bothzangetsus · 2 years ago
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kinda obsessed with the choices + justifications on that ichigo stays in human worlds vs. goes to soul society poll
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lovehotelreservation · 7 months ago
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Self Love
Summary: Bound by bestowed duty, burdened by the fate of countless, it only made sense that you, Meteor, and Clive would share not just many things in common, but a bed together.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clive/F!Reader/Meteor
tfw i've been cooking up this double penetration since the fanfest london announcement 🧍‍♀️
sorry to wols who don't main smn i hope you and everyone else still enjoy milking clive and meteor 🙇‍♀️
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As a Warrior of Light, it was a wonder how you were able to constantly find yourself trapped between a rock and a hard place.
To which your roguishly rugged handsome companion would grin and cheekily comment something along the lines of “Well, my name is Meteor after all.”
And it was by this you would test his mettle and knowledge of Paladin as you called forth the fierce might of Phoenix in response.
Though, then again, you did have to be very mindful of mentioning the likes of “Phoenix” and “eikon”, lest you cast your other rugged yet sullenly handsome companion into yet another frenzied existential fit.
Clive Rosfield.
Poor man had just barely dragged himself out of the storm of having to comprehend how he managed to find himself plucked from his motherland of Valisthea only to be unceremoniously flung to the world of Eorzea, where he would cross paths with you and Meteor.
Thankfully, he was in the company of those who were well familiar with the concept of traveling dimensions. Meteor was the one to give Clive a reassuring pat on the back as he affirmed that it would just be a matter of when until some means to return him to his universe was found.
For now, as he cheerfully suggested, Clive could tag along with the both of you, joining your trek to venture to lands yet to be visited by either of you. The world had just been saved and the realm beckoned to be explored.
While understandably conflicted at first–what with thoughts of home, his brother, his friends at the Hideaway and across the Twins, and more weighing on his mind–Clive eventually relented and agreed to join. In such a foreign yet strangely familiar world, any lessons, techniques, and even powers he could acquire here to bring back to his world to bring forth needed revolution and change, then so be it.
He just had to quickly get used to you calling forth vastly different versions of Ifrit, Titan, Garuda, Bahamut and Phoenix with a mere book and a glowing foxdograbbit.
Similarly, while you and Meteor had seen your fair share of madness across your journeys together, you both couldn’t help but be in awe whenever Clive drew forth power from the eikons of his world that mirrored so perfectly with the primals of Eorzea, to even witnessing him prime into the infernal behemoth that was his Ifrit while squaring off with foes and hunts alike alongside you both.
Sharing tales of triumphs and losses over a campfire within the Black Shroud, offering knowledge that could only be learned in the heat of battle while sailing through the azure skies on an airship to Radz-at-Han, keeping watch of one another while treading treacherous ground through Coerthas, unwinding in the comforts of a local izakaya in Kugane after a hard day’s effort–this in turn had the three of you to bonding ever so closer together. After all, each of you had borne the burden of being savior in your respective worlds, carried forth the hopes and dreams of friends and allies present and past, maintained the balance of using your bestowed powers responsibly and striving to not allow self-doubt and greed corrupt your hearts so, and much more.
Beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun, your days together would be spent in glorious adventure.
Whereas underneath the dreamy glow of the evening moon, your nights were bathed and adorned in absolute euphoria.
All because Meteor couldn’t help but grin the very instant he noticed the way how Clive’s eyes would linger on you whenever the moment allowed for it, the shift from morose uncertainty to shy yearning reflected in those deep cerulean irises of his.
And with how long he had been adventuring with you all this time, he would be much too ashamed if he failed to notice that dreamy, awestricken stare of yours every time you marveled at Clive whenever he demonstrated his beastly prowess in battle.
The visitor and the host.
Experienced in combat yet naive with romance was the former.
Always thinking about the bigger picture and much too used to putting the needs of the world before one’s own desires was the latter.
Meteor, however, stood right in the middle and was ever eager to bridge gaps.
In this particular case, he did just that by keeping you sandwiched right between him and Clive as the three of you were tangled together in bed. Clothes and armor were long discarded and strewn across the floor of your inn’s suite, ensuring that nothing would get in the way of your two rugged companions and their wandering hands along your body.
As to be expected, Clive was curious with every touch as he lied beneath you, his fingers basking in the warmth of your bare skin as they sought to find which spots pleasured you most. Every moan you let you had his breath caught in his throat–a precious action soon followed by a burning need to elicit as many mewls of his name from your lips as much as possible.
By contrast, Meteor was ever proud as he quipped that he knew your body best–even better than you when he felt more daring. Maintaining his position above and behind you, he boldly grabbed at your breasts and gave your ass a few good slaps, with each gasp he earned in response being demonstrated as a reward that Clive could also earn were he to handle you in a similar way. And while stepping in as teacher had its own unique fun, he relished in being able to make you melt and crumble underneath him with every knowing stroke and plunge of his fingers.
Despite their different approaches towards you however, both were in absolute agreement in ravishing you thoroughly. With you caged between two broad and sturdy physiques of divine, chiseled muscle, you were kept perfectly in prime position to have Clive and Meteor plunge their thick, long cocks inside of you in tandem, leaving you crying out in sheer bliss as your core and your ass were subject to their relentless pounding.
“You’ve gotta find it rather humorous, mate–” Letting out a breathy laugh, Meteor pushed back his sweaty bangs away from his eyes as he peeked over your shoulder to glance at Clive, a grin plastered on his lips. “–you used to keep your distance from our lovely summoner every time that book was out, but now you can’t even stand to be a step away!”
At once, Clive had his eyes shut firmly tight, far too overwhelmed by the sinfully sweet sensation of the dripping wet velvet heat of your core continuing to squeeze around his cock. Yet at Meteor’s words, his eyelids fluttered open as he hoarsely responded with, “Could you blame me?” all while his hands reaffirmed their hold on your hips.
His cheeky grin now more of a wicked smirk, Meteor remarked, “Not in the slightest! After all, I speak from experience…!”
Upon the last word he uttered, his posture hunched forward as he proceeded to ramp up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, barreling his dick into your ass with feverish frenzy.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, Mete–!”
Though you were made to squeal all the more, you were ready to turn back towards Meteor with a stern questioning look, were it not for him already prepared for your reaction. Before you could complete your sentence, you suddenly found yourself pressed further down against Clive, the gentle yet heavy weight of a hand on the back of your head urging you to lock lips with him instead.
“Now, now, love–while I’ll never get enough of having your eyes on me, you’ve got a primal to master! Focus!”
Meteor’s laughter filled your ears while Clive’s tongue clumsily found its way into your mouth.
While you were eager to get back at the former, it was as your eyes found its way to the latter’s that you truly found yourself speechless.
The pure adoration held for you that was reflected in Clive’s eyes had your heart flutter and your hands quickly cupping his grizzled jaw as you hungrily reciprocated his affection.
And as the two of you kissed, you felt the stubble of Meteor’s chin scratch against the nape of your neck as he kissed your skin, making sure to press further down against the points that made you shiver most.
Stuck in the middle between the two men who cherished you most, you knew you weren’t going to be leaving the bed anytime soon tonight—especially when they had so much love they wished to pour inside of you over and over.
Even so, you were more than delighted to be in your current position. From this day onward, regardless of where your paths may lead as they split and twist, you would find your way to back to them, even worlds apart. 
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disco-troy · 1 year ago
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One of the things I really want someone to bring back from the Humpries run is the idea of the judge as a villain.
Within the superhero community, Nightwing represents trust. He not only assumes leadership positions and gains the trust of other heroes (especially when compared to his mentor), but he also strives to see the best in people through the way he lives his life. However, it's something he struggles with a lot because the way he was raised and the things he's been through. He yearns to trust and find goodness in others.
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For instance, in the Judas Contract despite Terra's recent betrayal, Nightwing chooses to trust Joey.
The judge serves as the antithesis to Nightwing's philosophy, undermining the very idea of trust. With the judge, trust becomes a liability. He challenges Nightwing's history of trust and reinforces moments when that philosophy has been called into question.
What happens when the judge makes him doubt his friends, his allies, and his support system? Who is Nightwing without his safety net? This not only creates a compelling narrative point, but it also explains why Nightwing isn't calling on the Titans or his family for help with this problem (something that Taylor's run lacks, to be honest). It introduces more conflict for Dick – he wants to trust his friends and family, yet he's afraid of what the judge might offer them or what he might uncover about them if the judge digs deep enough.
Plus the judge works so well in the setting of Bludhaven. Gotham has so many rouges that just tear it apart morally and look into what the city means. Bludhaven doesn't really have that yet (Dixon's run sets up characters, but none of them mean anything thematically). Why is Bludhaven corrupt? How does this hurt the city? The judge started this by exposing the decisions of giving flooded homes to veterans to save money and the casino owner who covered up the murder of a child. A casino and a city built on the blood of others. Both Nightwing and the judge seek to uncover the cracks in the system where people fall. The judge aims to expose the inherent corruption of humanity and reinforce the notion that humans are inherently self-serving. Dick, on the other hand, aims to catch those who have fallen through the cracks.
The judge is also immensely entertaining to read, with a distinct personality that meshes well with Nightwing. He is both a meticulous planner and an improviser, allowing readers to see different aspects of Nightwing's crime-fighting abilities. Dick will have to engage in intense detective work to track down the judge, especially since the judge's "power" revolves around manipulating people. Nightwing must rely on his understanding of people as a detective, which happens to be one of his strengths. But here's the twist: the judge turns Nightwing's strength into a weakness. He can sway anyone to his side, mess with loyalties, and make it impossible to trust anyone. It becomes impossible to discern who is lying or who has suddenly changed allegiance because the judge flips a coin and presents them with an irresistible offer. Every waking moment becomes a mind game.
To defeat the judge, Nightwing must question everyone around him - he can never allow himself to fully trust anyone. This especially hurts if it comes after he's made connections with the people in Bludhaven. How does he rebuild trust or begin to forgive? How does a betrayal as Nightwing affect those he is friends with as Dick Grayson?
He plays with Dick's guilt complex as well. The judge can see people's deepest desires and when Dick feels guilty for his friends death or crises he couldnt avert I want Dick being promised absolution and it hurting so much but having to refuse it. Having to refuse promises of family when he's missing the circus.
And while his home is Bludhaven he does have the potential to be a heavy hitter. His powers could manipulate many people with power in the dcu and become a huge threat, and his philosphy could apply to many situations. What would the judge do if he went out of Bludhaven? Went against the Titans? The greater hero community? What would he say about say Lex Luthor's brand of corruption or if he set his sight to the governments? His statement has the capability to make a ripple in the DC universe, with Nightwing being his opposite and meeting him every step of the way.
Nightwing doesn't really have an ideological nemesis - but the judge is a perfect fit. He's a foil and an antagonist - doubting what it means for Dick to be a hero, bringing up his guilt and jealousy and all his negative emotions to the forefront. Having to grapple with his worst feelings he forces Dick to confront his darkest emotions head-on. Defeating the judge won't just require physical strength, but emotional sacrifices too.
The judge can throw in some challenge and conflict in Dick's run that is sorely missing right now. Even if he wins against the judge, he still loses. He still needs to have his trust in people doubted, he still feels guilt for everything the judge does. Let Dick rise to the challenge of his name, allow the judge to shake his foundations and come out stronger. When the judge is the Destroyer, deconstructing bludhaven to its rotten core and exposing its cracks, I want to see Dick be The Eternal Rebuilder - ready to catch people, rebuild relationships and forgive others - maybe eventually even himself.
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signofthestriking · 2 years ago
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Lore infodump pt.2 (Saiyan lore edition)
Cringe incoming go away if you no like it || Part 1
Continuing my insane ramblings about my over-complicated dbz au. This time focusing on what I've done with the Saiyans. And their equivalent of Frieza in this AU
TLDR: The low-class Saiyans rebel against their emperor, as well as against the elite Saiyans. Nobody wins, Planet Sadala is damaged, the empire collapses, and North Galaxy falls into chaos.
Parts of North Galaxy are taken over by an emperor known as Lord Kelvin. He attempts to ally with the Tuffles, but after they openly object to his empire, he wipes them out and overtakes their planet. He catches wind of the Saiyans shortly after, and offers them a place in his empire as allies. Kelvin tends to be manipulative, and wants more control than he initially lets on.
Distrustful of Kelvin, the Saiyan king only allows some of his low-class warriors to be conscripted into Kelvin's army. Kelvin learns that the elite Saiyans consist of a small handful of families, each of whom controls a section of the planet and the population in the name of the king. He gains the loyalty of these families by promising them positions in his empire, and gets them to overthrow the king. After all, they obeyed the Saiyan king under the assumption that he would kill all of them if they usurped him. However, they manage to kill him instead, and now only take orders from Kelvin himself.
So instead of answering to a king that might be able to kill them, they answer to an emperor who absolutely could kill them. And all Kelvin had to do was manipulate their lust for battle, and the pride that comes with it. He pieces together that the Saiyans, especially the elites, hold tight to their traditions about battle. So he convinces them that conquering planets and committing mass genocide is the same as true battle.
Fast forward in time, to when the Saiyans are used to their place in Kelvin's empire. Planet Sadala has flourished, at least as far as the elite Saiyans are concerned. For the low-blood, life hasn't improved much, even when all of their able-bodied warriors are conscripted into Kelvin's military. Huh. Weird.
Let's focus in on two Saiyans. An elite named Caper, who's dream is to become the head of Kelvin's royal guard. While he won't see the most active combat, it would let him work directly with the emperor himself. And Ninjin, a low-blood who can't even use ki without hurting herself. The two meet as kids, and become friends. And they keep this friendship going over the years, which eventually turns into romantic yearning.
Caper agrees to train Ninjin, even if she can't use ki. Turns out, Ninjin's power is just extremely volatile, which is why it damages her when she tries to use it.
As they grow into adults, Caper begins working towards his dream of becoming a captain, which gives him less time to be with Ninjin. During this time, Ninjin starts to have misgivings about Kelvin, and the Saiyan way of life. She turns these misgivings into rebellion, and forms a low-blood resistance with those who feel the same as her. They begin picking off members of the elite, one by one. All the while, they encourage other low-bloods to resist conscription. The elite Saiyans begin fighting back, and the conflict escalates into civil war.
Other planets under Kelvin's control catch wind of this, and start uprisings of their own now that they don't have to worry about the Saiyans. Kelvin turns to Caper, promising him the position of Captain if he takes down Ninjin's rebellion. Caper agrees, torn between his love for Ninjin and his loyalties to Kelvin.
Cue a 2-year stalemate between the elites and the lower class. Despite the assumptions that the low-blood warriors would be overpowered, they find a way to hold on. Caper and Ninjin never meet until the very end of the war.
At the end, Caper and the remaining elites plan an ambush, which would likely lead to Ninjin's death. Caper ends up betraying the empire, turning against his fellow elites and killing them. He buys time for Ninjin and her followers to escape, which leads to his capture.
The following day, Lord Kelvin shows up to execute Caper, as he's decided that enough is enough. He didn't want to step in himself, given the other uprisings going on, but he wants to put a stop to the Saiyan rebellion once and for all. After witnessing Caper's execution, Ninjin transforms into a Super Saiyan, something all but forgotten to these Saiyans. In her brief burst of unheard-of power, she and Kelvin killed each other.
The fight caused almost irreparable damage to Sadala, but it remained intact. Most of the Saiyans managed to escape, but some were stranded. The remaining elites tried to section off the empire for themselves, but soon turned on each other instead. The empire slowly collapsed.
Will infodump about this collapse at another time. Anyway Ninjin and Caper reincarnate into two of the main characters in my Earth-based OCs: Konnie Sai and Maize Onigiri, and both of them deal with what rises from the aftermath of Kelvin's failed empire.
