. You don’t understand what just happened. Did you fuck it up? What did Hansen say? Oh my fucking good, you swear if he–

Your thoughts race ahead of your feet as they carry you without intention. You find yourself in the stairwell, stunned and confused. You turn down the first flight only to dodge out of the way of a figure coming up. You yipe as you find yourself shoved into the corner, Lloyd’s arms outstretched to pen you in.

His hands brace the painted brick as he smirks down at you, “hey, sweet cheeks, long time, no suck.”

You curl your lip at him and snarl, “get away from me.”

You shove on his chest and he retracts his hands, grabbing your wrists. You struggle with him but he easily pushes your hands up, pinning them to the wall. He leers as looms in front of you, his eyes scanning down your body.

“Damn, I forgot how good you look in those skirts. Panties or nah?”

“Fuck off–”

“Always looked better around your waist–”

“I said get the fuck off of me. I’ll scream–”

“I’d love to hear it,” he snickers, “what happened to us, flower? We were doing great. Living life, fucking hard.”

“You’re an animal–”

“We had a good thing, the whole professor-with-benefits gig worked for us, didn’t it? It sure as hell loosened you up. Look at you, all wound tight–”

You snap your teeth at him and he recoils, barely saving his nose from the chomp. He cackles and keeps you trapped, squeezing your wrists tighter. His laughter rolls out to a growl.

“You know, if you get that scholarship, they need two professor’s to sign off on it… but you know, I don’t just put my name on anything–”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I fucking am when I got blue balls, honey,” he scoffs, “just touch em. A little bit.”

You grit your teeth and throw your knee up. You yank your hands free and shoulder past Lloyd as he bends and grips his crotch. He chokes on his breath as he leans against the wall. You bluster away as quickly as you can.

“Not like that,” he gurgles as you charge down the stairs, dizzy as you turn down the next flight. 

So much for that scholarship.

💮

You stare at the C circled in red on your last quiz. Law isn’t your forte, that’s clear. Your GPA and hopes for that scholarship are dwindling in that simple little letter. You look up at the front of the lecture hall as Professor Barber reclaims the podium, preparing to take up the answers as he does every other week.

You sit closer than before. You’re always sure to take the seat next to Brownie and she has yet to tell you to stop. Something about her though suggests that she won’t ever do that. No has been erased from her vocabulary.

You don’t miss the Professor’s eyes as they flit up to your study buddy but quickly meet your own. He darts them away, caught. You wonder, however, if your middling grade has something to do with that. Oh well, you won’t regret doing the right thing.

As you open your laptop, an email pops up in the corner. ‘On Behalf of Dean R. Drysdale’. You click on it before you can stop yourself. You’re holding your breath. You read it slowly.

‘Schedule a follow up for the dean’s decision’.

What? That’s not an answer. Fuck. Why can’t they just put it right there? Yes or no. You have to stop yourself from slamming your laptop shut. You grab your quiz and rest it over your keyboard. You look over at Brownie, she stares at the paper in her hand. She got an A, as always.

“Good job,” you whisper.

“Mmm, yeah,” she returns as she drops the quiz onto her folding desk. “He’s a good teacher…”

“Sure,” you accept dryly.

She glances at you but says nothing. You hate to be sharp with her but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. You’re just smart enough to know to be cautious. You can only be there for her when she needs you. It would be too risky to do anything else. And not fair to Brownie, that man could destroy her career. You’ve been her, you just hope she finds her way out.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Barber calls out, quieting the class, “it seems we need a lot of review on case law.”

💮

The hour is unexpected but you don’t think much of it. A dean is busier than most and you can’t help but imagine that Drysdale is even less elated to be meeting at such an off-time. Seven in the evening on a Friday is prime time, even for those outside the coed population.

You show up to an empty office. Sienna is gone, the place desolate. The vibe is off. Something about it reminds you of another meeting. No, this isn’t Hansen. Still, you’re on edge, vigilant as you approach the dean’s door, an amber glow through the frosted glass.

You knock and cross one arm over your chest, clutching your upper arm. You sway as you wait. Deja vu paralyses you on the spot. It can’t be. It can’t happen twice. This is about the scholarship.

The door opens and Drysdale steps back as he gives a flippant greeting, “come in.”

He has a glass in hand, a dark brown liquid in marbled crystal. He sips as the door falls open. You step inside and look around the office, the framed degree behind his chair and the several photographs placed around them; a previous dean with his imperious features, and a large house with a rustic landscape crowded around it. You hover at the threshold.

“Close the door,” he sits heavily, “these old buildings are drafty as–” he stops himself and smirks. 

He drains the last of his drink, liquor by your measure, and puts it on the marble coaster. You shut the door and sit, just like last time. You can’t help but be slightly irked to think he brought you all the way here to issue you a rejection.

“So, top three,” he points a finger gun at you as he slumps in the same lackadaisical way, “Flora… you’re a star. Shining reviews. Can’t say my professors ever said anything nice about me but you… you even got Hansen singing your praises.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“I’ve known him a while. We were in the same frat, you know? He was a senior when I was a freshman, hazed me real good but look how things turned out,” he leans an elbow on the armrest and cradles his chin. He watches you. “All these years and I never heard him say anything nice about a fucking student.”

You’re put off by the obscenity. Further, upended by his history with Lloyd. What does that have to do with anything?

“You know, he’s all about self-discipline but you get a few scotches down his gullet and he’s like an open book. Also…” he raises a finger, “leaves his phone unlocked.”

You try not to let that suspicion turn to panic. He can’t know. Even if he did, it’s not your fault. He should be talking with Hansen, not you. He’s the one abusing his position.

“You let him fuck you in his car,” he sits up and laughs, his hand on his stomach, “looking at you, I never would’ve guessed.”

“What? How–”

“I mean, he was hitting it from quite the angle so I don’t blame you for not noticing the phone in his front pocket…”

“No.”

“Yes,” he cackles. “Listen, sweetie, it’s not the first time it’s happened. Some girls just don’t have anything else to offer, so who am I to be mad if they use what they got.”

“I’m not– I’m not like that. He made me–”

“Oh, I’m sure the promise of an A plus helped,” he scoffs as he lets his hand drift down his stomach, “so what can a scholarship get me?”

He gropes himself through his russet coloured pants. Your throat constricts as you clutch your purse tight in your lap. You’re rigid, alight in horror and shame. Of course Lloyd didn’t walk away without something.

“I’ve waited twenty years for this,” he plants his feet.

“No, I’m not– I’m not doing this again.”

You stand and Drysdale rips his hand away from his crotch, snapping his fingers, “with that video, I could take you to the review board and have you kicked out. Not only that, all your credits would be invalidated.”

You swallow and wince. No, this can’t be happening. Again. You’re stronger than this. You’re worth more than these men’s dicks.

“So, sweetie pie,” he reaches forward and takes his phone off his desk, “we’re gonna make a nice little video for Hansen and show him how it’s really done.”

You shudder and hug yourself, “I…” your throat is dry, your heart hollow. What other choice do you have? You’ll lose everything. “I’ll do it, but no video. Please.”

“My rules. I am the dean and you are… the slutty coed.” He tuts, “mmm, classic Pornhub fodder.” He taps the screen of his phone, “let’s go. Get your clothes off.”

He aims the lens at you. You look at the floor. You can’t move.

“Please, turn it off.”

“Get your fucking clothes off,” he repeats, “I want to remind that fuckface what he’s missing out on.”

You dig your nails into the back of your arms then let go. You keep your head down as you lift the strap of your purse over your head and throw it in the chair behind you. You unzip your coat and shrug it off. The room rings in your ear and blurs in your vision. Your breaths are shallow and painful. Your skin is buzzing.

Your coat falls and you pull down the straps of the denim dress you wear over a flowered blouse. You shimmy it past your waist and peek up for just a minute. Drysdale bites his thumb as he records you.

You quickly tear away your gaze and continue. You unbutton the blouse and turn as you fight to free your wrists from the cuffs. Goosebumps speckle over your skin. You close your eyes and ball your hands before pushing your fingers wide. You touch the top of your stockings.

“You can leave those on, cheeks.”

You gulp and retract your hands. You pause and turn back to face the desk.

“Tits out, ass out, go on.”

No wonder he’s tight with Lloyd. Birds of a feather. You reach back to undo your bra and sling it onto the chair. You hook your thumbs in your panties and step out of them.

“I always liked an extra helping,” Drysdale taunts, “her cups overfloweth… is that Shakespeare?”

You don’t answer. You fight the urge to hide behind your arms. You raise your head. You have a morsel of dignity left in you.

“Come here,” he demands, “I wanna fuck those tits.”

You cringe but obey. If Lloyd taught you anything it was to just get it over with. You round the desk as he opens his fly. He pulls himself out above the zipper, playing with himself, rolling his thumb over his tip as he growls.

“Knees, baby, I’m sure you know the drill,” he snickers. You get down as he wiggles his dick in your direction, “push those things together.” You grab your chest and smush it together. He taps your tits with his tip and laughs, enjoying his mocking.

He guides himself down under your tits and slides between. He cups a hand around yours as he refocuses the phone on you. He rocks the chair back, moving his pelvis as he slowly starts to thrust. He groans at the friction. You clench your jaw tight, dreaming of biting off the end of his overinflated worm.

His breath hitches as he fucks faster, the bottom of his wolly sweater rolling up his muscles stomach. You could just punch him right there. You could grab him by his balls and twist. No, that would only assure you of your scholarly doom.

“Look at me,” he demands.

You snap your eyes open as he shoves the phone in your face. You shy away but he keeps fucking, turning the lens down towards your tits. He gives a breathy laugh and it trickles into a moan. Weak and pathetic.

“Shit, yeah, that’s good,” he groans, “give it a kiss, baby.”

You grit back your disgust. You bend your neck and kiss his tip as it pokes through.

“With tongue.”

You force your tongue out as his tip pops up again and you swirl around it, planting a sloppy kiss on the salty flesh. He twitches and hisses. He pulls his hand away from yours and grips the chair.

“That’s good, get up,” he snarls, “turn around.”

You suck in a chestful of air and do as he says. You get to your feet and turn away. He grabs your hips and rolls closer. 

“Bend over.”

You bend and rest your elbows on the edge of the desk. He angles you down into his lap, your body stretched between the two. He rubs his dick against your ass, once more tapping. He kneads the flesh. You shake your head as he tilts you further down.

He prods at your cunt and you can’t help but clench. He pushes against your entrance, tight and burning as he grunts, bulling his way past the resistance with a slap against your thigh. He latches onto your hip and pulls you down another inch.

“It’s all you. You just gotta fuck that scholarship outta me.”

You bite your lip and force yourself to take him. You hip down until you reach your limit but before you can pull back up, he grabs on and holds you in place.

“More.”

You sink your teeth in deeper, urging yourself lower until it’s unbearable. You take him in fully and let out a shaky breath through your nose. You raise your ass as he lets you go. He lets out a raspy noise and you repeat the motion. You keep your motion mechanical and slow, trying to adjust.

“Faster. I wanna see you jiggle.”

You roll your eyes and claw at your arm, arms crossed over the desk as you rock your weight over him. The flesh claps loudly as his chair squeaks with each descent. He groans and gulps, hand wandering over your flesh, along your thighs, across your ass, up your back.

“Fuck, look at her go,” he snarks, “you work that dick. Just like that.”

You close your eyes and let the scowl mar your features. You speed up. He’s almost there. You can feel the tension, you can hear it in his voice.

“Ah,” he pinches you meanly, “stop!”

You try to keep going but he pushes you off of him. He growls and the chair jars as he sits up. You puff and peek around your shoulder at him.

“I’m cumming in your fucking mouth,” he cradles his balls, half-keeled over. “Open the fuck up before I blow–”

You get back to your knees and glare at him. You won’t falter. You have nothing over these men but that. You lean your head back and open your mouth. He lets himself go and holds the camera over you.

“Well, not gonna finish itself.”

You grab him, roughly, and he grunts. A warning. You ease up and stroke him, placing your mouth by his tip. 

“Look into the camera, cheeks.”

You glare at the camera, you hope it can catch the sheer loathing radiating from you. You stroke him, squeezing harder and harder until he spasms and mewls. He spurts all over, missing your mouth and streaking up the bridge of your noises and across your brow, a few strings over your cheek. 

He gasps and clings to the chair as if he might slip out of it, the camera drooping with his arm. You let him go and wipe your slimy hand. You stand and snatch a tissue from the box on his desk and wipe the mess from your face. His heavy breaths fill the silence.

“Can I go?” You ask flatly.

“I got nothing else for you,” he spits out.

You refuse to look at him as you dress. He chuckles. You fight not to turn around and throw every single thing on his desk at him. You hate him. You hate Lloyd. But more, you hate yourself.

“Congratulations,” he says as you pick up your purse, “did I mention, paperwork went through yesterday.”

You whip around and stare at him. You quake with anger, eyes hot with unspent tears.

“Hey, even I got deadlines. Had to make the call last week.”

You take a step back. What the fuck? You stumble away, ready to scream, ready to strangle this man. For now, you’ll settle for never having to see him again.

[dionysism]

Please. Tell us your thoughts on epic the musical if you will. Positive and negative

i think i have before but its spread out across multiple posts so i will just go ahead and put everything into one place lol

trigger warning again for light reference to s/a cause i'm referring to what happened in the odyssey

positive:

i think they have clever word play. i made a post before about how the "i've got you, don't worry, circe's got you now" has the neat dual meaning with "i've got you" in its positive reassuring meaning and "i've got you now" in it's sinister "you're trapped i've got you" meaning. same thing with zeus' "a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before" sounding like he means some big dangerous enemy when he's actually referring to an infant.

the songs are catchy, i must admit! the musical scores are impressive too. i also like how the use the instruments to tell the story. like how each character has an instrument thats associated with them, and how you can tell the penelope in suffering is not actually penelope because her signature instrument is missing. neat stuff. i also like how eurylochus' instrument is the crew themselves.

negative:

i think some of their creative liberties undermine the point of the story or just do it a disservice, something i've said before in other posts. to be specific, i feel they have made this into a story of a Good character who turns ruthless after everything he's had to endure, and while that is an interesting story to explore, it's not odysseus' story. odysseus is, for lack of a better word, morally gray from the start. i think morally gray is really too simplistic to describe him as he is a rather complex character but what i mean is he is not a Good guy but he's not entirely a Bad guy either, you know? the odyssey is not about a honorable hero who sacrifices his morals by the end, it's a guy who's already kinda questionable who continues to do questionable things at times. for example "lets lead from the heart, see what starts" is just not something he would really say 😭😭 also in monster when he says "what if ive been far too kind to foes" hes not really kind to his foes. yes, he is capable of mercy, but hes not always approaching things with a "lets be kind ❤️" attitude.

having him spare polyphemus out of mercy was stupid to me, personally. in the odyssey he doesn't kill polyphemus because he needs him to move the boulder blocking the cave exit, and also, given his size, odysseus isn't fully certain they can kill him. blinding him instead of killing him was not an act of mercy, it was a strategic choice. and also having them kill his sheep first was senseless to me. the whole thing in the odyssey is polyphemus is in the wrong, and odysseus is in the right. they don't kill his sheep immediately, and polyphemus violates xenia, because polyphemus doesn't care about xenia. this why odysseus feels comfortable to reveal his name at the end, because he knows he's in the right, and he assumes he has delivered a punishment in accordance with the gods for the violation polyphemus has committed. it's still unwise of him to do so, but at least you can see where he's coming from. in epic it kind of makes no sense because they came into his house, killed his sheep, and then he reveals his name and home address after that?!:?:?:? and then athena fucking off forever like okay?:$:?:?: what was that about.

circe saga really irked me, aside from the compliments i've already given. they removed the aspect of him having to sleep with circe by just having him say no. the situation is not this simple. he literally could not say no. one, because hermes already warned him on the way there not to say no to anything she asks of him and two because shes literally a goddess. like yes the moly protects him from her spells but she could still very much kill him if she wanted. and there's also the factor of her having his men captive as swine. in the odyssey this shows you how powerless he is before the gods, which, is a pretty important aspect of the odyssey! also it's just simply unlike circe, as a character, to be like "ah i'm so moved by your faithfulness and acts of kindness i think i will just let your men go and aid your journey for absolutely nothing in return ❤️" whole saga just came off very sanitized. curious as to how they intend to approach calypso.

underworld saga like i said before its the sudden switch of him being about "leading from the heart" and "kindess" to "then i'll become the monster" like woah... just felt like abrupt 180 to me. and again it just annoys me in general cause this character arc is simply not accurate for him 😭 i've also said this before somewhere but sometimes i feel like the odysseus in epic is more like an oc than an adaptation of homer's odysseus. hence why i see him as a completely separate character (and get annoyed when people conflate them as one)

thunder saga i had more minor gripes with like the fact that odysseus also had the beeswax in his ears unlike in the odyssey where he doesn't and has his men tie him to the mast while he listens. this is just simply because i thought a song from odysseus' perspective while he's deluded by the siren song and begging to be untied would have been really interesting. but oh well ☹️ i actually will admit i didn't complete hate the change with his mens death for the cattle. obviously, in the odyssey, he's not given a choice by zeus—they kill the cattle, they leave eventually, zeus strikes the ship and odysseus is the sole survivor. however i do think this is interesting to explore. odysseus obviously cares very deeply for his men, and would do near anything to bring them home. he's not the type to just sacrifice them willy nilly like they don't matter. (the bit in the circe saga where eurylochus wants to leave them behind and odysseus says no we need to at least try is biblically accurate, that does happen in the odyssey) but at the end of the day... getting back to penelope trumps all else. so would he, do you think? if he had been given the choice, would he let them all die to see her again? i think he would have. especially by that point. so that's one change i'm like, okay, that's kind of interesting. i don't hate this.

so overall, theres multiple things i do like about it! and i do appreciate the creativity and effort that's gone into the project and it always makes me happy to see people passionate about greek mythology. i just think they've lost the plot a little. i feel like it's become a story about a Good man who continuously gets punished for being good until he caves to ruthlessness which like i said, is an interesting concept, but just not the story of the odyssey.

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: October 2024

I'm not one for horror so don't expect too much spooky stuff out of this recap.

……….FILM……….

Dredd (2012) Karl Urban deserves greater recognition for this if for no other reason that that frown. I doubt we'll ever get another one of these so to me the ending sends a clear message that the only way to avoid becoming a bad apple is to quit the bushel.

Perfect Blue (1997) Loosely knowing the premise, I thought I was prepared for what I watched but HO BOY was I not! Some truths are timeless and I think the now dated technology makes it all hit even harder. So well directed and a perfect use of animation. This is going to stick with me for a while.

Millennium Actress (2001) After Perfect Blue, I wanted to continue with the director's filmography (Satoshi Kon) and wasn't ready for how this would FLOOR ME. Such an emotional and lovely depiction of the intermingling between art and life and what drives an artist throughout their career. And the trope of characters playing multiple roles in different time periods will always land for me.

Death Becomes Her (1992) I only know Meryl Streep from this, The Devil Wear Prada, and the Mamma Mia series so to me, she's strictly a comedic actor. Given its subject matter, this continues to age surprisingly well.

Hansel & Gretel (2002) Felt like a made-for-tv movie but turns out it had a theatrical release! I did laugh at the Boogeyman subbing in for the Sandman and the design of the Witch's oven is cool, but that's about it.

……….TELEVISION……….

Dandadan (Episode 1.01 to 1.04) Teens fight aliens and ghosts? Heck yes. I will say the first ep has an alien abduction scene that almost turned me off of the entire show but once you get past that, everything else is really great. Fun worldbuilding, clever rules, and at its core it's a charming romcom. Just promise me you'll watch past the abduction.

Neon Genesis Evangelion (Episode 1.23 to 1.26) Okay so that's the ending! Not what I expected but you know what? I don't mind it. I know there's a movie that continues on after this BUT if it ended here I think I'd be okay with it. What a strange series.

Love is Blind (Episode 7.01 to 7.13) I keep thinking "why would anyone still sign up for this?" but here I am into another season asking "why would anyone still watch this?" And dang that reunion was meeeeeeeessy.

Love is Blind UK (Episode 1.01 to 1.04) This iteration feels a little more sincere, but that may be because the cast seems a little older or because the machine hasn't yet pumped out minor celebrities so folks don't know what might lie ahead? Either way I'm a fan.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Dead Man's Bones (Ft. Ryan Gosling) - Documentary Special Presentation by Pitchfork While spooky season is nearly over, the music of Dead Man's Bones is evergreen. Watch this, if you haven't seen it, and especially listen to the album if you haven't heard it. VIDEO

Game of Clones by Just Write As much a reflection on how artists can't create in a vacuum as it is a critique of the modern tv landscape. There's a lot on influence and the different ways artists react to prior work that I found both informative for my own approach and just generally really interesting. VIDEO

Why Are Movies So Obsessed With Trains? and The Infinite Possibilities of Train Action Scenes | Blue Flame Special by Patrick H. Willems I love trains. VIDEO (Obsessed) VIDEO (Blue Flame Special)

Black Cops Won't Save Us by F.D Signifier I'm not going to be able to add anything new to what's already been said in this video. VIDEO

……….READING……….

Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie (Complete) Very excited I found this at the start of the month but turns out Halloween plays a very small role. Not one of her strongest, perhaps because I felt like I'd pieced the mystery together far too soon.

Swords and Deviltry by Fritz Leiber (Complete) There's something so wonderful about a story where two guys meet and immediately clock each other as awesome and become best friends. Such a delight. The end may be a worn out trope that you could spot a mile away, but it's all so evocative and swiftly paced that I just have to shrug and accept it was written in 1970.

Beauty by Kerascoët & Hubert (Complete) I wish I knew about where to find more comics like this. The artwork is loose and evocative but filled with details when necessary (and the COLOURS are so fantastic and are contained to each page to really highlight the format). The writing is also killer as it's both mature and whimsical. Every time I read this I'm reminded of just how fantastic it is.

The Adventures of Tintin: Red Rackham's Treasure (Complete) Grew up watching the cartoon yet never read any of the comics so when I saw this at a thrift, I was really excited. While mostly self-contained, it really does feel like it's part of a bigger story and I suppose I was expecting a little more pulp adventure? The art is stellar so I'll continue to pick these up as I see them.

……….AUDIO……….

Slugger by Sasami (2024) Two solid songs though I admit I tend to prefer her fuzzier/more dangerous-sounding tracks from Squeeze. Here's hoping the full album has a good mix.

Search Engine (Podcast) Always a great listen but their recent two-parter about why it's so hard to tax billionaires in the united states was a particular standout.

……….GAMING……….

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Tuesday Crew just relocated some migrating birds and are now choosing from their myriads of quests. You can read all about them here!

The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom (Nintendo) Top down Zelda is always going to be great, and this art style is 100% what I want out of games. Do I like the summoning mechanic? Sure. Do I think it leads to game design feeling half-baked? Yes. But I will say it stuck the landing so overall: big fan.

And that's it. See you in November!

[studentofetherium]

here's some thoughts on stuff that's in Jump right now

ive been doing my weekly Jump rankings for about six months now but i don't actually talk about Jump manga all that often so i'm going to try and fix that so here's a bunch of thoughts on everything i'm reading weekly right now

Akane-banashi

young Skane seeks to become a rakugoka to make better on her dad's failure years before. this is consistently one of the best manga in the magazine. i always appreciate when stories focus on niche subjects and rakugo is certainly that. framing it through an apprentice means that the audience gets to be led into things slowly. a lot of praise needs to be given for the way its able to translate rakugo, a spoken art form, into a print medium, but it does so really well, with fantastic art and paneling. this series feels really unique, yet at the same time, wholly familiar and approachable. highly recommended!

