#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.

[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

smut  requests info

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. 

[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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Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie @ohmigooosh

[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.   

[doomedandstoned]

Spelljammer Reveal Trippy New Vid, Talk ‘Abyssal Trip’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Interview by Billy Goate

Cover Art by Aaron Cahill

Our week of big interviews continues as we meet up with the ethereal doom outfit from Stockholm SPELLJAMMER and premiere a new music video, from their just released second LP, dropped only weeks ago on RidingEasy Records and now the number one album on the Doom Charts.

'Abyssal Trip' (2021) is an enthralling listen from edge to center, with lavish textures, deep thematic content, and unforgettably emotive atmosphere that will stick with you for life. Enjoy it as you read the revealing conversation with Niklas Olsson (guitar, vox) and Robert Sörling (guitar) that follows as we unpack their steller new spin, talk nerdy gear shit, and contemplate humanity's fate.

And now, Doomed & Stoned is pleased to bring you the world premiere of the brand new video for that epic third track, "Among The Holy."

Give ear...

Spelljammer - Among The Holy (music video)

You guys have been a band now for damn near 15 years, maybe longer. Most bands don't make it past two years! What is the "key" to the band staying together for so long and continuing to find inspiration for creating new music?

Rob: I don’t think it’s been 15 years just yet but we are getting there, haha. None the less - that’s a really interesting question! Nik and I started the band much because we share the same taste in music, film and, well, art in general. I think that's the core keeping it all together. Also, there have been a few constellations of band members over the years, all with their own dynamic. I think these kinds of changes, and the new directions of the music because of that, is part of the inspiration. Maybe another reason is that we all live in different cities and because of that sometimes a lot of time passes between rehearsals, writing sessions and such, making us always craving for new Spelljammer jams and songs.

Nik: The craving yes. And another reason I think is the fact that we’ve never really been in a rush to get anywhere. Anything Spelljammer, the music included, takes time. If we had been set on making it, this thing probably would have fallen apart a long time ago.

Abyssal Trip by Spelljammer

How did the theme for Abyssal Trip originate?

Nik: I have always been more drawn to the feelings or emotions you get from a riff or piece of music than to any theme of a lyric. But I would say that any themes came in at the lyrics state, which is at the end of the process. But the themes aren’t that specific to any of the albums. I think I cast a pretty wide net in the beginning and stuck to it. For the next album perhaps we will venture more into unchartered waters. We’ll see.

What fascinates you about the Great Abyss of the ocean?

Nik: I totally get that the word abyss conjures up images of ocean trenches and, yes, the ocean is a fascinating and to a large extent undiscovered place. However, when I wrote that I wasn’t necessarily thinking of the ocean but more the abyss of our own minds. But I think it’s a word that evokes many things, like despair and doom, and it is of course totally open to interpretation.

Is mankind doomed or do we have time to correct our course?

Nik: I’m not as pessimistic of a person as the lyrics may suggest. I think we will be here on earth for a long time. Mankind is clever (perhaps too clever for her own good) even if there are a lot of people hell-bent on trying to screw up everything for everybody else.

Rob: Yes, and considering how ignorant and careless (some) people are acting during this pandemic, at least over here, makes you wonder if there’s any hope at all.

Nik: People are the worst. Ultimately, though, none of it matters because we’re all doomed.

Have you guys seen any good movies/documentaries or read any good books lately that inspired you or otherwise challenged your thinking about life, the present, or the future?

Rob: I can’t say that I’ve seen or read anything recently that challenged me significantly, I guess I’m getting too old to be that overwhelmed haha. The film A Ghost Story though was kind of cool though because it was different, slow and weird (in a good way), and for me it’s always inspiring to read/see/hear something that makes you think, "Man, I wish I had come up with that idea”.

Nik: Absolutely! Punch Drunk Love, Moon, and Office Space are definitely movies like that. I have watched so many movies and series through this pandemic and I can’t remember any of them right now. But I did just notice that there is a season 3 of Loudermilk on HBO! If you haven’t already, see it! I’m currently reading "Homeward Bound, The Life of Paul Simon” by Peter Ames Carlin. It’s a good read about one of my favorite musicians.

For recording this album, what kind of gear did you use and what production/engineering considerations did you have to take into account?

Rob: Since we did a remote recording in the countryside we had to use whatever stuff that we could fit into a couple of cars. I have a couple of old audio interfaces that I linked for a total of 16 channels. I also have a small collection of mics (nothing fancy) and we used them all and the rest was borrowed. We set up the drums in the living room and put the guitar and bass rigs as far away as we could (the adjacent rooms) to avoid bleed and just focused on getting the rhythm tracks done. The goal was to get us all in the same room and to catch the vibe from a relaxed rehearsal kind of situation. The bass rig used was a Orange Terror Bass and an Ampeg SVT 810 and the guitar was tracked through a Reval Mark I and/or Orange TH-100 and a Orange PPC 412. Of course there’s always some unforeseen problem lurking and this time it was the electricity in the old country house.