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teamxdark · 3 years ago
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He’s Not Here
More masquerade content but what’s this at the end???
In the grand castle ballroom, surrounded by soft golden light and the countless nobles clad in shimmering fabric, King Arthur was so bored he could cry.
This wasn’t what this night should have been; it was a masquerade party, an opportunity to hide away his identity and mingle among the people 一 okay, the nobility, but he would take what he could get 一 like he was a person instead of a king. Finally he had a chance to dance around until his legs ached, to eat food without worrying about the repercussions to his image should he dare speak with his mouth full or use the wrong spoon, to hold conversations that weren’t about politics or finances or how he was doing the best-or-worst job looking after an entire kingdom with a myriad of people with different needs and opinions. 
So how was it that, out of everyone in that room, he was stuck listening to some dull-voiced stag drone on and on about the rising price of grain?
“This is why pricing is tricky, you have to account for the pests before you ship it out and…”
Arthur fought the urge to dash away, but the instant he tried, he knew he would give himself away. His speed was renowned throughout the land, alongside his golden armor and brilliant blue spines. Those, at least, he had taken care of; Merlina had spent the better part of an hour adjusting his coloring to a warm orange and growing out his spines to disguise him beyond the limits of a simple mask. She had tried so hard to give him a chance to have a night off without people instantly worrying for his favor or trying to get something from him… only for him to be trapped all over again.
Arthur would have happily made an excuse to leave, if the stag would only let him get a single word in. His conversation “partner” seemed not to need to breathe, droning on and on in an endless monotone, offset by the cheerful music and bright lights and flashy costumes.
I’ll never be free of this.
“And now that the price is rising, it leaves me in a strange spot, you see. On the one hand, I sympathize with the people who cannot afford my wares, but on the other hand, it means more profit for myself and my own family.”
Chaos above, Arthur wished he hadn’t bumped into this man. His fingers tapped restlessly against his leg, mildly quelling the urge he had to just flee, to drop everything and everyone he had ever known and flee into the night and into the unknown.
“Not to mention, the cost of labor--”
“Mind if I cut in?”
Arthur’s head snapped over to the new voice, endlessly relieved at the interruption, though the stag continued to drone on, the odious voice still grating his ears even as the king faced the bold newcomer.
It was a tiger clad in elegant black clothing with silver accents, extending a hand out to him, and even though Arthur was eager to take it and be whisked away from this living nightmare, something about him made him take pause. His eyes took in the white fur streaked with blue, the slowly flicking tail that reminded him of Sir Percival 一 was it common among all cats? 一 and the eyes looking gently back at him.
He trusted those eyes. It was the look that they held, a look that reminded him of… 
Arthur mentally slapped himself. He’s not here, he reminded himself as he finally took the hand offered to him.
“Yes, please.”
The tiger seemed to brighten just a fraction at his approval, and he led him away from the trappings of boring conversation to the dancefloor, and Arthur had to try hard not to think about how this felt like being rescued by a knight. Especially not…
He’s not here.
The king was jostled from his thoughts as his new partner started to fit him into a hold, and a brand new anxiety washed down upon him as he tried to remember how to reciprocate the hold. Dancing lessons had never been high on the list of priorities when it came to running a kingdom, and yet somehow Arthur was expected to be able to social dance like a pro when his days were filled from dawn to dusk with meetings and drafting decrees and submitting notices of approval until he passed out on his bed. Arthur swallowed, trying to remind himself that stumbling during a dance was still preferable to listening to that one-sided conversation…
...but his partner didn’t dance like a professional. Well… he did, there was no denying his grace and timing, but he didn’t dance like he expected Arthur to be one as well. The steps were simple, the turns basic, and Arthur’s mind swam in relief as he realized that, somehow, this stranger was leading him through steps that he had managed to pick up on through trial and error.
This chance encounter was proving to be everything he needed.
The stranger led him carefully around the floor, maneuvering slowly around other people rather than weaving expertly between them like so many other couples did. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could easily pretend that he was practicing his basic steps with his brother, or his friends, or his--
He’s not here.
And yet…
Yet it was so easy to picture it, even as the peals of laughter surrounded him and washed into his subconsciousness like a spark of delight for him to enjoy. The strong hold, the careful footwork, the calculated rhythm…
Lancelot…
Arthur’s eyes opened, and though he saw stripes they were the wrong ones, and the bittersweet feeling of missing someone dear to him almost caused him to heave a sigh.
He had it bad, and he knew it. His greatest knight and closest ally and dear friend… Sir Lancelot was beyond compare. From questing as youths to his coronation, and in every disaster thereafter, Lancelot had been there, his pillar of strength in a tumultuous world, always standing nearby to passionately defend him or to spare him a quiet gesture of support. Lancelot had protected him from danger, defended his honor, strived to keep his spirits up for years and years…
Arthur had never considered himself one for romance, but as years went by, Lancelot had claimed more and more of his thoughts, attention and affection until the knight unknowingly held the king’s heart firmly in his hands. Too many times to count had Arthur been struck by the urge to grasp his hands, to sing out the words in his heart to him, to draw him close and see if he could make such a powerful knight’s knees buckle below him with a kiss alone…
One song changed into the next, and Arthur, too swept up in his fantasy, didn’t let go of the stranger, didn’t notice the slight lull in their dance, and so the dream kept going.
Lancelot wasn’t there, but Arthur could lean into this stranger’s hold on him, follow his dance, focus on his attire, concentrate on the energy he exuded, energy that reminded him so strongly of his Lancelot, and Arthur’s mind could so easily turn his dream into something more substantial. An illusion for him to drown in, just like this masquerade offered.
The music kept swelling, the sweet notes tickling his ears and driving him even deeper into his dream like he was in a trance. He kept dancing with the man that reminded him so much of his beloved that a second dance turned into a third, and Arthur clung on to his dream, not even registering that it might seem strange until--
“I mean no offense, but surely there are others who would want to dance with you?”
Arthur blinked, and the dream shattered as the man in his arms shifted back into a stranger. The king’s feet stilled, his gaze dropping to his feet. Arthur had to fight back waves of embarrassment and disgust at himself before he could answer.
“Forgive me, but the way you dance…”
HE’S NOT HERE!
“...it reminds me of someone dear to me.”
“O-Oh.”
His companion seemed at a loss, and Arthur held back another sigh, counting the beats in his head before pulling him along for the next dance, leading him in a very basic, repetitive step around the floor.
“I apologize,” Arthur murmured, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to salvage the situation. At this point, he could only offer his apologies and an explanation. “I know it’s not fair on you, to imagine you are someone else, but…”
A look of hurt passed over his dance partner’s face, and goodness, even that reminded him painfully of Lancelot.
“...but you remind me so much of him.”
Arthur’s eyes swept over his partner, taking in the paradoxical way that he looked completely unfamiliar and yet he still somehow managed to feel so much like his dear knight. Perhaps the dream hadn’t fled from him quite yet, because now Arthur’s yearning mind was searching for any and every chance to convince himself that this was, somehow, Lancelot whom he was dancing with.
“You dance like he does,” Arthur thought aloud, as his partner remained silent. “Careful and precise.”
Your movements… I know them like I know my own.
“Pardon my asking,” the stranger returned, “but why do you not dance with him tonight?”
Like a weight to his soul that would never truly leave, Arthur’s melancholy came back to embrace him. “Ah… he isn’t here.”
He’s not here he’s not here he’s not here--
“Or at least…”
Arthur looked into the stranger’s eyes, his desperation to go back to his dream nearly choking him with emotion as the tiger’s eyes widened at the sudden look directed at him.
“...I haven’t recognized him, yet.”
Arthur knew it was terrible to put such a fantasy on a stranger at a party, but he wanted so badly to believe that this man was Lancelot. Arthur wanted to believe the ludicrous ideas his mind was supplying him with, that somehow this was Lancelot in front of him, disguised beyond all normal means. The tiger in front of him appeared to fluster, his mouth parting as though wishing to speak, though no words came forth.
“You have stripes like he does, too,” Arthur murmured softly, thoughtfully, and yes, he truly was reaching for every last detail in his pathetic attempt to turn what he had in front of him into what he wanted to see.
“If it pleases you,” the tiger finally said as the third song changed into a fourth one, “I… am not opposed to you pretending that I am he.”
Arthur smiled at that, feeling suddenly hesitant at the idea, now that the stranger, as kind and helpful as he had been, had given him his consent to mentally transform him into someone else, to be a player in this dream of his. It was sad, and unfair, but Arthur knew sadness and injustice. He tried to battle it every day, slowly changing and updating laws as they became outdated, but everything went so slowly and people only kept crying out in pain and Arthur wanted just one day, just one, to take ahold of something that he wanted and to cherish it.
“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as he stepped further into the stranger’s hold, feeling warmth overtake him as he confessed his truth. “I have loved him for a great long time and… perhaps this is the closest I shall get to what I dream of.”
Because that was all this would ever be: a dream.
He’s not here.
Arthur’s eyes closed as his head dipped down to rest on the tiger’s shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his muzzle as he noticed that he was of a similar height to Lancelot, and the dream came back in full swing. Arthur’s arms wrapped around his partner, blocking out any consideration to the lack of spines on his back, and the king focused on his heartbeat as it hammered in and out of sync with the other’s.
“I understand the sentiment,” his partner whispered in response, and Arthur had to hold back what was either a laugh or a sob, morphing it into a hum on its way out.
You speak like him, too.
And so the king held his partner as tightly and tenderly as he would a lover, humming along to the song as the masquerade around him faded into nothing. There was nothing, nothing in his dream, but himself and his Lancelot as they spun around slowly.
He’s here. He’s here, I can feel it.
Arthur’s dream permeated his mind, overtaking his consciousness, and as the fourth song faded into oblivion, he finally let out the sigh he had been carrying all night.
“Lancelot…”
Two pairs of feet stilled as both parties realized what had just been said, and one final word jolted the king from his dream.
“A… Arthur?”
He was here all along.
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ofclympians · 2 years ago
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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸) !!
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finch has the unique ability to switch between the mortal and divine worlds, making him a dangerous adversary and a powerful ally. much like his father, he has a tendency towards DECEPTION and can be quite cunning. he's partial towards TRICKERY, his mischevious nature frequently getting him into trouble - while his charming attitude usually gets him out. finch finds a good deal of his fun in conning those around him; he'll TAKE anything. clothes, money, food - even things that mean nothing to him - it's all apart of the game. throughout the entirety of his life, his father and siblings are the only people he's allowed to KNOW him completely. others see a false sense of self he projects onto them for his benefit. internally, finch isn't quite sure who he is himself, but that won't stop him from consistently highlighting his WORST characteristics.
                                                         more info HERE.
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asa spent his entire adolencence CHASING his father's approval. when his grandma informed him of his true identity, he knew where he really belonged was up on olympus with hermes himself. he'd always been an OUTCAST; the weird kid with behavioral issues that everyone else would avoid. he was constantly getting into TROUBLE, prone to MISCHIEF and entertained by what he'd consider harmless pranks. now, he had something to blame it on - he was his FATHER'S CHILD. years of waiting and yearning brought him no closer to his rightful place in olympus, and asa slowly became RESENTFUL. of his abilities, his lineage, his habits and behaviors that always brought him more MISFORTUNE than happiness. he grew bitter and RECLUSIVE into his adult years, turning his back on the only family he'd ever known and giving in to his DELINQUENT tendencies. after years of honing his skills, he's made a name for himself as an accomplished THIEF, pulling off numerous heists and leaving authorities across the nation stumped. though cunning and creative, asa is IMMATURE and reckless. thankfully, his squad of common criminals has no problem cleaning up after him, even going so far as taking the BLAME for asa, absolving him of any consequences.
                                                         more info HERE.
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madmadmilk · 3 years ago
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omg i just finished watching "Luca" (2021) and i need to gush over ittttt >>> light spoilers ahead >>>
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i fucking love this movie– the plot, the characters, the scenery, the animation, the dialogue, the music!! it is all SOO charming. it captures the curiosity, innocence, and dreamy ambition of being a child!! everything is so brand new, and as you 'stop' daydreaming and start to venture on your own...
you can meet some incredible people who change your life forever.
there are 1000000 takeaways from this movie, and plenty of parallels, but the one I wanna talk about is the power of your very first friendship.
Luca!! he's a timid, polite, smart lil' introvert, and thru the movie, he got adopted by all these extroverts and big personalities!! i think every shy kid remembers their first friend; the one who draws you out and makes you learn so much about yourself, and the world.
alberto showed him the sun! the sky! the trees! ... gravity!! wah!
it makes me so nostalgic and warm to think about their friendship... it was the greatest relief and comfort to be "adopted" by an extrovert, growing up lol. Sure, Luca is able to speak for himself and take care of himself, but Alberto helped draw him out of his shell and amplify those thoughts and feelings!! he helps the idea that "dreams can become real too" sink in.
Luca is in awe by all the things he can do and see, now that Alberto is by his side. their connection is something he'll remember forever!! and even if alberto was 'wrong' about a few things (like the fishes in the sky), it's the sentiment he will always cherish and remember with good humor.... like, those are literally core memories.
and that sentiment is not one-sided either!! alberto found honest companionship, someone to talk and walk the streets with. he carries on because someone cares enough to stay with him! he's goofy and sometimes careless, but he proudly wears it because Luca will be there to catch him if he falls.
that's so!!! gorgeous!!
we all yearn for a friendship/connection like that, even as adults.
and ahh!! guilia! what a fucking PAL!!! (and ally lmao). she welcomes them both with open arms, protects them, and gives them a safe space to be themselves. she teaches them with patience and accepts that they all come from different places, as she understands that the world is big and full of vibrant people.
the main three carry no judgement towards each other, or the world around them. they see it for what is is– like children! the boys know they are "different" from Guilia, but never wish to throw away the fishy side of them. and guilia doesn't condemn them for who they are, instead warns and protects them from who her town is!!
(lol and alberto's jealousy of luca and guilia's closeness is so sweet and understandable: nobody likes to see their bestie with anyone else.)
but like i said, luca's connection with alberto is irreplacable: his main goal is to explore the world with him!!! he risked going on land to stay on land with him. and that's!!!! so !! AHH!!!
that's love!! however u interpret it, platonically, romantically, whatever, it's love!!
a charming exploration of friendship, 'other'-ness, curiosity, and all forms of love u can imagine. and the art style is fucking unforgettable.
please go watch it if you have a chance!
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silvadour · 4 years ago
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Attack on Titan: The End of an Era - Final Chapter Review
Disclaimer: This blog post contains MASSIVE spoilers towards the ending of Attack on Titan as well as the greater series. If you wish not to be spoiled on certain story aspects and character revelations, I kindly suggest reading the manga or waiting for the 2nd half of the Final Season to be released in Winter 2022. Furthermore, if you are not caught up with this and read this post anyway, kindly refrain from spreading information presented here as not to spoil the experience for other readers and watchers that have yet to see the very end of the story.
And now without further ado, let is begin with the blog post.
Well, we’ve reached the endpoint, we arrived at that scenic view. Attack on Titan’s story has finally ended and if I’m being frank with you…I’m satisfied with it.
I have to say it’s always a weird feeling of coming to face the truth that a story you like and have invested many years reading has finally come to an end, there’s just an underlying feeling that you wanna deny the reality of it but you also can’t deny that sense of closure you gain from it either. While the series started way back in the year 2009, I did not get invested in the manga’s story until late 2013 when the anime’s first season finished airing. And my experience with AoT has been a strange one. As a young teen, I was impressed by the action on display so much that I began craving more of it like a crack-headed squirrel; this, in turn, led me to read through internet message boards and forums for possible new information on the stories developments which unsurprisingly led me to find spoilers of later events (particularly the case with Reiner and Bertholdt’s identities) However, even by the time I reached that revelation in the story in the existence of the Coordinate plot element came into play, I was aboard for the dramatic thrill ride ever since. And by the time I was reading it and the story shifted from fighting humanoid monsters to actual humans in the Royal Government/Coup d’etat arc, I started thinking of Attack on Titan as a rather niche series that only a few people could understand even with its ridiculous surge of popularity in the early 2010s, and I never could have anticipated back then on how emotionally attached I would be to this series nor how well it portrays a morally grey story where both participating parties of an ongoing war suffer from the circumstances of their character and nature.