Ayakashi Triangle

technically this one isn't even in Jump anymore but it still comes out on Sundays so i count it. Matsuri finds himself transformed into a girl through supernatural means, and wants to find a way to transform himself back, while at the same time this leads him to reconnect with a childhood friend and possibly lover. this is by the author of To Love-Ru and you can really tell. it was too horny for Jump and eventually got cut and put online, and since then it's only gone on the deep end more and more. so a warning for that. but at the same time, the stories it tells and its characters are genuinely fantastic and the entire thing is entirely queer. over time, Matsuri feels more and more like a trans character, and Suzu, his childhood friend, has to come to terms with her own sexuality as it relates to her possible boyfriend-turned-girlfriend. it also has a lot of fun action, as well as a great side case for the slice of life moments. the series has a lot of different moods and genres it traverses and all of them are incredibly fun and good. highly recommended, but do know what it is before going in (that is, an incredibly horny manga)

Blue Box

80+ chapters of pining and angst. also there's sometimes basketball and badminton. two teenagers end up living together for a time when one's parents leave internationally. this leads both to realizing that they have a crush on the other, with no way to know how the other feels. also, they both play sports. Blue Box really excels with both its writing and its art. while the characters can sometimes feel like they're trying to get a good grade in therapy, their characterization and angst is incredibly compelling, and the dynamic between the main two is incredibly effective. Miura is a fantastic artist and in particular i love the way she draws motion. even for people who don't like sports manga (i usually don't) this is great. highly recommended

Cipher Academy

set in a cryptography school, Cipher Academy follows Iroha as the token boy in the school as he gets caught up in a plot involving trillions of dollars worth of cryptocurrency. this series only has three chapters out so far, so it's a little hard to say where it's going, but its writing, by NISIOISIN, is certainly fun. the focus on buzzles gives the protagonist a lot of odd stuff to work through, so there's a lot of potential here for atraditional battles with clever solutions. i also love the art and designs, although they're less notable compared to the writing. highly recommended

Elusive Samurai

from the same mangaka as Assassination Classroom (a manga i haven't read), a feudal era war story focusing on Tokiyuki Hojo as he seeks to redeem his family and bring them back to power. this has a lot of interesting fights which are complimented well by the art. however, characterization is lacking and a lot of the humor can be scattershot. when this series is good, it's really good, but there are also a lot of times when it feels a bit more lacking. still a recommendation, but with less enthusiasm than the manga before

Fabricant 100

the newest story in the magazine, Fabricant 100 is a story about a boy from a family of rich, long-lived people who all got killed by an artificial person. now he wants to kill all of those artificial people. since this is only in its first week, i can only say so much about it. the art is fine, and while there's a lot of exposition in the first chapter, it's conveyed well, but i'm not sure the story has a lot of legs in the future. there's a clear goal (kill the other 82 fabricans) but it sort of runs past a lot of the concepts in its premise which i imagine might be explored later. if this sounds interesting, check it out, it's only one chapter so far, so it's not a huge time investment

Ginka & Glüna

a young girl living out in the mountains comes to know a walking snowman who claims to be a great wizard. after training her for several years, they set out to reconstruct his body. i love love love this series. its art is great, its character designs are all very strong, and there's a lot of creativity present in the world. the story itself has been rather simple so far, with the two titular characters traveling around, meeting friends, and getting up to adventures. simple, but good. another high recommendation

Ichigoki's Under Control

this series is awful. i do not recommend it

Ichinose Family's Deadly Sins

from the author of Takopi's Original Sin comes a manga about an entire family who wake up with total amnesia. as they try to adjust to their new lives, they realize something may be up with their history. unpleasantness ensues. i find it hard to talk about this because it's clearly a mystery that's still setting itself up, and at the moment it's a lot of unpleasantness as the characters find themselves in a world which is cruel to them for reasons they don't know. the art is good, but it's a tough read so far, and without knowing what the payoff is, it's hard to recommend. i love Takopi's Original Sin and i think this has a lot of potential as well but only time can say

Mashle

the worse manga in Jump at the moment. it had an incredibly promising start as a One Punch Man-esque series about a kid without magic in a world of magic, who uses his sheer strength to make do and achieve magical feats. however, the last six or eight months have been nothing but one long fight scene. i'm not sure why anyone is fighting. the main character has been missing for most of it. it's meaningless. it feels like a parody of other shounen action manga that will have long extended fight scenes, except that if this is a joke, it's an incredibly unfunny one. it doesn't even have good action, as the focus on magic gives it a poor sense of continuity. i'm hate reading this. there's no way i recommend it

PPPPPP

PPPPPP is frankly a bit of a mess. the art is unique and striking, but it often distracts from the story, which isn't a problem because the story its telling is rather minimal. i think that's to its strength tho, and it comes together well sometimes. it's certainly an enjoyable read, but mostly for the art and i don't think it's as good as its contemporaries. recommended, but lightly

Tokyo Demon Bride Story

a guy reunites with his childhood friend, who turns out to be a demon, and now he has to marry her. over time, he comes to meet other supernatural friends of hers. this is a mix of romance, action, and slice of life akin to Ayakashi Triangle and while i don't think it's as good as that, it's still highly enjoyable in its own right, especially for the interesting designs and also great characterization. it has its ups and downs, but i usually have a lot of fun with it. recommended

Witch Watch

Witch Watch is... inconsistent. it's about a witch and her bodyguard, and theoretically, it's a romcom focusing on their relationship, except the series has a massive side cast each with their own supernatural gimmick and powers. what this means is that chapter to chapter, the series can vary wildly depending on the characters involved and what's being done with them. when this series is good, it's really good, and when it's bad, it's really bad. hard to recommend this, even if i do enjoy it

[tyblackthornlovebot]

End Up Here || Reggie Peters x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reggie seems to find you the coolest and most enthralling girl he has ever seen. He wishes he could find the way to your heart. The only problem? He is dead, you’re not.

Pairing: Reggie Peters x Fem! Reader.

Word count: 2k

Warning: None that I can think of. Maybe one mention of them being dead? Reggie being his clumsy cute self.

Requested?: Yes, thanks for requesting! “hey! what about a reggie x fem reader based on that 5sos song, “end up here”? with a fluffly ending if that’s possible? ty!”

A/N: This was my first fic so I hope you enjoy it! If you had something different in mind or want to request anything else, please feel free to do so. I had so much fun and loved writing this one!

Once again Luke and Alex had told him to give up on you, that he had no chance. They didn't want to see how, without even knowing it, you ended up breaking his heart.

Once again Reggie had decided to ignore them and to go see you at high school. 

He knew they were only trying to protect him, save him from getting hurt. 

He even tried to fight those growing feelings but it didn’t seem to work so he resigned himself.

He was just too fascinated by the way you acted. The way you didn't seem to care what other people thought about you.

Like every morning since they showed up at Julie's garage he watched as the doors of high school opened. And among the crowd of students it wasn’t long until he located you. 

At first he went there because he was curious. After so many years without going to high school Reggie wanted to see how everything had changed.

Once he saw you there, so calm, so immersed in your own world, he knew that high school wouldn’t be the only thing that would change for him that day. 

From that moment on he discovered that never before, not even in his previous life, had he wanted to attend high school as much as he wanted now.

At the beginning it was nothing more than pure intrigue. Reggie felt attracted to you. There was no doubt you were the type of girl who would catch his attention. So he decided to do some research on his little crush, without telling anyone just yet. 

As the days went by he found himself following you to all of your classes. Marveling at the way you didn't seek attention, yet you always managed to catch it.

From the way you walked down the hallway, seemingly without a care in the world, with your headphones on. He wondered what kind of music would you be into.

To the way you always seemed to know the correct answer when asked, despite spending all your time drawing in your notebook. He found it to be so alluring, how clever you were without having to try too hard.

Soon his friends began to notice, seeing how he disappeared daily early in the morning. And how he would come back whenever Julie did. 

First they thought that perhaps he was beginning to catch feelings for their mutual friend, the only person that could see them. As they found out later when following him, that wasn’t the case. 

They asked him about you, how he felt towards you, what your name was, when did he start going to see you at high school. Endless questions that Reggie was more than willing to answer. A little embarrassed, but excited for being able to finally talk about you with his best friends.

Even if his crush was a little one-sided he thought they would be there to support him, just as he had done many times twenty-five years ago. 

Unfortunately for him he soon realized that he wouldn’t have the same luck. Luke and Alex, after listening to him, decided to list each and every reason why continuing to go see you was a terrible idea.

And maybe they were right. They were probably right. But Reggie didn't need anyone to tell him the truth, he needed them to be there for him and for them to be supportive. After all, he was old enough to make his own decisions. If he ended up getting hurt it would be his fault, because he decided so. Not because his friends told him what to do.

That was the reason why he was there once again, sitting on the empty seat behind yours in your mathematics class. 

Not that he was too interested on the subject, but he was entertained by watching you draw. 

When the bell rang, announcing the end of that class, Reggie said goodbye with a small sigh. He had to leave earlier that day, so he didn’t have time to accompany you to your last class. 

He hated having to leave you, even if you weren’t going to notice, but he had to go and get ready. That afternoon Julie would perform a song in front of the whole high school. As her friends they were going to be there to support her.

So this is how he found himself a few hours later, in the high school gym with his bandmates and Julie, watching a group called Dirty Candy perform.

Although he had to admit the choreography was good and the girls were talented, it couldn't be said he was too focused on them. He was busy looking for you. 

The whole high school was there, so you must be there too somewhere in the stands. 

He only stopped looking for you when he saw the principal begin to give her speech. The stands were completely silent and it was becoming a bit uncomfortable.

The three of them encouraged Julie to go up on stage. They knew this was her chance and they didn't want her to miss it.

Having finished the performances and the speech, Julie took the stage but the students in the audience also began to stand up. The three ghosts encouraged her so she would feel brave enough to start performing.

Luke had been helping her with the song, not wanting him nor Alex to see what both of them were working on. Now Reggie knew why, as he turned around to look at his friend, surprised. 

That was a Sunset Curve song with a few piano changes. One they hadn’t released.

Even if you couldn't see him maybe their music would end up making you feel something. That would be much better than nothing, Reggie thought, unable to prevent a huge smile from forming on his lips.

And then, suddenly, there they were. Up on stage with their instruments in their hands. 

Reggie couldn't say which of them was more surprised, but he couldn't miss the opportunity. Now that he knew you could see him he had to give his best, play like he had never done before. 

He looked for you again in the crowd with his eyes finally falling on you. 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you cheer them on. At that moment he swears he could have started crying but he forced himself to maintain his composure. For the band’s and his image’s sake but also because he didn’t want you to think he was crazy.

On the other hand, you were thinking about how grateful you were that your best friend had convinced you to go with them. 

Before that you had come to wonder if it was worth attending, seeing as every year the principal gave the same speech. However that year nothing was the same. One second you were bored to death, wishing you had skipped it as you intended to do at the beginning. The next it seemed like you were in a concert, far away from your high school gym, as you cheered to the rhythm of the music.

Julie and you weren't close friends, but you shared some classes and you got along well enough. 

You were surprised and happy to see how she managed to get on that stage, overcoming that fear that until now prevented her from singing.

The fact that she was later joined by three mysterious boys made the performance even better. All three were handsome, that was undeniable. But your gaze was fixed on the boy in the plaid shirt and white t-shirt, unable to tear it away. 

There was something alluring about him, in the energy he gave off while playing his bass. And when he approached the boy in the beanie to sing with him, you were amazed. His voice, even if it wasn't as loud as the beanie boy’s, had the same power. A power that seemed not only to affect you, judging by how those who were around you reacted.

Besides, he knew how to connect so well with their public that it made you feel as if his gaze was fixed on you all the time, you thought.

Then suddenly and without warning they disappeared as soon as the song ended. 

Seeing how everyone gasped, puzzled, Julie decided to explain the situation. Those boys were holograms and the projector operation involved algorithms and science stuff.

Everyone seemed to agree with that explanation, bored by the technicalities of science. But Julie didn't count on the fact that someone would be very curious about the holograms and how they worked. That someone being you.

“Y/N, we should get going. As amazing as that was, everyone has started to leave.”

“I think I’m going to stay and ask Julie a few questions.” You told your best friend. 

“Like, c’mon. There’s a way you can connect with hot musicians and no one is interested in how to do that? Really, just me? Alright, then!” They smiled at your antics, shaking their head.

“You sure?” They asked, to make sure you would be fine going home alone.

“Positive.” You nodded your head, smiling back at them reassuringly.

It took you a couple more minutes, but you finally managed to get them to leave without them feeling guilty. By then the gym was already empty, except for the music teacher and the principal who were talking to Julie.

When they left you realized Flynn was there as well. She approached her best friend with a not so friendly expression. You preferred not to get in the way, stepping aside to give them privacy. 

It was hard not to hear their conversation. Thinking that there was no one left in the gym, they didn’t speak in a low tone, and the echo of that place increased the volume of their words. And still, you tried.

You were there when Flynn ran out, therefore when Julie ran after her. And you, without much choice, behind Julie. You would have felt really bad if after that scene you witnessed you hadn't tried to cheer her up. At least you wanted to apologise for overstepping and hearing their conversation. Even if you didn’t do that on purpose. 

You also had more questions than ever, that much was clear, but the main thing was to make sure Julie felt better after all that.

Dodging Nick you saw Julie in the distance, entering one of the classrooms. 

Accelerating your pace you managed to reach her. She was silent so you took that as the perfect opportunity to ask her if she was doing alright. 

But before you could step into the classroom she started screaming, scaring you to death and making you jump.

“You! Stop doing that! I’m serious.” You heard her say. You wondered who she would be talking to. That also made you decide that you wouldn't come out of your hide spot just yet. What if she had found Flynn and you ruined their moment? It would be better not to move, to avoid making any noise.

“Yeah, the whole school saw you. It’s kinda freaking me out.” She kept talking to apparently no one. Most likely with someone who spoke in a low voice, because from your hiding place you couldn’t hear any other voices. At that point you were pretty sure she wasn’t talking to Flynn. But still, you were in a compromising situation. If you came out of hiding, she would think you were spying on her. It would be better to just wait and hope she would end up leaving soon.

“Are you kidding? They loved us. That was a great song, Luke”. That’s when you realized she was talking to her hologram band.

You hoped you weren't interrupting anything important. But Julie seemed to be in a better mood and the facetime conversation you thought she was having could be the perfect ice breaker for your questions. Maybe you could even talk for a bit to the bassist who had caught your eye. It wasn’t every day that you had the opportunity to talk to three Swedish talented musicians. 

So you decided to pluck up your courage and entered the classroom.

“Julie…? Who are you talking to?” Reggie heard your voice fill with worry, as your eyes scanned the room. Then he thought about the big mess they were in. 

Julie tried to find a reasonable excuse, but you had heard too much. Both at the time and with the conversation she had had with Flynn, to know that she was lying to you.

“I’m sorry, it really isn’t any of my business. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. Had a few questions about that band of yours, as well. But again, none of my business, sorry.” You ended up shrugging your shoulders. Without looking for more answers. After all, it really wasn’t any of your business. And if she had fought her best friend for lying, you wouldn’t be the one to whom she ended up confessing. “But really, you doing alright?” You sounded concerned and they couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for you.

“Julie.” Reggie called her. “Could we… Maybe we can tell her?” He turned around to face his friends, with something that sounded similar to a plea in his voice.

“Dude, she’s so far out of your league.” Luke jokingly told him. “But if it makes you happy I say we tell her. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Besides everything, you mean?” Alex asked rhetorically. “But I have the feeling that whatever I say you're not going to listen to me, so…”

Julie was listening to them talk, wondering what was the best decision to make.

As Reggie watched your puzzled face, he thought about the possible questions that might had been going through your mind. What was going on? Why the sudden silence?

“Well, Y/N. I think it’s better that I tell you the truth, seeing the insistence of some.” Finally, Julie decided to speak. You seemed more and more confused, even a little offended by that last comment, but decided to let her finish talking. “Come to my house tomorrow afternoon. I’ll show you what all of this is about.”

Reggie could read the curiosity on your face. After so many days watching you, it wasn’t difficult for him to distinguish your emotions. Although, honestly, he was also curious and really excited to know what Julie had planned.

The next day passed quickly for the phantoms, but not for you. 

It was the weekend, so Reggie hadn’t been able to see you yet. He had spent the whole morning rehearsing and doing some breathing exercises. His new friend Google had told him it was a good way to keep calm.

You, on the other hand, were so eager to know the answers to your questions that as soon as the time agreed with Julie arrived you were already knocking on her door. More punctual than ever.

It took her two minutes to open the door for you. Not that Reggie was counting… Well, alright, he was counting. But he was impatient.

Since Julie had told them her idea he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you. He had even dressed up for the occasion, wearing a white t-shirt with the In Utero logo on it. One of his favorites that had been left in Julie’s garage. 

He had combined it with his black leather jacket and ripped black pants. Black shoes and his red flannel shirt tied at the waist. His pendant clinking every time he moved, in a rather attractive way.

Julie (and Reggie, even though you couldn't see him) went to greet you at the door, smiling as soon as she saw you. She was a bit nervous, but determined.

“Let's go to the garage, what I want to show you is there.” She told you, impatient to get there. But Reggie couldn't blame her, he was feeling the same or even worse. “But first, do you want something to drink?” The ghost snorted, which earned him a bad look from Julie. He knew it was polite to offer something to your guests, but this wait was going to be the death of him once more.

“Not really, thanks, I'm fine. Nervous, but fine.” You let out a nervous chuckle, which made Reggie look at you enrapturedly. Julie just smiled with amusement, without saying a word to either of you about it.

Then she made you follow her to the garage. You looked around with curiosity, trying to figure out what she would like to show you. There were two pianos and a sofa there. Interesting objects, but still not enough to find out what was going through Julie’s head.

“I know this might sound a little bit crazy, Y/N.” She started. With that she managed to peak your interest, you were all about crazy.  “But… you remember those guys that were playing with me yesterday?”

“The cute hologram musicians? Sure.” You nodded your head, while laughing. It was hard to forget them, especially a certain bass player.

"Yes, I suppose I am talking about them." Julie tried to suppress a laugh with your answer, as she watched Reggie's face flush completely, before continuing to speak. "Let's just say they're not exactly holograms. And that… they might be listening to you right now."

Your eyes widened, as you felt a little embarrassed. But immediately curiosity took hold of you and you went back to searching the entire garage, looking for a mobile phone or any reasonable device. Finding nothing, you frowned, confused.

“What do you mean by that, Julie? I can’t find anything and I have been looking since we entered your garage.” Now you were focusing on her. You felt like she was going to tell you everything, whatever that was, and you wanted to be ready. 

“They are… ghosts.” She said slowly, trying not to scare you. “They are here, but you can only see them when we play together.”

It sounded like another one of her lies, like the one she had tried to tell you the day before in that classroom. But this one sounded so crazy, you thought it might be fun to go along with it. After all, if she had invited you to go there, it must have been to tell you something important, not to lie to you again. That ghost part could wait, you just wanted some answers.

“So they are musician ghosts?” You asked, still playing along. Julie could tell from your tone that you didn't quite believe it. But it was a matter of time, she thought. 

“Well, they say they prefer to be called musician spirits. But technically, yes.” Then she turned to what seemed to be the void and talked. “All right, guys. You ready?” 

You stayed silent, staring at her like she had grown a second head.

“Actually, can you sit there? Reggie needs some space to rock out and he feels kinda weird walking through you.” You nodded as you went to sit on the sofa that you had previously spotted, still not saying a word. You were starting to get worried, seeing as she had even named the ghosts. “You must have already noticed that there’s no plug or equipment that will produce a hologram. But you can double check, if you want.”

You shook your head. You didn't need to check anything, there definitely wasn't. But you still weren't sure what Julie’s plan was. So you kept quiet, just focusing on what she was telling you.

“We're going to play Bright one more time. It will be just like in high school, but this time you'll know the truth as well.” Julie was explaining everything to you with a smile, but Reggie thought it wasn't going to be like in high school at all. There they were alone, singing exclusively to you. As he ran his hand through his hair, in a gesture of sheer nervousness, he prayed that everything would go well. “Hope you like it.”

While Julie started to sing and play the piano, Reggie felt as Luke squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He turned to see Alex, who offered him a small smile. This time he took notice of how his friends supported him and that made him gain a little self-confidence. He was ready.

Y/N had to suppress a scream as the ghosts appeared in front of her with their instruments. Any doubts that she might have had thus far had disappeared with the appearance of the three boys. There was no way to fake that. There was no logical explanation, but there was also no evidence that denied what she was seeing.

It all seemed crazy, just as Julie had told her at the beginning, but she had always wondered what happened after death. Finally accepting that she was surrounded by three ghosts, it was her chance to ask them all the questions she could think of. 

Besides, if ghosts were real she could always have had a worse encounter. 

But young, talented and handsome musician spirits? It definitely could have been worse.

Once she was no longer frightened, almost halfway through the song, she was able to allow herself to enjoy the melodic voice of the ghost that had caught her attention and admire the delicate way in which he played his bass.

At that moment she decided that ghost or not, she would like to listen to their entire setlist if she continued to see and listen to his voice that way. Besides, she had always loved that style of music. 

Reggie approached her, cautiously not to scare her and Y/N greeted him with what she hoped would look like a captivating smile. It seemed to work, as he immediately blushed.

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” He introduced himself with a goofy smile, while failing to look cool. Not that he needed to do so. She already found him adorable and that was way better than looking cool.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Reggie.” Reggie loved the way she pronounced his name. An angelic sound to his ears. “Love the shirt, by the way. In Utero, one of their best albums.”

 Reggie had to remember not to stop playing and to grip the bass tightly, because he almost dropped it in surprise. Y/N liked Nirvana. Would she loudly snore at night? Would she eat strange food combinations? He wondered. There was no way such a perfect girl could exist. 

After that exchange of words the rest of the band introduced themselves. Reggie and her talked until it got dark, while the band kept playing different songs so that she wouldn’t stop seeing him. 

It was hard having to say goodbye. In a single afternoon they had both connected with each other as they had never managed to do with anyone else.

Reggie was afraid he would never see her again. Or rather, that she would never see him again. It was on her to decide whether she wanted to or not, and that was what Reggie feared the most.

He had had such an awesome afternoon with her that he hadn't even considered never seeing each other again. But when it was time to say goodbye, all the doubts and insecurities suddenly overwhelmed him. Had she had an afternoon as pleasant as he had? Would she like to see him again?

"See you tomorrow? I'll get my bass. You still have to teach me how to play Livin' On A Prayer, I love that song."

All his doubts were dispelled when she gave him that warm smile, with which only she managed to warm him up inside.

And with that Reggie knew that he would continue to accompany her to class, although this time she would know. And he would send her notes, as he had recently learned to do. 

They would also keep organizing small concerts for as long as she wanted, just so they could see each other. 

It might not be perfect, nor ideal, but it would be one day. Meanwhile they would figure ways to make it work.

At the moment Reggie was happier than ever. He never imagined that he would end up getting to know the girl of his dreams. Much less that she would also end up being interested in getting to know him.

As he grinned to himself, while walking her home, he couldn’t help himself but wonder: how did we end up here?

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “World War V.”

I realize the title would be a lot more clever if V wasn’t also the roman numeral for 5, but whatever.

I know this one is a bit over the top but in the immortal words of one of my favorite authors “err on the side of awesome.” and I will not apologize.

But I am interested, at the end, comment what two songs you would use in this scenario. I am intrigued. I will tell you the songs I imagined at the end of the story :)

“So, your plan is to…. Intentionally wake the dead?”

“Wake the, very long hibernated, and then blast them with hard rock music while we mow them down with machine guns? And…. remind me YOU are the GA armada Admiral? And this is your tactical genius.”

Admiral Adam Vir adjusted the chestplate of his space suit, “Well say anything in that sort of voice and it will sound stupid, but hear me out. It is much easier to take something out all at once than it is to go hunting them down one by one and having to worry about missing something. We bring in the helicopters, and the vibration of the rotors will disturb the ground causing the infected vrul to rise. Now knowing the Vrul, and knowing that complicated beats affect their ability to navigate, move and completely wipe out their fine motor control. Furthermore, they seem attracted to vibrations in the air and through the ground which means we will be able to confuse them even more and keep them away from the city. Barring that, the Vrul have their force fields up, which are more than a match for light machine gun fire and will even keep out the strange pollen.. There is no better time to deal with this.”

He tucked his helmet under one arm, “I trust that makes sense to everyone?’ he turned around to the docking bay where over fifty men and women stood in neat rows of polished flight suits, helmets tucked under their arms. As he spoke, their heels snapped together with a loud crackle, and their hands rose into a salute.

Behind them double the amount of marines raised their hands into the air and chanted with loud voices that rose into the air with a roar.

Admiral Vir turned to the commander of the 113th graduating class of Earth’s UNSC Airborne Helicopter division, which he had brought in on special loan. These men and women were yet to fly any real tactical missions though they had all logged thousands of hours of flight already in their careers. Many of them had never left earth until this moment, and their first mission was going to be on the face on an alien planet.

He smiled, “if you knew as much as I did about aliens, Major, you might understand why we are doing something that seems so ludicrous, but sometimes when dealing with extraterrestrials, this is what we have to do.”

He turned to where a line of fifty pod shaped objects were being loaded one by one onto a rolling rail leading towards the airlock. Beside it half a dozen small fluffy shapes were busy overseeing the attachment of fifty identical Sonic cannons to the front bottom of each. There was a break in their work as one of the small creatures came waddling across the deck.

Admiral Vir Knelt down setting his hand on the floor and allowing Lord Avex to step onto his hand and then onto his shoulder as he stood back up.

The rest of the crowd watched in wide eyed awe, though they were, luckily, well trained enough not to do or say anything stupid despite their large eyes and quivering lips, which suggested they wanted nothing better than to cuddle the stuffed-animal esque alien that rested on his shoulder, “The cannons are in place, Admiral, and I have examined each of the pods, and the yare ready to be deployed.”

“Thank you Lord Avex, your work is much appreciated.”

It was just then that Sunny walked across the deck to join them. She was wearing her space suit as well and carried her helmet under one arm. The new recruits staired on in shock as she walked over to stand next to him, “The machine guns have been mounted and are ready to go Admiral, A few of our number have volunteered to go with the marines as extra support. Behind her at least a dozen other Drev raised their fists into the air and chanted their excitement not all that different from the line of marines on the far end of the hanger.

Admiral Vir nodded turning back towards the group of young pilots, not much younger than himself, and stepped up onto the nearest crate.

“On behave of the Galactic Assembly and the Vrul council, I thank all the men and women here for agreeing to accompany us on this mission today. You will be the first airborne unit in history to participate in an operation off Earth as their first assignment. You are thousands of lightyears away from home, orbiting an alien planet thousands of years older than our own, and today your mission is not one of destruction, but of liberation. For thousands of years the Vrul have been trapped inside their walls, until time and tradition made them forget about the dangers lurking outside.” he turned his eyes to look over every last man and women that stood before him, “What we are about to face is like nothing humanity has ever faced before, below the soil of this planet lies a plague dormant for thousands of years, a horde like locusts ready to rise up and infect the city. Now we have our protections, we have our suits, and the Vrul have their shielded city, but it is our job to start riding the planet of it’s plague.” He smiled, “Plus it always helps to have door mounted machine guns and a little rock ‘n roll.”

There was a sharp cheer from the men and women before him who raised their fists into the air. Behind them the marines joined in, and so did the Drev, who, he was pleased to say, had taken to rock like they had guitar solos for breakfast.

Still grinning, he reached up, pulled on his helmet, “Right, let’s get this done.”

He pointed to Sunny, Ramirez, Maverick and a few others, “With me in the elad chopper. The rest of you split off and gear up.”

His words were obeyed almost immediately as he stepped  over to what had once looked like a pod, but was now clearly a very specialized sort of chopper. 

As he slid into the pilot’s seat, and the others strapped in behind, he heard, “I thought you were a fighter pilot, not a helicopter pilot.” They pulled on their helmets.

Adam adjusted his harnesses, “I can fly anything from space ships to paper plans, you can bet your ass if it leaves the ground, I know how to fly it.”

Maverick buckled herself into the door gunner position, “Yeah, but if it has wheels, you better bet he’s probably gonna back it over your mailbox.”

“Put a sock in it Maverick, that is hardly my fault. I never really got the opportunity to practice.”

The door at the back shut and locked tight.

All around them other doors were being locked into place, and once all of the pilots had indicated they were ready to go, Admiral Vir gave the signal, and he felt the ship change course. He adjusted his comms set and called up to the bridge where Simon would be piloting them into position.

“How are we looking, Somon.”

“Almost in position Admiral.”

“Now remember to pull back into low orbit once you let us drop, or else the gravity well is going to pull you in, and it is going to be a bitch to get her back out.” “Yes sir, I know sir.”

“Good.”

He turned his eyes forward as a red light burst into life above their heads. Everyone evacuated the airlock as the fifty pods were brought by rail towards the doors. Behind him he could hear the others chanting something, though his heart was hammering so hard he could hardly hear what they were saying.

Funny thing is he bet he felt like every one of those new pilots getting ready for their first mission. He didn’t know if it was just him, but it felt like this every single time, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He ignored the tingling sensation in his bladder as the light blinked green before the airlock door, and the ramp slid open.