Nik: I don’t use many effects, just a fuzz. For this one I used a Supercollider from Earthbound Audio. It is exactly what the name suggests. That’s all you need really.

The album cover is amazing! It reminds me, in some strange way, of the creature in the old B-movie Robot Monster (1953). What's the story behind the artwork?

Nik: It definitely has a B-movie vibe that I really like. I’m afraid I can’t really tell you much about it other than the artist name is Aaron Cahill and you can find his stuff on Instagram under the name nghbrs.

I filmed your first US appearance at Psycho Las Vegas in 2016. Fans want to know: do you have ambitions of returning to North America once the world sorts out this pandemic?

Rob: Yes, that’s our first and only US appearance so far and we wouldn’t mind at all returning to Vegas or any other part of the US. For now it’s really hard making any plans at all. In fact, you would think that this kind of isolation would enhance creativity, and maybe for some it does, but for us it’s actually been the most unproductive period so far for Spelljammer. So I’m hoping that by the time this thing blows over we get the inspiration back both for writing/recording new music, and in time hopefully revisiting the US!

Nik: I agree, playing at Psycho Las Vegas was a blast. I hope we get another opportunity to come back some day.

Spelljammer at Psycho Las Vegas/a>

Some Buzz

“The vastness of everything is something that I think about a lot,” says Spelljammer bassist/vocalist Niklas Olsson. And it certainly shows in both the expansive, sludgy sounds and contemplative lyrics of the Stockholm, Sweden based trio. Following a 5-year break between their previous album, Ancient of Days — perhaps fittingly spent pondering said vastness — Spelljammer is back with an album that perfectly bridges the band’s earlier desert rock leanings and their later massive, slow-burning riffs.

'Abyssal Trip' (note: carefully reread that album title) takes its moniker from the perpetually dark, cold, oxygen-free zone at the bottom of the ocean. The 6-song, 44-minute album fittingly embodies that bleak realm with rumbling, oozing guitars intercut with dramatic melodic interludes. The songs take their time to unfurl, making them even more hypnotic. Likewise, the lyrics take a poetic approach to establishing the sonic scenery.

“The lyrical themes we address, like the ultimate doom of man, and the search and longing for new and better worlds, are still there,” Olsson says. “The concept of something undiscovered out there in vast emptiness is pretty much always present.”

The recording process for Abyssal Trip differs from previous releases in that the band — guitarist Robert Sörling, drummer Jonatan Rimsbo and Olsson — opted to capture the performances while holed up in the mental bathysphere of a house in the countryside near Stockholm. “The songs benefitted from the relaxed environment of being away from everything,” Olsson explains. Indeed, the album sounds confident and meticulously arranged, afforded by the band’s isolation. Sörling mixed the album and it was mastered by Monolord drummer Esben Willems at Berserk Audio.

Album opener “Bellwether” begins dramatically with a very slow, nearly minute-long fade in of rumbling distortion setting the stage for heavily distorted bass and guitar plucking out the lugubrious riff for another minute and a half before the drums begin, and likewise equally as long before vocals gurgle to the surface. “Lake” abruptly shifts gears, opening with an unusually fast gallop before rupturing into thundering doom that soon drops into a clean-tone Middle Eastern melodic breakdown.

The title track serves as the album centerpiece, opening with ominous film dialogue about blood sacrifice that launches into pummeling, detuned guitars rumbling over gut-punching drums and howling vocals hearkening to the proto-sludge of Pink Floyd’s “The Nile Song.” The dynamic relents briefly for a slow building clean guitar melody before all instruments lock into a jerking riff topped off by a trilling Iommi style lead. Throughout, Abyssal Trip is, just like its title suggests, an epic tour through desolate zones which yields much to discover.

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[cautelous]

Hi. League lore is a nightmare that contradicts itself and has the nasty habit of spawning fan theories that, while interesting and honestly sometimes more clever than canonical content, are most likely not intended to be canonical.

What I’m talking about mostly is this thing that I really started thinking about in earnest yesterday, although I think I’ve had it on the backburner for a while. The thing in question is people taking all of League’s lore to be simultaneously canonical - assuming that it’s part of a grand overarching plan, or treating it as if it was all written at the same time. This is... not a good way to approach League lore, although it may seem it.

Example one: the theory that I heard that Annie’s parents actually moved to the Noxian borderlands to keep Annie safe from the academy Rell was held in. (Annie wasn’t born at the time they moved, but magic seems to work along familial lines in League and her mom was a witch, so it seems a safe bet.)

On the surface, cool theory! It works if Rell’s been in the academy since age 8, which isn’t exactly specified but is definitely possible. Annie’s parents could potentially have heard about missing kids and assumed something bad was up. Unfortunately, while it may make sense when you take lore as a combined bundle, it doesn’t make sense if you look at the out-of-universe timeline. Annie’s lore update came in 2018 and Rell came out about two years later. We know the champion production timelines are about a year (I think? Please correct me if I’m wrong), so Rell probably started taking shape in 2019. This means that the whole Noxian sigil magic evil academy thing probably wasn’t on Riot’s radar when they made Annie’s update - and, besides, her lore has always portrayed her as coming from an area adjacent to/on the outskirts of Noxus. It’s much more likely that Riot just rehashed elements of her original lore into something that worked in their modern setting, instead of them having this master plan where the true reason Annie’s out in the borderlands is to keep her safe.