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The opening page to the series
As a modern monthly shonen series, I can say that it’s certainly a step above other manga of its type in how it re-frames familiar shonen archetypes in much more grounded and grim settings, and I find that it’s because of that grounded feeling found in its writing and setting that Attack on Titan has garnered such a large following for the elements in the story make themselves easier for audiences to distill themselves in similar situations, the narrative creates a sense of audience inclusivity that allows readers to imagine themselves in situations of survival. However, once I heard the series would end at 139 chapters apart of me was wondering if the series would have enough time to address aspects of established lore and give character arcs a fitting conclusion, and suffice it to say, the series accomplished that though some feelings on them I’m still processing. So knowing this I think it would be best to tackle the ending of Attack on Titan by discussing each of the established themes and characters one at a time, starting with the theme of freedom and liberty.
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“To either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain”
Freedom and Liberty:
One of the major recurring themes in the story of AoT is that of the nature of finding true freedom. Freedom as a concept is described as the ability to speak, act or think by one’s own accord; freedom can be individual yet it can also be shared with various individuals. The story always made the best attempts at portraying both the positive and negative aspects of freedom in a morally grey manner. While the idea of wanting to do something of your own will, it all becomes a different story altogether depending on what the actions initiated from that free will end up being. One person’s freedom would naturally come to blows with the freedom of a collective group and trying to determine who is more rightfully just in their expression is never given a clear cut answer, case in point Eren’s yearning to be free of a world where he and his people aren’t demonized or viewed as cattle comes to blows with the antagonists’ (the nation of Marley) yearning to freely put him and the other Subjects of Ymir in their place as the two parties eventually engage in a long-standing war that has spanned for centuries. In an essay by John Stuart Mill, he presents an argument for the nature of human liberty that frames it as a double-edged sword; while it may stand as a tool to defend oneself from oppression and tyranny, it in of itself can be used as a tool to enforce other individuals into compliance and agreement should they not initially comply to certain established schools of thought. The expression of freedom is never displayed in an absolute black and white morality as each of the opposing parties have valid justifications for their expressions of personal freedoms (the nation of Marley’s long history being under the terror of the old Eldian Empire, and the island of Paradis being constantly invaded by Titans from Marley due to their history), rather the expressions freedoms are made due to self-interest.
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Zeke describing Marley’s plan of action in order to ensure its future as a world superpower.
This is seen numerous times throughout the series, Ymir (104th Cadet) being used as a scapegoat for the cult that took her in, Erwin’s planned scapegoat execution during the royal government arc to ensure the original monarchy’s total rule over the population within the walls, the world nations following the bandwagon of Eldian discrimination as a political tactic of gaining advantages for the development of their nations through the extortion of the many Eldians around the world. Even with the characters that are standing on the “good” side still hold feelings of seeking self-interest as they are allowed so, solely due to the fact to want and something and act upon is part of their birthright just like any other human; case in point Eren and Historia at their most standout moments before the time-skip which would eventually coalesce with Eren’s meeting of the Founder, Ymir Fritz. This now brings me to the man himself, Eren Yeager.
Eren Yeager/Ymir Fritz:
When I first got into Attack on Titan, my opinion on the writing for Eren, especially in the manga’s early run, landed generally around middling. However, over time as I got further invested in the TV adaptation, I made attempts on doing retrospective rewatches to see whether my opinions on certain aspects of the story had changed; and during this time I found that my opinion of Eren changed to that of a more positive one. Throughout the series I saw this driven teenager coming to terms with his situation as a potential key for his people’s future, learning to quell his anger, as well coming to face the reality of his various failures all to eventually crack under the weight of the expectations he has placed onto himself, finally re-discovering his self-worth through the relationships he’s made with people closest to him only to have his reality crash right into his face when he finally discovers the truth of the world which bruises his idealistic nature.
To many of the fans that have seen Eren’s exploits in the latest season, his change in character might have come as a jarring shift since he has shifted to focus on eradicating the Titans to now eradicating the invaders of his home island. While the shift to different targets might seem like a strange change on the surface, fundamentally, Eren Yeager is still relatively the same character he was initially portrayed as, the only difference is that some of his more notable traits such as his anger, his battle tactics, and self-expression have just been more hardened due to the nature of his and homeland’s circumstances.
Eren is a prime believer of freedom, that any person is entitled to live free without feeling as if their freedoms are being imposed by others, solely on the basis that they were born into the living world. Should someone pose a threat to his freedom, he will not hesitate to steal freedom from others. And from the beginning till the very ending of the series his character writing remains consistent. Eren is a man lashing out against a prejudiced world that views him and his people as pure evil, he lashes not just for the sake of his freedom but for the freedom of those he cares for. However, throughout that lashing and emotional hardening he becomes something different from how he initially perceived himself.
For most of the manga’s final arc, Eren’s detached demeanor he presents onto his friends serves to highlight how he faces his challenges; he is more of a person that suppresses his grief and other vulnerable emotions because he has no choice but to appear strong and move forward when he cries out the world for something he wants, as a person ostracized by the world, his actions are indicative of the world telling him that he is not allowed to be viewed as a human being. His repeated fighting against Marley and the other allied nations can almost be interpreted as a cry for help. And throughout these actions, Eren was always consciously aware of his actions and the consequences that would be brought upon them, but he would never reveal his true feelings until he reached his two final goals, Ymir Fritz and his ultimate fate. When Eren first encountered Ymir Fritz he saw her as the absolute ruler of the Power of the Titans and wished to use her to finally make his true ambitions become a reality, however, during that process Eren realized that Ymir was so much more than a divine being. In his embrace of the Founder and in seeing her past through the Paths realm, Eren came to realize that Ymir was simply a human that much like him was ostracized and forced to harden her emotions out of fear of being further abused for appearing as weak; who trapped herself in ethereal realm due to her misguided understanding of “love” she had for her abuser, Karl Fritz I.
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In recognizing her as a human, Eren sets Ymir free to finally act upon her own will for the first time in over 2000 years.
Personally, in this particular moment of Eren embracing Ymir with a hug and telling her the words she always wanted to hear “you are a human being”, I feel as if those words themselves are what Eren wanted to hear from someone who truly understood him and his reasons for going as far as does. Eren fights because he wants to end all fighting in the world, but he doesn’t know any other method besides fighting, much like Ymir, Eren needed someone to free him from himself. I find that Kenny Ackerman’s final words resonate with this scenario very strongly in retrospect: “We humans, are all the same…every last one of us. All of us had to spend our lives drunk on something or else we’d have no cause to keep pushing on. Everyone was a slave to something” (S03E10)
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Eren’s “freedom” upon reaching that scenery he foresaw in his future visions.
At the moment of that embrace, Eren was fundamentally just like Ymir, a human child unable to cry due to repressing their emotions, Eren was only able to reach his external and internal goals in the final chapter through his relationship with Mikasa and Armin in their final interactions in which he imparted his freedoms and his dream to the two people he cared about most in the entire world. That being said in his fight for obtaining the ideal freedom for himself and his people, Eren only realized in his very last conversation with Armin that the freedom he sought after wasn’t only his. Armin’s final heart-to-heart made him re-acknowledge that the weight of his dreams for an ideal world shouldn’t be his to bear, even if ended endangering him and his loved ones. By refusing to entrust his dreams onto others, Eren was becoming a slave to his ambitions (in fact his appearance as the Founding Titan portrays him as a marionette), only to be finally set free (and possibly reincarnated as a bird, a common symbol of freedom in literature) by his best friend when he comes to understand him and offer him peace for all he has done for the sake of his people.
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In his final meeting, Eren’s true self as the boy who lost all things he cherished in the beginning of the series confides with his best friend Armin on the actions and choices he has made, as well as finally reciprocating Mikasa's feelings of love.
Closing thoughts:
Overall, I find that Eren’s motivations and his character arc met my expectations of how I somewhat imagined the series would end. It didn’t end on a completely misanthropic note, but rather a bittersweet hopeful one. As even though the island of Paradis establishes a new military under Eren’s splinter cell faction, the Yeagerists, there is hope found in Armin carrying out the role that Eren always saw him, a hero and a purveyor of peace, as he, Jean, Connie, Annie, Reiner, and Pieck now taking on the role as ambassadors for the remaining population of Earth, embark to Paradis to begin peace negotiations. Whether the treaty succeeds is left entirely to the reader’s imagination (or Isayama adding more context in the volume edition of this chapter), but what I find truly beautiful about this ending of a series with clearly morally gray divisions, is that the people of those same divisions finally came to the realization that they are simply just people. They are not devils or angels, they are simply just people; not that much different from one another and willing to try and exist in a better tomorrow with each other. And what I love about this ending, even more, is that it finally bookends some goals and declarations that were said in the first half of the series: Eren wanting to eradicate the existence of Titans became a reality, after Eren’s death Armin took responsibility in claim he killed in turn that leads him to be viewed as a hero and purveyor for peace, Eren wrapping his scarf around Mikasa, all of these character declarations coming back in some unique form makes me love this series even more.
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Your heart and soul to the cause.
Some may complain that this ending is not that great for it still doesn’t explain certain aspects of the story such as the nature of the Power of the Titans or the identity of Historia’s baby daddy or just general lack of presence in the final arc, but personally, I am content in not receiving a clear answer to some of those aspects, mostly because they either don’t matter or are already narratively complete, plus their open-ended-ness just offers me more chances to think about some aspects of the story and promote discussions around it. And while the use of mental time-travel ala Seers from Game of Thrones that were displayed by Eren’s use of the Attack Titan’ innate ability in the Paths realm, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t unsure or somewhat conflicted by the existence of mental time-travel; especially when time-travel as a narrative concept is INCREDIBLY easy to mess up. However, aside from these minor gripes, these were my overall thoughts towards the ending of Attack on Titan, we have reached the end of the story where Eren, Mikasa, and Armin’s respective character arcs came to a narratively true and satisfying conclusion. This is definitely a notable end of an era in the world of manga and pop culture. And without much left to say, all I can do is offer a salute to the author Hajime Isayama for his dedication to this story.
Thank you, Hajime Isayama.
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notapaladin · 4 years ago
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Obsidian and Blood, an overview
Do you like fantasy? Do you like mysteries? Do you like Mesoamerican mythology? Do you like ALL OF THOSE THINGS TOGETHER, set against the lush backdrop of Tenochtitlan in 1480? (Or maybe you just want to know more about the series I have been going feral over since August.) Then buckle up, because oh boy have I got a series for you!
*drumroll, please*
OBSIDIAN AND BLOOD, written by Aliette de Bodard (better known for her Xuya and Dominion of the Fallen series)
There are two kinds of people: Those who see the words “Aztec fantasy/murder mysteries set in very well-researched 1480s Tenochtitlan BUT WITH MAGIC, investigated by the HIGH PRIEST OF THE GOD OF DEATH” and immediately ran off to buy them, and those who clearly need convincing. So here I am, shamelessly plugging my new hyperfixation!
Obsidian and Blood consists of three semi-standalone novels and three (free!) prequel short stories, all featuring 30-year-old Acatl as our first-person POV mystery solver. Acatl is not, however, your average historical detective; aside from being set firmly in Tenochtitlan in 1480 with all that implies re. the acceptability of slavery and human sacrifice, he also is the High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli in a universe where the gods regularly meddle in mortal affairs and magic spells are powered largely by rituals and blood—animal, human, or your own. You’d think this would make Acatl really, really good at solving murders, but you’d be wrong. He is the least of the Triple Alliance’s three High Priests, and his god doesn’t come at his servant’s beck and call. Not to mention the other gods, who have their own deadly agendas. That’s not even getting into the people around him, who might be the most dangerous of all. Luckily, he has more allies than he thinks—if he has the strength to actually reach out to them and admit he could use the help!
(He doesn’t need to reach out to his student Teomitl. Teomitl, a confident young warrior of imperial blood, keeps volunteering. This gives Acatl roughly one heart attack per book.)
You will like them if…
I did just say “magic murder mysteries in 1480s Tenochtitlan,” right? It’s real Precolumbian Mexico hours up in here! The history of the Aztec Empire and their Triple Alliance actually forms multiple key plot points throughout the series!
you’re into Aztec history/culture in general
if a DnD fan, you are REALLY into the Raven Queen
you think blood magic is super cool and wish it wasn’t treated as the realm of The Bad Guys
you get incredibly hyped over lesser-known mythologies treated respectfully but also very awesomely (the thing where the Aztecs thought human sacrifice kept the sun in the sky? Yeah, in this universe it is literally true and plot-relevant)
you are big into chaste heroes, lots of snarky asides, highly opinionated narrators who let their own prejudices destroy them, “from an outside perspective this is cosmic horror but for the characters it is a Tuesday,” mysteries with twists you will NOT see coming, and themes of trauma/memories/family legacies
you love reading about dysfunctional family relationships in various states of repair/further destruction
you’ve ever thought “hey this historical mystery is cool but what if there was MAGIC”
you like noir detective stories but want them with magic
you like urban fantasy but want them to have historical settings instead of vaguely modern-day ones
Plot/character summaries below!
SHORT STORIES (prequels to the novels, blurbs by me)
Obsidian Shards
Warriors have been found dead in the town of Colhuacan, obsidian shards embedded in their hearts. Acatl, priest of Mictlantecuhtli, suspects a creature of the Underworld—one he already calls a foe, for it slew his first and last apprentice.
Beneath the Mask
In the Tenochtitlan suburb of Coyoacan, Acatl’s childhood friend Huchimitl begs him to save her only son’s war captive; the man whose sacrifice will make the boy a proper warrior is paralyzed from an unknown curse, unable even to rise from the floor. But who could have cursed him, and is it connected to the mask Huchimitl now wears?
Safe, Child, Safe
A toddler is slowly wasting away, the mark of the Underworld on him, and Acatl is tasked with finding the cause. But no creature of the Underworld kills so slowly, and so Acatl must turn his investigation to the living.
THE BOOKS (blurbs taken directly from the book listings, you don’t HAVE to read them in order but I do recommend it)
Servant of the Underworld
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Year One-Knife, Tenochtitlan; the capital of the Mexica Empire. Human sacrifice and the magic of living blood are the only things keeping the sun in the sky and the earth fertile. A Priestess disappears from an empty room drenched in blood. It should be a usual investigation for Acatl, High Priest of the Dead—except that his estranged brother is involved, and the more he digs, the deeper he is drawn into the political and magical intrigues of noblemen, soldiers, and priests—and of the gods themselves...
(Neutemoc: I didn't mean to sleep with her! It was an accident! Acatl: I don't understand. Did you trip?) (Acatl: I don't want a new apprentice! Teomitl: :D? Acatl: ...I will make an exception)
Harbinger of the Storm
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The year is Two House, and the Emperor of the Mexica has just died. The protections he afforded the Empire are crumbling, and the way lies wide open to flesh-eating star-demons—and to the return of their creator, a malevolent goddess only held in check by the War God's power. The council should convene to choose a new Emperor, but they are too busy plotting against each other. And then someone starts summoning star-demons within the palace, to kill councilmen...Acatl, High Priest of the Dead, must find the culprit before everything is torn apart.