All went silent, and below him he watched as the light of the vrul homeworld washed over the deck before him pouring like golden honey.

The sight was breathtaking, steeling the air from his lungs as he looked down.

“Damn.” 

It would just never get old.would it.

“Prepare for drop, in three, two, one, drop.”

The latch on the back of the rail released, and suddenly they were falling away from the ship. Adam was pressed back in his seat as they accelerated downwards towards the open atmosphere.

Lights blinked on the console ahead of him and the tracking screen picked up his target.

They were approaching, and they were approaching fast.

They were entering the atmosphere now, and he felt it as their pod began to rock and rattled around him and fire began to lick up on the southside of his pod. It was almost deafening as they roared into the atmosphere. He turned on his comms watching as other pods roared into the atmosphere back and behind him. He could see them on his radar as they roared downward.

He had to wonder what it must be like for them.

Their first mission, and they were doing a high altitude drop onto an alien planet.

He almost envied them their excitement. Because he had done stuff like this before, and he was still grinning like an idiot.

Light rose up around them as the sky behind them turned blue. Clouds passed below them in great swaths, and he reached down to the controls ready to deploy.

He set of a general count for the rest of the pilots.

Three 

Two

One.

He pulled the release, and the engine roared to life. There was a sudden firing as the engine spurted downward, lifting them airborne for a second and slowing their descent. His innards dropped as G force allowed his stomach to crawl into his feet. Then the rotors deployed like a fan. There was a sharp chunk and then a whirr as they began to fall again, and then the rotors caught, and began to spin. The rear rotor did the same sliding into position. Both caught with a roar, and he whooped with adrenaline.

He toggled his radio.

“Alright, ready the door gun.”

Behind him the doors were slid open, causing a rush of air to blast into the open carriage as Maverick rolled the gun into position and locked it at the door with a loud snap. On the other side Maverick was doing the same. Beside him. Sunny took control of the extra rear mounted guns set in place especially for this mission.

Adam had the guns already built into the chopper, as well as missiles if he felt like it.

Beside him and below him, he watched as the fifty other choppers deployed like his. Some of them were a bit wobbly, but everything he saw seemed to go well.

“Alright everyone take it in low, and on my mark deploy the cannons.”

He angled them lower roaring towards his target.

Below them, the Vrul city was a glassy blue purple bubble against the orange, brown landscape.

He took point, and the other choppers fell into flight beside him, clustered in ten open groups of five helicopters each, and together they rolled in low over the landscape, not twenty feet above the ground in some cases, though those were only the pilots who were comfortable getting that close. From here he could see the thudding of their rotors causing the dirt to shake and the strange trees to quiver. 

The wildlife began to roll out in different directions, racing across the ground and away from the roaring choppers as if they knew what was coming, He scanned the ground, with Maverick and Ramriez leaning on the machine guns behind him.

“See anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

He opened his comms to everyone else, “Alright everyone, deploy sonic cannons in three, two, one go.” 

The first line of lyrics, and the first drumline rolled from the directional cannons, blasting the ground with a focused beam of sound like a laser for noise.

He whooped bobbing his head to the music, the sound so powerful he was able to hear it over the roaring of the rotors.

He sure hoped the Vrul had taken his advise and hidden in inside bunkers for this.

They roared over the landscape turning in a huge clockwise circle over the landscape.

“Report if you see anything.” he ordered.

At first, it didn��t seem like anything was going to happen, and he worried that his idea, which had seemed so cool and tactical to begin with , was nothing but a waste of resources. How embarrassing was that going to be to explain to the UNSC.

Yes, I borrowed the entire 113th graduating class to go on a joyride around the Vrul capital city, yes here is my rank and gun, I will now go live on the moon in exile never to show my face again.

“Sir! I have something.”

“Go.”

“Just south of the city, sir. I have movement coming from the trees in thermal.”

“Same here sir.” 

He was at the point of the circle, so he wasn’t likely to see it, made sense.

“Alright , let’s give it a pass. I want as many of those bugs out of the ground before we start shooting.”

They roared over the ground with the sound of the base rattling the stone below them. As he watched, one of the strange animals he had seen running, tipped over as the cannon passed over it and fell to the ground twitching. Apparently pattern tolerance was not something that many things on this planet had.

“Sorry guy, but things are going to be better when we are done.”

Rocks jumped and rattled as they took a wide turn around the city.

He could see the shield pulsing against the sonic waves that were bouncing off the ground and back into the air.

The blades of the helicopters cut through the air so fast it was like a light grey translucent wall against the sky.

They had almost made a full rotation.

“Holy shit.” for a second he wondered who had spoken until he realised that it was himself.

They were everywhere, swarming like ants over the landscape, turning the ground black in some places as they crawled over each other in confused circles. As the music got closer, their purposeful movement turned into awkward confusion.

“Stagger!.”

The formations staggered, falling behind each other so that everyone was always covering one segment.

“Ready to deploy the  sonic attack on my mark, in three, two, one, mark.”

It was a guitar solo this time, one that he had listened to thousands of times, and one that he couldn't have resisted using to kill zombie Vrul.

Th drumline cut in as the third obvious pattern in the song, and as it roared over the wave of Zombified Vrul, there was an immediate reaction as they all began staggering and falling to the ground, behind him he felt as the guns opened fire on either side with a sharp burrrr as the rotating barrels started spitting hot lead at 1,000 rounds per minute.

He laughed with something like maniacal glee as the powerful rounds poured into the infected creatures ripping them apart sometimes four at a time sending a wave of yellow pollen up into the air, to be kicked up by helicopter blades as they passed over. His circle kept him closest to the wall, so he was able to catch the majority of them before they could even attempt to make it to the city.

He toggled his own guns, and stitched a line of bullets over a completely black mass, which erupted into a burst of yellow. His circle took him around to where the Vrul had managed to make it to the wall of the city, and had begun climbing each other like they planned to create a ladder using bodies to the top of the wall. He gunned them down with great prejudice. As they moved along the wall, more and more of the creatures had piled themselves higher and higher, but that is not a trend that they allowed to last long. One of the piles managed to make itself three quarters of the way up the wall before their sonic attack hit them, causing the tower to collapse as both glorious drum lines and bullets roared into them.

He carved a circle through the sky coming over their first line of attack, where dark bodies were doing the best to crawl over their fallen brethren and pools of yellowed pollen having fallen to the ground. Ahead of him he could see a cloud of yellow where the following helicopter was stitching tis way over the landscape with great prejudice.

Behind him, he thought he heard Maverick cackle like a swamp witch as she loaded another belt of ammunition.

Yeah sure people back home were cool, but they would never be this cool, flying over an alien landscape, killing alien zombies while listening to a little ACDC, They could dream but nothing would ever be more awesome.

He couldn’t wait to tell his siblings.

His sister would be so jealous.

She had always been a fan of the zombie genre.

“Admiral, Admiral I think some of them are starting to fly.” Came the nervous comment over the com.

“Alright, remember the drill, just keep calm, and go higher if you can, then when you have enough clustered below you, drop one of the canisters.”

There was an acknowledgement over the comms.

With that announcement still running through his head, he got ready to drop one of his own canisters.

He was in view of the last helicopter as it rose into the air pursued by hundreds of little black dots that would erupt into yellow spores as they were hit by machine gun fire, and then something dropped from the bottom of the chopper, and then exploded just above the rising infected.

Thousands of tiny organic needles rained down on the vrul, cutting straight through their helium sacks, and sending them crashing downwards, into their companions, and finally to the ground where they erupted on impact, killing even more of their companions.

Up ahead, a wall of black rose before him, but he was faster.

They rose into the air and he roared over the wall, dropping one two and then three canisters in quick succession causing a wave of them to drop to the ground. The following helicopters followed his lead. He was having to rise higher and higher into the air, but still he was managing to keep ahead of them, they were slow and he was fast, but that didn’t stop a few of them from getting in front of him. 

There was a jolt as his rotors hit one of them, and he gritted his teeth, it was fine, one or two was fine as long as he didn’t allow them to gum it up.

He pulled back and up and continued to drop more and more of the caisters.

One or two of them floated high enough to make it close to his sonic cannon, but they were blown back and the pressure caused their helium sacks to rupture.

***

The Vrul council stood on the wall overlooking the outside of the city as a wall of the Vrul infected rose into the sky obscuring everything in a wave of dark bodies. Human helicopters roared in a wide circle around the city, and everywhere they went yellow spores erupted into the air. All of them wore safety masks as a precaution, but that didn’t stop the fear that rose up in them as they stepped back arms held out in shock. Dr. Krill stared on in fascination and awe. He wasn’t wearing hearing protection like the others, he could handle human music to a certain degree, and it was pretty muffled through the shielding.

He watched in shock and awe as one of the helicopters cut too low, and rolled right into a dense thicket of the floating bodies. There was a horrific eruption of yellow as the rotors caught hundreds of the creatures, and then the helicopter itself began to spin out of control crashing and rupturing Vrul as it roared towards the ground.

The emergency systems deployed firing one last time to slow the chopper’s crash. The sudden burst of flame ruptured a line of the Vrul infected before it finally plowed into the ground sending up a wave of yellow spores.

“Sweet Nebulon.” one of the council muttered.

Two more helicopters went down, and it looked as if there weren't going to be enough bullets.

What had they done!”

***

“Everyone, On me, increase sonic cannons! Now!” he had seen the three choppers go down, and he had seen all three of their safety measures deploy, but he couldn’t be sure if any of them had survived. “Avoid the crash sites. Everyone on me!”

The entire fleet of remaining choppers clustered together turning up the volume on their sonic cannons, and the combined force was so powerful that some of the bodies began to rupture even without gunfire though it still tore downwards.

They took two more passes before he saw his ammunition running low. That was fine. The Vrul bodies were no longer coming in waves and it would be harder to hit them from above, now that they weren’t just coming in a wave.

He aimed for one of the crash sites.

“I want a group of us to set down. Only choppers with Drev on them!”

There was agreement as ten choppers split off to the three crash sites.

Adam roared down from the sky, and set down on a smoking heap of yellow coated bodies.

He cut the engine , and reach back to pull his spear from where it was attached to the floor of the chopper. It wasn’t a Drev spear and it wasn’t a human spear but something in between, with the reverse spike on the end like they had done with the NeoSpartans.

He turned in his seat just in time to see the two marines push their machine guns out of position and one of the infected Vrul to come charing at Ramirez.

A spear appeared in his hand in that moment, and he ran it through the face.

Sunny was behind him a second later, and together they were out the door, three of them armed with spears, maverick armed with her assault rifle, and together they made their way towards the downed chopper.

Making it there just in time to see as a pile of clustered Vrul was ruptured from within, and a very angry Drev came roaring out.

He recognized from the height who it was.

“Kanan!” he heard Sunny yell.

They ran over to help, sweeping through the cluster of Vrul zombies before they began fanning out across the open plane.

He turned up the speakers on the outside of his suit and allowed it to blare music as he raced towards anything that still looked to be moving. A few of them were still floating into the sky, but the remaining helicopters were taking care of those, and Maverick from the ground on occasion.

He ran one through the face, turned and clubbed the other in the head like he was swinging  for a home run.

His blad sliced straight through the neck of one as he staggered over the uneven ground.

To the side of him, sunny was cutting through them with impunity like a god of war, touching them though they never touched her, the yellowed gore spattering her suit.

As more and more of the Vrul were cut out of the sky, more and more choppers landed, and men and women filed out, running in open lines, using whatever the could to dispatch the remaining bodies.

He saw one of the new pilots grab a Vrul by the neck, and twist it like he was breaking the neck of a chicken, surprised when the entire head came off. He kind of hoped the Vrul council did not see that.

By the end of the battle. Four of their choppers had been downed. Two humans were dead, both of them in the crashes, and at least four more critically injured.

He felt bad about it.

But he couldn’t have predicted that.

At least none of the pilots had died.

Two of his marines had though, tossed from the choppers as they were falling from the sky. It made him sick to think about their families, the ones that he would have to send letters to, but he tried not to think about that for now.

Thousand upon thousands of the vrul zombies were dead, and even as he thought this dozens more were being dispatched by hand by humans who were no more than walking radios at this point, having chosen their own theme songs to fight zombies.

Some of thor picks were quite surprising, though he couldn’t blame them for their humor or their irony.

They still had a long way to go, but at least he knew how it could be done.

Vrul past, hopefully, would never come back to haunt them. 

The two songs I imagine Adam picked for this was 

First: Raise Hell - Dorothy

Second: Thunderstruck - ACDC

[evakuality]

Hanna, episode 7

1.  It’s really interesting what they’re doing with Amira this whole season.  It’s setting up to a whole lot of the stuff that happens in the later seasons really well.  She suffers so many microaggressions all the time, and even here - she makes a joke about costumes parties and they all just swallow it.  It’s a really vivid recognition all the way through of exactly how much Amira deals with on a daily basis.  Considering we all know where this is leading, it’s difficult to watch, but also it’s good that they do this.  

2.  But oh yikes, this whole bunch of rumours swirling about Sam ‘making out’ with someone at the party is really well done.  It’s pretty obvious that no-one genuinely knows - the only people who know what happened are Hanna and Sam (and ‘making out’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe it) so the rumours are all based on a love of gossip.  Who knows how they started, but it’s obvious just how guilty Hanna feels.  How awkward for her to be hearing this!  Then her very very obvious ‘I have a boyfriend so it wasn't me!!’ move (very similar to Matteo’s in s3 in the discussion about homosexuality with Amira, which is illuminating - they both want to try to ‘prove’ something with these moves).  Also, Kiki and her thing about Alex - it’s terrible how invested she is when it’s obvious that he’s being an asshole.  The excuses she makes for him unfortunately ring true - this is exactly how people try to convince themselves of this sort of stuff.  In reality it’s a shame the girls aren’t more forceful - they clearly want to say Kiki is being an idiot, but after Amira got shut down last time, it seems none of them is keen to be more explicit.  

3.  Ohhh poor Hanna.  This thing has been eating at her and she had to tell someone about it.  But choosing Matteo was NOT a good idea.  I mean, we all know this is going badly (Snakesak is such an iconic take on the season that even if you forgot everything else, you’d remember that), but even without that, Matteo feels a bit more... I don’t know.  Shifty?  Somehow?  There’s something really calculating in the way he examines her.  Like, even without knowing what’s coming, there’s clearly something goin on in his head.  With Isak it came out of the blue; he was set up much more supportive/innocent because they wanted the shock value when the reveal happened.  But with Matteo there’s something different. I guess at least partly because most people watching would already know what’s coming so hiding it is less imperative.  Hanna sees him as a friend and the only one she can tell, but it’s such a weird choice anyway (as it was in the original).  He’s Jonas’s best friend.  Like he says, why tell him?  Even if he wasn’t a little snake, this is putting him in a really difficult place.  Effectively this makes him choose between his best friend (who he’s kind of in love with even if she doesn’t know that) and his friend.  Him choosing to let Jonas know wouldn’t be all that strange and it’s a big risk to take before she knows he sits in the ‘don’t tell’ camp.  I am also baffled that they did this with other people in earshot.  It could totally get out, even if this girl agrees she should keep quiet.

4.  I really like this adaptation of the ‘claim’ Alex makes into ‘he told me I have a cute stomach’ instead of the hoodie thing in the original (though that works very well too).  This way it’s much less overt and also it really plays into Kiki’s fears about her looks.  We’ve seen small hints of her eating issues already, so this just adds to the weight of that.  Specifically targeting a body part that girls can be sensitive about is clever - at first it can seem sweet, like he’s being so nice about something vulnerable, but then you can see he’s being very deliberate with that impression and it really hammers home the insecurities Kiki is already harbouring.  

5.  It’s a fascinating dynamic between all the girls in the argument about how Kiki should deal with Alex.  I’m with Sam and Amira - stay above it and move on (tbh, Kiki should never have gone there in the first place, but she did so this is her current best option).  But the fact that Mia is so strongly in favour of telling him he’s a dick is swaying Kiki.  Of course, Mia is a strong person and from her it probably would feel empowered.  But Kiki is, and always has been, far more innocent and vulnerable and sensitive.  It doesn’t feel like (even without knowing where this goes) that this will go well for Kiki, and the fact that Mia doesn’t get that says a lot about her.  I like this; it’s nice to see her not being quite right here - it sets her up for some growth as we move on.  And super yikes when he tells Kiki to take a breath and she does.  This, the importance she places on him, is exactly why this was a terrible idea, and why Mia’s encouragement was wrong.  It’s easy for her - she’s not invested, and her failure to recognise the difference between her and Kiki is really important.  And Alex is SUCH an asshole that this scene is so hard to watch.  Kiki’s acting is superb in all these scenes and it’s so damn hard to watch her take in ‘you’re not worth it’ but as with the original, Mia’s ‘take down’ doesn’t land for me, probably because while Alex’s acting is far superior to William’s, there’s still a fundamental lack of caring about what she’s said.  It doesn’t feel like saving face, but more a genuine lack of care.  And this is why I really dislike this ‘William’ character; he doesn’t seem to care.  I have said before that I’ve never watched Mia’s season because I cannot stand William in the original.  So if I do watch I’ll be interested to see if they can make me like him better.  So far, they’re not succeeding.  

6.  And just like that, we’re back to the soft, dreamy colours and shots of the start of the season.  But there’s a harsher light coming in to some of the shots. particularly with Jonas and so it’s not comfortable.  This is something on a precipice.  The kissing is back and they’re reconnecting on that level, and it’s working again.  The darkness is gone, but things are hovering still - that Sam stuff on her phone with Jonas in the background, slightly blurred but very overlit, adds to the sense of unease.  You can feel something coming, even if it’s not obvious what that is.  

7.  Man this fight is so funny.  I know I shouldn’t say that, and it’s a very serious moment for Hanna, but the slo-mo and the faces they make!  And Amira’s moves!  Kiki, full-on legs wrapped around this girl as they both collapse to the ground!  Priceless.  I do like the way the sound gradually fades out as Hanna’s realisation of what’s happening sets in.  That’s really well done.  

8.  What a change from the earlier moment when Hanna woke with Jonas and they had their sweet little moment.  Now we’re fairly tight in on her face as she keeps trying to get hold of him.  It sucks a lot, and you can sense the anxiety and worry she’s feeling.  Also, I do understand why she feels the way she does about all this, and why she leans on Matteo.  Unlike earlier, here it makes sense for her to rely on Jonas’s best friend.  He’s the one who has the best line in to Jonas when he’s staying so distant from Hanna.  But wow his advice is truly shitty.  On the surface it seems sensible, both times.  Nah don’t tell him; it’ll only hurt him.  Nah leave him be; he needs time and space.  But in both instances it’s the complete opposite of how she should be acting.  And in both cases, Matteo knows Jonas, he knows what he’s like and how he’ll act.  This is so calculated.  And he’s still in a space where he has little to lose.  He feels like he can still ride the ‘hey I had their best interests at heart’ line and get out of it.  I always felt like Isak was more opportunistic in his lying; saying and doing things in the moment.  Whereas this really does feel like Matteo has thought it through more - that’s some difference in the way the two characters are presented and acted.  But I like that it’s different, and his little hint of a smaile when she collapses on him - Isak seemed a lot more genuinely wrapped up in Eva and his face seemed more overwhelmed.  But Matteo really seems to know what he’s doing.  Also - sound mixing in this scene: top notch.  I love that you can hear every swallow, every breath, every step, movement etc.  It really heightens the tension right up til she gets Jonas’s ‘don’t call me’ text.

9.  I said it before and I’ll say it again, Leonie’s savage pleasure in Hanna’s troubles is a real reflection on her - and not a good one.  I really do get that she’s hurt, but this is vicious and she’s being awful!  And Kiki - ugh, just be quiet child.  Calling other girls sluts is pretty shitty.  

10.  I really like that Eva’s mother morphs into Hanna’s father.  There’s a difference in this dynamic that builds on that difference.  Eva and her mother seem closer, even while her mother isn’t around much.  Hanna’s father just feels more absent emotionally, so these moments where he tries to be a dad fail because of that.  It’s obvious that he cares for her and that he’s trying, but equally obvious that he just doesn’t know what she needs or how to approach her.  Not that Eva’s mother was much better, but it was still a different sort of distance.

anyway, this is suuuuper long because so much happened in this episode.  It’s packed with a lot of stuff and while some stuff is starting to resolve, there’s so much that’s hanging over their heads still.  I like this one a lot, but I think it could have done with a little bit of breathing room.  Maybe that one episode where it felt like things were waiting to happen could have picked up some of this heavy lifting.  But either way, this one has a lot going for it and really does set us up for what’s coming in the next few.

[riversofmars]

I have an idea for a prompt! How about 13 becomes human again for whatever reason, she meets River, and without either knowing the other still manage to get together?

Thank you for this brilliant prompt! Not gonna lie, I was thinking coffee shop AU initially but I think I’ve come up with something better! 

For River this is set post Manhattan pre Darillium while she’s teaching at Luna U, she hasn't met 13 and obviously doesn't recognise her. 13 - for whatever reason as per the prompt - is under the influence of the Chameleon Arch and human, not remembering who she is.

Hope you like it!

Rating: G

Word Count: 1800

AO3

Stuff of Legends

“What are you doing in here?“

The Doctor jumped when a voice cut through the silence at Luna University Library. It was late, very late, in fact. 2am was fast approaching and the library had been empty apart from her. She had chosen the time deliberately, she had banked on people being asleep or off partying for fresher’s week.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was…“ She looked around anxiously to see a figure approaching along the rows of shelves.

“You know this area is restricted, right?“ A woman came into view, wild curly hair, silky blouse and a keen sparkle in her eyes. There as a sort of amusement in her voice and she tilted her head as she looked her up and down. The Doctor got the sense she wouldn’t tell on her, at least not yet.

“Yeah, well, uhh… my archive request was denied so I thought…“ She didn’t really know what to say. She knew access to this section of the Library was restricted but she had come a long way for it and when her request was denied by the Academy of Time Travel, she had decided to go about it another way.

“You thought you would sneak in here instead?“ The woman concluded with a smirk.

“Well, they didn’t really give an explanation so…“ The Doctor scratched the back of her head. She was anxious about having been caught but so far, the other woman didn’t seem to mind too much. Perhaps she had snuck in here as well.

“Oh there was this incident, quite a long time ago now, a student snuck into the Academy’s archives and took an ancient vortex manipulator to have a sneak peak at her future essay papers… I mean, you can’t plagiarise yourself so they could hardly expel her but they did get a lot pickier with admitting people to their archives.“ The woman explained pleasantly.

“Well, firstly, that’s very clever of the student and secondly, very unreasonable to restrict everyone else’s access to the archives when some of us have actual research to do.“ The Doctor huffed, somewhere between admiration and annoyance. “Surely the student in question has long graduated…“

“And is a professor now. Professor River Song.“ River extended her hand to her with a smirk and the Doctor’s face fell.

“Oh, uhh… you’re a professor? You work here, I…I shouldn’t be here…“ She stammered, realising her mistake. This woman was staff! And she had caught her red handed.

“No, you shouldn’t be and yet you are.“ River observed sounding surprisingly unbothered about it which sort of made sense if she had been the student in question. The Doctor wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried. “What are you doing?“ River asked curiously and looked to the books the Doctor had gathered on a desk.

“Uh… just some research…“ The Doctor answered nervously.

“What are you studying?“ River picked up a book that she knew well. It was one of the more comprehensive guides on supposed Timelord meddling through time.

“Well, not technically a student…“ The Doctor admitted. She wasn’t sure what to say. This woman was thoroughly confusing. She was a professor here but also seemed to have an affinity for bending the rules. Could she trust her not to rat her out?

“So you didn’t just sneak into the Academy’s library section but into the university in general?“ River sounded impressed.

“No, I mean, I’m not a student, I’m a doctor, visiting lecturer… Luna University is meant to have the greatest collection of Timelord artefacts so…“ The Doctor felt the need to set the record straight.

“A doctor, huh? You sure you’re old enough?“ River smirked and the Doctor found herself blushing under her appraising gaze. Was she flirting with her?

“You don’t exactly strike me as a stuffy old professor either.“ She retorted before she could think better of it.

“Touché.“ River laughed lightly and looked back at the collection of books, scriptures and star charts. “Why the interests in the Timelords? Most people don’t even believe them to be real.“ She observed picking up another book to read the back of it.

“I don’t know, I just… personal interest, I guess. Something about them just intrigues me.“ The Doctor replied growing more self conscious. She felt a little silly. A lot of academics looked down on those paddling theories that the Timelords actually existed. Most people believed them to be the stuff of legends. While time travel was certainly real, the idea of almost celestial beings able to live forever seemed too fantastical to be true. While there was certainly something the legends were based on, there was no way of knowing which bits were fact and which were fiction.

“What’s your field?“ River asked curiously putting the book down.

“Astrophysics.“ The Doctor answered slowly. “Yours?“

“Archeology.“ River replied in amusement. “I’m much more likely to take an interest in this sort of thing than you, how do the Timelords relate to your research?“ It was a fair question.

“Star charts… well, that’s where I started. Everything else doesn’t really relate. I’m just… curious, they’re fascinating.“ The Doctor admitted, sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat before shrugging.

“Well, the stuff of legends always is.“ River chuckled.

“Unfortunately, I’m not likely to getting any answers here.“ The Doctor sighed feeling a little bit more comfortable now. It didn’t look like this woman would tell on her but it seemed to have been a wasted trip regardless.

“Answers to what?“ River asked and the Doctor shrugged again, with a little laugh this time:

“You know, I don’t even know… I can’t really explain it… never mind.“ She waved it off. “I can’t read it anyway, whatever this language is, I don’t understand it.“ She opened one of the books and held it out to River, pointing out the circular writing.

“It’s High Gallifreyan.“ River answered as she took the book off her. “The language of the Timelords, that’s what it’s called.“ Her eyes skimmed the page.

“You make it sound like they actually existed.“ The Doctor chuckled. “Is that your field of archeology? Mystical civilisations?“

“Perhaps.“ River winked. “Would you like some help?“ She handed the book back over with a smile.

“You can… you can read this?“ The Doctor exclaimed in shock, surprise and delight all at once.

“Don’t tell anyone.“ River chuckled and looked around to check no-one had heard her.

“How?!“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. “How do you know how to read this? It’s not like you can just take language classes in this, can you?“ She was in awe.