Now, since Riot does often seem to have a habit of taking concepts from fans in one way or another... Maybe there will be another Annie lore that ties the academy in. It would certainly make the world feel more connected. But at the moment, it’s a fan theory that was probably 99.99% not intended to be canon, because the timelines don’t match up.

(Also, I think Rell lore could have been handled better. Not even from a “Swain wtf are you letting the Rose do” standpoint, but from a character standpoint from Rell. But that’s an aside. Also also, how long has Swain been in power? Annie’s lore has Darkwill in power 8 years ago. Also also also, I think a lot of people who subscribe to this theory might not think about the fact that Rell is 8 years older than Annie - they may see all the events as happening simultaneously, since there isn’t exactly a canonical timeline. If that makes sense?)

Example two: hi, Viktor and Blitzcrank lore.

Blitzcrank’s lore directly contradicts Viktor’s new lore, showing that Riot isn’t exactly interested in maintaining continuity. Maybe it’s just for champions that are less popular, but whatever.

Viktor’s lore update (which I think came in 2016, along with Piltover-Zaun unification? I wasn’t active in League then, so I don’t recall) describes Blitzcrank in the following manner:

In the midst of his studies in Piltover, a major chem-spill devastated entire districts of Zaun, and Viktor returned home to offer his help in the rescue efforts. By grafting a sophisticated series of cognitive loops upon existing automata-technology, he crafted a custom-built golem, Blitzcrank, to help in the clean-up. Blitzcrank was instrumental in saving scores of lives and appeared to develop a level of sentience beyond anything Viktor had envisioned.

Even with the spill contained, Viktor remained in Zaun to help those afflicted by the released toxins. With the golem's help, he attempted to use his techmaturgical brilliance to save those whose lives had been blighted by the spill. Their attempt was ultimately unsuccessful in preventing more deaths, and the two parted ways.

Blitzcrank’s lore currently (circa 2019) does this:

Useless to all but one person. The inventor Viktor discovered the abandoned golem and, seeing the potential still within the inert chassis, inspiration struck. Viktor began a series of experiments, seeking to improve the automaton by introducing a new element that would elevate it far beyond the original scope of its creation.

Hextech.

Implanting a priceless hextech crystal sourced from the deserts of Shurima into the chassis of the forsaken golem, Viktor waited with baited breath as the machine rumbled to life.

Zero mention of at what time this occurs. Zero mention of Blitzcrank being designed specifically for a rescue effort. The lore continues to diverge. The post’s long enough already, but you can read it and see for yourself. Blitzcrank’s 3rd lore (see wiki) is slightly more in line with Viktor’s, but still doesn’t make sense if you try to read it in concert with Viktor’s lore:

An ambitious young inventor known as Viktor longed to create a durable machine that could clean more effectively and eliminate the need for costly repairs. He gathered broken parts from the retired golems, avoiding the flashier components popular among his peers. Even employing an assemblage of unwanted materials, Viktor designed a more resilient machine.

He named his creation Blitzcrank, hoping the golem would quickly eradicate all waste and become far greater than the sum of his discarded parts. After instilling in Blitzcrank a relentless desire to serve the people of Zaun by removing the toxins in their path, Viktor sent him into the Sump to help.

What’s going on here? I don’t know. Also, it’s 2021 and I really wish Riot would stop using “golem” as a synonym for a robot. I know that fantasy generally does this, but like. Come on.

Example three: Talon’s lore.

It hasn’t been updated since 2015, man. I really can’t take the idea of Riot having some master overarching plan that everyone fits into when Talon (and I think some of the Void monsters?) hasn’t gotten an update since they snipped the Institute out of his lore.

TL;DR: League lore is piecemeal and any attempt to make any lore that came out about more than a year or two apart fit in with each other is probably not going to work. It may spawn some interesting theories, but those theories probably weren’t intended. It may also just directly contradict character backstories. It may also just be completely outdated and incoherent in the modern narrative.

Stuff like this is why I have trouble taking any lore analysis channels on YouTube seriously, because it really does feel like they don’t acknowledge the out-of-universe fact that Riot really doesn’t seem to have an overarching plan for more than about two years at a time. Maybe they have individual plans for each area - even that looks unlikely, considering Viktor and Blitzcrank’s issue - but something larger? I really doubt it.

Maybe this will all change with Ruination and Riot’s second attempt at doing a Big Event. Maybe they’ll realize that there’s at least one character lore contradiction (I don’t read all the lore, so while I have no doubt that there’s more contradictions I’ve really only spotted Viktor and Blitzcrank) and try to shore that up with minor edits. But at the moment it’s kind of a mess that sometimes feels like the fans think more about the impacts of the lore than the writers do.