(Teomitl: I've only had Acatl and Mihmatini for a year, but if anything happens to them I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself) (Quenami: Playing With The Big Boys.mp3)
Master of the House of Darts
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The year is Three Rabbit, and the storm is coming. The Mexica Empire now has a new Emperor, but his coronation war has just ended in a failure: the armies have retreated with a paltry forty prisoners of war, not near enough sacrifices to satisfy the gods. Acatl, High Priest for the Dead, has no desire to involve himself yet again in the intrigues of the powerful. However, when one of the prisoners dies of a magical illness, he has little choice but to investigate. For it is only one death, but it will not be the last. As the bodies pile up and the imperial court tears itself apart, dragging Teomitl, Acatl's beloved student, into the eye of the storm, the High Priest for the Dead is going to have to choose whom he can afford to trust; and where, in the end, his loyalties ultimately lie...
(Teomitl: I am no longer Baby I want Power) (Acatl, to Teomitl: What have you got there? Nezahual, gleefully: A coup! Acatl: NO!)
THE MAIN CHARACTERS (in order of appearance)
ACATL “By my face and by my heart, I’ll bring you justice.” High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, god of death and the underworld. As such, his duties include both the obvious ones of arranging funerals and standing vigils for the dead, and the less obvious ones of investigating magical crimes and keeping the boundaries between the heavens, Earth, and the underworld intact. When Servant of the Underworld begins, he’s only recently been promoted and hates it. Has a strained relationship with his living family, due largely to not having lived up to his (dead) parents’ desires for him to become a warrior like his brother Neutemoc. Bitter, cynical, and grumpy, but devoted to justice and fairness.
Has an official character sheet.
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CEYAXOCHITL “Everyone has to grow up and take responsibilities. Even small, humble priests.” Guardian of the Sacred Precinct and wielder of the power of the Duality (Ometeotl), which makes her the sworn protector of the Mexica Empire and its Revered Speaker from all sorts of mainly-magical threats. Somewhat past middle age but still very strong in her magical abilities, and something of an antagonistic mentor to Acatl. (She nominated him for the position of High Priest. He is not appreciative.) Serious and devoted to her duty, with a keen eye for potential in others. Dies in Harbinger of the Storm and you WILL cry.
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NEUTEMOC “Priests hide and run away. Warriors don’t.” Acatl’s older brother, a Jaguar Knight with five children and a failing marriage. Resents Acatl for not helping to support their aging parents by becoming a warrior like he did. The central suspect during most of Servant of the Underworld’s plot, though by the end he and Acatl have begun to repair their relationship. He is strict, stern, and bitter, but truly loves his family. (In the case of his younger brother, that love is buried very deep down.)
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TEOMITL “If we don’t believe in ourselves, who is going to?” Acatl’s student, an enthusiastic warrior who yearns to prove himself worthy of his power and noble rank, as well as live up to the memory of the mother who died birthing him. During Servant of the Underworld he swears himself to Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of fresh water and lakes, gaining (among other things) command over the man-eating water monsters called ahuitzotls. He is courting Mihmatini during Harbinger of the Storm; by the time Master of the House of Darts takes place, they are married. He is abrasive and proud, but also honest, loyal, and brave. And very, very ambitious. You will want to punch him several times. This is normal. (Also, I will swear that it's not just my ship-goggles being on too tight that has me thinking his relationship with Acatl is much more weighty and personal than the one he has with his ACTUAL WIFE.)
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MIHMATINI “Better laugh, and smile at the flowers and jade. Life is too short to be spent grieving.” Acatl and Neutemoc’s youngest sister, a powerful magic-user who finds herself thrust into the position of Guardian during Harbinger of the Storm. Though she has no great ambitions herself—she mostly just wants to be a mother and raise children—she is ferociously protective of her family and will fight anything that threatens them. Even themselves. (Especially themselves.) Kind, caring, and light-hearted, but her acid tongue and sharp temper are not to be dismissed. "Fuck Around And Find Out" given human form.
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ACAMAPICHTLI “We have always endured.” High priest of Tlaloc and a reoccurring thorn in Acatl’s side. Though he’s primarily out for his own gain and has no patience for Acatl’s refusal to play on the field of Imperial politics, they eventually form something like an uneasy truce following the end of Harbinger of the Storm. He is snarky and sardonic, but truly cares for his clergy. During Master of the House of Darts he somehow became one of my favorite characters.
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TIZOC "I've always known that priests couldn't be trusted. You have just exceeded my expectations." Teomitl’s older brother, first Master of the House of Darts and then Revered Speaker. (Look, it’s not a spoiler if you can Google it.) He is cowardly, ambitious, and the closest thing this series has to an overarching antagonist. Among other things, tries to have Acatl executed during Harbinger of the Storm. Events at the end of that book only manage to make him measurably worse. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #1.
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QUENAMI “Oh, Acatl. Such lack of tact. You are so unsuited for the Court.” High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, appointed by Tizoc between Servant of the Underworld and Harbinger of the Storm. Comes from a noble family, and is much better at diplomacy and playing politics than he is at magic. When push comes to shove, however, he can display some surprising determination. He is arrogant, scheming, and takes joy in cutting Acatl down, but presumably has some good qualities...somewhere. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #2.
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Maps of the series’ primary setting
Setting Primers
Official Character Index
Glossary
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radioactivepeasant · 4 years ago
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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday
(Part 2 of yesterday's snippet!)
Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. 
Luke had been so sure of himself when he'd entered the chamber. He knew what he had to do, and he knew there was always a chance that he would die in the attempt. But his friends -- no, his family -- were trapped in this facility, and Luke would not let them die.
Yoda didn't understand. He claimed to have watched over Luke all his life. He criticized Luke for looking to the future and not the present. 
If the present is so important, Master, if you can see so far, why didn't you see that Leia's been tortured by Vader before? How can you be willing to let her fall into his hands again?
No. Luke would never let that happen. His friend was more important than his training: he would never choose to let someone die for his own benefit. 
That's not the kind of Jedi I'm going to be.
And so he had chosen to fight.
But there was a problem. 
Darth Vader had chosen not to fight.
The man's presence filled the room like smoke, billowing and curling around them both as though it could cut off every escape route. Maybe it could. Luke was not foolish enough to believe that Vader was vulnerable, just because he refused to draw his sword. The Force was with him, after all. Corrupted, used for selfish purposes, but nevertheless a powerful ally. 
But Vader did not attack.
Again and again he admonished Luke for his aggression. A hint of scolding. A hint of fond exasperation. As if he were a teacher correcting a favored pupil. 
Or a fa-
Luke cut off the thoughts in fury. His enemy was underestimating him. Patronizing the would-be Jedi, so sure of his own superiority. 
This was not a Darth Vader he had seen before. Where was the cold pragmatism? The apathy towards others? Clearly it had been in play when he had harmed Han and Leia and Chewie. 
"I have no specific grievance against those you keep company with."
And that was worse. Infinitely worse. Everything he had done to his friends -- to Leia! -- and he didn't even have any particular issues with them?! If he could torture someone he didn't hate, what would he do to someone he did have a grudge against?
What will he do to me?
Now he walked down the stairs, ignoring Luke's lightsaber, speaking calmly as though he could pretend he hadn't just used sentient beings as bait to draw him here. It didn't work like that! He couldn't just make Luke drop his guard with honeyed words. Every child raised on Tatooine knew the danger of those who spoke sweetly and held a transmitter behind their backs. Luke wasn't going to fall for it and he wasn't shy about saying so.
"The jakreb learns to listen before he runs," his enemy quoted suddenly. He sounded amused.
That was an old saying on Tatooine. A proverb to teach children to watch carefully for signs of danger before making a move. There should have been no reason for Vader to know it.
None whatsoever.
I don't like this. Something is wrong.
Something plucked at his memories. A tickle at the back of his mind, like a spider crawling across his skin. Nothing concrete, but a nameless, formless, something. 
"The dragon who moves too soon is a dragon who starves," Luke shot back, a little rashly.
Another old proverb. Less about wariness and caution and more about patience. 
I know what you're doing, old man. You're the dragon. I'm the jakreb. So which one of us is going to move first?
But Vader kept walking. After all this, after the horrible things he'd done just to get Luke here, he was just...just leaving?! But that didn't make any sense!
“You want me to drop my guard, so you can kill me. Just like you did to Ben!” he accused.
He turned his blade to a more horizontal guard and stepped up to the high ground. 
If Vader was trying to lure him in close enough to run him through, he was going to be disappointed. 
“Luke.” Vader shook his head and continued to descend the staircase. Again his voice was sickeningly compassionate. “Obi-wan allowed himself to be killed. What his motives could have been, I do not know. He told himself and everyone around him such pretty lies that I am no longer certain that even he knew what his motivations were. But I assure you that whatever he did, he did so deliberately.”
The bottom seemed to drop out of Luke's stomach. There was so much anger hiding in those words. Maybe Vader didn't have a vendetta against Luke's friends, but it was very clear that he'd hated Obi-wan. But why?
Ben said that Vader betrayed and murdered his father. He said nothing about Vader betraying him. And he'd given no hint that there might be particularly bad blood between them. Did he just think it wasn't Luke's business?
But Luke knew that Vader was right about one thing: Ben had chosen to die at that particular moment. “To give us time to escape," he said defiantly. Lightsaber at the ready, he cautiously began to descend the stairs after Vader. "So we could destroy your Death Star! Worked out pretty well, Vader.”
“Indeed?” 
Vader glanced back over his shoulder at Luke, then stepped off the edge of the platform. 
What the kriff?!
He was leaving! Why? Was this room a trap? Would he activate one of those machines as soon as he was out?
Oh no way. Not a chance. You don't get to walk away from me, Sithspawn.
Luke scrambled to the edge of the platform in time to see Vader stepping into one of the maintenance tunnels.
“That is a topic for speculation, I believe," the rumbling voice echoed back. Luke definitely caught some sarcasm in his tone. "But for all the times your “Ben” betrayed me, it is fitting that in his final moments he unwittingly revealed you to me. Returning what he stole all those years ago.”
What.
The reverberating breaths faded out, and Luke stood at the edge of the platform. He tried to piece together what he'd just heard logically.
Had Ben stolen something from Vader? If the Sith wanted it, it was probably a good thing Obi-wan had taken it. Whatever it was. Maybe a weapon?
Luke's heart sank as he looked down at the brilliant blue glow of his saber. 
Vader killed his father. He might have felt that Anakin's lightsaber rightfully belonged to him.
What do I do?! This is my lightsaber! My inheritance. It's all I have of my father and I will not let him take that away.
Luke's emotions twisted around each other, bending back over themselves in a discordant jangle of mismatched rhythms as he tried to understand what was happening. The grip of the saber was slick in his hands. 
I'm…
No, no, I can do this.
I'm scared 
I can do this!
He was being torn in two different directions. Every fiber of his being begged him to flee. To not walk into what could very well be a trap. But at the same time, something down that tunnel was calling him. Like a cord wrapped around his heart, steadily pulling him to an unknown destination, he felt the whispers more than he heard them.
I'm scared. 
It's alright to be scared. I'm here.
They weren't words so much as sensations. Faintly brushing against his memory like a butterfly's wing, the whispers seemed to promise that everything would be alright, he just couldn't look back. 
Frightened, but determined, Luke clipped his saber to his belt and eased over the edge of the platform. 
It's okay. I can do this. 
I can win.
Just don't look back. 
The instant Luke stepped into the tunnel, the lights snapped on. He had a feeling that he was walking into a trap. But then, the place he had just left felt like a trap, too. 
Kriff kriff kriff.
Stupid jakreb hopped right into the snare.
There was a control room at the end of the tunnel. 
There was a Sith Lord at the end of the tunnel.
Luke had his lightsaber out almost before he had time to think. 
A grate slid shut over the tunnel mouth behind him, cutting off his retreat.
Well. 
At least he could see in this room.
"Put down your weapon, young one," Vader said again. He did not even turn away from the holographic map to face Luke. 
"Not. Happening." Luke bared his teeth and forced himself to take two steps forward. "You have to answer for what you did, Vader. To my friends, and the galaxy, and the Jedi...and my father."
Quite suddenly, Vader's shoulders fell. He leaned against the projector as if he were bone-weary. 
"Child, I have done nothing to your father."
He still did not turn.
"He is a contemptible, pitiable wretch, too quick to give his loyalty to those who do not deserve it. But he is a powerful wretch. Powerful enough to conceal your existence from the emperor for the last three years."
Luke stumbled back. His father's lightsaber hung by his side uselessly.
Present tense.
Darth Vader was speaking about his father in the present tense.
Anakin Skywalker. 
Present tense.
"You...you're lying."
No please, please don't be lying-
I can't…
Don't toy with me you sleemo
Don't you dare use my father's memory as a ploy-
At last, Vader turned to face him. "I have done what I can, Luke," he said simply. "But now we are out of time."
"I have done what I can"
Something cold and clammy slithered in Luke's gut. It knotted in coils around his spine to sink its teeth into his heart. Against his will, tears sprang to his eyes.
He knew Darth Vader was evil, but this was a cruelty he had not expected. The carefully laid trap, baited with words, and the insinuations eased between sentences, struck deeper than any lightsaber's blow. He played on the memory of Luke's father -- of his loneliness, his lifelong yearning for his father -- and twisted it. Perverted it into an attempt at manipulation so blatant it could hardly be believed.
Did he believe it was an attempt at manipulation?
What if it was worse? What if Vader actually believed what he seemed to be implying? Pointing out how illogical it was could quickly become dangerous. But Luke was past the point of caring.
"You...you aren't half the man my father was!" he hissed. 
Something bitter and almost amused dripped from the Sith to puddle around Luke's fear.
"An ironic statement."
"You don't know me!" Luke continued gamely on as if he had not been interrupted. "You think you're the first person to play mind games with my memories? Huh? Kriff you!"
He swung the blade up in a ready position. 
Darth Vader tilted his head to one side, considering.
"This is not going to go the way you think."
The spiders were back, creeping across his brain. Luke blinked and shook his head to clear it. Losing his focus here would be fatal.
"Don't fight it."
Vader raised a hand towards him, almost reaching out. 
"You have been running for a long time. It is alright to rest, now."
Was the Sith doing something to his mind?!
But Ben said mind tricks only worked on the weak-willed! And Yoda was always complaining about how stubborn he was!
"Get out of my head!" Luke shouted. Don't panic, don't panic-
"It is not me." 
Oh, gentleness did not sound right coming out of that voice.
"You have forgotten who you are, and yet from our first encounter your memories have tried to reestablish themselves. Stop fighting them, Luke. Let them flow."
Luke stopped pretending he wasn't afraid. He was terrified. He was alone in an isolated place, too far away to call for help, and trapped with a deadly enemy who meant to prey upon his very sense of self. 
His hands were shaking too badly to hold up his father's blade. This was so stupid, he was so stupid, he never should have come here! He had to get out, there had to be a way out!
Luke scanned the room frantically for an exit. He backed away from Vader and edged towards what looked like a corridor. 
"Luke."
"No!" 
Luke stumbled over a bundle of cables on the floor and nearly fell. He managed a graceful recovery despite his terror and kept moving.
"Stay away from me!"
Vader did not. He began to move at last, slow and purposeful and relentless. 
The Force moved around them like a frigid tide, pulling machinery from the walls to land behind Luke. He was cutting off his escape. The trap had been sprung.
"Stop running, Luke."
"Leave me alone!"
He was pleading now.
All sense of bravado, of dignity, had fled.
Obi-wan was right. I'm not ready. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die-
If Leia lives, it's worth it
But I don't-
I don't want to die
And then at last, he could go no further. His calves caught on some discarded hunk of metal, and toppled him. Sharp, broken pieces dug into his back as he landed. The pain felt distant, like something that was happening to someone else. Luke's increasing disorientation muffled everything but his fear.
This was the end. Luke, on the ground at Darth Vader's feet. If the encounter didn't end in immediate death, his interrogation was likely imminent. 
But Vader 
Knelt.
He kneeled down beside Luke and rested his gloved hand on Luke's cheek. Luke was very sure that his heart was going to stop.