“My husband taught me.“ River revealed with a sly sort of smile.

“Your husband?“ The Doctor’s face fell, she didn’t even know why she felt disappointed but she did. She had only just met this woman.

“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?“ River had picked up on it right away and the Doctor blushed scarlet.

“What? No, I mean…“ She stuttered. “Uhm, your husband… does that mean, are you telling me you’re married to a… Timelord?“ The Doctor tried to deflect.

“If you presume that to be his one defining feature, I suppose so.“ River shrugged.

“So they are real? Timelords are actually…“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say.

“He is also the last Timelord. Or was… I’m not actually sure where he is these days, we haven’t seen each other in a while.“ River sighed with another shrug.

“But you just said he’s your husband.“ The Doctor frowned, she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.

“He’s not the type to allow himself to be held too tightly.“ River smiled though the Doctor was sure there was a sadness behind her eyes. “We… things are complicated, when you’re married to a time traveller. For all I know I might never see him again.“

“And you’re just fine with that?“ The Doctor asked softly.

“Like you say, if he’s really a Timelord, he’s the stuff of legends. An ageless god. You don’t expect the sunset to admire you back.“ River retorted returning her attention to the books on the table, she ran her fingers over one of the ancient star charts absentmindedly.

“That sounds painful.“ The Doctor mused sharing in her sadness.

“Makes you appreciate the shared times all the more.“ River grinned as her wistfulness passed and the Doctor smiled and nodded, she understood. “To be honest, I don’t like being tied down either so we suit each other very well.“ River smirked gaining her swagger back.

“I see.“ The Doctor chuckled.

“That means if you would like to get a drink sometime, or if you would like some help translating these, I’m available.“ River elaborated when her initial statement didn’t have the desired effect of flustering the blonde. She looked up from the star charts to the Doctor waiting for the penny to drop. Her explanation did the trick as the Doctor went red in the face again.

“Really? I mean… you’re not… he’s not gonna…“ She stammered.

“Every time could be the last time, every Christmas could be last Christmas, that’s the thing about time, something you learn as a time traveller, you have to learn to live in the present.“ River winked and reached out and ran her fingers along the yellow braces the Doctor was wearing. “You do remind me a lot of him, you know, I don’t know… probably just my imagination. Or the fact that I’m really very attracted to you.“ She smirked.

“You’re uhh… very forward…“ The Doctor swallowed nervously.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.“ River’s confidence faltered for a moment, genuine concern came over her. “If I misread the situations, I…“

“No, no, it’s fine, I mean… I’d like a drink. With you.“ The Doctor burst out quickly, she didn’t want her to change her mind. “I’d like to go for a drink with you and spend some time together…“

“Good. I mean, great!“ River grinned, relieved. “There is this nice little bar across campus… You don’t need these books, I can tell you everything you could possibly want to know.“

“Lead the way, Professor.“ The Doctor nodded, a grin spreading across her face.

“I don’t think you ever told me your name, what do I call you, Doctor?“ River asked mirroring her expression.

“Maybe just that. I know it probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but I never really… felt comfortable with my name… Jane Smith… just doesn’t mean anything to me. Most people just call me Doctor.“ The Doctor shrugged with an apologetic smile. She wasn’t sure if River would understand but she thought it best to be honest.

“Is that so…“ River gave her a smile, her expression incredibly hard to read. “It’s a funny old universe, isn’t it.“ She held out her hand to the Doctor. “You never know what the future holds, you just live it.“

[doorsclosingslowly]

Hell is just a beat away (3/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 5.2k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic)

Ten to doomsday, moving fast

Eldra does not sleep. She refuses. If she has to bite her fingers bloody when her eyelids threaten to drop, then so be it. Master Fyaar would have chastened her for it—she always insists that Eldra be at her best regardless of circumstance, and staying awake for what must be more than one or two entire standard days now will help with neither her innate distractibility nor her willful emotions. Her secret inadequacy, unknown to all but Fyaar, who chose Eldra when she was ten and had yet to develop the mind that is, and she has rarely admitted to those fears even in the privacy of her own brain, the mind that is perhaps fundamentally unsuited to the noble path of the Jedi. Sure, she does well enough in her classes, though she drives her teachers to frustration with her incessant fiddling with any trinket at all within her reach and her doodling and her daydreams. Sure, she mostly behaves acceptably among people, though she does not pick up on the right cues to be a diplomat and she vacillates too often between excited talking and secret loneliness, when she, once again, finds her peers more interested in each other than in whatever she has wanted to share. Her one friend in the Order is Bayro who’s two years older, though now she’s not even sure if Bayro would see her as more than a friendly, clingy acquaintance, and—

Will Bayro even miss her? They’ve made plans to watch a holovid after Eldra’s back from Teth and Bayro aces the Advanced Test on Coruscant Sublevels 6665 through 7900. Vague plans, though, and since Eldra didn’t know how long she’d have to guard Mayor Woobudg… Bayro will probably notice in a few months that Eldra hasn’t returned to the Temple, and then watch the holovid with one of her many other friends. She’ll—

Watch your feelings, Eldra, she remembers. It hurts. The memory of Master Fyaar hurts worse than even the imaginary indifference of Bayro does, but it’s necessary. As ever, Master Fyaar’s warning is right, even if it’s only the ghost of Fyaar living on inside Eldra’s grief. Eldra almost lost her calm over a scenario of her own imagination, yet another reminder of her unsuitable mercurial temperament. Yet another reminder of why she needs Fyaar, needs her constant watch, if she wants to remain on the path of the Jedi.

And Master Zalandas Fyaar is dead.

Fyaar’s dead.

Eldra watched her murder, and the murder of everyone she was supposed to protect on this mission. Eldra watched her murder and did not reach for the dark side of the force to avenge her. Eldra watched and held still.

Eldra allowed herself to be abducted.

She does not sleep in her tiny cell, just as she didn’t sleep on the freight ship that carried her to an unknown planet far away from bloodied Teth. She didn’t sleep then as stubbornly as she does now, but even before her wide-open burning eyes the pictures will not stop. The blood. The touch. The grin of her vile captor when he said that she would fetch a tidy sum, despite being a blue twi’lek (“A dime a dozen, they are, and this one’s not even a trained dancer! She hasn’t even… look!” Her captor had pulled her upper lip away then, and she had snapped for his fingers. “She’s still got those awful sharp teeth! Who the hell lets a twi’lek girl walk around with sharp teeth? She could tear a guy’s throat out, with these!”) she would still be worth a quick sale to her captors but only because she is (was) a Jedi padawan, and apparently there are quite a few pieces of shit out there who’d like to hurt a Jedi. Or—she keeps her eyes open, open, open till tears threaten to drop, and yet the thought comes. Or fuck one. Same difference.

A toy that’s padawan-shaped. That’s why they let her keep her own robes. But at least they did.

Watch your feelings, but still, Eldra shakes to her very core. She’s never thought of herself as being anything but a person, slightly inadequate perhaps in all ways that matter to her but a person; a luminous being, a small conduit for the very force to act through in the material galaxy; but now she’s been caught and taught that what she is is actually just a twi’lek girl. Cheap. Interchangeable. Nothing but her species and her gender, nothing but her flesh: a pretty dancer, never mind she hates dancing and if she ever makes it out, if the Jedi find and rescue her, please, please, she will never ever dance not even a single one of those silly novelty dances ever again even if Bayro does it first. She’ll go to whatever lengths needed to never be appraised, judged, looked upon, perceived as anything but a luminous dutiful Jedi ever again.

To these people, she’s not a person. Not a Jedi, unless the fetish counts, not really, not to the slavers and—watch your feelings, but still, the seething disgust returns and she wants nothing more than her lightsaber through her captor’s hearts or their hands torn off by her teeth—perhaps, maybe, please no, not truly anymore either to herself.

⁂

Maul wakes up to insistent beeping. He’s never heard the noise before, except—somewhere behind the headache and the nausea he remembers—except roughly five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before… He’s read about those periodical noises. Snooze button on an alarm clock, they’re called. He’s never used them before. He’s never used—Master teaches that a slothful tool is a tool broken, useless, and he’s never before dared to oversleep, even with his throat swollen and filled with mucus he didn’t, but now—it is a mercy he does not deserve, that Master was not here to witness Maul fail so deeply on this mission and just because something beats a booming drum inside his head and stuffed his stomach full of eels twisting up languidly through his esophagus.

Not real eels, though. He checks his vomit after throwing up. No eels. No animals hatched inside him; it’s just an inconvenient illness. And he feels better already, after spewing out the clear oily water and half-digested bread and no eels whatsoever. He does feel much better. Definitely. Illness during his mission would be inconvenient.

He has ample time to travel to the palace of Xev Xrexus before the padawan is sold there. Time he is grateful for, because Master’s ship will not let him in, so he has no access to his stilts or anything else he prepared apart from his cloak and the vocoder mask he carried in his satchel to the convenience store like a talisman of ingenuity and pretense. He doesn’t have his finest Sith robes that he left safe inside, only to be worn in the moment of Darth Maul’s triumph, and most of his weapons, too, apart from one anonymous knife strapped to his shin, are still tidied away in the ship Master gave him that will now pulverize anyone who dares approach.

Luckily, Maul is both incredibly clever—he figured out the location of the padawan! Despite Master giving him a wrong date and location! Solely by his own superior Sith cunning!—and he is within another sucker’s ship now—he sliced the lock in minutes! Because he is Darth Maul!—and the ship is full of new tools for improvisation.

Such as the large pair of black sunglasses that helps guard him at least slightly against the sun’s sickening poking and poking and poking of his cerebral cortex. Such as the trio of black shirts that, belted with a strange deltoid strip of fabric, bulk up his frame considerably and also make him feel toasty warm. Nar Shaddaa is cold, but Maul isn’t. Yet another victory to add to his tally.

With the gloves and the vocoder mask and the Sith cloak added on top, every square centimeter of Maul’s flesh is covered, and as he struts in front of the berth mirror he decides: he looks both incredibly dignified and scary, not to himself obviously but to those forcenull denizens of the underworld who will yet learn to tremble before the almighty Sith. He looks almost as impressive as Master. He doesn’t have the pale chin lurking under his cowl, obviously the most Sithly of looks, but in a pinch the black leather covering his cheeks and the opaque gridded speaker over his mouth should do almost as well.

Before he leaves, he ransacks the ship. No point in abandoning tools he might yet use. Everything he can carry, he stuffs inside his satchel.

Then, he begins the long pedestrian march to the palace of Xrexus. As usual, while he walks, he seethes in the Sithly anger of how much faster he could go if only he had a decent speeder bike. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon. After the oncoming awesome success of this mission, Master will be impressed enough to bestow the title of Darth and gift him a CK-6 swoop bike tuned up to the limits of terrestrial speed. Soon. Besides, with how slow the nausea is to settle, it’s perhaps a tiny bit useful that he is forced to take this brisk long walk in the Nar Shaddaa morning air. Although his coat and shirts fluttering with the speed of his bike would look very cool… He loses himself in his daydreams, and before long, he spies a duo of falleen in white dress shirts and black pants before the palace that belongs to Xev Xrexor.

The most adventurous part of his mission has just begun.

“Greetings,” Maul growls haughtily with the handsome baritone of his vocoder. “I have chosen to purchase a Jedi slave today. I trust this is the location for these sorts of errands?”

“Are you on the guest list?” the left falleen asks.

Guest list? Yet another complication. But Maul must not fail. “I am Ma Goweelr,” he says, borrowing the name of the man whose ship he ransacked. He found an identification card with his name on it and wisely brought it with him. He pulls it out now.

“You don’t look like Goweelr, friend,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I had… an accident.” Blast. They cannot see his face, so tt’s the height issue again. If Maul had his stilts, he could have made his way through easily, but because Master saw fit to lock the ship—no, it’s not Master’s fault. Because Maul was stupid enough to leave his tools aboard the ship, he now falters. What to do. What to do. What to—

“He’s slow,” the other bouncer whispers to his partner, but loudly enough that Maul heard it without issue. He stares intently at Maul, almost if he was expecting a specific reaction.

The left falleen winks. “All right. A little grease in the palm goes a long way, friend.”

Grease? Necessary for the function of machines. Cooking, apparently, also. Often a type of fat, either animal or plant-based, though hydrocarbons mined on certain planets or synthesized in labs such as Corellia’s X-Tech Max nowadays are a far more affordable and controllable—

“He’s dumb, Brighta. We don’t care whether you’re on the guest list. We want a bribe.”

A… Maul’s certain he read about bribes somewhere, but—

“Cash. Money. Credits.”

Credits! Maul found some on the ship. Since they were light enough, he put them in his satchel. The force is with him! He pulls out the chits he found, rummaging in a perhaps less than dignified way—the falleen exchange a look over his head that he’s too busy to try to read, but it doesn’t seem hostile—and when he hands over five thousand credits their vague non-hostility turns to genuine excitement.

“House Xrexus is honored to host you for this auction, sir,” the male falleen says when he opens the door.

“As am I,” Maul replies with a bow. When he walks past, the female bouncer taps him on the shoulder and then bends down to whisper in his ear.

“The Jedi’s auction’s in two hours, but the preview starts in one and she’ll probably get snapped up then, so. Might wanna hurry.”

“Thank… you?” Maul rumbles and winces at the vocoder turning his slight surprise into a question, but the falleen does not laugh this time.

“Appreciative customers are rare. Come back anytime,” and she winks and pushes him with her—warm, strong, startling—hand the rest of the way through the door and then slams it shut.

Presale. Other customers. Complicating factors Maul would not even have known about if it wasn’t for the bouncer—and for the force, therefore, willing him to succeed—because he didn’t… He did not actually expect any competition. After all, there are no other Sith but the Master and his apprentice. Who, then, would have need of a Jedi padawan? Who has need of Xrexus’ auction at all when they are not sent by their Master? Their… Master. Master might compete with Maul at this sale, both as a test of Maul’s readiness and as a failsafe, should Maul not manage to succeed in his mission. Master is incredibly smart after all, and foresees any number of possible twists and turns of a scenario, as unlikely as they might be. Even such unlikely eventualities as Darth Maul not completing in his mission. Master considers everything. It’s why he’s the Master.

Luckily, Maul was forewarned, and so when he passes a fire exit plan of the palace that’s nailed to a wall in the empty entrance hall he looks for any possible… There. A server room. A small bureau. Two places where Maul might gain access to the databases of Xrexus and convince the filing system that he has already bought the Jedi, before the first competitor has even placed their bid. It’s the only surefire way of preempting a person as thorough and prompt as Master is, and besides… Maul understands machines. He can charm and bend them to his will. His confusion at the bouncers’ hints and the tip the falleen gave him when he would never have expected anything of the sort based on the way the previous part of the encounter had passed—never mind the blasted lack of his carefully constructed stilts—were a sore reminder that in the field of people Maul does not yet excel to the standard of a Sith. Something he must remedy, but perhaps not on a mission as important as this. (Perhaps not among people who are oily and stare too hard.)

Laughter peals in a room straight ahead, but the server room is one floor down a side staircase. It’s sectioned off by a dangly gold chain that Maul needs to barely duck to pass under, and no-one passes through either the main corridor he left or the dusty unlit staircase while Maul hops down, thinking I am Sith alternating with I am shadow on every step.

The hallway leading to the server room is just as deserted. The door is locked, but Maul has sliced the access pads of twelve ships now and has refined his technique to under three minutes of elegant fiddling. This lock takes two seconds.

A datapad is already hanging inside right next to the door, from the cable with which it’s plugged into a socket there. Maul picks it up. Its screen is thrice-cracked and fixed up with clear tape. The touchscreen is incredibly sluggish to react, but as much as he might love the challenge of repairing it he only has less than an hour to spare. If he must, he will, but—gloves. He removes the right one, and the datapad responds.

A login screen.

Thus-far, the security has been abysmal. Worse than what he improvised for the secret hiding space of the first functional droid he built, and so he enters root, root. It works.

Pathetic, Maul thinks. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Horrendous. Useless. Awful. You deserve this. You deserve worse. It almost takes off some of the giddiness at how well Maul has been performing on his mission, thus far. His opponents are veritable morons. It is no great feat, to succeed against people as unprepared for basic survival as these, and it does not take a Sith’s cunning—it’s not worthy of the great Darth Maul who learns under Darth Sidious the greatest creature in the galaxy—to fight them.

In the central database he changes the status of the Jedi padawan to Sold and the buyer to Ma Goweelrand types in 666666666 for the winning bid. It’s a large number, and Jedi means valuable. It should pass muster. Probably. Money: yet another area where Maul requires further instruction. There was another card Maul stole with information on Goweelr’s account with the InterGalactic Banking Clan, and he enters it in the respective field. As to the user listed as making these changes, he picks the fifth-most appearing in the database. If he wanted to arouse no suspicion at all, he would need to research Xrexus’ organization in total, but—he’d really rather not. Even glancing at some of the entries of the database reawakened the eels in his stomach.

He pettily changes the admin password and wipes the screen carefully before he logs out.

Mission almost complete.

Half an hour left until the beginning of the presale, a clock tells him, and that’s most likely when they will check the padawan’s entry and approach Goweelr as her legitimate buyer. Everything is going according to plan, as long as he is not caught down here.

Since Maul is Sith and shadow and incredibly silent and deadly, he isn’t.

He sneaks back up and then strides, with as much power and dignity as he can muster when he wants to skip giddily to celebrate a job well done, into the room where the laughter comes from. It’s—

It’s bright. Loud. Full. But more than any other adjective, it’s huge, a room that is a thousand times bigger than anything Maul has ever set foot in, with a domed ceiling rising so far above that he can’t make out any details there. Can’t see whether there are any cameras, or snipers—can’t see anything but the luster and wealth on display. Plants growing on floating bowls of silver, plants he has never seen anywhere but in holos (Most plants are plants he’s only ever seen in holos. Almost all of them. Master rarely makes him train off-planet, and there is nothing but fire on Mustafar.), plants and waterfalls. Delicate staircases that appear to hover in the air just like the tree-bowls are. It looks like something out of a dream, if Maul’s dreams were able to imagine impossible worlds and not just impossible people who’ll save him.

Below it all, there are throngs of people in various kinds of festive garb, chatting and sipping on dainty glasses. People of most species he’s ever read about. Even…

Even a zabrak. There’s a zabrak over in a corner, not an Iridonian zabrak like the ones Maul finds often in his research but a zabrak who looks startingly close to him, hairless and bright and black-marked, only he’s much taller than Maul—he’s tall! Maul always worried that his species was doomed to remain as small as he is right now but he’s tall! He won’t need stilts forever!—and he’s yellow.

Idly—or trying to appear idle but actually shivering with curiosity—he saunters closer. The zabrak, it’s quickly obvious, is not here as a buyer. He’s chained up, both manacles connected to the neck cuff, though the bonds look so flimsy that Maul could have snapped them. He’s almost naked except for a pair of trousers that barely reaches his thighs and, moreover, is made of a fabric far too flimsy and tight to fight in. His skin is weirdly shiny as well, as if he was sweating but that is unlikely, given Maul’s not too hot under his three shirts and a cloak (in fact, it gets colder the closer Maul comes to the strange zabrak), and the yellow zabrak’s not exercising either but standing completely still, feet slightly apart and arms raised in a poor imitation of a fighting pose. The claws on his hand and feet would be called neatly trimmed if Maul didn’t know intimately that this length means they’re cut so close to the bed that it irritates several internal nerves. The horns are filed too close as well, and they look blunt.

A fighting slave.

No. A pretend fighting slave.

Everything about him might look fearsome to one who does not know what to watch for, but he does not stand or dress or groom himself like a fighter.

It’s—it’s difficult for Maul to sort out his reaction. This is a zabrak, the first person like him he’s ever seen, but he’s also a mockery of the warrior he trains so hard to become. Are all other zabraks like this? Does Maul look like this to other people? Flimsy and fake? It is almost enough to be ashamed of the association, and Maul is glad that with his clothes no-one else here can guess at their shared species.

“Welcome,” the unchained human next to the zabrak shouts, and Maul cranes his neck but apparently it’s addressed to him. “What are you looking for? A nightly companion? A gladiator? A—”

“This is not a gladiator,” Maul growls.

“Ah, well, he’s versatile,” the slaver says. “Do you see his muscles?” He squeezes the other zabrak’s biceps. The zabrak does not react. “He is excellent at bearing pain as well,” and alright, Maul will give him that. From this close, he can see the faint network of scars.

“He’s truly a wild beast when you want him that way,” and if to contradict him—the first time Maul feels anything approaching pride at their kinship—the zabrak refuses to bare his teeth, even when the human slaps him in the face twice and then prods him with something bearing electric sparks. Still, the zabrak will not relent. He’s breathing and moving but somewhere deep in his eyes he looks nothing short of dead.

“I have business elsewhere,” Maul stutters out and the vocoder smooths it into a low growl. The queasy pit in his stomach must be the return of the eels, or else the force aims to reveal to him that he might be being observed by fleets of holodroids, a technological wonder he should research immediately upon completion of his mission, when he will never think of the scar-covered zabrak and his empty eyes ever again. He won’t even remember his face or his color. No, Maul will attempt to engineer holodroids and present them to his Master, who will be proud.

That’s what he thinks about, while he wanders the huge room at random. Holodroids. He doesn’t think about zabraks. In fact, he’s forgotten every fact he ever heard about that species. No zabraks exist but Maul. That’s the way it goes.

He doesn’t think of zabraks at all for several more minutes, and then a tannoy system message calls out for Ma Goweelr and his time of floating is over.

⁂

Thus far, the boy’s little adventure has been a disappointment. There were moments of fear and shame and misery, but mostly, what Sidious receives from him is bright giddy elation at being entrusted with this mission. It should have figured that Maul is not intelligent enough to see through his Master’s true plans, and yet—it was folly on his part, Sidous is prepared to admit that, but he expected more of his little zabrak.

Well. More agony, mostly.

He’ll have to be a little more patient. Someday soon, Maul’s luck will have to run out.

⁂

“This is her, Sir. Opening the cell now,” a woman says in front of the suddenly-bright cell, and Eldra’s hard-won, tattered, wide-eyed serenity dissipates.

It’s Dilar. Dilar, self-loathing traitor of a twi’lek slave. Eldra’s only known her for a day and enjoyed exactly zero seconds of it. The old woman’s hatred and revulsion at what she is forced to do, preparing slaves to be sold on, crowds out the very air. For the slavers, her utter loathing might be imperceptible—Dilar is a grudging, but polite tool—but it’s everywhere in the force, and Eldra cannot breathe. It’s hard enough keeping herself calm—keeping herself Jedi—when she knows that any time now a lecher with a Jedi fetish will come to her cell.

A lecher, or her rescuer.

Watch your feelings: do not give in to despair, Eldra, as Fyaar would say if she could. Maybe a Jedi will come.

It’s a war inside her, equal parts of hope and terror, and without her Master’s guidance how will Eldra find the strength to make herself calm again? Calm, serene, like the Jedi she was supposed to be.

A Jedi is better than this.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no hatred, especially. Eldra should not hate Dilar. She shouldn’t hate every single slaver in the entire world, with even deeper depths of seething odium reserved for anyone selling or buying her. She shouldn’t. She does.

She isn’t wearing a force-suppressant collar, but that doesn’t matter. There are things far more binding than chains, than collars, in this world: Eldra promised her Master that she would be strong. She promised. She promised, and she hates these slavers. If she reached for the force now, she wouldn’t be able to call herself Jedi anymore. She would fail her Master and lose herself.

She would use her hatred to kill her tormentors. She would tear their throats out.

She would Fall.

Fear, raging and cold, has been her only companion for uncounted waking days now, that and bitter loathing. Master Fyaar died in front of her. Eldra’s been stripped of everything she thought she was and turned into a commodity, and now the only bright spot in her life is the fact that Martrey Woobudg the slaver, slaver, slaver who brought them to Teth is also fucking dead. Hopefully, it hurt.

The sudden hope is new, fragile and staggering and still too volatile to make reaching for the force safe. Hope: maybe the new arrival isn’t one of them. Eldra’s Master was in constant contact with the Temple, after all, and they must know about the ambush by now. They must have sent someone to save Eldra. (She tries very very hard not to remember that they don’t, sometimes, search for missing padawans, because of deferring to a higher purpose and the will of the force and being instruments of the Galactic Senate and not privileging attachments, including to their padawans, over the greater good et cetera et cetera, which is a code of conduct that Eldra, too, had always believed in. Until she got thrown in this cell, at least.)

Please, let it be a Jedi. Even if she gets thrown out for her hatred. Please, let it be a Jedi.

“Get up, girl,” Dilar says.

Eldra struggles onto her feet. She almost loses her balance, and that would kriffing hurt, because she’s got little chance of breaking her fall. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, encased in thin manacles she could easily break out of if it wasn’t pointless. If she wasn’t watched at all times. If she could use the force without Falling. If there was any way off this planet she doesn’t even know the name of. She could break them, but she can’t. They’re tight, and her shoulders ache from the forced immobility. (Almost, she’d told the slavers that restraining someone like this for days on end was a sure way of causing muscle damage, that they were lowering her value—were hurting her, by treating her like this, but she’d reconsidered. It would probably count as ‘helping slavers’. She hopes instead that they lose all their captives to their own bad practices. Eldra will not help them, if it kills her.)

If her visitor is a slaver, they’ll probably enjoy the sight of her helplessness. If they’re a Jedi, there may be compassion, pity, judgment—they’ll feel how scared she is, and how close to breaking—and that’ll be even more embarrassing to deal with afterwards, but at least there will be an afterwards for her.

For a second, the force floods with pain. Anger. Then, the presence hides itself again. Doesn’t matter. She’s felt it.

A force user.

A… Jedi, then?

Would a Jedi… Eldra herself would be angry, if she saw anyone else treated the way she is now, no matter how hard she tries for serenity. Eldra isn’t a good Jedi though. She’s too scared for that.

She looks up. If the visitor is a Jedi, Eldra doesn’t recognize them. But that means nothing: they’re covered head-to-toe in layers of black fabric. They’re wearing some sort of mask that covers their lower face, too, and oversized mirrored-glass sunglasses, and gloves, and a cowled cloak and what looks like at least two shirts, one over the other. They look like a black ball with legs sticking out. They look like someone decided to dress up as the platonic concept of shady. They look ridiculous.