Oh. He's going to snap my neck. At least it'll be quick.
"Enough, child." A deep bass growl vibrated through the words. He sounded as though he was finally angry. "I am not going to kill you!"
Before Luke had time to process that, he added, "I am trying to save you."
Save me?! From what?!
Luke swung out with one arm, trying to push the dark lord away. Vader caught his wrist easily and squeezed it. 
"You know me." Each syllable dripped with an unexpected urgency. "Search your feelings: you will know it to be true. Remember, Luke. You must remember."
"No!" Luke tried in vain to pull away. "S-stop!"
He was pulled, gently, but firmly, up into a sitting position. 
He was pulled, less gently, by the thread around his soul. It reached out, straining for something it had once known. A sense of something missing. 
A sense that was being answered in kind.
And he felt something. Something he had felt before. 
Or rather 
Someone.
Luke knew the answer to the question his soul was asking. 
He didn't want to know. 
He didn't want to face it. 
No, no please-! 
"You have forgotten what you once knew," Vader murmured. "You have forgotten me. And I- I believed you had died."
Seething shadows coiled around them both. 
"The Emperor will suffer no Skywalker to be free. If he is not entirely beneath the emperor's thumb, then he must die. If you lived, his hold on me was jeopardized. Luke, he told me you were dead. But here you are, alive again!"
Skywalker. 
Vader was referring to himself as Skywalker. 
The Force resonated. A great bell seemed to have tolled, and with each reverberation the jagged pieces were forced together. 
Darkness and Light.
Hunter and quarry. 
Lost and found. 
Father and son.
Luke could not see through his tears. He didn't need to. He could feel. 
The Force was no longer a counterpoint around them. It was a harmony. And that was the hardest truth of all.
Shhh, you are safe. I'm here, I'm here.
The same soundless lullaby that had soothed his childhood nightmares. The thing he had forgotten.
His father's voice. 
I know you. 
"Oh." Darth Vader lifted him free of the machinery as easily as if he were still a little child. 
He pulled Luke into his arms. Luke did not have the strength to resist.
“There you are.”
235 notes · View notes
geminijoonie · 4 years ago
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Take care of you
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Summary: “No I’m a surprise,” you say sounding all sassy and smiling where your cheeks fluff up and you look like a pufferfish and it always gets Namjoon. His eyes are crescents, dimples peeking from his cheeks.
“What would they say if they saw the big bad Kim Namjoon like this?” you ask raising your brow not as good as Namjoon but it gets the job done.
note: Hello, I am back after months with this piece. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading.
➡Mafia!Namjoon x reader
➡Warnings: 18+, Mentions of sex, reader’s family not letting her eat
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Namjoon hates parties. Sure he’s the CEO, of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, the biggest and most feared in South Korea so he could have sent his associates or one of his brothers to attend this party but he was there for a very specific reason. Y O U.
With a frontal name of BigHit Inc., run by the most fearsome mafia BTS behind it, the most fierce crime lords and not by the old fashioned guns and murders way well, that sometimes yes, but mostly financial crimes, stealing money and intellectual property theft done so well they’ve been thriving the last few decades when their fathers, mafia bosses, seven families joined hands together to be sworn allies promising to take down and gain power over the corrupt government. Now run by their sons seven men, most of them educated in Ivy League schools. 5 of them even hold dual degrees, their leader Kim Namjoon or RM even holds a fucking Ph.D. A born genius, his IQ only amplifying his true potential. His members' capabilities, work ethic complimenting the jobs they pull off together as a team. This team was perfect and solid in all ways made to rule. As if fate had brought them together.
The party was boring as usual. All of the crime lords and mafia bosses with their families were here. It reminded Namjoon of the party, similar to this where he first laid his eyes on you. His gaze traveling from the bar section of the huge ballroom towards you at the opposite end where you were forced to make small talk. You stared back at him with the same intensity. Your eyes catching his gaze, latching onto his dragon eyes drowning in those dark orbs that stared at you. You weren’t afraid, not even intimated. No sign of a blush. You weren’t swooning like those other girls. You simply stared back at him equally fierce taking his presence in. Your own doe-like eyes even if not as sharp as his, held enough power to not only draw the attention of the most powerful, eligible bachelor, most feared CEO of an empire himself but also spark something in him. And ever since then your life and these parties have been different. You solely come here to see him. And the same for him. To see you.
What Namjoon and you shared was special. With your family owning amalgamation of big companies, reputable among the mafia bosses and crews it came with lots of curfews for you the heiress to your father. You were an asset. One that would be traded someday. To a man that would be chosen for you, based on his family, money and what value he can derive for your father and his business. And you shall be his dutiful wife, produce an heir and then wait for death inside some mansion. This was your fear. You were disgusted whenever any thoughts of how your future would be like crossed your mind. Amidst all the chaos, uncertainty and lack of control in your own life, you met Namjoon, your Joon. The man changed your entire perspective on love, intimacy and boy he had you pining for him even yearning. But what you didn’t realize is he was yours since he saw you for the first time two months ago.
Namjoon’s at his usual spot. By the bar. Waiting for you. With a drink in his hand. There was no way he could take you on dates given your family. The curfews. And that bullshit about what girls and women can and cannot do. He hated the way women were treated. He was lucky that his father was not as stupid as the others. He made sure that his sister was sent away to Switzerland to study, and live her life the way she wants to like any normal girl. And she was happy and so was his mother who lived in Japan with her own small business, even enjoying life. He hoped one day he can go away somewhere with you. Away from all this. Take you on dates. Hold your hand while he walks next to you. Kiss your cheeks whenever he wanted to. Make you giggle with all the cheesy compliments and then make out till his heart's content. Right now he had to settle for stealing glances in between. Carefully brushing his hand whenever he walked near you. This is all the affection or physical contact he’d get. On a good day, when people at the party would be preoccupied with taking some political party member down or something like that Namjoon would sneak you out to the roof, or to the parking lot inside his car to steal kisses. Heated kisses. Passionate kisses. One where he’d drag your soft lips between his teeth just to hear that moan. Running his hands all over your body while you clutched his torso, held on to his pecs and squeezed his biceps for dear life gasping for air. His plump lips swollen, his shirt buttons open, neck and collarbones littered with hickeys and marks you’d leave every time you had one of your little adventures. Namjoon would give anything to mark you just one small hickey but he couldn’t and he won’t risk your family finding you out. You have stylists and beauty consultants that will scan every inch of your body and he couldn’t afford to get you in trouble. So he holds back and tells himself that he’ll wait for the day, that one day you’ll be his.
All these thoughts suddenly clouding his mind made him feel so empty his forehead sweaty. He decided to step out to the balcony a little disappointed that he’s not seen you yet. He made sure your family was invited. He knows you’ll be there with them as your parents like to show you off like some diamond jewelry piece or an ornament they possess. The thought of you being married to someone else makes Namjoon’s blood boil. And even at these parties the way the other men scan your body, while you’re in your tight-fitting dresses draping your body perfectly makes him want to take his gun out and shoot them all. He looks over to the night sky sighing and drinking his third glass of scotch. Namjoon suddenly feels a pair of hands right above his navel and he’s ready to smack that person but he hears your voice and jolts instead trying to turn.
“Boo!”
“Were you supposed to meet me here?” Namjoon asks with a grin, lifting a brow as if he didn’t just get scared and pulls your wrist around his waist towards his back so he can hug you.
“No I’m a surprise,” you say sounding all sassy and smiling where your cheeks fluff up and you look like a pufferfish and it always gets Namjoon. His eyes are crescents, dimples peeking from his cheeks.
“What would they say if they saw the big bad Kim Namjoon like this?” you ask raising your brow not as good as Namjoon but it gets the job done.
“If I didn’t hear your voice, but only felt hands and if it weren’t you, they’d be dead princess” he responds voice deep and low holding that timber, his the last four words whispered into your ear. His breath making you feel ticklish so you giggle. He looks around to check if any eyes were on him and then, quickly pulls you into a hug. You smell divine as usual. Namjoon dips lower and places his chin near your neck. He loves it. The smell of your perfume, your shampoo combined with your own sweet natural scent. Makes him feel like some kind of animal, primal instincts kicking in and he knows if he keeps his head there he’s a goner. But what he feels now is different than usual. Your body is warmer to his touch. He’s used to how you normally feel. And right now you feel warm, your skin hot when he slots his fingers on your forehead brushing your hair to the side.
“Looks like you’re running a fever are you okay princess?” he asks his voice suddenly all serious, brows furrowed his gaze boring to where his hands meet your skin. You want to say that you’re okay, but you’re not. You feel sore everywhere. Your legs hurt from wearing heels. Your dress is too tight and you’re hating the way it feels all over your body. It’s making you feel uncomfortable. The material just feeling torturous against your feverish skin. You haven’t had proper meals because your family starved you so don’t look bloated for today’s event. They wouldn’t even feed you when you were sick. You threw up twice but they still made you come here. You need an IV probably. You thought you’d text Namjoon but since they were going to make you attend this party anyways might as well be here and get some serotonin from seeing him. You were always trained to say you’re okay. Making yourself seem strong. Your needs were never to be put first. But right now the way Namjoon looks at you, with so much care and concern makes your heart ache so you give in, tell him and you just want to sit down because you don’t know when your dizziness will be back. You want to cry because you’re so annoyed and irritated your brain a mess.
“No” you squeak out. You eyes now glossy and Namjoon’s heart just breaks at that. Only after a few seconds does he realize how your face gives away the exhaustion after he looked at it a little longer. The bags under your eyes can be seen. Even if the concealer did a good job of hiding the dark circles Namjoon can see how truly tired and exhausted you must be feeling. Your cheeks more hollow. Your posture barely making you stand straight or still. Fidgety. Weak. You lean into his arms. Your forehead meets his shoulder. His black blazer feels so soft. You sigh. you want to just stay there. Namjoon carefully pulls you off him while he cups your cheek and tells you that you both should move somewhere more private. You nod and sneak out of the room. Thankfully the party today was at a hotel, one of Seoul’s biggest and Namjoon makes some calls while you’re walking his hands securing you by his side while you make your way out. Namjoon notices how it’s hard for you to match his stride today. Even though the man is 70% legs you usually keep up with him by walking faster or leaping. But today you’re barely able to keep up with his slowest smallest strides. You walk for what feels like an hour but it’s just been two minutes. You’re back at the reception lobby and you see someone guide you and Namjoon to the elevator. The next thing you know you’re in a hotel room.
Namjoon leads you towards the bed once you’re in the room and the door is locked. A few seconds later you hear rustling and you know they’re the guards placed outside the door for security. You sit on the bed your legs finally catching a break from carrying you and the stupid dress around with those stupid heels. You loved wearing heels but not today sis. In your hazy state you try to pull them off only that you forgot to remove the strap first through the small metal buckle. The dress making it a struggle to bend over and reach for the straps. Namjoon sees your struggle and can’t help but let out a small giggle. You look up at him with those doe eyes, confused and there it goes his heart sinks again. He makes way his towards you, leans down on both his knees. He gently takes your right foot into his palm and with the other hand makes quick work to get you out of your heels. Within seconds he was able to accomplish what you were trying so hard to do. And with one of your problems gone, you just fall back onto the plush bed all grace forgotten. Once the head hits the soft cloud-like mattress you let out a sigh of happiness and then a groan. Your feet are still hanging downwards to the floor, your back was on the bed arched so you can rest your head down. But more comfortable than standing or walking right now but you’ll take it. Too tired to move you give up fatigue finally settling in.
“Move up sweetheart you’ll hurt your back” you hear Namjoon say but you have no energy. You don’t even respond sleep already taking over you. Especially now that you were safe, away from those eyes, your parents probably thought you’ll be talking to some guy impressing someone but little did they know you’d be here a few floors above the party with Joon. You don’t know what to call your little arrangement or these little sneaking out sessions are. You don’t know what Namjoon is to you. The two of you haven’t talked about it. It’s weird because you’ve talked about fate, why Namjoon hates seafood and how much you love the rain, the fraud patterns in his business but never about what Namjoon is to you. Not that you need a label, and not that maybe calling him your boyfriend would be a label like that, you’d actually like it. All you know is Namjoon likes you, for sure I mean he wouldn’t be kissing you like a starved man, you shoving your tongue down his throat or else. You know you love him but you don’t know if he loves you yet. It’s too much to ask for. Given the circumstances. You’re just glad you found him. And whatever moments you’ll get to share you’ll cherish them now and forever. You start thinking about all these moments while sleep pulled you in completely and you don’t hear Namjoon call your name again. You don’t hear him trying to wake you up. You don’t feel his hands cupping your cheek. You sure as hell don’t even feel his lips peck yours which is the first time in a while now. You don’t feel him undo some buttons and zips to get you off that dress. You don’t even feel the way he tucks you in.
All you now know is you wake up in a blanket nest. Soft blankets against your cheek, your hands, your legs. You sigh at this feeling smiling to yourself. You’re moving and stretching. Feeling like a new person. You’re fully awake now even though you haven’t opened your eyes and that’s when you hear him
“Can you hear me now sleepy head?” you know he’s only teasing you but you pout before opening your eyes to see him at the other side of the room with an amused smile.
“New person who dis” you reply only making him laugh. Namjoon’s shirtless. He’s wearing his dress pants, his blazer hung at the corner neatly next to your dress. And that’s when you realize you’re wearing his shirt while you napped.
“What time is it” you ask yawning. and when Namjoon says you register you’ve napped for three full hours. He makes his way towards you. He slowly climbs on the bed stretching his arm out for you and you waste no time in jumping to his embrace with your new-found energy. Namjoons smiling at that. He can never get used to how perfectly you fit against him. He’s the one sighing in comfort now. Sometimes Namjoon can’t tell if you know that he loves you or not. The way you make him feel. The way you make him crave your heart.
You peek up from his shoulder to look at him, his eyes never leaving you.
“Hi” you whisper smiling at him
“Hii” he replies back matching your hushed tone dimples on display and you can’t help but poke them. From here you can see how versatile Namjoon is. His expressions outside the usual are deadly. His sharp dragon eyes, jutted jaw, furrowed brows he looks dangerous and lethal. But now all you see is a soft dimpled giant with the cutest button nose and crescent eyes. His eyes hold so much warmth.
He gently cards fingers through your hair asking if your feeling better to which you nod. You reach up to peck his lips. And once you slot your lips onto his plush and soft ones you want more. You move your hand to the back of his head lightly carding your fingers through his hair spurring him on. Namjoon takes this incentive and slots his lips back to yours. You look so damn good in his shirt and now his mind is going crazy. Thoughts racing. He tilts your head so he can angle himself better. Little sucks and swipes of his tongue against your lips and mouth have your knees weak. He knows how to claim his jackpot already knows what makes you react and what you like. One hand reached down to knead your ass. You moan against his mouth breathless as you take him in. Lips swollen, luscious and glossy. Your eyes are unrelenting. And he decided it is at this moment, he has to tell you. He fears the worst will happen. That you’ll say no. And he might never get to see you again. Ever. But the way your body molds in his arms, the way you only always react to him, the way you make his heart always beat faster.
“Y/N I really re-really like you”  there it was. That slight stutter. To Namjoon each second felt like a minute now but your eyes become wide and yoU smile a million-watt smile a second later. His hopes are back up. A warm feeling in his chest. Like a lightbulb inside him was lit. You can see him glowing. Now that the weight of his worries is halved. You cup his cheeks. And he thaws in your affection.
“I like you too Joon” you say voice barely above a whisper. You feel like a teenager confessing to her crush. You cheeks are painted red and Namjoon hasn’t seen a beautiful sight before. And now it’s actually your turn to get something off your chest.
“Heck I might even love you Kim Namjoon what are you doing to me” you say before you can think more and it has Namjoon visibly gasping and he pulls you in for another kiss. This time softer. Truly holding you against him. The way you belong to him. And the way he belongs to you. No more unsaid words. No more doubts.
“fuck baby girl be mine I love you too” he whispers inbetween kisses. You want to say something back but his lips are back on yours, molding them, tongue exploring. Leaving kisses at the corner of your mouth. On your chin. Your jaw. Slowly making its way down to your neck. You’re already so far gone you’re a whiny mess. Your body jolting backwards each time his lips touch the skin on your neck. fuck, you were so sensitive and that had his mind filled with filth. Moans dripping when he sucks and licks so gently. Your hand on his pecs, gripping his biceps or at the nape of his neck. Gentle touches, gets him so riled up and you know it. Moments with you like this lets him break his facade. Dive into his desires.
“So sensitive for me” Namjoon mutters to himself continuing his ministrations. One hand at the back supporting you, holding you strong. Another rubbing circles at your stomach for a few seconds, then holding you by the shoulder the next few seconds or groping your breasts softly making you whimper and suck in breaths.
Only when he slips his hand under his shirt on you does he realize the added warmth to your skin is from your fever reminding him of exhausted state and whatever you have going on will only make it worse if you don’t get to rest. Namjoon feels how flaccid and sunken your tummy feels. Not the way it usually does. He can easily notice all the inches you’ve lost. And suddenly there’s a change of energy.
“Those assholes, fuck princess let me take care of you” he says letting you go. His eyes have already changed. The hurt and anger you could see in them made a shiver run up your spine. You can never get used to his eyes. The anger he is actually capable of. He’s always so kind, gentle and sweet to you but that’s just one side. Within minutes there’s food at your room. Everything that you like is here. Gimbap but with extra cheese. Kimchi-jigae with egg-fried rice rather than normal rice because you like it that way and even some dessert. This man really put in everything he knew about you. You looked at him with so much adoration it only made his face turn red while he looked down and scratched the back of his head. Kim Namjoon was shy right now all dimples and smiling. You giggled and pulled him towards you so the two of you can enjoy this meal. You don’t know when your phone will start blowing up. You don’t know when you’ll have to leave, go away from Joon, his warmth, his comfort and his solace. So you take in this moment with everything it has to offer. Grateful that even the few minutes you spent awake with this man made you feel loved to the extent where you're always at a loss of words.  
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divider: @graph1cs
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godkilller · 3 years ago
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❝ gin--! ❞
he had called his name that night - screamed it, really -- when he had seen the small body being swept under kisuke's arm. he had screamed after them, those two -- only the howling from his captain had diverted kisuke urahara from what he had been about to do. for all of aizen's abilities -- he could not yet face down a bankai.
he had tried, though -- had tried. the captain had been skilled, however. cunning. even with the kanzen saimin in place, he had still landed a hit and kaname-- kaneme! he'd been breathing at least, and it'd been enough for aizen to pull him up and get them both to the fourth that night, collapsing from pain and bloodloss, deliriously mumbling of having been attacked by interrupting the captain in what he'd been doing --
collaborators.
he had made urahara into a proper patsy, had cared only about that -- until he'd woken up and found everything out. a month and more -- more -- since kisuke had taken him. and more than him -- more than that, more than --
a hilt wrapped in a shade that was not teal was grasped between his fingers as he stared at the place to which he'd been guided, coaxed, kyoka's awareness linked to another, one not his own. weeks it has been and he is here now, the shop standing no chance against the wrath of the one who now wears the haori lined with turquoise. a shade so near gin's eyes -- he is here, now, the smoldering wreckage proving his fury as he sweeps to --
there.
the entrance is easy to discover, a flaring of power and it splinters under the weight of his wrath. he is quick to launch himself down there, quick to call out again.
❝ GIN--! ❞
he can sense him down here.
❝ GIN--! WHERE ARE YOU?! ❞
his is the seat of captain now and he is willing to admit he's being reckless by doing this -- but oh, the cracks in the blade that is cradled between finger and palm, the loss of not just him but the youth that had become his shadow too in one night? no. no, aizen is calling, power seething around him, seeking for him. he knows he's here. he can sense it.
he had made a promise to shinso, hadn't he--?
and to himself.
he's going to murder the former captain when he gets his hands on him but better, now, to find gin and get him out of here, isn't it--? best to sweep in and out. before the humans can investigate but oh, he's seething.
          THAT NIGHT WAS A BLUR, ROARING ECHOES AND A BLASTING FORCE.  Tsukabishi Tessai, alongside Urahara Kisuke, had been formidable indeed. Yet their appearance in the midst of Aizen’s experimentations upon Gin’s captain was a necessary interruption indeed. Not even that, an interruption, no, planned. They were to be framed, after all. Their attendance was expected and one could have even ventured to say ‘perfect’ ... that is, prior to Tessai’s casting of Hado number eighty-eight, Hiryu Gekizoku Shinten Raiho. Something Aizen had believed a subsequent casting of Danku, a Bakudo level eighty-one, to be sufficient in blocking. AND IT DID.... somewhat. Perhaps he hadn’t accounted for how serious Urahara and his allies would be in stopping them from walking away, because the Kido Master shattered through that protective wall within a flashing spark and blaze.
          It was the first time Gin had ever seen a split-second show of shock grace the Lieutenant at his side’s features. Maybe that was why he acted fast, faster than Aizen and Tousen, he had always been focused on training himself to strike wickedly swift, and he did not disappoint them then. Gin had drawn Shinso and cut lightning. But he was still, no matter his speed or darting blade, a mere boy, a Third Seat standing against the snarling storm of a Kido Master’s design, and for the split second of deflecting there came many more agonizing seconds thereafter of rippling defeat as the high level Kido won over. Shocks shot through his body, cracked across Shinso’s blade till it flew from his grasp and embedded itself into the ground, a mirroring effect onto its wielder as Gin was blasted by that same force which proceeded to send him backward, flying, tumbling, tumbling, and black.
          Perhaps they had felt guilty, striking down some young and promising kid when they truly had wanted Aizen to be hit, and that was why Gin awoke within an unfamiliar abode. Or maybe Urahara Kisuke wanted information, and Gin was to be hostage, informant, kept holed up -- because when Gin gathered his surroundings, his state  ( sore, scuffed up, and the worst headache -- the rest he couldn’t tell, bandaged up -- where was Shinso? A hand flying out, reaching, searching blind before he even turned his head to look. Ah, fuck, he must’ve dropped it, yeah... he dropped it, and they hadn’t taken it with him, damn it )  ... it was his immediate reaction to seek an escape.
          That hadn’t gone too well. Guarding the exit, despite Gin’s careful and silent steps, was Yoruichi. He knew he couldn’t outrun her. Flash Goddess, wasn’t she? Best to not even bother making a fool of himself. Especially whilst still aching from the blast he took.
          He was implored to rest, to stay put, to recover and that he couldn’t go back.
          Gin couldn’t open a Senkaimon without Shinso, and thus that held true; he couldn’t go back even if he managed to run past the shopkeeper and bolt.
          Urahara Kisuke was not a cruel man, Gin found, but he was also the secretive type, and the kind of man that seemed to believe that he knew what was best. That sort of cruel. He believed and enacted his beliefs regardless of protest. Like so, in that keeping Gin here was best. Part of Gin wanted to agree, to stay, be plucked from Aizen’s clutches and be free of those howling nights... yet the other yearned to return, ached even. He felt he didn’t belong, this was wrong. Particularly a potent realization that he was no longer within the Seireitei, he wanted to return to Rangiku. Oh, she was going to be so worried. No doubt Aizen still spun the story of the villainous Urahara Kisuke, no doubt Gin’s own name had been listed as one of his victims. But Aizen would know better than to write him off as dead, surely. No, he’d know better, knew his boy prodigy could take a hit -- and certainly his Zanpakuto remained behind, yet solid and tangible, it hadn’t vanished to signal the death of its wielder. Likely Gin was reported as kidnapped.
          And Aizen would likely be searching for him, among others.
          Gin couldn’t deny the fact that, despite a fresh form of hatred brewing beneath him, seething really, a sickly stomach and a choked up throat.... how it terrified him, sometimes, to know he was well and truly entrapped by this man, no escape, already far too tangled to ever hope to pull himself away... oh, and yet he couldn’t deny that he wanted Aizen to find him. HE WAS TOO FAR DOWN THIS ROAD TO SHY AWAY NOW, too far down the line, he didn’t know what to do with himself if Aizen didn’t find him.
          Luckily, the thought didn’t plague Gin too terribly... even as days stretched on and Gin inevitably had to cave into eating what was offered to him, kind words and warm food did not reach him -- hollowly, patiently, he waited in near-muteness. HE WOULDN’T TELL URAHARA ANYTHING, no matter his gentle demeanor and respecting air, Gin steeled himself akin to a prisoner of war and it became apparent to the older man that the kid had no intentions to trust, to open up. Gin didn’t do that shit for anyone. He’d be damned if he caved and spit his secrets to the one man Aizen had verbally made known that he loathed... and if Aizen found out Gin confessed anything? Wouldn’t he then become a loose end a little... too... costly to be kept alive? Gin saw what Aizen did to pawns who disappointed him. Even Tousen, one of his top favorites, occasionally earned himself a scolding look that spoke of authority and displeasure... would Gin risk everything he had worked for thus far simply to confide in a stranger, shopkeeper, who had stolen him away from it all? No, not worth it.
          Besides, Gin knew it wouldn’t be much longer here.
          Weeks turned to a month, or something close to it.
          But Gin knew it’d be soon. Aizen was, after all, a thorough man.
          So was Urahara, as he had Gin moved downward, below the shop, across an an expansive underground training area  ( Gin didn’t bother trying to wrap his head around the fact that the ceiling looked like the sky outside, save for that ladder and opening... a strange set-up indeed )  A SMART MOVE, ultimately, as it kept Gin from being able to run away without first crawling from the single exit and entrance to the underground space, and it also kept him from getting absolutely leveled alongside the shop the moment Aizen’s reiatsu became known overhead. 
          Gin was accustomed to Aizen’s reiatsu in that he hardly even shuddered upon its weight thrashing downward, and the subsequent explosive force that wrecked the shop above. The Third Seat simply sat upright, looked upward, and held his breath. IT WAS BROAD DAYLIGHT UNDERNEATH THIS FALSE SKY, BUT GIN KNEW BETTER, he felt the chill of the air above flowing in from cracks, drafts, he knew too that Aizen would not act so boldly within a blanket of sunlight -- not yet, at least -- but still how odd it was to see moonlight begin pooling in, downward, from a sunny ceiling crumbling to give way for its visitor.
          A visitor who descended from the false sky’s wreckage as a nightbringer would, doused in darker hues, an ethereal world-ender he was making himself to be -- to become -- before Gin’s own eyes. A PART OF GIN’S UPBRINGING IN THE RUKONGAI URGED HIM TO RUN AND HIDE AT THE MERE SIGHT, seeing such a display of desperate might  ( Aizen was desperate, Aizen was pissed off, he had come for Gin and Gin alone in this moment and it both sickened and pleased him ) ... and part of Gin wanted to turn and run and not look back. HE WANTED TO STAY, HE WANTED TO WATCH THE KOI POND AND THINK NOTHING OF DEATH, CLEAN FINGERNAILS, THE PURRING OF A BLACK CAT, WARM CLOTHES... HE WANTED TO CRY, NO, TAKE ME HOME, I MISS HER, SHE’S WAITING FOR ME, PLEASE -- AH, HE WANTED TO GET OUT WHILE HE STILL COULD, STAY AWAY FROM ME, NO, HELP ME.
          Part of him lingered in shadow, stepping half a step backward rather than forward, into visibility, into Aizen’s frantic range of sight. He could hide himself still, wait for Urahara to step up to challenge Aizen’s wrath, wait for them both to clash and destroy... and then slip away. Or he could open his mouth now, and seal his fate to remain tethered to the man’s side forever more.
          He teetered there, for a second alone, at the precipice. 
          Then the boy called out to Aizen. A quick response, a signal; I’m here!
          Gin had never been one to listen to self-preserving advice.
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writingonesdreams · 4 years ago
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Novel prep tag game
WIP Stormkeeper new version
I always end up doing this thingy when the concept is changing XD this like my, what, 6th novel prep tag? Always helps.
FIRST LOOK
1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)
Cultural scientist Acacia can finally realize her dream of doing field notes in different mage regions, but has to team up with a cold and judgemental bodyguard and his careless dragon-shifting brother in the process.
The story is basically about three exceptional people that don't fit in in various ways - Wes by nature, Kyler by force and Acacia because of her interests - and how they deal with it.
2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)
One novel, maybe a series later on.
3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?
Trains, mountains, cities, lakes and fog, spirts, sandstorms and hurricanes, rain. 
4. What other stories inspire your novel?
Naruto, Frozen 2, Mash, Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Star Wars, Atla, Avatar, The greatest Showman. 
5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel
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MAIN CHARACTER
6. Who is your protagonist?
The protagonist Acacia drives the story with her goal of acquiring field notes for her research. But both Kyler and Wes are main and pov characters.
Acacia is analytical scientist and a imaginative dreamer, passionate but insecure inside. Her quick mind and abstract philosophic thought process is hard to keep up with.
7. Who is their closest ally?
Her reluctant bodyguard Kyler is son of one of the most significant Pulsor families and the most powerful and dedicated Pulsor mage (controls lighting) of his generation - but rather cold and closed off.
Kyler's younger brother Wes is the reincaratnion of a dragon - the rarest and most ancient spirits - basically a god. Mischievous, reckless but cunning, he has never been allowed to leave home before.
8. Who is their enemy?
There are no enemies per se. There are obstacles, energy thieves and Phatoms on the way, people that mean harm when they see someone different, but there is no antagonist. 
9. What do they want more than anything?
Acacia wants to make ethnographic research on the similarities between magic types and the ways of expression and attitude that add up to be the same thing - people living their lives and looking at the world through the taught lenses of their respective magical culture. 
10. Why can’t they have it?
Doing research in different regions is hard, because travelling between regions is limited and dangerous. There are Phatoms, energy thieves and people that hate differences and loathe people interested in magic not their own. 
In the end the biggest obstacle is probably the way hybrid magicians are loathed - it’s considered a betrayal and weakness not to follow one’s born in type and learn other ones as well. Something Acacia loves, and other people like Wes could use.
11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?
Kyler believes he has failed. Wes that he is not enough. Acacia that magic is the most magical thing. 
12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)
Commissioned art:
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Kyler / Acacia / Wes
PLOT POINTS
13. What is the internal conflict?
Acacia’s internal conflict is mostly about staying true to her belief that different magics can coexist and learn from each other. She is the impact and main driving character of the story - she changes the others and struggles to stay true to herself and her love for different magics and learning from them. 
Kyler’s conflict is about his perfectionalism that was recenltly ruined by his kindapping by the Shadow Cult that forced a magic upon him he hates and he can’t forgive himself for being weak enough to succumb to it. It's something that was forced upon him but became part of him nonetheless.
Wes deals with his original spirit memories not returning as they should.
14. What is the external conflict?
Acacia’s external conflict is about her love for Sight, ability to see nature spirits on another plane of existence and the danger she might lose connection to reality and her body if she spends too much time in it. 
Kyler’s conflict is dealing with the very real consequences of Shadow Craft magic being now part of him. It’s always there when he is torn or angry or hurt, crawling under his skin and he hates he can’t control it completely. 
Wes’s conflict is about finding a balance between his love for his family and the human world and the foreign yearning for his wilder dragon side. 
15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?
For Acacia to lose her connection to her body by not being able to stay in the moment. 
For Kyler it would losing control of Shadow Craft and having it rule him.
For Wes it would be being abondoned by his family and brother and losing the life he has when his memories come back and he finds out about his spirit life. 
16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?