They’re very short as well. They’re about twice the height of Grandmaster Yoda, and shorter than pretty much everybody else that Eldra knows. Well… they could be Master Piell. Would Master Piell dress up like this, though? Would he come to rescue her? Would he… well, he wouldn’t feel like the visitor in the force. Even Piell is a Master of the High Council. He wouldn’t fall prey to emotions as easily as Eldra did. He would not fail the light.

The only bit of skin that Eldra can make out is the bridge of the nose, between the jaw-mask and those sunglasses. Red.

Whoever it is isn’t human.

It might give hope, but—whoever it is has already paid and they own Eldra now, they tell the slavers, in a deep and slightly mechanic voice.

Paid.

Own.

Not a rescue, then. The Jedi wouldn’t reward a slaver for abducting a padawan.

Eldra will not cry. Not because if does not befit a Jedi, because the Jedi didn’t come for her. Eldra remained faithful—barely—she didn’t give in to her hatred and fear, didn’t Fall… and no-one came to rescue her. She will never see the temple again. She’ll never watch those holovids with Bayro, and Bayro—will she even notice? Will she mourn Eldra? Or will she be relieved that the clingy kid is gone?

She won’t cry. She will not give Dilar or this new buyer the satisfaction.

The shielding of Eldra’s cell opens. Dilar attaches a chain to Eldra’s manacles and her buyer ties the other end to their belt. They barely look at her, at least—in the nightmares she refused to allow herself to grow into images they always looked at her, excited and hungry, but this buyer seems curt and weirdly business-like.

Without another word, they start walking.

Eldra has no choice but to follow. The Jedi didn’t come. She is alone. Whatever awaits her outside, though, it can hardly be worse than this cell.

[oneunexpected]

Gregor+friendship headcanon, and Hamnet+sad headcanon 👀😭💕

This got REEEEEALLY long.

Gregor + friendship headcanon:

-He doesn’t know what to do about Larry and Angelina when he gets back to the surface.

-the lie his family settles on is Lyme disease: they say both Gregor and his dad contracted it while camping back when the “miscommunication” between his mom and dad occurred (read: the first time Gregor and Boots fell), and it’s had chronic implications for the both of them.

-it makes it easier to explain why they decide to move in with his uncle in Virginia, too.

-he wants so badly to tell the truth. SO badly. But he’s unwilling, because if they believed him... what then? What do you do when your 12-year-old friend disappears and comes back a war veteran? And even then, what if they got too curious and sought out to find the Underland? Gregor can’t risk it.

-even though he figures it’s for the best, he always regrets it a little.

-after Gregor moves, they play video games together online. It’s a good way to stay in touch. That way, they spend some time together virtually, and any discussion outside of game strategy is relegated to the simple catch-up stuff: what projects they’re up to in school, how their families are doing, wild rumors they’ve heard. It helps everything feel a little more normal for Gregor.

-when he met Larry and Angelina, it was back when he was young enough that kids just made friends with whoever. By the time he gets to Virginia, though, friendships are made a lot more through clubs and mutual interests. There are plenty of random people who reach out to him when he first moves, though, concerned about the new kid, wanting to make sure he felt welcome. They’re all nice. Some of the friendships stick, some don’t. He fits in well enough with the band kids, though band’s inherently clique-y format makes it hard to break in at first. By high school, the scars on his legs are flat enough that he joins the cross country and track teams. Sometimes people question why he always wears long sleeve t-shirts, even in the sweltering heat, but they never push him past his generic excuses. He also joins the school robotics team. Between the three, he has lots of friends across the school.

-he’s not particularly close with many, though. His closest friends are a clarinet player, one of his track relay teammates, and a kid who was always cracking jokes in biology when they were stressed about upcoming tests.

-everyone knows there’s something a little off, but none of his friends mind that much. He’s kind, he’s clever, he’s a great sax player, he’s fast, and once again, he’s really kind—so who cares if he’s mysterious as hell.

-that changes when he loses control of raging and breaks a guy’s nose in the hallway during his 8th grade year. His fairly large circle of somewhat shallow friendships shrinks significantly—but those he’s closest to stay loyal, and they do their part to make sure he’s not ostracized. “Honestly, man, he had it coming,” says his friend from bio.

-it all makes things a little easier for Gregor. There’s still so much he’s healing from. There’s still so much that limits him. There’s still so much he misses, both in New York and the Underland. And it can be so alienating. But when he’s playing in a jazz ensemble, or when he’s at someone’s birthday party, or when he’s crammed into a car with some cross country buddies headed to get some fast food after a particularly exhausting practice—it’s all a little easier.

-sometimes, though, even the good moments hurt when he remembers just how different their lives are from his.

-he visits Larry and Angelina the summer before his senior year, and even though their video game shenanigans are few and far between by then, he’s relieved by how easy it is to be around them. They cover lost ground fast, fueled by their excitement to see one another. Angelina’s working as a stagehand on Broadway for the summer. Larry’s mom just bought him a new drawing tablet and he shows Gregor what he’s been working on. They spend hours just catching up and laughing. They’ve grown apart, sure, but the affection remains.

Hamnet + sad headcanon

Nothing I could headcanon would be sadder than actual canon, so I hope it’s alright if I take an alternate approach here:

-When he disappears, nobody asks Susannah how she’s doing that much.

-Maybe they think she’s removed from it, sequestered away in the Fount. Maybe her physical distance just puts her out of sight, out of mind.

-Maybe they think she’s too immersed in Howard and Stellovet and the twins on their way to really feel it.

-Maybe it’s because Judith and Hamnet were just so close. For Judith, it’s like losing a part of herself. “He was a part of me, too,” she sobs to York one night.

-Maybe, just maybe, it’s because she’s the eldest: she’s supposed to be the strong one, the caretaker, the first to sacrifice.

-Judith knows she has to stay strong. She is a queen. Her weakness is her people’s weakness, and losing their best commander is a vulnerability enough in itself.

-but she’s so angry, angry at her husband and her mother for organizing the attack, angry at her father and herself for not doing anything about it, angry at Hamnet for leaving her, oh, she’s furious at him.

-it doesn’t take long to strip the anger back. When you do, there is only the grief.

-when the baby is sleeping, when her husband is sleeping, she slips down into the abandoned nursery where she and Hamnet and the others her age were once cared for and wails.

-after a few weeks, she visits Susannah. They cling to each other in Susannah’s drawing room until the early hours of the morning, at first in silence, until Judith finally says, “I think I was too passive.” Susannah wants to laugh—everyone always said she was the passive one of the three.

-after that, it’s like a dam has broken. (Ooh, poor choice of words.) Susannah tells stories of when the twins were really little. There’s the time when Susannah was trying to feed baby Judith mashed sweet potatoes and Judith bit her, which had their mother in stitches of laughter even as she tried to scold Judith, the time four-year-old Hamnet refused to leave Susannah’s side during a festival because he was afraid of the people in costumes roaming about... there are many stories. Judith chimes in with her own. They laugh and cry and laugh and cry.

-the elephant in the room is the injustice of the attack itself. Neither one of them knows how to navigate it, but it fuels their confusion and it fuels their grief.

-Their father doesn’t know how to navigate it, either.

-Vikus knows he is culpable. It’s his job to make sure Regalians stay true to their word. It’s his job to balance out Solovet’s tendencies. It’s his job to look out for his children’s well-being. He’s failed. He’s complicit. And his son is gone.

-he knows, on some level, that the part of him that’s in Hamnet is what drove his son to leave. It’s what drove him insane in the first place, and it’s the reason he tried to save the drowning gnawers that day, too. Vikus doesn’t know how to sit with that knowledge. If his son was more like Solovet, maybe he would have lived.

-it wasn’t an easy birth. Solovet lost way too much blood and the twins were just so small when they were born. Even then, when her mind was clouded by hypovolemic shock, she couldn’t stand to see the doctors whisking them away. When she came to, someone had laid the twins in her arms, where they slept peacefully. Vikus beamed at her from a corner of the room. She was so, so proud.

-she never knew fear quite like she did when Mareth brought Hamnet home and he couldn’t recognize any of them. Couldn’t even speak. She never let on how scared she was, of course, but she felt it nonetheless. She was disappointed, too.

-when they received word Hamnet was missing, Solovet was immediately giving orders. “Check every route out from the city. Locate and interrogate every guard on duty last night. Send word to the Fount and Troy.” Find him.

-she knew they wouldn’t. He was too clever for that. As she goes to sleep that night, there’s a cold weight pressing in on her sternum. He could have been great, she thinks. He was so close.

Thanks for the ask! Headcanon meme found here.

[skiller0dani]

For Monty | Monty De La Cruz

M A S T E R L I ST Timothy Granaderos Masterlist

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important notice:  13 reasons why covers some really heavy stuff and their material can be extremely triggering. seeing as my writing is supposed to be for fun only I won’t be including many of the topics seen in the show. in fact, unless I say otherwise most of all my writings for this show will take place before Hannah Bakers suicide. if you or a loved one ever needs to seek professional help please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.

*

also I’ve been getting so many messages saying stuff along the lines of “I thought you were a timothee chalamet blog??! why haven’t you written for him?”  & “i don’t read your stuff anymore it’s not timmy chalamet”  I am super hella done with messages like this. yes I write for timothee chalamet the most but I still do have other interests. I write what I will enjoy writing the most, because when I’m not interested in what I’m writing the entire piece turns into garbage. I will continue to write for timmy chalamet, but I will continue to also write for other people and tv shows/movies/WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT. :) if this upsets you then feel free to stop reading my stuff. thank you for understanding. xx

~Skiller0Dani~

WOW. That was long, anyway onto the Monty smut ;)  also someone to you by the banners makes me think of Monty :( I miss him so fucking much dudes and dudettes. tell me I’m not the only one who misses that way too violent cutie pie. 

You weren’t someone who was known for mindlessly crushing on upperclassman. You focused mainly on your school work, trying to get straight A’s. Your Father had drilled it into your head that good grades equal good college offers. While he wasn’t wrong, you wished that there could be more to your life than report cards and school projects. No, you never crushed on anyone. In fact a majority of your friends had come to the conclusion you’re asexual, which is far from true. Actually your eyes had landed on a prize all their own, you’d much prefer they stay focused on the work in front of you but instead they were trained on the schools ‘lady killer’. Montgomery De La Cruz. 

You doubt Monty had ever even once glanced in your direction and up until now that didn’t bother you. The only thing that bothered you more than the lack of attention you were receiving was the fact that he currently had his eyes set on a busty blonde across the Library. 

And you do not take rejection very well. 

Monty might not have known he was rejecting you but he most certainly was. By allowing his eyes to trail down to her cleavage before letting his eyes take in her delicate features he was obviously rejecting you. You pushed back from the table as Monty sidled towards the blonde airhead. Fuck. Why do you care so much? You feel more anger then heartbreak, you weren’t one of those cry baby women. If someone upset you, you made sure they knew it. In this case you would definitely be making sure Monty knew how much he’d upset you. 

While you planned on finding a clever way to introduce yourself to Monty, the Universe wanted to rectify this situation for you all on his own. Fate was a funny thing. You stood in front of your open locker, texting a few friends before heading to your neck class when you hear a soft click followed by the shutter of a camera. Tyler was a nice guy, harmless if not a little creepy. Nonetheless he made you uncomfortable, you could feel his eyes follow you around the school. You turned slightly to the right to see Tyler peeking from around the corner with his lens pointed at you. You tried to look causal as you began to hurriedly pack your things into your bag when the quick sound of footsteps on the tile floors caught your attention. You feel a sharp breeze blow from behind you and before you even know what’s going on Monty has Tyler pinned to the lockers. 

Your eyes are wide and poor Tyler shakes like a leaf, his eyes refusing to meet Monty’s. “Fucking leave her alone.” Monty’s voice is tense and his eyes burn craters into Tyler’s head. He fists two handfuls of Tyler’s shirt and when Tyler makes the mistake of lifting his eyes to meet yours Monty slams him back against the locker again. “Don’t even look at her freak.” The last work is spat from Monty’s mouth. It makes Tyler flinch. “I-I didn’t-” Tyler’s voice cracks as he stumbles for the right words. Monty leans in closer, his fingers curling around Tyler’s shirt tighter. 

“I saw you taking her picture from around the corner, and if that’s not creepy enough I’ve watched you follow her around the school. You wanna touch her Down? Hm? Wanna find a good place to have your way with her?” The words coming from Monty’s mouth are venomous, you’d be lying if you said your panties weren’t wet. Smiling with the edge still in his eyes Monty releases Tyler and begins to straighten his shirt. “So here’s what we’re going to do Down. You’re going to leave her the fuck alone, no talking to her, no taking pictures. If you even look in her direction I’m going to beat you to a bloody pulp. Capiche?” Monty feigns a friendly look, while Tyler quickly nods and squirms away the instant Monty allows him to. You fiddle with the strap of your bag as Monty turns to you, a much different look in his eyes. 

“You okay?” His eyes are on you, his attention is finally on you. The feeling of his eyes brushing over your face and down your body has you melting directly into the floor. Instead of collapsing into a tingling heap you smile with a quick nod. “Y-Yeah, you don’t need to worry though. Tyler is harmless, just kind of creepy.” You reassure him the best you can but you doubt you did anything to ease his worry. Monty rolls his eyes, the tension hasn’t yet left his shoulders. “Harmless now. It’s disgusting the way he follows you around the school. I’ve even seen him linger around the girls bathroom if you go in.” Monty’s voice becomes strained again, a memory seeming to play in his head. 

You turn to head to class and much to your surprise Monty begins to walk beside you, “you really don’t have to walk me to class.” There’s a blush on your cheeks and Monty merely shrugs. There are eyes on you as you walk with Monty, people know Monty. Nobody knows you, they’re probably wondering how Monty does. “No biggie.” He’s incredibly casual, and also a lot nicer than you were expecting. Sure he was a little rough with Tyler but Tyler was being really creepy. You have no clue who allowed the town stalker to be in charge of yearbook, it like gives him a reason to follow people around. It’s conveniently always for “yearbook”. No way. 

Nothing else of major significance occurred after that day. Monty would occasionally wink at you from across the hall or throw a lopsided smile your way in the hallways. But you figured he saw you as a little sister than someone he wanted to fuck into oblivion. You desperately wanted him to fuck you into oblivion. Monty definitely did however keep a close eye on you if any guy approached you. Even his friends, like Zach. You were pretty good friends with Zach, having lived down the street from him since as long as you can remember. Anytime Zach stood by your locker with you, you could feel Monty’s eyes on you. Sure enough each and every time you looked up you saw Monty’s heated gaze on the two of you. Basically, you were receiving a hundred different mixed messages from him. Why were you waiting around for him anyway? When in doubt, do it your damn self. 

There were tons of eyes on you today. You were wearing a sheer see through deep purple crop top. Beneath the crop top you wore nothing but a lacy black bra, which was very much on display. It wasn’t what you were wearing that was catching everyone’s attention, but what you’d written on the cups of your bra. You’d written FOR MONTY, each word on each cup in big white letters. People were whispering all around you as you made your way to your locker. Zach in particular wasn’t all that surprised, he knew you fairly well. If it took you too long to get what you wanted, you’d make sure to make a show of it once you’d decided to get it yourself. In this case however, that thing you wanted was in fact, Monty. 

Monty almost didn’t notice, not until one of his buddies elbowed his side, “dude look.” 

Monty swore his cock jumped to attention once he’d seen what you were wearing. The words FOR MONTY written on your breasts catching his attention immediately. You’d barely allowed him a side glance as you strolled on by and while every single nerve in Monty’s body wanted to approach you first- he didn’t. Clearly you’d done this to catch his attention, and Monty couldn’t help but wonder what you’d do if he did nothing. His cock was nearly twitching at the thought. So Monty gave little to no reaction and turned back to his boys, who all thought he was completely insane. How could he do nothing when an insanely hot chick had basically given her breasts to him? 

The reaction infuriated and confused you just as much as it did them. Was he really so uninterested that at the prospect of you offering your body to him willingly he would still reject you? Ouch. You slammed your locker shut and turned to brush past him, ignoring Zach’s quiet chuckling as he followed behind you. You weren’t embarrassed, you’d thankfully inherited your Mother’s fearless nature. You were pissed the fuck off. You’d give Monty one last chance before you’d write him off and look for another good lay. Although you’d yet to find someone at Liberty that was hotter than Monty. “Gonna give it up?” Zach asked, that teasing laugh still hinting at his tone. You turned to give him a sharp glare, so far today Zach had been the only guy not to look at your breasts. “I still have one more idea.” You mused aloud. 

Zach rolled his eyes. Of course you did. 

When the bell rang you’d headed for your locker to dump all your school stuff inside. Your jacket was zipped all the way up as you shoved things into your locker. This had to be the craziest thing you’ve ever done, but fuck you wanted Monty so damn badly. So badly in fact that you’d do about damn near anything to make that happen. You walked with confidence even though nothing but fear coursed through you with every step. You approached the locker room, knowing the boys had just finished baseball practice. Meaning they were all sweaty, and showering. And naked. You sucked in a sharp breath before shoving the locker room door open, and immediately every pair of eyes were on you. Some guys wolf whistled, some guys covered their junk, some didn’t. Gross. Your eyes however were set on one person. Zach’s eyes widened as soon as he’d seen you, now this did surprise him. 

Monty’s back was to you but with one look at Diego and he was turning around, an amused expression on his face when he saw you. Once you were stood in front of Monty you reached for your jacket zipper before pulling it down and shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. Monty’s expression shifted once he’d noticed you were no longer wearing the crop top and wore only the black lacy bra you’d written on. Yours and Monty’s eyes met in an intense stare down, you could feel the sexual tension beginning to fill the entire room. Monty had one eyebrow raised while he looked at you. “Y’know baby if De La Cruz here won’t do anything, I’m sure I could give you a good night.” A guy said from your left, but you didn’t bother to look over at him. 

“Good thing it doesn’t take brains to be a baseball player. It clearly says ‘FOR MONTY’ meathead.” You fire back, noticing the way Monty’s mouth quirked up at your words. The baseball player slinks back as the rest of the team ‘oohs’ and begins to tease him. You and Monty continue your stare down and it’s simply erotic. “Well Montgomery? Whatcha think?” Another player said as you and Monty stood nearly chest to chest. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage as his nearly expressionless face slid into a sly smile. “I think the rest of you nasty fucks has seen enough of her tits.” Monty said simply before swiftly hauling you up and over his shoulder. A gasp escaped your lips followed by giggles as Monty marched to the door of the locker room as the rest of the team whistled and cheered Monty on. 

“Monty, where are we going?” You shriek with laughter as he carries you down the hallway, purpose in his steps. Monty’s hand rests on your ass and he gives you a sharp slap, “literally anywhere else.” He says, his eyes scanning around for the nearest place he can screw your brains out. “I don’t have a shirt on!” You exclaim, gasping when his palm comes down on your ass again. Monty chuckles, “baby soon you won’t have anything on at all.” His words send jolts of arousal shooting straight between your legs. Finally Monty spies an empty classroom and throws the door open before locking it behind him. He drops you to the ground, his pupils dilated and his eyes fixed on you. 

“I have been hard as a rock all fuckin’ day from the shit you just pulled.” Monty said, his voice husky as he stalked towards you. You slid back to sit on the teachers desk, your wide eyes watching him as he drew nearer and nearer to you. “I’m sorry Monty.” Your voice is so innocent and soft it nearly makes him jizz his pants when he sees the doe eyes you’re simultaneously flashing him. “Are you? Because you just walked around with your tits on display for everyone to see. All. Fucking. Day. Then you waltz your sexy little ass into the locker room and show your beautiful tits in that bra for all my boys to see?” Monty has an edge to the tone of his voice, a dangerous predatory edge. You nibble on your bottom lip as you nod up at him. 

“These are my tits, isn’t that right baby?” Monty asks, reaching up to harshly squeeze your breasts through your bra. You nod immediately, nearly careening into his hand when he gently strokes his fingers down your cheek. “Then why in the hell did you let every guy in the entire school see them? Hm?” He’s definitely angry. You weren’t expecting anger, you couldn’t deny however that his anger had your panties completely soaked. “I just wanted your attention.” You explain with a sigh, whining when he pulls his palm away from you. Monty nodded slowly, the angry expression still very plainly on his face. “Well you got everybody’s damn attention Y/N. If I’m going to be kind and give you my cock we need to come to some sort of understanding.” Monty says, crossing his arms as he glowers at you. You nod quickly, your breasts still spilling out of your bra in front of Monty’s eyes. It was very distracting. 

“First of all, these are my perfect tits and only I get to see them. Understood?” Monty demands, walking behind you. His arms reach up to open the clasp of the bra, “yes Monty.” Your entire body is buzzing with anticipation as you feel his fingers trail lightly down your spine. “In fact this entire perfect, tight little body is mine got it?” His voice is stern as he presses his front to your back. You nod weakly as his hand trails down to your navel. His thumb brushes against your nipple as his hand travels downwards and you whine, arching your back into his touch. “Second, if we do this it can’t be a one time thing. You will ruin me for life if I never get to taste your pussy again. I’ll never be able to fuck anyone else without thinking of you.” Monty breathed, his nose nudging down your neck as his fingers hit the waistband of your jean shorts. 

You smile widely when you hear his words, “you’ll get to fuck me whenever you want.” you agree instantly and Monty hums in approval against your skin. Monty’s hand continues past your shorts to rub lightly at your inner thighs. “Monty please.” Your voice is a mix of frustration and desperation as he begins to bite down on your shoulder, and his hand continues it’s torturous ministrations on your inner thighs. “Lastly, you can’t fuck anyone else. If you want this, then you’re mine. I find out you’re banging some other guy I’ll beat him to a pulp. Got it?” Monty snaps and you want to agree but you can’t help the words as they come from your lips. “Then you can’t bang anyone either. Just me.” You snap and Monty smiles against your skin. 

“Deal.” Monty agrees as he slides his hand into your shorts, his fingers finding your clit through your underwear. Your head is thrown back against his shoulder as he begins to slowly rub at you while his other hand pops open the button on your shorts to give him more room to tease you. “Diego has been talking about making a move on you, if he does you’re going to turn him down. Understood?” Monty demands, the thought of Diego getting to touch you this way sparking the flame of anger inside his chest. “Don’t want him anyway. Want you Monty,” You reassure him, boldly reaching out to lace your fingers through his free hand. Much to your surprise Monty lets you hold his hand. “You think I wrote your name on my bra today so I could get Diego’s attention?” You fire back, your mouth falling open when Monty carefully pushed 2 fingers into your wet entrance. 

“You did get his attention.” Monty seethed, his left hand reaching up to curl around your throat. The feeling of his hand lightly squeezing at your throat ha you moaning loudly, feeling the heat building in your pelvis as he continues to pump his fingers into you. “Oh you like it when I choke you baby? You like it when I’m in control?” Monty hums in your ear and you can feel his hard cock pressing against your back. You nod quickly, feeling your high approaching as he gently squeezes your throat again. “Seeing you shove Tyler against the lockers- I love it when you’re rough. I touched myself that night thinking about you.” You admitted and you hear Monty hum in approval. “What did you think about baby?” Monty whispers huskily into your ear. 

“Thought of you pressing me against the lockers as you take me from behind. I thought about your thick, hard cock pushing into me over and over again. I thought about your big hands holding my hips as you fuck me so hard I couldn’t walk.” You cry out as your orgasm draws even closer. Monty curls his fingers into you and you cry out loudly as you cum, your body shaking as Monty harshly fingers you through your orgasm. Once the shaking comes to a stop you immediately slide off the desk to kneel in front of Monty. He leans back against the desk as you unbuckle his belt and pull it through the loops of his jeans. 

“Wait,” Monty’s voice is hoarse as he pulls you back to your feet, his eyes are on yours as he pulls your lips to meet his. Your lips move together, a mix of tongue, teeth, and heavy breathing. “I couldn’t go another second without doing that.” Monty whispers against your lips before pushing you back down onto your knees. You unbutton his jeans before yanking them down along with his tight boxers. Monty release a sigh of relief as his cock is freed from it’s tight confines, and your mouth waters when you lay your eyes on it. 

“Fuck Monty you’re huge.” You say, your voice sounding nearly dreamy. 

Monty smiles with a raised brow, but that cocky look is wiped off his face when you take his dick into your mouth. You wrap your lips around his leaking head and Monty grips the edge of the desk tightly as you slowly take him further into your mouth. Monty’s hand twists your hair into a ponytail and he holds it tightly, helping you bob your head up and down his shaft. “Christ. You’re fuckin’ good at this baby.” Monty moans as he watches you take his cock down your throat. You hum against him causing his hips to buck into your mouth, and soon you feel Monty’s hips stutter a bit. That’s when he pulls out of your mouth, “I want to cum inside your sweet little pussy.” Monty gasps, still trying to catch his breath as he turns you around.  

Monty bends you over the desk, yanking your shorts and underwear down your legs. You hear the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and after a minute or so you feel Monty’s cock nudging at your pussy. “You sure you want this?” Monty asks, his hands coming down to grasp at your hips. Instead of answering him you plant your hands flat on the desk as you push back against him, taking his cock all the way inside you. “Shit baby,” Monty hisses, the unexpected feeling making him nearly lightheaded as he looks down and watches you thrust back against him. His hands hold lightly at your hips as he watches you do all the work, fucking yourself back against his cock. “Goddamn, isn’t that a sight to see.” Monty whispers almost to himself, he watches the place you two connect intently, watching his cock disappear inside you nearly has him panting. 

You continue to push back against him for a few minutes, high pitched moans and cries escaping your lips as he brushes against that sensitive spot inside you. It’s not long before Monty is grasping your hips a little tighter to regain control. 

He begins to hardly thrust into you, his hips smacking against yours. Your hipbones grind into the desk, you know that’s going to leave some gnarly bruises and will hurt like a bitch tomorrow. Monty slams into you, his breathing labored as he pounds you hard. You shake with each thrust, your breasts swaying as your body is rocked against the desk. You feel that familiar coil winding in your stomach when Monty reaches around to thumb at your clit. Your mouth is hanging open when you feel Monty’s other hand grab your hair to yank your head back. You cry out when Monty slams into you, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again until you’re cumming all over his cock and down your thighs. Monty cums with a groan, his hands falling to support his weight against the desk so he doesn’t crush you. 