No magic is really bad. Or good. The key is balance and intent.  
17. Do you know how it ends?
I can envision several ending scenes that would fit, they all mostly fit together. 
BITS AND BOBS
18. What is the theme?  
The main theme is self-worth, from self-understanding, acceptance of who you are with all the sides and flaws and yearnings and self-love and confidence in who you are and going after what resonates with you. Keeping the storm inside you alive so to say. 
19. What is a recurring symbol?  
Storms? XD The symbols representing each of the four main magics are moon sicle, sun, lightning bolt and a spiral. 
20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)
It’s set in modern age in a made up country divided into four regions accoriding to its dominating magic practice. These are also very different in landscapes - from mountain village of Pulsors, skyscapers of Aurals, lake bungallows of Sensors to deserts of Resonants. 
21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?
The big tentpole scenes are pretty sure, the rest I will figure as I go. 
22. What excited you about this story?  
The way I can use magic types as metaphors for fictional cultures and explore their related views and approaches. The different value systems are much clearer in such a excessive example. 
Also all my favourite tropes fit into the story! From rivals to lovers, brothers, trio dynamics, gradual friendships, bodyguards, spirits, Shifters, reincarnations, dragons, healing, deeling with the fixed and growth mindset, perfectionalism and vulnerbility, how to stay in the present moment, how to find balance, different ways to express emotions, how to deal with differences, understanding vs tolerance vs acceptance, how to find - cope - stay true as well as have faith and confidence in who you are...all questions I'm personally very curious about.
23. Tell us about your usual writing method!  
Building and living with characters in countless AUs, finding their arcs and a story to best realize them, magic system, themes and thematic questions I want to explore, finding a story to frame those, brainstorming, outlining and hopefully writing before the idea loses its spark. 
***
Tagging if you want to play: @catharticallysarcastic @akindofmagictoo @estrella-writings @zielenbloesem @waysofink
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missroseotua · 3 years ago
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Introducing Rose! Sans, an UNDERTALE Out! Code character— a character who lives outside the boundaries of their AU (if they have one) and wanders across the multiverse.
BACKSTORY:
Rose! Sans was created with one sole purpose; wander and observe each and every AU.
He fulfills his duty to soothe his hungry, yearning curiosity for adventure, as well as gathering essential information for his creator, a fandom fanatic named Miss Rose, who is in the process of making a logbook of every UNDERTALE AU in the multiverse. This special logbook would serve as a future book of inspiration for Miss Rose, who plans on making the perfect AU for Rose! Sans using all the concepts and ideas gathered from all the other AUs.
Rose! Sans currently does not have his own AU, so he spends his free time (when he’s not on duty) in a personalized void he calls “The Garden of Memories”, which in short is a void filled with a vast stash of items, antiques and other bizarre things he found in his adventures in other AUs. Miss Rose also spends her time in the void, usually chatting with Rose! Sans or filling her logbook with a cup of tea by her side.
Rose! Sans, when fulfilling his work in wandering and observing AUs, he cannot, at any cost, interact with any of the AUs’ characters. This might result in the AU changing their course of storyline due to the realization of his presence and may possibly end up ruining the AU itself.
He usually spends his time in the shadows, hidden from sight from the characters, and sneaks stealthily around the little nooks and crannies of the AU. He sketches out in a little note pad the environment of each location in the AUs and notes the general themes displayed in all of them, as well as exploring hidden secrets in each tiny spot. His favourite places to spend his time are in the Waterfall areas of the underground of the AU, as it makes him feel at ease and at peace with himself, helping him calm down from his sometimes overwhelming job.
He observes each character from afar, writing down quick notes on their dialogues and their unique attitudes and behaviourism. He often feels lonely knowing he could never talk or even be noticed by to them, despite him knowing and relating so much to them, but he perseveres despite his yearns to be heard and carries on. He’s not completely alone, however, as he has Miss Rose and other Out! Codes he can talk to.
Miss Rose, one day, hesitantly accepted Rose! Sans’s pleads to interact with the Out! Codes, and after her millionth worried mom lecture on how he should be careful around them since they’re the most powerful beings in the multiverse and blah blah blah, he was free to interact with them. Like a child being allowed to a sleepover, Rose! Sans squealed with glee and quickly headed off to see his future Out! Code allies…
PERSONALITY (TL;DR at end of section):
Rose! Sans a naturally curious individual, and he always looks forward to adventures that may come his way. He’s not reckless, however, since he is quite prudent when it comes to putting himself or others in danger, an example being not being seen by characters in other AUs to maintain harmony in the AU.
Rose! Sans sometimes thinks a bit too highly of himself, and he may come off as a bit of a bragger due to him being showered with love and praise from Miss Rose all the time, as well as the underlying fact that he’s been on his own for most of his life, but he does genuinely care for the people close to him and he puts his needs aside to help others in dire need. This strong loyalty makes him a bit gullible at times, due to him not having much social experience with others as he cannot pick up a few undertones and red flags in discussions, making him an easy prey to manipulative enemies and an annoyance to sarcastic people.
Rose! Sans is a very talkative and is an overall energetic individual, yet surprisingly and contradictorily enough, he’s shy. He, due to not having talked to many people, can come off as a bit aloof and snobby at first, but once you get to know and understand him better, he slowly reveals his secret bubbly and ecstatic self, almost completely changing his behaviour towards others in the span of a few hours. With mutual acquaintances or strangers, he acts very awkwardly and can come off as strange. Due to him only having few but very close friends, he puts all his efforts into them and can be too trusting, which is yet another thing that manipulators can take advantage of.
Rose! Sans is a good listener and can empathize well with others (even despite his small narcissistic hints) since his whole purpose is to observe, so if you ever need someone to vent to, he’s here. He’ll happily keep your secrets, too!
TL;DR: Overall, Rose! Sans is a curious, adventurous, energetic, sometimes naive and braggy, but caring individual who is loyal to the bone!
RELATIONSHIPS:
Miss Rose:
Rose! Sans has a mother-son and best-friend relationship with Miss Rose, him being her own creation, after all. They’re very at ease in each other’s presence and they often joke and poke fun around their void, talking joyously about everything and of nothing. Their favourite thing to do together is obsess over various films and fandoms by chatting non-stop about their character crushes. They both like to draw together and occasionally write stories of the things they’ve seen in the multiverse.
Miss Rose, being a motherly figure to Rose! Sans, often gets worried and anxious for the safety of her creation and frequently gives him many lectures and incessant questioning about the dangers of the multiverse, much to Rose! Sans’ annoyance. He doesn’t mind them that much but he often wishes she would just get the hint that he’s gotten the point and stay quiet. Still, he loves her nonetheless and they continue on with their bizarre shenanigans without a care in the world.
Ink! Sans (created by @myebi ):
He and Ink! Sans are almost like brothers and they like to hang out with each other. Much like Rose! Sans and Miss Rose, they are at ease with each other’s presence and they both serve as each other’s playmate and occasional partner-in-crime. The two of them like to participate in artistic activities, mostly drawing and writing, but recently, Ink! Sans has introduced him to the basics of playing the flute. Rose! Sans is not very good at it yet, but he’s slowly getting there!
Both of them like teasing Error! Sans and playing around with him, much to Error’s already ongoing deep frustration with Ink, but Rose! Sans still maintains a healthy friendship with him, unlike Ink! Sans. He finds himself being the peacemaker between the two when things get too heated between the creator and the destroyer, and he ends up being the one cleaning the mess they make during their fights. He wishes sometimes they could just get along, and has at multiple occasions tried to get them to be friendlier, yet despite his efforts, it truly never works out and ends up in disappointment.
Rose! Sans has never been a victim to Ink! Sans’s empty and emotionless side, since they have been on pretty good terms most of the time, but he feels unnerved and actually a bit frightened when he sees that side of him in action, mostly during his and Error’s fights. He tries not to aggravate Ink! Sans when it happens and maintains his distance. He doesn’t hold this side against him, though, since he knows it’s uncontrollable. He lets Ink! Sans vent to him when his emotion-vials are refilled and if sadness gets the best of him.
Overall, they are good friends and they help each other grow.
Error! Sans (created by @loverofpiggies )
At first, the two of them never really interacted since Rose! Sans only really met him when Ink! Sans properly introduced him to Error, so before that, they only glanced and waved (Rose! Sans waved) when they saw each other. Then, Rose! Sans, after being introduced, became a mutual friend of his and they would occasionally chat about what they were doing in the multiverse. Rose! Sans is not very fond about what Error! Sans does with his duties, being in disapproval about the fact he destroys AUs, which can be a hassle for him when he works on discovering AUs, but he lets him be and accepts him for that. Error! Sans finds him a bit of a tiresome person when he doesn’t get his sarcasm since he can’t pick up undertones in social discussions, but he doesn’t mind much. They didn’t interact much aside from those infrequent chats.
Once Rose! Sans and Ink! Sans started playing around with Error! Sans, the two became closer in a regard that they saw each other more often and they talked more, despite Error! Sans being annoyed by him. Error! Sans grew to respect him after a bit when he realized it was Rose! Sans who prevented a lot of the arguments between him and Ink! Sans, which was a great relief to Error at times when he got extremely tired of seeing him. Rose! Sans respects his stoic and introverted nature, and he admires his quiet and peaceful lifestyle in the Antivoid.
Rose! Sans can intuitively detect when Error! Sans needs his space or when he needs to vent, which makes the both of them on good terms since Error! Sans feels that someone finally understands him. Similarly, Error! Sans understands the pain Rose! Sans feels when he can’t talk to anyone he’s seen due to his work, since he too is solitary in his work, and he helps him deal with that. During their vents, they’re normally in Outer! Tale, their favourite AU, looking up at the stars and sobbing it out. They care for each other and are there to comfort one another when the other feels lost or down.
They’re close friends and they help each other when they’re in despair.
Dream! Sans (created by @jokublog )
Rose! Sans and Dream! Sans have a mutual relationship.
Rose! Sans was introduced to him by Ink! Sans, and the two of them found one another pleasant (though Rose! Sans found Dream! Sans a bit too happy for his likes), yet they never truly established a concrete friendship unlike Rose! Sans and Error! Sans. Maybe this was because they never really talked after that since they were so busy with their other works that they didn’t get the time to talk. This means that, since they’re a mutual relationship, Rose! Sans would turn shy with him.
As they drifted, whenever Rose! Sans saw him, he would act aloof or awkward in his presence and would often slip with his words on accident. Dream! Sans finds this strange but never really thought much of it, assuming maybe he had a crush on him or he was just like that normally.
Overall, they are neutral and don’t have many social ties.
Paperjam (created by 7goodangel)
Rose! Sans and Paperjam find each other interesting and they admire one another from afar. Rose! Sans originally discovered him on his own when exploring the Antivoid, and they both just stared at each other for a bit before Rose! Sans initiated conversation. It took a while for the two of them to open up, the both of them being not socially developed— Paperjam being hardheaded and Rose! Sans being awkward— but after a bit of chatting, they found that they liked each other a lot and grew to be good friends.
Rose! Sans admires him since he’s looking for self-discovery after his creation from Error and Ink! Sans, and he supports his perseverance all the way. He admires his stubbornness and finds him cute when he tries impossible stunts. He let Paperjam vent about his past, and Paperjam found that he was one of the only people to actually care for him, so now he happily treats him like a big brother.
Paperjam admires Rose! Sans’s work, finding it cool and fun and dangerous, and wishes to join him on his adventures. Rose! Sans always profusely refuses to let Paperjam come for the sake of his own safety and the AU’s, but Paperjam will never. stop. insisting. He also admires Rose! Sans’ empathy and energy, and he likes playing with him and sketching in the Antivoid.
Rose! Sans once took Paperjam to The Garden of Memories, which was originally very precisely organized, and let’s just say that it ended up looking like a dumpster by the end of it… very messy.
Miss Rose and Rose! Sans gave Paperjam a little angry chastisement about his recklessness, to which Paperjam rudely rolled his pinpricks to, but he soon truthfully apologized and helped fix it back to the way it was before his storm of craziness. Since then, Rose! Sans and Miss Rose have given him tips on proper social conduct. He has since learned to be slightly more polite and good-mannered, though he still remains as heardheaded as usual.
Overall, Paperjam and Rose! Sans have a brotherly friendship, with Rose! Sans serving as a big-brother figure to Paperjam.
(More characters and information will be added soon! My hands are starting to get tired, plus this post is getting too long… 😅)
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razieltwelve · 3 years ago
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The Girl Of Many Talents (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)
Syrio waited patiently at the docks. Night had descended upon Braavos, but his ship was not quite ready to leave. It had not been an easy decision to leave the service of the Sealord, yet he had felt compelled all the same. Since his late teens, he had been acknowledged as the finest sword in the city, and his time as the First Sword had only cemented his position. But his heart yearned for more.
The world was a vast place, and he had yet to see much of it. He wished to see what he could while he was still young enough to travel, and the honours heaped upon him here could not replace the simple joy of being his own man again, of choosing for himself where he would go and when he would leave. To be the First Sword was to serve the Sealord, and Syrio Forel had served loyal and well, but he had served enough.
To his credit, the Sealord had not chastised him when he had told him of his plans. Instead, he had thanked Syrio for his service and bid him go where he would. It had stung a little to be treated so cooly, but it was not common for a First Sword to leave, and so the Sealord had suffered a loss of face. Indeed, Syrio counted himself fortunate that the Sealord had not sent assassins to avenge the insult, for many of his predecessors would have.
Perhaps it was because of their past. He had known the Sealord before he was the ruler of Braavos, back when he had been a cunning man seeking to revive the fortunes of his faltering House and Syrio had been a prideful bravo, still eager to prove himself and far too quick to draw a blade when wise words and a watchful eye would have been better. Were they friends? Syrio liked to think so, but there was little room for friendship when a man became Sealord. Instead, a man had to worry about knives in the dark and the great game between kingdoms.
Movement in the shadows nearby caught his eye, and Syrio reached for his sword. He had returned his favoured blade, one given to him by the Sealord when he had made him First Sword. It would have been rude to keep it, and Syrio was not a man to be rude unless the situation called for it. Still, the sword he had purchased was a good one, and he still wielded the skills of the First Sword of Braavos, though he no longer held the title.
“Good evening,” Syrio called out to the cloaked stranger just barely visible in the flickering torchlight. “Are you out for a stroll or perhaps something more?”
The figure raised their head, and he found himself staring into a face so perfectly ordinary that it could not be natural. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he drew his blade. A Faceless Man? Surely, his old friend had not taken his departure so poorly.
And then the ordinary man’s lips twitched, and he was no longer staring at a man but at a familiar girl with a faint smile. 
“Good evening, Syrio.”
Syrio did not quite relax. Girl she might be, but Alera Antaryon was the eldest child of the Sealord and quite possibly the most dangerous person he had ever met. Skilled with a sword, yes, but even more with words and wits, Alera was a plotter and schemer whose guile had crushed the enemies of her House whilst the magics she could wield had given pause to even the Faceless Men. There were few who would dare to cross the Sealord, but amongst those who truly understood the ebb and flow of power in the city, there were even fewer who dared to cross his daughter.
“Good evening to you, Lady Alera.” He inclined his head. “Is this about business?” Was she here to kill him? If so, he’d not make it easy although he did not like his odds. She would not have come here unprepared, nor would she have come alone.
“No.” Alera came closer, and Syrio’s eyes flicked to the guards who slipped out of the shadows. They were her own personal retainers, hand-picked for their skills and loyalty. Her father had allowed it after the first assassination attempt against her, and her guards had dealt with every subsequent attempt thereafter. “I come on my father’s behalf.”
“Oh?” Syrio sheathed his blade. “And what have you to say on the Sealord’s behalf?”
Alera’s lips curved up into a whimsical smile, and he would have been fooled into thinking her a kindly young woman if he had not known better. “You are a good man, Syrio Forel, and you have served my father well since he appointed you. Yet there are things a Sealord cannot say in public that his daughter might say in private.”
“And what might you say then?”
“He will miss you,” Alera said. “And though he could not give you face when you resigned, perhaps he can make up for it now.” She tossed him a pouch. It was full of coins. “Your ship sails for King’s Landing. You will need the right currency when you arrive. That will help.” She nodded and one of the guards came forward with a sword. “And the man who was once First Sword of Braavos and who remains my father’s friend should not have to content himself with store-bought steel.”
He accepted the sword graciously and drew it. “A fine blade.” He found himself smiling. It was the equal, perhaps even the better, of the one he had given up. “A truly great gift.” He bowed. “I apologise for thinking poorly of your father. Let him know that Syrio Forel remains his friend now and always.”
“I had hoped you would understand.” Alera came forward herself and handed him a medallion. “This will identify you to my agents in Westeros.” She handed him a piece of parchment. “When you go to King’s Landing, seek out that address. It is run by an agent of mine. They will aid you in whatever you wish to do, and they have been instructed to provide you with ample funds. They will also be able to inform you of other agents I have that might be able to aid you in your dealings.”
“My lady...” Syrio was moved. “You do not have to do this. I understood very well what I was giving up when I resigned.”
“Yet my father and I both wish to do this.” Alera smiled fondly. “You are a good man, Syrio Forel, but the world is not full of good men, and we would have you return to us one day.”
“You have my thanks.”
“Do you know where you will go?” Alera asked.
“I think...” Syrio paused. “I will go first to King’s Landing, as my ship is bound there, but then I will go North. I read of the Wall when I was but a boy, and I wish to see it and many other things with my own eyes.”
“I see.” Alera nodded. “Then go with my father’s blessing. May fair winds and following seas be ever at your side, Syrio Forel. And if you should ever see or hear anything that might be interesting to me or my father...”
“I will be sure to pass it on to your agents.” Syrio chuckled. “You know, Lady Alera, you were by far my finest student, yet I cannot help but feel that you are still improving. I shall return one day, and we shall see how skilled you can become.”
“I look forward to it.” Alera glanced past him. “Your ship is almost ready.”
“Then I must go.”
“Farewell, Syrio.”
X     X     X
Alera - a girl who had once been Jahne Nabaat - watched Syrio Forel board his ship. It was a pity to lose him. He was by far the most skilled of the warriors in her or father’s employ, but he was also not a man much enamoured with the treachery and guile of politics. To be sure, he could handle himself in that arena, but she meant what she had said. Syrio was a good man. He would have been perfectly content running his own school of swordsmanship or simply travelling the world and seeing what he could.
But as sad as it was to see him go, forcing him to stay would have been worse. Men of Syrio’s calibre were not to be antagonised needlessly, and her father had enough enemies as it was without worrying about his First Sword’s loyalty wavering. Besides, this could also be spun to their advantage. With her father seemingly weakened, his enemies would be more likely to reveal themselves.
When they did, Alera would be waiting with knives in the dark, whispered rumours in the market, and cunning deals signed and sealed. She bit back a smile. Perhaps it made her wicked, but she did so enjoy these sorts of games. And she had several pupils of her own, boys and girls from allied Houses, who could be taught using the coming conflict as a lesson. They would see the fall of her House’s enemies, and they would know not only that they had made the right choice to ally with her House but also that allying with her personally was in their own personal best interests. After all, many of them had siblings to worry about, competitors in the often muddled battles for succession amongst the nobility. 
More to the point, she had already known that Syrio would head north. He had spoken of that desire more than once while training her, and she did need eyes and ears in the North. Few Braavosi were suited to the harsh climate and rugged inhabitants of the North, but Syrio had a good chance of making it work.
“My lady.” One of her retainers stepped forward. He was a slim fellow, hired for his stealth and cunning rather than his fighting ability. “I have received word from an associate in Pentos.”
“Oh?”
“It is about a certain Beggar King and his sister.”
Alera’s lips curled. Oh, this was going to be fun. “And what did that associate of yours have to say?”
“Many things, my lady, but he did say something most interesting about an impeding marriage...”
Alera chortled. “He plans on marrying his sister off, no doubt.” She snorted inelegantly. “It is a tragedy to see a House as great as the Targaryens reduced to a naive girl and a stupid, spiteful boy who fancies himself a king. Still, tell me everything. The boy is beyond help, but the girl might yet be useful if we could get our hands on her.”
X     X     X
Author’s Notes
Ah, Jahne, still being Jahne. Yes, Braavos suits her to a tee. Her father is the Sealord, but she is his daughter... and his most trusted advisor and assistant. In truth, many already speculate that she will succeed him, and there are few who dare to draw her ire.
Syrio was one of her tutors, and as you can see, she and her father are both fond of him and genuinely wish him well. Of course, if he can still be useful, Jahne isn’t going to complain.
And being who she is, Jahne likes to be kept apprised of events happening in the other Free Cities. After all, they are the enemies and rivals of Braavos, and she abhors slavery. Although there is zero possibility, in her opinion, of actually overthrowing Robert at this point, Daenerys is still a useful piece on the board, one that she might be able to parlay into something beneficial. Of course, if or when Dany gets her dragons, Jahne will definitely be interested.
If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.
I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.
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five-miles-over · 4 years ago
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‘Aftermath’ Part 9: Be Prepared (Commodus x OC)
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Summary: With the Senate officially dissolved, new alliances and plans form. The Emperor calls an old advisor, and two military minds come together to save their Republic.
Warning: Mentions of violence
Word Count: 2,203 
Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here
Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here
Read Part 3: Point of No Return here
Read Part 4: Look Down here
Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here
Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here
Read Part 7: Wait For It here
Read Part 8: Something There here
“I had hoped you might have learned some humility and respect.”
Petronius scoffed as Gaius led him out of his villa, having spent the night there after a long discussion filled with songs about the Republic and philosophical quotes. The estate was quite modest for a Senator, or rather a former-Senator. Lemon trees that emanated a sublime citrus fragrance lined the front of the sandstone building.
“Forgive me, Senator. A general is one who only knows to fight their enemy whilst looking them in the eye. He knows not of the art of flattery or the strategy of bending words with a slip of his tongue.”
Gaius sighed. Such is the nature of most military men, he thought, save General Quintus. That man had enough intelligence to save his skin when Commodus seized power for the first time. However, like all military men, his allegiance ultimately returned to the Spaniard at the crucial moment of judgment. “You crave for too much, General,” the older man replied. “It does not become a warrior to yearn for bloodshed so strongly.”
“I want him dead, that is all,” Petronius dismissed. “Rome has suffered enough under his wing.”
“And we shall save our motherland,” Gaius finished. “But we must arm ourselves with alliances and unite the forces under our cause. In the meantime, there may be a chance that Mania may take control of our Caesar before any other weapon can.”
As he reached the iron-gates of Gaius’s estate, he snorted. “With all due respect, Senator. If you are waiting for Commodus to lose himself in madness, then it is now that we must strike.”
Petronius continued, “He has no one left, Gaius. Even his own family had begun to fear him - his sister, his nephew…and possibly anyone else who happened to know Commodus as a child. If we killed him now, there would be no one too mourn for him, or defend him.”
“Humor me, then. How would you, a mere general who lives off the Emperor’s bread and salt, kill him?” Gaius smirked condescendingly.
“Bribe the servants to poison him.”
“Suppose the servants decide to tell the emperor,” Gaius countered. “You would be caught, and they would be rewarded.”
“Then we bribe the gladiators to attack Commodus.”
“He pays their entertainers well enough. Why should they complain or succumb to the influence of an outsider?”
With every counter-remark given by the old man, Petronius felt his temper dissipate bit by bit. Who was Gaius to lecture about the importance of saving Rome from a dictator when he himself, let alone his friends, could not bring themselves to take action? Even after the loss of their positions within politics, all the men were talking about the night before was the beauty of Gaius’s seemingly splendid mistresses. Certainly the wine may have loosened their usually-sharp tongues, but it was surprising, nay unacceptable, to see the state of Rome’s greatest minds.
Could those men not see that by lying low, they were putting the lives of Roman citizens at risk? That by refusing to rise to their call of duty, that they were only clipping the wings of the eagle that symbolized Rome and its greatness? It would only be a matter of time before the emperor, in a bout of madness, paranoia, and pure malice, would sever the talons of this eagle and leave it as powerless as a common fowl.
The general’s nostrils flared while the veins in his forearms throbbed furiously. “I do not care for your shrewd statements, Senator. I do not wish to contemplate upon your retorts, nor do I wish to indulge your appetite for wordplay. As I have told you, I am a general - I shall fight with my hands and not with my tongue. My hands are bound to serve Rome, and all it stands for.”
“Nevertheless,” he hastily added. “Since I have shared your bread and wine, as well as taken refuge in your home during the night, I shall revere you as any proper guest ought to. Fare thee well, Senator. I hope that you and I shall meet again.”
“Fare thee well, General.” Gaius watched as the young man vanished into the hustle and bustle of the public square. He certainly had a problem with the much-too-transparent ideologies that military men had, but in order for Commodus to receive his duly-deserved demise, the Senators needed the favor of the military. Perhaps he ought to the be the one to vouch for diplomacy in the midst of this clash of ideals.
The city was quiet compared to most days, even for a mid-morning. Possibly due to the games taking place today, the plebeians seemed to be missing from the streets. However, peddlers were still out selling their goods - a man clamored for people to buy his new stock of clams and oysters, freshly caught from the Mediterranean, while another advertised fine silks imported from China. Various hues in various designs, he said. A dark red one with a golden border caught Petronius’s eye, immediately remembering his sister’s favorite color.
Perhaps he could buy a bolt of the silk for her, possibly as an attempt to apologize for being away all night. Ever since his brother-in-law had passed away from the wars against Germania, he had sworn to guard his sister and her two sons with his life. Keeping such a vow felt almost effortless under the reign of Marcus Aurelius, but under his son, it was the contrary. She wept in Petronius’s arms the night that Senator Gracchus died, saying that she was glad that her husband received an honorable death instead of a false treason accusation. At that moment, he shushed her for fear that the other Praetorian guards would hear her, reporting them both to the emperor. However, if he could turn back time, he’d tell her not to worry, for the emperor would not live long enough to turn Rome into ruins. And with a warm hug, he would seal his promise to her.
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Boots clicking, Emperor Commodus paced the empty throne room with a strangely serene look on his face. He’d just come from the games, which never failed to amuse him. For those moments in the Colosseum, he felt as powerful as the gods themselves, taking life as needed, while watching lesser beings fight to survive. Sweat beaded his forehead while he walked, and he almost wanted to remove his laurel crown off due to the heat. Nevertheless, an emperor had to look his best at all times.
From an outsider’s standpoint, it seemed that Emperor Commodus took the Senators’ tongues along with their power. Silence was all those dry old men had to give him today as well. He needed to know what they could possibly be thinking of, nay, he needed to know about their plan to end his reign before they could strike. It was time for an old loyalist to join minds with him again.
“Falco, I’ve been expecting you.” The former senator entered cautiously, his leather sandals echoing against the smooth floor of the palace halls. He bowed before the emperor and stood upright. From the events of last night, it was with much skepticism that any of the senators thought that they could ever receive the emperor’s good graces. Perhaps his former loyalty has now manifested into a blessing. “How may I be of service to you, Caesar?”
Commodus gestured for him to be seated. “I take it that you, along with your colleagues, have heard my decision regarding the new…alterations in the governance of Rome. It must certainly displease you and your colleagues, does it not?”
Without flinching, Falco kept his wits near despite the presence of the temperamental Emperor. “Caesar, I cannot speak for those men. With all due respect, they are no longer my colleagues. All I know is that you are my Emperor, and that every decision you take must have been formed with necessary contemplation." Falco knew he was telling lies. To the Senate, Commodus never gave the impression of a man of thought, let alone the impression of a man.
And as for the Emperor, he knew better than to take the former Senator’s words by face value. Nevertheless, he did need an ally and it was only Falco who gave him advice when the rest of the Senate sided with Maximus.
“Thank you, Falco. Out of those men, it seems that you are the only one who genuinely cares for my welfare. Your priorities lie for the Empire, and for none else. That is why I wish to make you my main advisor. With no Empress and no Senate, I need a good man like you by my side…to rule, and to care for the people.”
Pretending to be stunned, brimming with gratitude, Falco rose from his seat. “Highness, your offer is…one of high value.”
“Join me, Falco,” Commodus extended his hand, which was accepted by the former Senator. “Join me, and we shall usher in a new age of Rome.”
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The Sun was ruthless to the troops of Rome today - many a foot soldier grunted with displeasure as they sparred with each other under the sweltering heat. General Petronius and Centurion Philomenus greeted each other with a familiar look, having seen each other at Gaius’s meeting last night.
“I sense tension in your fingers,” the general pointed towards his peer’s hand.
Philomenus chuckled as he glanced at his knuckles circling the hilt of his sword. “I…I thought about my sister. How she must be waiting for me, and how the heat is making her uncomfortable.”
“I empathize - I have a sister as well. Her husband was a legionnaire - do you remember Felix Cassius? No…well, the army is quite massive.”
The centurion picked up his weapon, twirling it absentmindedly. “Forgive me for not knowing him. I think it would take one eons to count every single life lost during the late emperor’s battles in Germania.”
Petronius gritted his teeth. “I wish the emperor’s son lost his life in Germania instead of the emperor.” Almost immediately, Philomenus tackled him to the ground with a sandy hand over his mouth.
“You monster!” Petronius gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “What in the name of Jupiter was that for?!”
“It was for daring to speak against the Emperor. We both know that punishment would be doled out on both of us - on you for your impudent tongue, and on me for listening to your talk of treason.”
“Men like you make me sick,” the general spat. “Was it not you who quoted the great Marcus Aurelius himself, having memorized his extensive writings? Do you not know that by punishing those who speak out against Commodus, you only encourage his tyrannical, anti-republic ways?!”
“Perhaps, but I do know when to keep my tongue in my cheek,” Philomenus retorted. “Did you not see what happened to the Spaniard who dared to challenge the emperor?”
“The Spaniard was once a general, Philomenus. He used to be one of us. If he could not complete his revenge, it would be our responsibility to finish it for him.”
Shaking his head, he took the general behind a wall while pretending to be very thirsty. “I do believe in the ways of the Republic, and that Rome’s golden age ended when the republic was seized by a pompous man pretending to be a dictator.”
“Commodus is not Julius Caesar, Philomenus - he has no military prowess of his own, aside from formidable swordplay.”
“Please, just know that he will not last long. The grain will run out, and the public who loved him so much will turn their backs on him. But while he’s in power, let him be happy.”
“You sound just like those blasted Senators,” Petronius grunted. “Those old men can afford to live off their ancestral wealth for their remaining years, but you and I are not like them!”
Philomenus yelled back, suddenly triggered by the mention of familial affluence. “I know that! My parents perished when I was thirteen, leaving my sister and I penniless with a pair of newborn twins.”
“I have worked a long way to come where I am,” he continued to fume. “I know what I have read speaks of a Republic, but what can I do?! What can we do, given our state?”
“Then join me,” Petronius coerced the other man. “Help me think of a way to kill Commodus, and together we can bring back the Republic Rome was always meant to be.”
“Here is what we’ll do- we will ambush him from the exit gates of the Colosseum. And when he enters without bodyguards, we will make our presence known and attack him,” Philomenus whispered. “I will keep our weapons under my tunic so as not to arouse suspicion.”
“Anger has certainly brought your intelligence into light. I admire your plan, but what will I do?” Petronius asked with a raised eyebrow.
The centurion smirked, “Stay alive, and keep your goddamn mouth shut for once.”
“Commodus must die….for Maximus and for the Senate.”
“No, he must die for Rome.”
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