“Best fuck ever.” Monty says breathlessly and you laugh weakly with him. He gently pulls out of you and you wince as he does so. Your upper body collapses against the desk and you’re surprised when you feel Monty cleaning you up with a tissue. Your heart warms at the sweet look in his eyes when he winks at you when you look at him over your shoulder. Monty then presses a quick kiss to your clit, causing your body to jolt before he pulls your panties and shorts back up. “Still don’t have a shirt doofus.” You mumble as you clip your bra behind your back. Monty shrugs as he reaches to lift you in his arms bridal style. Your cheeks are flushed as he opens the door of the classroom to head back to the locker room- he still needs to shower. “You’re too sore to walk anyway.” Monty says, unable to keep the pride out of his tone as he says it. You merely hum in response as your eyes close when you rest your head against his chest. 

“Have a good fuck Monty?” A baseball player teases as Monty pushes back into the locker room, looking like he just got laid with you sleeping in his arms. Monty merely rolls his eyes, “shut up and give me her jacket.” He snaps, sitting down on the bench as Zach hands him your jacket. Monty presses a kiss to your head as he helps you into your jacket before zipping it up. “Here, I can take her. So you can shower.” Zach says, noticing that you’re completely out in Monty’s arms. Monty is hesitant as Zach reaches down to gently pull you into his arms, and when Zach turns Monty stands. “Here, bring her to my car. I just need to shower.” He says, handing Zach his keys. Zach is one of the few people Monty actually trusts with his car keys. 

That was supposed to be nothing more than a quick fuck, but when Monty saw you sleeping in his arms he felt his heart skip a beat. He felt like a good man, like he was protecting you. Monty didn’t normally have feelings for anybody but you seemed to be the exception. 

Fuck. 

_____

want a part 2? lemme know. 

[cheshiresense]

Anything with fem!Ichigo and Kisuke? Maybe a both-living-in-soul-society as Shiba Ichgio and Captain Urahara? Maybe an Outsider POV type thing? People trying to make sense of their relationship? (Btw I love your writing so much omg🤗)

Fem!Ichigo again lol. I didn’t think that would be such a popular trope tbh.

Edit: OMG THIS GOT SO LONG FML. Apparently i like fem!Ichigo just as much as you guys lmao.

1. Ichigo makes captain around the same time Kisuke does. Isshin went MIA, presumed dead (no, he’s probably run off with another woman who fell prey to one of Aizen’s experiments), so the Tenth Division captain seat is empty. Ichigo doesn’t know Kisuke well, but she likes to think she does know a bit more than the average person on the street. She knows what everyone knows of course - former Third Seat of the Second, Yoruichi’s left hand, her best interrogator - but she’s also seen him around the Shiba compound on occasion when Yoruichi drags him along, and sometimes Yoruichi talks about him. Ichigo always listens raptly, and she’s never forgotten any of the tidbits Yoruichi casually brings up when she tells Ichigo stories about the missions she can talk about or her old days at the Academy or general life as a Shihouin. Ichigo’s pretty sure Kisuke doesn’t know anything about her beyond the fact that she’s a Shiba, and he definitely doesn’t know that she admires him. She knows he’s clever and strong, devoted to Yoruichi and not someone anybody with half a brain cell would want as an enemy. She knows that he considers himself a scientist as much as an assassin, and that his morals are… flexible, at best, but that what drives his actions - outside of work - is curiosity more than any kind of deliberate malevolence or innate depravity. Ichigo knows all this, and her gaze always strays to him the handful of times they happen to be in the same vicinity. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice; he sticks close to Yoruichi most of the time and doesn’t really interact with anyone else, and for a while, compared to him, she’s just a girl, albeit one with a ridiculous amount of reiatsu and a bright future in the Gotei. And for all that Ichigo is a Shiba, she understands discretion better than most of her family. Perks of being trained by Yoruichi. Sometimes, she thinks about approaching Kisuke and striking up a conversation, but he always seems so closed off, or he stumbles around like a fool with two left feet but eavesdrops on conversations with the effortless ease of long habit, and for the longest time, Ichigo simply doesn’t feel like she has any right to talk to someone so obviously better than her in skill. Yoruichi is different, Shunsui and Jyuushirou and Shinji are all different, because they’re her mentors and extended family first and foremost, but Kisuke isn’t any of that so Ichigo watches him, measures herself against him, and sets her sights on one day becoming his equal.

So, they’ve never spoken, not beyond polite greetings, not until Ichigo tears through the Academy in a year and climbs the ranks like she has wings, not until Ichigo is offered a captaincy with the support of half the Gotei’s division commanders, and as the two newest and youngest captains, the two of them naturally gravitate together whenever Yamamoto summons them all for the regular less formal bi-monthly captain meetings.

Meetings follow a pattern. Captains report in, the usual topics regarding missions and internal affairs are discussed, and then they’re free to mingle, which isn’t required but it is expected in order to keep up at least some friendly relations between the squads. And it isn’t as if either Ichigo or Kisuke aren’t familiar with some of the other captains. Ichigo grew up with Shunsui and Jyuushirou as her uncle figures, and Shinji and Yoruichi are family friends, while Kisuke owes most of everything he is now to Yoruichi. But the former three are older, and Ichigo is a captain now and she doesn’t want to be treated like the little girl they used to give piggyback rides and candy to. Besides, they’re busy enough chatting with each other, and it would be awkward for even Ichigo to cut in. As for Kisuke, he hasn’t had a real conversation with Yoruichi since she signed him up for the captain exams and forced him out of the Second. Things are stiff between them when they do speak, and he doesn’t resent her exactly but sometimes he sees her walking around with Sui-Feng following in her shadow the way he used to, and it makes him turn away.

So they both retreat into corners of the room, and after a few meetings, it eventually happens to be the same corner too. Kisuke’s brought along one of his portable experimental mannequins to fiddle with to pass the time until it’s okay for him to leave, and Ichigo’s reiatsu leaps lightly between her hands as she idly twists a Kidou spell into something new, twining the purple light of a Haien with the shadows of her own spiritual energy. She doesn’t look up, but she can sense eyes on her, and it isn’t long after that before Kisuke remarks, “The Shiba Clan is formidable indeed. I don’t think even the Kidou Corps has such a knack for… improvisation.”

Ichigo glances up to meet curious grey eyes just a bit too sharp to pass for guileless, and she’s never been shy about what she wants, so she grins a little and wiggles her fingers, making the spell flare a bit. “The Twelfth Division’s coming out with pretty interesting things too.” Just last month, a training mannequin that can produce low-level bakudou to counter hadou fired at it had been presented at a captain’s meeting. The First Division got first dibs, and Ichigo’s pretty sure Yoruichi pulled some strings and wheedled her childhood friend for the favour so Second got them too, but the Tenth will probably have to wait at least another six months. Ichigo’s not known for her patience though when there’s no real need for it, so she suggests impishly, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Kisuke arches an eyebrow, and some of the clueless facade he likes to wear falls away, replaced by an amused smirk. “You drive a tempting bargain, Shiba-taichou. However can I refuse?”

Half an hour later, Ichigo crosses the wrong two wires and Kisuke puts just a little too much reiatsu into a half-melted Soukatsui. The wall behind them blows up, and in the ensuing chaos and uproar, under the cover of all the smoke, the two of them sneak away over the rooftops like naughty children, half falling over with laughter.

Later, when Yamamoto eyeballs them and demands to know if they had anything to do with the explosion, they serve as each other’s alibi, swearing innocence up and down. Everybody knows they’re lying but no one can prove it, and as Yamamoto dismisses them with a long-suffering sigh, all of Seireitei seems to feel a sense of foreboding as Ichigo and Kisuke walk out together.

2. Kisuke finds an unexpected friend in the Tenth Division captain, and as a result, he has less time to hole himself up in his labs. At first, it isn’t even that he doesn’t want to; it’s just that it’s very hard to say no to Shiba Ichigo, who invites herself over to the Twelfth like she’s been given blanket permission and drags Kisuke out of the SRDI like it’s her right. Before Kisuke knows it, he’s spending most of his lunch breaks with her, and he even starts getting his paperwork finished on time every Friday because Ichigo has a habit of hauling him back to the Shiba compound for dinner on those evenings.

Kisuke’s always had a hard time saying no to strong-willed women, but still, Ichigo is different from Yoruichi. There wasn’t anything Kisuke wouldn’t have done for Yoruichi, up to and including changing his life’s career path when she announced he would. She was as much his closest friend as she was the noble clan heir who saved him from Rukongai, from starvation and certain death, and neither of them will ever forget that.

But Ichigo is different. Ichigo is colleague and peer and friend with no strings attached, and Kisuke’s never had that before in his life. She takes liberties with him that he could stop if he really wanted to, but she’s interested in his inventions in a way no one else is, and she’s eager to teach him her family’s brand of kidou in return even though he’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to. He asks about it once, and she only shrugs.

“Kuukaku-nee-san considers Yoruichi-nee-san another sister,” She tells him carelessly. “And you’re Yoruichi-nee-san’s best friend. I’m sure you know several Shiba secrets already even if you didn’t used to come over as often as Yoruichi-nee-san. Plus you’re not the type to go spreading around what you know, are you? Otherwise I don’t think Yoruichi-nee-san would’ve ever started bringing you over to our compound in the first place. Besides, I don’t teach you the really secret stuff. You need actual Shiba blood for that, so I can’t anyway. It’s fine.”

And Kisuke would think she’s simply too trusting, too naive, unable to keep her mouth shut, except as far as he knows, she doesn’t teach anybody else the way she does Kisuke, doesn’t spend half as much time these days with anyone except him. She trains her squad, spars with them and extends her favour over the potential recruits she’s handpicked from the upcoming Academy graduates and of course always makes time for her family. But even Kisuke - who admittedly has always been terrible with people - can tell that somehow, sometime when he wasn’t looking, Shiba Ichigo had decided to make Kisuke her best friend.

He… doesn’t mind it. The company is surprisingly welcome, and he didn’t even know he was lonely until he suddenly had Ichigo hiding in his labs from her own paperwork or barging into his office to bring him lunch. He used to have Yoruichi to talk to, but nowadays, he has Hiyori screaming at him every time he turns around, or Kurotsuchi constantly testing his patience, or his other squad members shying away from him because he doesn’t know how to handle them, how to lead them, how to make them like him.

Ichigo doesn’t seem to see any of his deficiencies though, or maybe she does and just… takes it in stride. She doesn’t mind when he gets an idea halfway through a conversation and has to write it down and ends up tuning out everything for the next three hours, and she only interrupts him to remind him of his other duties and to grab dinner on his way home. She spars with him willingly, even eagerly, and the more underhanded fighting style he prefers just makes her grin wider, a bloodlust that matches his own surging to the fore the longer they fight. He wins, more often than not, but her ability to adapt, the way she incorporates everything from new Kidou spells to fighting sequences that she’s only seen once into her own style, her limitless potential in the way she seems to grow stronger with every damn blow, is terrifying, and Kisuke absolutely knows that one day, probably soon, she will surpass him, and it will be glorious to witness.

Inadvertently, Ichigo humanizes him too. She becomes a regular fixture at the Twelfth, and it helps that their respective compounds are back to back so they can just shunpo over the back walls whenever they please, and it isn’t long before the Shinigami under their command follow their lead. Kisuke’s officers - from seated to unseated, science-inclined or otherwise - relax over time, more and more every time Ichigo breezes through the courtyard or asks Kisuke to introduce her to some of them. They always seem surprised that he knows anything about them, and he’s not sure why - he’s read all their files, and it isn’t as if he can’t see the training yard from his office. Ichigo does the same for him, introducing him around her own squad, and it isn’t long before their officers begin taking missions together more often than not, and mingling together in their own time as if their compounds are one. The day a rebel faction of rogue Shinigami rolls through and kidnaps the heir of a noble house, Kisuke and Ichigo are onsite first, and by the time backup arrives, the heir has been saved, and all that’s left are the lingering red and black flickers of their respective reiatsu and the not-so-subtle trail of destruction left in the wake of their rather one-sided confrontation.

At the end of the next meeting, Yamamoto spares a minute to inform him and Ichigo that since their squads are so close, all joint missions relating to research and exploration into Hueco Mundo would be handed down to them from that point on, and it would be their job to train up and round out their mission teams properly with Shinigami from both divisions. Kisuke stares at Ichigo’s equally wide eyes and wonders when they became the next Kyouraku and Ukitake.

3. The first time Ichigo is frantically trying to meet a deadline and has to stay late into the night, Kisuke drops by with her favourite udon and a side of sushi, plus his own portion from the same restaurant, and doesn’t even seem to think he has to ask for permission before sitting down and poking fun at her time management skills and breaking out the chopsticks. Ichigo stares at him, not long enough for him to notice, but she also has to pretend to drop a scroll under her desk for a moment just so she can wrestle the manically thrilled smile off her face out of his line of sight.

Her evil plan is working.

The trick to befriending Kisuke, she’s found, is persistence. It probably helps that she likes him so much, and she’s genuinely interested in the inventions his brilliant and slightly insane mind comes up with, but more than anything else, persistence is key. When he’s neck-deep in research, she knows better than to interrupt his thought process unless she absolutely has to, and she’s fairly certain she’s never overstayed her welcome to the point of irritating him. But she keeps going back, bringing him food, teaching him her specialized kidou, and listening to him talk, and it’s been almost five years now and she doesn’t think it’s only wishful thinking anymore that Kisuke considers her a friend.

And that. That’s enough. Anything more will come if it comes. Hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s interested in people in a romantic or even sexual sense; he’s certainly never so much as gone on a date with anyone after becoming captain - Ichigo would know - and she’s never seen him visit a whorehouse. Sometimes, she does look in the mirror and wonder if Kisuke thinks she’s pretty (then she tries to drown herself in the shower because ugh what a dumb thing to fret over, like a lovesick little girl). On occasion, she wonders if she should try to act more like Yoruichi - all effortless elegance and lethal grace and refined speech when she wants, with something independent and whimsical that reminds Ichigo of a tiger in the wild - because if Kisuke has ever loved anyone, it would be her. But pretending to be something Ichigo isn’t has never been her strong suit, and she’ll never be able to be the kind of sophisticated upper-class that most nobles have known since birth anyway. Besides, it doesn’t count if Kisuke doesn’t like her for her.

Friends though. Ichigo can do friends, and these days, Kisuke no longer stares past her the way he used to back when she was still growing up. Anything more will come if it comes, and Ichigo can be content with that, even if some part of her continues to hope.

“Ichigo?”

Ichigo blinks to find Kisuke watching her with questioning eyes, the udon half held out towards her. “Are you alright?”

Ichigo gives herself a mental shake. “Yeah, I’m fine, just trying to remember if I signed one of the reports I sent off earlier. Pretty sure I did, thank fuck.” Her hands shoot out demandingly. “Now gimme, I’m starving!”

Kisuke rolls his eyes even as a fondly amused smile tugs at his lips. He hands over the udon and shakes his head as Ichigo digs in ravenously. “And you scold me for skipping meals.”

“You sh’p way ’ore ��an ’e!” Ichigo immediately protests around a mouthful of noodles.

“What’s that?” Kisuke mocks cheerfully. “‘You are absolutely correct Kisuke and I shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses?’ I completely agree.”

Ichigo sends him a dirty look because that doesn’t even rhyme, but she’s too hungry to keep arguing. Kisuke only smirks back at her before starting on his own dinner, and for a while, they sit in companionable silence as they work through their food.

Ichigo sits back with a satisfied sigh when she finishes. “That was delicious. It almost makes the all-nighter I’ll have to pull not so bad.”

Kisuke leans over to pour some more tea for himself but he casts a curious look over at her as well. “Leaving your paperwork to the last minute is usually my bad habit.” Ichigo snorts, and Kisuke sends her an exasperated look. “What in the world distracted you enough that you put it off this late?”

Ichigo makes a face and slouches further into her seat. “It’s my birthday in three months.” Kisuke makes that faint forehead crease that means he’s confused, so Ichigo explains sullenly, “It’s my big one hundred. Apparently that’s an important age or something so Kuukaku-nee-san’s been dragging me out for dress fittings for two weeks now, Ganju-nii-san keeps asking for my opinion even though he’s thrown out like four menu plans already because they’re apparently not good enough, and Kaien-nii-san won’t shut up about if I’m sure I don’t want to invite this or that person. It’s so annoying.” She pauses when an odd expression flits across Kisuke’s features. “What?”

Kisuke blinks before shaking his head. “Nothing. Just…” He smiles, and it’s one of his false ones. Ichigo automatically scowls, and Kisuke drops it. “I just didn’t realize you hadn’t reached your hundredth birthday yet.”

Ichigo bristles. “Is that a problem or something? I’m not a kid anymore if that’s what you’re hung up on.”

Kisuke quickly shakes his head again. “No that’s not it. You’re a Shinigami captain, and you’re more responsible than I am most of the time, Ichigo, both our squads can attest to that.”

Ichigo scowls some more but lets her shoulders drop. “What then?”

Kisuke glances down at his tea before tipping a rueful smile at her, this one real and slightly crooked. “I suppose I just wondered why you would want to spend all your time with an old man like me.”

Ichigo stares at him for a long beat of silent disbelief before rolling her eyes hard enough to feel something in her skull twinge. “Oh my god, you’re not that old, you’re not even four hundred yet. Kaien-nii is just past his four-hundred-thirtieth, and he’d throw down if anybody told him his next stop’s a rocking chair on the back porch.”

Kisuke huffs a laugh, brief and soft and startled every time when it’s real, like he has to hide it and like he never expects it, and Ichigo has to bite back an instinctive smile in response.

“True,” Kisuke muses, and the uncertainty from before is gone. He raises an expectant eyebrow instead, and Ichigo beams upon hearing his next question, “Well it is important so I can understand the fuss. You’re not keeping me off the invite list though, are you? I wouldn’t want to miss your big day.”

“Of course not!” Ichigo says brightly. “Invitations will be sent out this weekend so you’ll get yours real soon.” She slants a sly glance at him. “You’ll get me the best present, right?”

Kisuke makes that half-stifled more-breath-than-sound laugh again. “Did you have something you want in mind?”

Ichigo considers that for a moment. “Mmmm… make me something.”

Kisuke cocks his head, and some of his hair falls over his eyes. He brushes it back and Ichigo wonders what he’d look like with it tied back, or what it would feel like if she was allowed to run fingers through it. “Make you something?”

Ichigo nods. “Something that will surprise me.” She grins. “I hear you’re good at that.”

Kisuke hums, and he doesn’t promise her a new invention, but he does lean back in his seat, his eyes going distant, and Ichigo can practically see the new ideas form in his mind. She suppresses a laugh of her own and gets up instead to clear away their empty food cartons before getting back to work. She’s not surprised when he pulls out a notebook a few minutes later, and for the rest of the night, only the scratch of pen on paper breaks the hush between them.

Three months later, Kisuke enters the Shiba compound dressed in his finest clothes. He feels awkward in them but he can’t exactly wear his uniform to this event, even if he’s fairly sure Ichigo won’t care. He drops off his gift at the table already piled high with them, and then a servant leads him to his seat, near the front where the guest of honour and her relatives will sit, and he isn’t surprised when Yoruichi drops down beside him a moment later.

Neither of them speaks. Kisuke glances over, checks automatically for Sui-Feng before remembering she probably hasn’t been invited, and then realizes he feels… nothing. Not the hot sting of jealousy, nor the twist of hurt at knowing he’d been cast aside. Instead, his mind wanders and he finds himself wondering if Yoruichi - who has a good eye for kimonos - had a hand in dressing Ichigo up, and then he wonders - with more than a little amusement - how big a tantrum Ichigo probably threw at being stuffed into something probably as uncomfortable as his own current attire. She doesn’t even like wearing her captain’s haori when she can help it. Kisuke should know - he’s the one forced to hold it for her on the streets just in case they happen to pass a captain who would care and she has to throw it back on in a pinch.

He blinks and meets Yoruichi’s gaze again, gold and and knowing and forever unapologetic, and he inclines his head in return. Neither of them speaks, but he supposes, when it matters, they’ve never really had to.

It’s another half-hour before the last of the guests arrive, and then the Shibas enter. Ichigo is last, and as soon as Kisuke sees her, he can’t look away.

Blue is the Shibas’ colour, just as gold is the Shihouins’, and white is the Kuchikis’. Ichigo enters, dressed in a shimmering dark blue kimono patterned with bursts of fireworks. In contrast, her orange hair stands out that much more against it, pinned back with glittering kanzashi but left free to tumble down her back like a river of fire. Her brown eyes are bright, her cheeks blushed a delicate pink. She sweeps in like a force of nature barely contained, every inch a lady of noble birth, and against the backdrop of the night sky behind her, she is radiant.

Oh, something in Kisuke thinks in a daze, and beside him, he hears Yoruichi sigh, fond and exasperated in turn, but Kisuke doesn’t look at her because Ichigo catches his eye in the next moment and smiles, warm and glowing, and Kisuke can do nothing but stare back, utterly mesmerized.

Hours later, after the toasts and the seven-course dinner and even more toasts, everyone is free to mingle. Kisuke automatically sinks back into some nearby shadows, and for a while he gets some time to himself because Ichigo is busy thanking everyone for coming and making the appropriate amount of small talk. It still feels like no time at all when she appears in a burst of colour in front of him, flushed with a few drinks, breaking into another smile when she sees him.

She’s always so happy to see him, and Kisuke thinks he’s missed a few things over the past several years of their friendship.

“Kisuke!” She exclaims, and he realizes she’s clutching his gift, already half-unwrapped, in her hands. “These are fantastic, thank you!”

They’re a pair of hairpins, in her family’s colour, polished to perfection but purposely dulled so it won’t catch light in the dark, with jeweled heliotropes set along them. They’re not anything fancy, but they’re also not normal. Kisuke made them sharp enough to kill obviously, but the heliotropes themselves hide the real centerpiece. He blew up thirty-nine sets before he finally managed to get it right - a linked portal seal between the two, so that in an emergency, so long as Ichigo leaves one in a safe place and keeps the other on her, all she would need to do is send a spark of her own reiatsu into one set of flowers and it would teleport her straight to the other hairpin. Nothing - not an average bakudou, not one of the forbidden Kidou spells, not even different dimensions - would be able to prevent her from being transported to safety. The hairpins are designed to tear through literally anything in its way, and they’re probably one of Kisuke’s greatest achievements to date. It’s the only one of its kind, and as soon as Ichigo touched them, her passive reiryoku came into contact with them, and they now respond only to her.

He wrote down the explanation of course, Kidou-locked for her eyes only, and Ichigo beams at him now, clearly delighted.

“Here, help me put it on,” She says, already yanking out her kanzashi.

Kisuke can practically see Kuukaku’s wrath manifest a physical form from across the courtyard, and he pointedly pretends not to notice. Instead, he sighs rather helplessly even as something thrills inside him, possessive and smug. He firmly ignores it, focusing on tucking back the stray orange strands of Ichigo’s hair before clipping one of the hairpins through. They’re terribly lacking compared to her kanzashi but Ichigo doesn’t seem to care.

“The other one?” Kisuke asks, glancing down, only to blink when Ichigo catches one of his hands and presses the second hairpin into his palm.

Kisuke looks up. Ichigo smiles back, quiet and steady and resolute even as she withdraws her own hands again and takes a step back.

“Keep it safe for me, okay?” She asks, and Kisuke can’t find any words for a moment. But Ichigo doesn’t seem to need an answer, one hand rising to brush over the hairpin instead before swirling around in a neat spin. “How do I look? You haven’t said yet.”

Kisuke… doesn’t really plan on saying it. Somehow, entirely unlike him, it slips out anyway.

“Beautiful,” He says, voice just a touch too hoarse. “You look beautiful.”

Ichigo’s eyes go wide. And Kisuke can’t possibly have been the only one to say it, because she shines like a phoenix tonight, and it’s not even a particularly creative compliment; she’s almost certainly heard better. But she seems so very surprised anyway, and then she blushes to the tips of her ears, floundering for words in a way that isn’t at all like her.

“Thanks,” She finally mumbles, ducking her head for a moment before straightening just as quickly, something like defiance and challenge squaring her shoulders as she studies him searchingly for all of two seconds before reaching out and catching his arm. “Come on, the fireworks will start soon. We should get a good spot. The roof on the eastern side is best.”

She drags him off, and Kisuke goes willingly. Later, they sit shoulder to shoulder with the crackle of multi-coloured fireworks exploding overhead. Ichigo smiles  up at the sky, and Kisuke watches her out of the corner of his eye, recalling all their moments together over the past five years, wondering if she really has felt… more for him than he’s ever realized.

She’s a Shiba though. Half the noble guests here tonight brought along their sons and nephews for no other reason than because Ichigo will have to marry well one day. If this were a race, Kisuke knows he has already lost. But, they’re friends. Ichigo is actually probably his only friend, Yoruichi aside, and that will have to be good enough. Ichigo isn’t the type to cast anyone aside even after she marries, which won’t be for a while yet anyway, and if nothing else, the Shibas won’t ever wed her off to someone who would dictate who she can see and what she can do. So Kisuke will get to keep her friendship, and so long as he has that, then he can be content.

4. In this world, Kisuke does not create the Hougyoku. Oh, he stumbles on the idea, even starts on the project, but when it becomes clear that he’s going to have to more or less dissect the souls of dozens if not hundreds of souls, Pluses and Hollows alike, because he isn’t going to figure this out without seeing what happens, Kisuke thinks of Ichigo, thinks of what she would think if she knew, and… he stops.

He wants to know. He always wants to know, anything and everything he doesn’t already. But this, this is what Ichigo would consider cruel, this is wrong, and Kisuke’s curiosity over the outcome of this little experiment isn’t worth Ichigo’s disappointment.

So he sighs and mentally shelves this line of research, at least until he can figure out a better way to do it, and then he scraps the project. There are plenty of other areas he can turn his mind to after all. Besides-

“Kisuke!” Ichigo bursts into his personal labs, dragging a disheveled-looking Akon behind her. “I sent your Third Seat to the Fourth!”

Kisuke sighs. “What did he do now?”

She scowls at him and hauls Akon up front and center. Ichigo’s on the tall side, only a few inches shorter than Kisuke, so even standing straight, Akon only reaches her chest-height.

“He tried to experiment on Akon!” She snaps, and Kisuke frowns, because he’s pretty sure this would be the seventh time Kurotsuchi’s tried to overstep the boundaries Kisuke set. It isn’t as if he even has that many, and surely don’t experiment on your fellow squad members isn’t too difficult to remember?

He sighs again and glances down at Akon, who looks slightly flustered under Ichigo’s fussing. Kisuke arches an amused eyebrow, and Akon glowers at him.

Brat.

Still, Ichigo’s taken a liking to Akon, and aside from time in the labs, the kid usually haunts the Tenth more than the Twelfth these days.

“How about the Academy?” Kisuke suggests abruptly, and Ichigo blinks at him. “He isn’t cleared for missions or anywhere other than the SRDI since he hasn’t passed the Shinigami requirements at the school, but if he goes, and graduates, I’ll be able to transfer him over to the Tenth.” He looks at Akon again. “You like it better over there anyway, don’t you? But of course, you’ll still have lab space here.”

Akon looks openly astonished for a split second, then wheels around to stare up at Ichigo. “Shiba-taichou-?”

Ichigo grins and ruffles his hair. “If it’s what you want, that’s fine by me! My family can even put in a recommendation, and don’t you worry about books and supplies. The next entrance exam is coming up too so this is perfect timing!”

She begins ushering him out the door again, Akon hanging on to her every word, but she pauses and glances back just before she leaves.

Kisuke inclines his head. “I’ll take care of it.” He considers that for a moment before adding, “Permanently.”

Ichigo nods briskly, her smile going grim and dark for a split second, and then she turns her attention back to Akon as they continue on their way.

Kisuke listens to their voices fade, absently tapping the flat of his Zanpakutou against his thigh.

Well, he supposes Kurotsuchi was never going to work out anyway. The man’s even had the audacity to make noises - albeit relatively muted ones whenever Kisuke’s around - about getting his hands on Ichigo, such an anomaly of natural-born reiatsu even for a Shiba, and Kisuke’s seen the way the other man’s eyes gleam and follow Ichigo around when she’s at the Twelfth. And that just isn’t acceptable. Of course, on one hand, Ichigo would crush him if he ever tries anything, but on the other, it’s really only a matter of time before Kurotsuchi’s greed gets the better of him, and why bother Ichigo with this issue when Kisuke can prevent it?

It’s a shame. Kurotsuchi isn’t quite at Kisuke’s level of genius, and somehow, he’s even more obsessive about his various scientific interests than Kisuke, but he would’ve helped boost the SRDI to greater heights. Kisuke draws the line at harming those under his protection though. He’s given Kurotsuchi plenty of chances to curb his more… excessive inclinations. This time will be the last time.

A week later, Kisuke makes his way out of the Maggots’ Nest, and Kurotsuchi doesn’t actually stop screaming threats at him until there’s too many walls and doors between them for Kisuke to hear him.

Yoruichi is waiting outside, one eyebrow going up when she sees him come out alone. “I thought you had high hopes for that one?”

Kisuke smiles blandly back at her. “Yes, but unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”

“Oh?”

Kisuke shrugs and turns in the direction of his division compound. “You know I don’t like it when people touch my stuff, Yoruichi-san.”

His squad is his. His people are his. Ichigo isn’t, not the way he’s slowly realizing he’d prefer. But she’s still under his protection, even if she doesn’t need it, and Kisuke would throw away a lot more than a single asset to keep her safe.

Later that same day, Ichigo brings him a cake, and Kisuke has to laugh when he sees that the icing reads, Sorry You Lost Your Best Creepy Scientist.

“I’ll find others for my department,” Kisuke assures as he bites into his first slice.

Ichigo scoffs and slaps down a stack of files. “’Course you will, and I’m gonna help. You and Kurotsuchi and Akon can’t be the only science geeks in Soul Society. So, how ’bout we write up a proposal for the old man? A separate exam for people who don’t necessarily want to become Shinigami but might be interested in a research grant or something? Maybe we can even create a new branch of the Academy, something that focuses on whatever basics you would need to apply to your department. They can still be required to take the core subjects, but if they decide they want to enter the SRDI, you can even set a curriculum for them, since you’d know best what they’d need. As for the SRDI, why not make it separate from the Gotei but still attached, like the Onmitsukidou and the Kidou Corps. Right now, I’m pretty sure most people still think of it as your side-hobby or something. But in the long run, if we do this right, I think even Central 46 would see the benefits of starting something like this.”

Kisuke just… stares at her for a minute. He looks at the plans that Ichigo has already begun drafting up, that she’s taken the time to think of Kisuke and consider what he might want and how to help him further his ambitions, and then he looks back at her again, and he promises himself then that if she ever expresses even the slightest unhappiness with whoever she ends up married to one day, he’ll carve them up into as many pieces as physically and spiritually possible because this woman deserves the world.

“That’s genius,” He says faintly, and Ichigo beams. She shoves the files at him, shuffles their cake off to the side, and then they spend the rest of the day lobbing ideas back and forth for a system Kisuke can’t wait to put into practice.

5. Five years later, the Mission happens. The Ninth Division goes to investigate the disappearances out in Rukongai, then an irritated Hiyori heads out when a researcher is requested, and then the emergency meeting is called when the entire investigation team’s reiatsu signatures disappear.

“I’ll go,” Ichigo repeats once the meeting is over and the backup team is about to head out. “Don’t worry, Kisuke, I’ll get Hiyori back alive and in one piece.”

Kisuke grimaces but nods. Hiyori might as well be Ichigo’s lieutenant as well at this point, and he knows Ichigo will do everything she can to retrieve Hiyori.

“You stay safe too,” Kisuke reminds her, gaze flicking briefly to the hairpin he’s never seen her go out without. The other remains with him, always.

Ichigo nods back determinedly, and then she leaves.

If Kisuke had known what would happen, he would’ve tied her up and sat on her to make sure she didn’t leave Seireitei that night. Or at the very least, he would’ve gone with her, orders be damned.

But in this world, in this time, he trusts Ichigo as much as he trusts himself, and if there’s even the slightest possibility of returning Hiyori and everyone else alive, he believes Ichigo will do it. So in this world, he does not go after them, fiddling listlessly with various projects in his labs instead as he waits for word of their return.

He doesn’t get word. Instead, a shriek rings high and clear in the far, far distance, and Kisuke skids outside just in time to see the blazing light of fireworks burning on the horizon like it’s set the sky on fire.

His stomach drops. Ichigo had told him about this once - a canister of specialized fireworks that serves as an SOS, carried by every Shiba, Shinigami or otherwise, released only in worst-case scenarios when reinforcements are desperately needed.

In the distance, from the direction of the Shiba compound, a muffled uproar stirs, one that’s closely followed by a commotion at the Thirteenth. Then there’s a displacement of air and Ichigo’s lieutenant is suddenly beside him. Kisuke glances over and isn’t at all surprised to see the ice in Koyonagi’s face. Ichigo’s probably the last person anyone thought would require reinforcements. That she thinks she needs it when she already has three other captains and two lieutenants with her makes the whole situation even worse.

“I’ll take a team and go,” Koyonagi says abruptly, and it isn’t a question. Unlike Hiyori, Koyonagi obeys one person and one person alone. “You stay here.” He glares, pre-empting Kisuke’s protest. “If she uses that portal seal-” Because of course if anyone would realize the significance of Ichigo suddenly wearing a hair accessory everywhere since five years ago, it would be the former Kidou Corps Commander. “-because she needs medical attention, what use would it be if you’re in the middle of Rukongai?”

He’s gone in the next second, and Kisuke has to grit his teeth and take a fortifying breath to stop himself from going after him. The urge tears at him anyway. He isn’t used to staying back, doing nothing, feeling completely useless.

He should’ve gone with her.

Hours later, in the early light of dawn with half the city a bustling hive of tense activity and both the Tenth and Twelfth Divisions on high alert, Kisuke gets only a moment’s warning, the hairpin he’s been cradling in his hands rippling with Ichigo’s familiar abyssal reiatsu before a burst of light whites out the room.

Kisuke has to take a moment to blink the spots from his sight, and then he takes all of three seconds to take in the sudden influx of bodies in his lab - Muguruma and Kuna, unconscious and locked down with so many Kidou binding spells that they look about ready for transport to prison, with Ushouda standing over them, Aikawa and Ootoribashi supporting each other but at least they’re also on their feet, Yadoumaru, her blade still drawn and  bloodied, and Hirako, hair and uniform splashed with blood but with enough strength to support Ichigo, who’s half-collapsed against the blond, a bloodstained hairpin still clutched in one white-knuckled grip.

Kisuke has eyes for no one else. “Ichigo!”

He hasn’t been idle in the past several hours, setting out everything he thought he might need just in case Ichigo really did come back in serious need of medical aid. Hirako relinquishes Ichigo to him, but Kisuke barely has time to lay her out on a padded table before she convulses, once, twice, and then she screams.

“Tie her down!” Hirako barks, and Kisuke almost slits the other captain’s throat for that as Ushouda cuffs her to the table. The Fifth Division captain gives a jerky shake of his head. “She’s been infected by- by whatever the hell Aizen was doin’. He got Kensei and Mashiro too, but they’re out for now.” He grimaces, a baring of teeth that looks equal parts angry and scared. “Aizen said somethin’ about them bein’ Hollowfied?” Kisuke’s blood runs cold. “The rest of Kensei’s team is dead, but these two ambushed us, and I don’t think they knew who we were. Ichigo managed ta set off her flare before slippin’ past them and attackin’ Aizen. The rest of us focused on subduin’ Kensei and Mashiro. And Ichimaru and Tousen were with them, on Aizen’s side. We managed ta get them too. Kaien and Koyonagi and half the Shiba Clan are on scene now. Hiyori’s fine as well and insisted on stayin’.” He looks like he wants to cringe as Ichigo thrashes futilely and screams again like someone’s carving out her insides with a rusty spoon. “Can ya do anythin’ for her?!”

Kisuke swears under his breath, hands already glowing, trying to get an actual reading on whatever the hell is happening with Ichigo’s body. His ears ring with the shrill sounds of Ichigo in obvious agony, and he has to check to make sure his hands aren’t shaking because they certainly feel like they are.

“Did he have an orb on him?” Kisuke shouts over Ichigo’s screams. “Aizen!” And he hopes the man is still alive, if only because Kisuke dearly wishes to strangle the traitor with his own spine. “About the size of a fist, blue-”

“Yeah, I have it,” Yadoumaru steps forward, yanking an eerie blue-green orb from a pocket of her Shihakushou. “Will it help reverse this?”

Kisuke has no answers for her, and he doesn’t have time either before Ichigo’s screams abruptly cut off, and Kisuke just manages to disintegrate the Kidou cuffs and turn her onto her side before she throws up a viscous white substance all over the floor.

“’isuke,” She slurs, feverish recognition surfacing for a moment once she manages to stop. “’isuke, it ’urts-”

“I know,” Kisuke murmurs, helping her drink some water. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll fix it, I promise. Can you tell me what happened when you fought Aizen?”

He gets a garbled recount of an illusion-type Zanpakutou - out of sight, Hirako kicks something over - that Ichigo managed to overcome thanks to her overwhelmingly high levels of reiatsu combined with something inside her - something new and bloodthirsty and ruthless - that had taken over her body long enough to shatter Aizen’s influence. They’d destroyed five districts in their battle but Ichigo had come out on top in the end.

She stops, choking on a cry as another wave of pain courses through her, clawing at her own skin, and her usual brown eyes flash yellow-on-black. Kisuke holds her down through it, and then he forgets himself and reaches up to cradle her face with his hands. Ichigo meets his gaze only after a dizzying moment of confusion where she doesn’t even seem to know where she is anymore, but she seems to calm too at his touch, just a bit.

“I’m going to knock you out,” Kisuke says quietly. “It’s not doing you any good to stay awake right now. But I’ll make this better, Ichigo, I promise. Trust me.”

Ichigo only manages a weak smile in response, but her eyes are steady on his, and she doesn’t so much as twitch as a spell washes over her and puts her to sleep.

Kisuke takes a step back. When he turns, everyone who’s still awake is staring, but he ignores them, directing Ushouda to put Muguruma and Kuna onto two of the other tables before holding out a hand for the orb.

The Hougyoku. To think, where even Kisuke stopped, Aizen Sousuke did not. He wonders just how many the other man has killed for this to actually work.

Out loud, he says curtly, “I need peace and quiet. You may stay, but stay out of my way. If you’re injured, go to the Fourth. I have no time for you right now.”

And then he turns and gets to work.

-0-

It takes Kisuke a week. He doesn’t sleep, barely eats, and he doesn’t leave his labs until Ichigo - and Muguruma and Kuna - is breathing easy again.

He checks Ichigo one more time, sets a monitor in case she wakes while he’s gone, spares a moment to brush fingers over the two hairpins he’d washed and set on the side table, and then he heads upstairs, makes his way out of the SRDI, and promptly walks straight into what looks like a war.

At least half his officers plus the Tenth’s are arrayed across the compound walls, bristling with weapons, patrolling like they’ve somehow become the target of a siege. Kisuke stares, double-checks to make sure he isn’t hallucinating from exhaustion, and then shunpos directly over to where he can sense Hiyori’s reiatsu signature.

“What is going on?” He asks, all out of patience, with not enough energy to waffle around the issue.

Hiyori startles, jumping half a foot, hand falling to her Zanpakutou, but she relaxes when she sees him. He’s never going to be her favourite person, but over the years, they’ve at least built a decent working relationship, especially once he started taking his position more seriously and not just focusing all his attention on establishing the SRDI.

“Gimme some warnin’!” She growls, but doesn’t react beyond that. “A week ago, Central 46 came out with an execution order for Ichigo and the other two,” She reports with a scowl, nodding emphatically when Kisuke slices a sharp glance down at her. “Guards came and tried ta storm our compound ta drag ’em out. Obviously we weren’t just gonna let them. We shut the gates, knocked out anyone who tried ta force their way in anyway, and dumped them back outside. The Fifth, Eighth, and Thirteenth even sent over help halfway inta the second day. A couple days after that, assassins started tryin’ ta sneak in.” She grins, looking positively feral. “Koyonagi stabbed the first one he caught in the face. Those ones, we returned dead.” She shook her head. “The last attack was yesterday mornin’. Word’s come down that Central 46 was influenced by Aizen’s Zanpakutou or somethin’, and since Ichigo left ’im alive, it’s still affectin’ ’em. Unohana-taichou’s been workin’ on it though. That might be why they haven’t sent anymore guards, but we’re all still keepin’ a lookout. Oh yeah, and I heard the Shiba Clan’s about one wrong word away from rebellion, and rumour has it that the Shihouin Clan’s willin’ ta follow. So for now, nobody’s doin’ anythin’ but there’s a hell of a lot of swords pointed at each other in Seireitei at the moment.”

She turns demanding eyes up at Kisuke. “Well? What about you then? Is Ichigo gonna be okay? And the other two I guess.”

“They’ll be fine,” Kisuke says even as his thoughts race. Execution? That’s extreme even for Central 46, especially when a Shiba is involved. They should know full well that attacking one of that clan is attacking the entire clan, that attacking Kaien is attacking the Eighth and Thirteenth, and that attacking Ichigo might as well be attacking half the Gotei and her whole family.

Besides, striking at even one of the Five Pillars of Soul Society is never a good idea.

“Aizen is still alive?” He asks next.

Hiyori actually smirks. “Yeah, but last I heard, he’s still in a coma. Ichigo kicked his ass pretty hard.”

Excellent. Just enough left for Kisuke to get a piece of him.

“Keep me posted,” He orders as the monitor guarding Ichigo goes off. He hesitates for a moment, then adds awkwardly, “You’re alright too though? Hirako-san told me you were, but…”

Hiyori rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. I hid pretty well as soon as I realized somethin’ was seriously wrong with that team from the Ninth. And then Ichigo crashed in with Shinji and the others. I barely got scratched, and that was just because that smiley-eyed creep Ichimaru got in a lucky hit.”

Kisuke exhales. “Good. Then just make sure you get some rest; don’t spend all your time out here. And until you have proof that Central 46 has rescinded the execution order-” He pauses a beat. “-and sent along a formal apology to the Shiba Clan, don’t stand down.”

Hiyori snorts. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Kisuke smiles briefly, and then shunpos away again. He gets back to his labs just in time to find Ichigo struggling to sit up.

“You shouldn’t be getting up yet,” Kisuke scolds, but he’s already at her side, one arm sliding around her back to support her.

“What day is it?” Ichigo mumbles, sagging against him once she’s more or less upright. “What’s happening?”

She obediently sips at the cup of water Kisuke holds up to her lips, and it seems to revive her a bit more, if only to let her shoot him an impatient look.

At least she’s well enough to do that.

It doesn’t take long for Kisuke to summarize the situation outside since he doesn’t know all the details himself, and then he tells her about the Hougyoku and its effects and the monster that now lives inside her soul.

Ichigo, of course, just shrugs. “Well, at least I’m alive to learn to live with it.” She glances down at herself and wrinkles her nose. “Now help me to the bathroom. I need a shower and a change of clothes. And food. In that order.” She glances at him knowingly. “We probably both do.”

Kisuke heaves a sigh, but he supposes she isn’t wrong.

“You first,” He says firmly, and without waiting for a reply, he simply scoops her up into his arms instead of levering her to her feet.

“Kisuke!” Ichigo yelps, fingers scrambling for the collar of his Shihakushou.

“You shouldn’t be up at all,” Kisuke grumbles. “But if you insist, I’ll have to carry you.”

Ichigo makes a disgruntled noise, but it’s telling that she doesn’t complain. She’s pliant as Kisuke helps her into the shower, and luckily, there’s a stool he can stick inside so she won’t have to stand.

He makes sure the towels and soap are all within easy reach before straightening to back out of the room, only to pause when Ichigo’s hand catches his own.

Kisuke stills before glancing down. Ichigo tips her head back to look up at him, and she doesn’t smile, but the way she looks at him is unmistakable, steadfast and warm and full of something like wonder.

Kisuke’s on his knees before he realizes, and his free hand extends with a mind of its own, tucking a stray strand of Ichigo’s hair behind her ear, and then just… lingering, his fingers skittering across her temple, his thumb tracing the curve of a cheekbone. Ichigo leans into his touch, eyes falling to half-mast, and for a while, neither of them speaks.

“…How long?” Kisuke asks at last, because he’s wanted to know since he figured it out.

Ichigo’s mouth twists, wry and just a little self-mocking. “Well, not from the very first time I saw you at least.”

Kisuke blinks, then splutters. “Saw-? You mean back when Yoruichi-san was still dragging me over to your estate every few months?”

Even Ichigo looks faintly embarrassed as she admits, “I had the biggest crush. It was horrible.”

Kisuke tries to remember, but all he can recall of Ichigo back then is… orange hair, a roiling mass of reiatsu she could never quite control, and a tendency for never being able to stay still.

“You never spoke to me,” Kisuke says haltingly after a long minute of searching his memory.

Ichigo shrugs. “I was just some girl who didn’t even have her Zanpakutou yet, and you were already a Third Seat in the Gotei. You were smart, and strong, and you were only interested in people who could keep up with you. What was I supposed to talk to you about?” She straightens, and the tilt of her chin is all triumph. “I made you notice me though, once I was promoted to captain. And then you gave me a chance to get to know you a lot better than just from Yoruichi-nee-san’s stories.”

Kisuke wonders for all of half a second if Yoruichi had known, but of course she had.

(He’d always known that any feelings he’d felt for her beyond admiration and friendship would go nowhere. Yoruichi simply didn’t feel the same for him, but even if she did, the weight of his debt to her would always put them on uneven ground.

He’d known. She’d known. And in the end, she’d taken matters into her own hands - as she always had, wisdom and selfishness forever two parts of the same coin - and given him a chance for something new.)

“You’re a Shiba,” He says at last, and his hand drops to clasp hers. “I have no right to court you.”

Ichigo scoffs loudly. “Did I ever say I want to be courted? You think I want to deal with some faceless stranger sending me a bunch of gifts I’ll probably have no use for, and expecting me to retire and pop out children for him and tend to his house all day? Who do you think you’re talking to?” She shakes her head. “Besides, it’s not about right. Do you think Kaien-nii-san would ever force me to marry someone I want nothing to do with? I was lucky enough to be born a Shiba. The elders will fuss, but Kaien-nii-san will shut them up. And other people might talk, but my family won’t care, and more importantly, I won’t care.” She looks at him then, eyes blazing with that inner fire Kisuke has always been drawn to. “So long as you don’t care either, what do other people matter?”

Kisuke’s gaze drops to their joined hands. There’s still blood crusted underneath both their fingernails. But Ichigo’s hands fit comfortably in his own, and Kisuke never wants to let go.

He sighs. “You deserve bet-”

“I get to decide what I deserve,” Ichigo cuts him off, and her narrowed eyes dare him to argue. “And I’ve decided that I deserve you. That I want you. And it’s one thing if you don’t want me. If you just want to stay friends, then I’ll respect that. But don’t give me that ‘you deserve better’ bullshit. You��re plenty good enough for me. You make me laugh. You make me happy. You feed me when I forget to eat, and you put up with me when I’m whining about stupid things, and you listen to me when I talk about all the human literature I like to read even though I know you’re not very interested in that stuff. You trust me to watch your back on the field, and you respect me enough to never go easy on me in a spar. You always make time for me even when you’re busy, and when I’m having a bad day, just seeing you makes it better.” Kisuke closes his eyes, and his next breath shakes in his chest. Ichigo forges on, relentless. “Why would I want anyone else when the man I love is already right here beside me?”

She might’ve had more to say. But Kisuke doesn’t hear it because he’s already surged up and caught her mouth with his own. One of his arms snakes around her back while his other hand slams into the shower wall behind her so they don’t go tumbling to the floor. For a moment, the kiss is awkward, teeth catching on lips, the angle not quite right, and then Ichigo makes a sound that’s pure relief before tilting her head, and their mouths slide together like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

They’re both out of breath when they finally part, Ichigo more so than Kisuke, and Kisuke mentally berates himself for forgetting that Ichigo is still recovering. “Sorry, are you-”

Ichigo rolls her eyes and steadies herself on the chair. “I’m fine.” She grins cheekily. “More than fine now.”

Kisuke huffs a laugh, helplessly fond and hopelessly in love with this ridiculous woman. “Alright. Alright, Ichigo. But can we at least get you that shower and some food in you first before we continue?”

Ichigo pouts, but she also reaches back to tug her hair out of the braid Kisuke had put it in to keep it out of the way when he’d been working on saving her life. “Fine, but only cuz I’m starving.”

As if on cue, her stomach growls, and Kisuke hides another smile by leaning forward and kissing her again, although he keeps it short enough to make Ichigo grumble a little.

“I’ll see what we have in the lounge,” Kisuke says, finally getting to his feet again.

Ichigo waves him out, and by the time Kisuke’s fetched a fresh set of clothes from a side-cabinet and left it on the counter, the water is running and steam is curling up to the ceiling.

Kisuke leaves her to it, gently closing the door behind him. He pauses there, looks down at his hands, and feels the phantom warmth of Ichigo’s still curled around them.

If he can have this, he thinks, if Ichigo truly wants this, wants him of all people, then…

Then even if her family protests and the world disapproves, Kisuke will have to be dead and gone before he ever lets her go. If Ichigo is willing to fight for them, then how can Kisuke possibly do anything less?

-0-

Another week passes, the detente ends, and the tension mostly eases. Unohana finally managed to heal Aizen enough for the man to at least wake up, even if he’s also been transferred to a cell to wait for trial. It’s guarded twenty-four/seven and layered under at least half a dozen barrier seals, and Aizen himself has been strapped down, his reiatsu locked away, and his Zanpakutou broken.

Kisuke gets in anyway. The guards are all Onmitsukidou and ultimately loyal to a woman who has no qualms helping Kisuke with his revenge.

Aizen’s eyes go wide when he sees him, and Kisuke doesn’t think he’s imagining the fear behind the fury.

“Here to kill me then?” The former lieutenant rasps.

Kisuke smiles, cold and dead and merciless. “Kill you? Do you think me so kind, Aizen-san?” Aizen stiffens as Kisuke produces a syringe, the liquid inside glowing an ominous crimson. “I invented this one just for you.” His smile drops. “You shouldn’t have touched Shiba Ichigo.”

He doesn’t give Aizen time to reply, or stall for time, or even beg. He’s not here for any of that.

He’s halfway back to his own compound when the screaming begins.

-0-

Soul Society comes to accept the species now called Visored. The Shiba Clan doesn’t really give them a choice in the matter. Ichigo, Kensei, and Mashiro were the ones most immediately affected by the Hogyoku, but everyone else who was there received a spark as well, just enough to gain the potential for Hollow powers or have it nullified under Kisuke’s experienced hands, and most of them pick the latter. Only Shinji does not.

Soul Society gets used to them. There isn’t any outward difference anyway once they learn to control their other half, and there’s so many other more interesting things to gossip about when it comes to these particular Shinigami-turned-Visored.

Like how Fifth Division captain Hirako Shinji mopes in guilt for three months before coming into work one day with all his hair shaved off. Rumour has it that Shiba Ichigo had had enough and chopped off his hair to shake him out of his cloud of misery. Another rumour says Sarugaki Hiyori just about laughed herself to death when she saw.

Or, like how the Ninth - already fanatically loyal to their captain and lieutenant - rallied around them in the aftermath of the Incident, and for a good six months, the tally of people that they sent to the Fourth every week exceeded even the Eleventh’s.

Or, like how Tenth Division captain Shiba Ichigo and Twelfth Division captain Urahara Kisuke were caught sharing a kiss at a sushi restaurant one summer afternoon, and word of it spread like wildfire. Rumour says Shiba Kaien laughed a noble house leader out the door when he’d dared suggest that the Shiba head should keep a tighter rein on his terribly undisciplined cousin. Another rumour says half the Tenth Division barracks were destroyed one afternoon because the Tenth’s lieutenant challenged the Twelfth’s captain to a spar that got… slightly out of hand. And yet another rumour tells of Shiba Ichigo herself starting a bar fight for the ages after someone had insulted her lover to her face.

But mostly, people see the two of them walking down the street, and it’s a familiar sight by this point. Some sigh of love stories and others sneer at a Rukon rat and bloodstained murderer putting his hands on a noble.

None of their opinions hold any weight though - that becomes clear enough. Not when Ichigo reaches for Kisuke’s hand like she knows he’ll always be there, and Kisuke stands next to Ichigo like his whole being is attuned to her very heartbeat.

Not when they look at each other like they’re two people perfectly in love. Because in the end, for them, that really is all that matters.

[cottage-babe]

Burning Scars part X

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Masterlist

whoops i missed two weeks of updating, sorry, concussion stuff :) im all good now tho so more! updating!

I changed the original story up a bit :)

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

___

Zuko’s been acting a little... weird lately. 

Well, let’s clarify something; Zuko always acts weird. But ever since the trio went into work that day, the boy had been on edge. 

Y/n was standing at the tea station, just leaning against the wall and spacing out. Iroh was beside her, humming a small tune as he prepared the next batch of tea. Then, the boy quickly walked up to them in panic. 

“Guys, we have a problem.” He said as he set the teacups he was holding onto the table. “One of the customers is on to us. Don't look now but there is a girl over there at the corner table.”

Y/n snapped out of her daydream and looked over to the person Zuko was talking about. It was a pretty girl; she had long dark hair pulled into two braids and a sappy smile on her face. Instantly Y/n knew that she wasn’t suspicious of anything. 

“Didn’t I say don’t look?!” Zuko whispered and dragged both of his companions arms to turn away. 

A laugh almost escaped Y/n’s mouth as she shared a look with Iroh. “You know Zuko, I think you’re right, I’ve seen her here a lot.”

The clueless teen nodded his head and furrowed his brows. 

“Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you.” Iroh laughed and went back to whatever it was that he was doing. 

Zuko let out a ‘what?’ and Y/n sighed in response. She had to keep reminding herself that she and the other boy were nothing remotely close to romantic. If anything was learned from last night, they were just friends; family, at most. And she was okay with that, honestly. She had so many issues with him that it probably wouldn’t even work out. But still, she couldn’t deny the fact the Zuko might’ve been the topic of her daydream just moments ago. 

Y/n resumed her position of leaning on the wall. She watched as the ‘mysterious’ girl walked up to the counter and began to talk to Zuko flirtatiously. The girl introduced herself as Jin and payed for her drink. 

“Thank you and ... well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?” Jin asked with a hopeful gaze. 

Zuko paused in bewilderment and it almost made the poor girl regret her request. Y/n wasn’t going to butt in, she really wasn’t, but soon she decided that it was for the best. Maybe if she helped him get in a relationship, it would help her get over her slight (once again, very very slight) feelings over him. 

“He’d love to.” Y/n responded for Zuko. 

The boy looked around his shoulder and sent the wolf a questioning glare, but she just sent him a smile and turned to help Iroh make some tea.

My job here is done. 

Jin and Zuko talked a bit more and ended with her saying that she’d meet with him at sundown. That meant that for the rest of the day Zuko chatted nervously with Y/n and Iroh, giving off mixed feelings between ‘I don’t want to go’ and ‘should I dress nice?’. Y/n let Iroh do all the talking, she wasn’t too much of an expert in that area.

When she was in her pack, Y/n wasn’t exactly popular among the boys. They mainly drifted her to strong, beautiful sister and the girl wasn’t bothered by it too much. She had a few crushes here and there, but that was about it. Nothing was ever acted on. 

So hearing that this was Zuko’s first date relieved her to an extent; at least she wasn’t the only one who’d gone this long without being in a relationship. But there was the other part that nagged her a bit, the fact that Zuko was having his first date; with a stranger none the less. 

Quit all this feeling stuff, it’s getting annoying. 

Y/n may or may not have been giving Zuko a form of silent treatment for the day. If he ever asked her anything, she answered, but other than that, she never intimated any conversation. There wasn't any particular reason (lies), but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by her roommate.

"Hey, uhh.. if you don't think that I should go, I won't." Zuko said randomly on their break.

Y/n's eyes furrowed in confusion. "I literally answered her for you, Lee. If anyone is being hesitant, it should be you."

"So," he began. "Your not bothered? At all?"

There was this weird look in the boy's eyes, something of... Hope?

That's weird.

"Listen, if you need advise or something, Iroh will probably be your best bet." The werewolf laughed awkwardly.

He just sighed and went back to work.

When closing time was coming and there were hardly any customers left, Zuko and Iroh went to the backroom to prepare. Y/n didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing; she just assumed that they were cleaning up any dirty bits he picked up or making him smell better. 

That was why when Zuko walked out into the dining room with his hair slicked back ridiculously, Y/n couldn't hold back the snort that escaped her. Why would Iroh do this to him? Some revenge she didn’t know about or something?

Zuko glared at her and she just masked up her laughter as a cough. “You look great!” She even put a thumbs up to try an convince him of her lie.  He just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly opening the door of the restaurant. By that time, the few remaining people had filtered out and it was just the three of them. 

When the view of Jin came, even Y/n couldn’t hold back her gasp. 

The young girl was really quite beautiful. Her braid was fixed and she had a youthful enthusiasm to her features. It was a beautiful contrast to the adult life that Y/n and Zuko were thrown into. 

Jin’s eyes widened at the boys new look and laughed, saying something clever to him. Zuko just shut the door so his two roommates wouldn’t listen in on their conversation. 

“He’s growing up so fast,” Iroh jokingly sniffled and wiped a fake tear. 

Y/n laughed and nodded her head. I hope he’s nice to her. 

The werewolf turned and returned to the backroom so she could put her apron away. She assumed that Iroh was following, so she didn’t bother waiting. 

“So,” She began, “what should we do tonight?” Y/n began to wave her arms around dramatically. “Get some food? Watch a play?”

She was really looking forward to tonight. Now they didn’t have Zuko here constantly breathing down their necks (”We don’t have enough money for that!!” “Why buy that when you can buy this!” it got a little redundant at times). 

Iroh slid his apron off and chuckled. “Oh no no... I’m far too old to have fun at night.” 

Y/n deflated. To be fair, the sun hadn’t fully set yet. “I mean... I guess we could read at home?” 

He shook his head once more and turned toward the werewolf. “Just go have fun, meet new people. Don’t let someone like me slow you down!”

She pouted. Why does he think that time spent with him is wasted? She has plenty of fun hanging out with the sweet uncle! Y/n looked at his happy, aged face and observed his truthfulness. She knows that he just wants her to have fun, but still...

“Just go, Y/n, and I’ll see you back home tonight.” Iroh smiled. 

Y/n sighed, looking at Iroh one last time, before turning around and heading out the same door that Jin and Zuko left through. When the brisk air hit her, it felt different somehow. Maybe because this was her first time being out alone. She means this quite lightly, of course, but something about it still irked her. 

The sun was sorta bright out, but not much. 

It had set halfway, so the small beams were jutting out the tops of the building and the sky was painted the scene of fire. Oh, her and her love for sunsets. 

Y/n decided to pick a direction and walk. Honestly, in this part of the city, there weren’t many sights to see; everything interesting rested in the higher Rings since they could afford it. 

After a few minutes, the girl saw a stand selling sweets. She patted her pockets and brought out her tips from work. It wasn’t much, but definitely enough for the night. 

She paid for some iced treats; Popsicles of some kind. She wasn’t entirely sure which flavor to pick, so she went with her childish side and decided to buy two that she was interested in. 

As she continued her trip, Y/n stopped at a few places to watch things. Since night was approaching, shows were starting on random parts of the streets. People performed odd talents for money and it excited the girl; maybe she should do something like them, it seems fun. 

At some point, Y/n ended up at the entrance of a zoo. 

She was almost finished with the first ice cream in her grasp when she decided to enter the park. It seemed deserted and there was only one person at the front desk. 

“Umm, excuse me? Are you open?” Y/n asked since the worker was almost half asleep. 

The man jumped awake and looked around, startled. Then, his eyes landed on the girl’s curious figure. “Yes. Is it just you? Where’s your friends?”

Y/n pouted in response. “It’s just me, how much is it?”

She began to ruffle through her pockets, hoping that it was enough to see the animals, but the man waved a hand in the air.

“It’s fine, you can just go ahead. Just don’t feed the animals.” He said while looking suspiciously at the girl’s popsicles. 

Y/n nodded her head and smiled in thanks. Then, she went inside.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to be here; it would be hard for her to see captive animals when she herself was one (well, not caged, but you get the point). Her pack elders had informed her of zoos and used it to scare the kid wolves so they wouldn’t go and try to find humans. Of course, that never worked on Y/n and her siblings. She honestly just thought that it was fake up until this point. 

The werewolf walked around to each cell to observe the animals. It almost made her cry; they all just looked so lonely. Y/n couldn’t imagine how trapped they must feel in this small cage; a part of her was happy that she wasn’t in that situation, though. 

“They all look so sad.” 

Y/n turned around and was met with a young boy, possibly about twelve years old. He was bald with a blue arrow tattooed across his forehead and arms and held a long stick in his hands. The orange of his clothing made him standout against the dreary greys of the zoo. 

The girl looked at the animal across from them. It was a Rabaroo, an animal with long ears and bouncy legs. Y/n could hear small chirps coming from the pouch in her front, but she decided not to say anything. 

“She’s really hungry too, I can tell.” Y/n said as she walked up closer to the cage. 

The poor animal was almost pleading for help. She had a thought that the Rabaroo knew what she was, a predator, but still asked for help. These animals must be really desperate. 

The boy joined her. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m not sure how to help.”

Y/n nodded her head in agreement. When she got this feeling in the past (before they entered Ba Sing Se with their Ostrich-Horses), she found a solution; to just let them go and be free. Now, however, she just felt helpless.

Instead, she just looked at the boy and held out the other ice treat in her hand. “Do you want one? I can’t finish both.”

He got a childish excitement in his eyes and grabbed the treat. Y/n smiled back at him, maybe something good can come from today. 

“I’m Aang, I’m looking for my lost Sky Bison.” Aang said as he began licking to Popsicle. 

“Y/n,” she introduced herself while thinking, what the Spirits is a Sky Bison? “I'm just wandering the city; thinking."

“Really?” He asked. “What are you thinking about?”

What was she thinking about?

There’s so much that should be on her mind right now; her future, how her family’s doing, how she’s doing, but for some reason the only thing that’s been scattered around her brain recently was Zuko. Something about him just seemed so.. spirits, she couldn’t even find the word for it. But it seemed like she was seeing him differently now.

“Oh, you're still here?"

Y/n and Aang turned to the voice that spoke. It belonged to the man at the front desk, the one that let her in for free.

"Do you know what's wrong with the animals?" Aang asked the owner, ignoring the rude phrase that he said.

"Well, the Dai Li won't give me any money because the kids stopped coming. And the kids won't come because my zoo's nasty and broke." The owner sighed. "I wish I could give all these animals the big, open space that they need."

Y/n frowned. He must have really good intentions, it's just the situation that makes him seem bad.

She met eyes with the younger boy to her side and was surprised to see the... Joy?

"Let's do it!" Aang yelled out, surprising both people beside him. "There's a big open space right outside the walls of the city!"

"But how do we transport them?" Y/n asked.

She was totally on board with the idea, it's just that it seemed a little... Impulsive. But she was talking to a child, though, and they always have such big ideas.

"Oh I'm really good with animals." The boy smiled. "Do you want to help me?"

The werewolf paused, thinking that maybe she shouldn't get involved in this event. But one look at the poor Rabaroo peering up at her with it's wide eyes made her cave in.

"You know... I'm pretty good with animals too."

--

She was not as good as she thought she was.

Aang and Y/n separated because they needed to find a way to calm the wild animals running loose. The boy (spirits bless him) thought it was a fantastic idea to let all of the animals go at once; from the biggest animals to the smallest rats. It was wild.

And so here the werewolf was, chasing down a pair of Raccoon-Crows. Since the sun had set long ago, there weren’t a lot of people out. Most who enjoyed the liveliness of the night has had their fun and returned to the welcoming embrace of their beds. Oh, if only I stayed home to sleep.

“Get back here!” Y/n yelled as the birds flew off once again.

They seemed to look at her with a mischievous gleam in their eyes; waiting for her to get close before bolting off once again. It was getting very annoying.

She didn’t regret helping the young boy, especially since she might’ve gained a friend out of this. She only regretted not coming up with a better plan; or at least to wait until morning.

“AHHH!” A voice screamed off in the distance.

Y/n groaned and turned toward the yell, knowing that some animal was probably attacking some random citizen. What she didn’t expect though, was to run face first into Zuko and Jin’s date.

Jin had a hog-monkey climbing on her dress and Zuko was in full panic mode. He tried to help her push the animal off, but it seemed to have a steel grip on her. Luckily, they were alone in some fire lit plaza.

Y/n felt really awkward, especially with how private the area was. What would they need privacy for? She quickly pushed that out of her head though and whistled loudly to catch the Monkey’s attention.

The animal and the two teens looked at her in surprise. Y/n took out a treat that the Zoo Keeper had given her and waved it to catch the eyes of the Hog-Monkey. When it loosened it’s grip, she threw it as far as she could away from the group. Luckily, it jumped away in excitement.

“Y/n?!” Zuko exclaimed. Sighing in defeat, the werewolf slowly joined the duo.

Jin was still slightly frightened and was grasped onto the boy’s arm. Y/n pretended not to see it.

“Hey Lee. Fancy seeing you here?” She tried miserably as she scrunched her face up in discomfort. Maybe they’ll be able to cut this conversation short.

“Why aren’t you back home with Uncle?” Zuko said as his eyebrows squished together in anger. “What are you even doing out here?”

“I decided to go out too,” she explained quickly, “but listen, I met this boy and we’r-”

“A boy?!” He seemed to be fuming now. “You can’t just go around talking to random people.”

This made the werewolf (and Jin, but we’re kinda ignoring the sweet girl for a moment) raise her eyebrow in disbelief. He’s really out here, scolding her for making friends when he’s on a date with some girl he’s never met before. Does he ever think before he speaks?

“I-” Y/n paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later. I think we’re both busy at the moment.” 

Zuko glanced at his date and the werewolf used that distraction as an excuse to leave. She ran off in the direction of the Hog-Monkey, hoping that it hadn’t run too far and purposefully ignored the boy who yelled in protest behind her. Stupid Zuko and his stupid anger issues. 

When she got far enough, she slowed to a walk and looked around. The monkey must’ve gotten away because it was nowhere in sight. 

“Hog-Monkey.... c’mere monkey, I have treats.” Y/n spoke loudly out into the dark streets of Ba Sing Se. 

She hoped that the animal would hear her words and come barreling toward her, but she was only greeted with silence except for the soft footsteps coming from a lady walking down the street. Besides for the lady, the entire street was empty and no other animal was in sight. 

That was when she heard it. 

A high pitched ringing noise that rattled her bones and made her brain shrink in protest. It was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t the noise that was painful, no no, it was the feeling of being ripped apart that did. 

The noise, for some reason, caused the werewolf in Y/n to go absolutely crazy. It was fighting the girl; desperately trying to shift into its natural skin so it could run toward the ringing. 

Y/n hunched herself over and groaned out in pain. She looked at her hands and saw it shifting between claws and human hands; she could only imagine what the rest of her body was doing. 

“Are you alright, sweetie?” 

The transforming-girl looked up to meet the eyes of the lady who was on the street. Her eyes were filled with worry, but slowly changed into something of fear.

Before the werewolf could do something to hurt the kind woman, Y/n bolted down an empty alley. Spirits, what is happening to me?

She leaned against the dirty wall and tried to catch her breath, but her wolf just kept clawing at her, desperately trying to escape. She punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent (her mind just brushed it off as her wolf power, but that was weird, right?). Then, while the ringing noise still blasted through her ears, she felt her snout slowly grow out of her face; a growl of effort roaring through the alleyway. 

The young girl wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she control herself right now? She was used to the pain of transforming, she had done it all of her life, but she’d never experienced the pain of her two natures battling. It was something entirely different.

The seconds that were passing seemed like hours.

All she could think was, when will the ringing stop?

Soon, she didn’t have the power to hold it back anymore. Her human body was weak and she hated herself for it. She let her werewolf grow into its natural size, towering above her normal height. She felt her clothing rip until it was just strips of fabric on on the floor. 

The ringing stopped, but her wild mind remembered where the sound came from and began its run there. 

Fortunately (although, its also very unfortunate), her journey was ended when something sharp pierced through the skin on her neck. Her dark eyes jumped around until it landed on the fearful lady from the street shaking beside a group of men.  

Y/n felt a sudden drowsiness come over her and her large body fell limp to the floor despite it’s fighting. Just before the unconsciousness came over her, though, the green circle on the men’s chest became prominent in the moonlight.

Then, her world went dark.

__

Dai Lee >:(

also Aang’s whistle thing >:(

 i know that this is a VERY slow burn, but maybe some... couple-y stuff in the next few chapters? we’ll see ;)

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[erictmason]

The Road To “Godzilla VS. Kong”, Day Four

(Sorry for the delay on this one, Life proved just a bit too busy the other day to finish it; my “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” review is gonna be pushed back as a result too.  But!  No worries, on we go. ^_^)

KONG: SKULL ISLAND (2017

Director: Jordan Vogt-Roberts

Writers: Dan Gilroy, Max Borenstein, Derek Connolly, John Gatins

Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Tom Hiddleston, Brie Larson, John Goodman, John C. Reilly

Technically speaking, Gareth Edwards’ “Godzila” from 2014 was the first entry in what is now generally referred to as “The Monsterverse”, an attempt by Warner Bros. Studios and Legendary Pictures to do a Marvel Studios-style series of various interconnected movies (and which, like most such attempts to cash in on that particular trend, hasn’t really panned out; “Godzilla VS. Kong” seems likely to be its grand finale as far as movies are concerned, the only two “names” it had going for it are Godzilla and Kong themselves, and even at its most successful it was never exactly a Powerhouse Franchise).  But the thing is, when that movie was made, the idea of a “Monsterverse” did not yet exist; it was only well after the fact that Legendary and Warner Bros. got the idea to turn a new “Kong” project into the building block of a Shared Universe of their own that they could connect with the 2014 “Godzilla”, with a clear eye on getting to remake one of the most singularly iconic (and profitable) Giant Monster Movies of all time.  As you might guess from that description, however, said “Kong” project also had not originally been intended for such a purpose; it would not be until 2016 that it would be retooled from its original purpose (a prequel to the original “King Kong” titled simply “Skull Island”) into its present form, which goes out of its way to reference Monarch, the monster-tracking Science organization seen over in 2014’s “Godzilla” and which includes a very obviously Marvel-inspired post-credits stinger explicitly tying Kong and Godzilla’s existences together.  

The resulting film is fun enough, all things told, but that graft is also really, distractingly obvious.

Honestly, I wish I knew why I’m not, generally, fonder of “Skull Island” than I am.  It’s not as if, taken as a whole, it does anything especially bad; indeed it does a great deal that is actively good.  Consider, for example, the rather unique choice to make it a Period Piece; that’s decently rare for a Monster Movie as it is (indeed one of the only other examples that springs to mind for me is Peter Jackson’s 2005 remake of “King Kong”, which chose to retain the original’s 1933 setting), and it’s rarer still that the era it chooses to inhabit is an immediately-post-Vietnam 1970’s.  Aesthetically speaking, the movie takes a decent amount of fairly-obvious influence from that most classic of Vietnam-era films, “Apocalypse Now” (a fact that director Jordan Vogt-Roberts was always fairly open about), and it results in some of the movie’s strongest overall imagery (in particular a shot of Kong, cast in stark silhouette, standing against the burning sun on the horizon with a fleet of helicopters approaching him, one of a surprisingly small number of times the movie plays with visual scale to quite the same degree or with quite the same success as “Godzilla” 2014).  It also means the movie is decked out in warm, lush colors that really do bring out all the personality of its Jungle setting in the most compelling way and, given how important the setting is to the film as a whole, that proves key; Skull Island maybe doesn’t become a character in its own right the way the best settings should (too much of our time is spent in fairly indistinct forests especially), but it does manage to feel exciting and unusual in the right ways more often than not.  The “Apocalypse Now” influence also extends to our human cast,  which is sizeable enough here (in terms of major characters we need  to pay attention to played by notable actors, “Skull Island” dwarfs “Godzilla” 2014 by a significant margin) that the framework it provides-a mismatched group defined by various interpersonal/intergenerational tensions trying to make their way through an inhospitable wilderness, ostensibly in search of a lost comrade-is decently necessary.  Though here we already run into one of those aspects of “Skull Island” that doesn’t quite land for me.  Taken as a whole, it sure feels like the human characters here should be decently interesting; certainly, our leads are all much better defined and more engagingly performed than Ford Brody, to draw the most immediately obvious point of comparison.  Brie Larson (as journalistic Anti-War photographer Mason Weaver), Tom Hiddleston (as former British Army officer turned Gun For Hire James Conrad), and John C. Reilly (as Hank Marlow, a World War II soldier stranded on Skull Island years ago) definitely turn in decently strong performances; I wouldn’t call it Career Best work for any of them (Hiddleston especially feels like he’s on auto-pilot half the time, while Larson has to struggle mightily against how little the script actually gives her to work with when you stop and look at it) but they at least prove decently enjoyable to watch (Reilly especially does a solid job of making his character funny without quite pushing him over the edge into Total Cartoon Territory).  I likewise feel like Samuel L. Jackson’s Preston Packard has the potential to be a genuinely-great character; his lingering resentment at the way the Vietnam War played out and the way that feeds into his determination to find and defeat Kong is, again, a clever and compelling use of the 70’s period setting, it gives us a good, believable motivation with a clear and strong Arc to it, and Jackson does a really solid job of playing his Anger as genuine and poignant rather than simply petulant or crazed.  But there’s just too much chaff amongst the wheat, too much time and energy devoted to characters and ideas that don’t have any real pay-off.  This feels especially true of John Goodman’s Bill Randa, the Monarch scientist who arranges the whole expedition; the Monarch stuff in general mostly feels out of place, but Randa in particular gets all of these little notes and beats that seem meant to go somewhere and then just kind of don’t.  Which is kind of what happens with most of the characters in the movie, is the thing; we spend a lot of screen-time dwelling on certain aspects of their backstories or personalities, and then those things effectively stop mattering at all after a certain point, even Packard���s motivations.  A Weak Human Element was one of the problems in “Godzilla” 2014 as well, though, and you’ll recall I quite liked that movie.  There, though, the human stuff was honestly only ever important for how it fed into the monster stuff; it was the connective tissue meant to get us from sequence to sequence and not much more.  Here, though, it forms the heart and soul of the story, and that means its deficiencies feel a lot more harmful to the whole.

Still, those deficiencies really aren’t that severe, and moreover, like I was saying before, there’s a lot about “Skull Island” to actively enjoy.  The Monsters themselves do remain the central draw, after all, and for the most part the movie does a solid job with that aspect of things.  It does not, perhaps, recreate “Godzilla” 2014’s attempt to make believable animals out of them (even as it does design most of them with even more obvious, overt Real World Animal elements), but there is a certain playful energy that informs them at a conceptual level that I appreciate.  Buffalos with horns that look like giant logs with huge strands of moss and grass hanging off their edges, spiders whose legs are adapted to look like tree trunks, stick bugs so big that their camouflage makes them look like fallen trees…the designs feel physically plausible (especially thanks to some strong effects work that makes them feel well inserted into the real environments), but there’s a slightly-humorous tilt to a lot of them that I appreciate, especially since it never outright winks at the audience in a way that would undercut the stakes of the story. Kong too is very well done; rather than the heavily realistic approach taken by the Peter Jackson version from 2005, this Kong is instead very much ape-like but also very clearly his own creature (in particular he stands fully erect most of the time), with a strong sense of Personality to him as well; some of the best parts of the movie are those times where we simply peek in on Kong simply living his life, even when that life is one that is, by nature, violent and dangerous.  Less successful, sadly, are his nemeses, the Skullcrawlers; very much like “Godzilla” 2014, Kong is here envisioned as a Natural Protection against a potentially-dangerous species that threatens humanity (or in this case the Iwi Tribe who live on Skull Island, but we’ll talk more about them later), and while they’re hardly bad designs (the way their snake-like lower bodies give them a lot of neat tricks to play against their enemies in battle are genuinely fun in the right sort of Scary Way), they’re also pretty bland and forgettable, even compared to the MUTOS.  That said, they serve their purpose well enough, and their big Action Scene showdowns with Kong are genuinely solid.  Indeed, the movie’s big climactic brawl between Kong and the biggest of the Skullcrawlers has a lot of good pulpy energy to it (particularly with how Kong winds up using various tools picked up from all around the battlefield to give himself an edge), likewise there’s a certain Wild Fun to the sequence where our hapless humans have to try and survive a trek through the Crawlers’ home-turf.

Where things get a bit tricky again is when the movie attempts to put its own spin on “Godzilla”’s conception of its monsters as part of their own kind of unique ancient eco-system. The sense of Grandeur that gave a lot of that aspect such weight there is mostly absent here, especially; there are instances where some of that feeling comes through (Kong’s interactions with some of the non-Crawler species, for example, do a good job giving us an endearing sense of how Kong fits into this world), but far more often it treats the monsters as Big Set-Piece Attractions.  Which is fine as far as it goes, it just also means a lot of them aren’t as memorable or impactful as I might like.  Meanwhile, the way the Iwis have built their home to accommodate, interact with, and protect themselves from the island’s bestiary feels like a well-designed concept that manages to suggest a lot of History without having to spell it out for us in a way that I appreciated (I would also be inclined to apply this to the very neat multi-layered stone-art used to portray Kong and the Crawlers except that the sequence where we see them is the most overt “let’s stop and do some world-building” exposition dump in the whole movie).  But the Iwis in general are one of the more difficult elements of the movie to process, too; it seems really clear there was a deliberate effort here to avoid the most grossly racist stuff that has been present in prior attempts to portray the Natives of Skull Island, and as far as it goes I do think those efforts bear some fruit; we are, at the very least, very far away from the Scary Ooga-Booga tone of, say, “King Kong VS. Godzilla”, and that feels like it counts for something.  I just also feel like there’s some dehumanizing touches to their portrayal (in particular they never speak; I don’t mean to imply that Not Speaking equals Inhuman, but the fact that we are not made privy to how exactly they do communicate means we’re very much kept at arm’s length from them in a way that seems at least somewhat meant to alienate us from them), especially given their role in the story as a whole is relatively minor.  

At the end of the day, though, all the movie’s elements, good and bad, don’t really feel like they add up together coherently enough to make an impact.  And I think if I had to try and guess why, even as I find it wholly enjoyable with a lot to genuinely recommend it by, I don’t find myself especially enamored by “Skull Island”.  It has a lot of different ideas of how to approach its story-70’s pastiche, worldbuilding exercise, Monster Mash-but doesn’t seem to quite succeed at realizing any of them fully, indeed often allowing them to get in each other’s ways.  It isn’t, again, a bad movie as a result of that; there really isn’t any stretch of it where I found myself bored or particularly unentertained.  But I did paradoxically find myself frequently wanting more, even as by rights the movie delivers on basically what I was looking for from it.