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kenobiapologist · 3 years

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Star Wars Novel Rankings

In celebration of the end of this year, I made a tier list of all of the Star Wars novels I’ve read since I joined this fandom in 2017 (which you can use to rank these books too). And I named all the tiers in a dorky but appropriate fashion. I would love to hear your thoughts on my rankings, as well as how you’d rank the books yourself! I’ve had a blast reading Star Wars novels from both Disney’s canon and the Legends extended universe over these past 3 years. Here’s to many more years of reading stories from the galaxy far far away!

I put longer (but not more coherent) thoughts below the cut.

The Chosen One: Bringing Balance to the Force and My Depressed Soul

1. The first spot of top tier had to go to Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith novelization for obvious reasons. You simply cannot beat it. It’s a masterpiece. I literally had to put the book down to scream when I read the prose associated with the opening battle over Coruscant. It gave a whole new meaning to the triumphant music and the synchronous twirling of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s starfighters as they weave through blaster-fire in the battle over Coruscant. The rest of the book is the same way. You can’t put it down. I have wAyyYyYy too many feelings about this book oh my god.

2. Thrawn was a surprising book for me. For being centered on an admiral of the Empire’s navy, it had so much heart in it! I loved reading from Eli Vanto’s perspective too. god dammit I love that freaking Wild Space hillbilly dweeb with all my heart. I think his experiences getting to know Thrawn and learning from him guides the reader to feel much the same way as Eli by the end. Thrawn is a trusted friend, not the enemy you expect him to be. I could have done without Arihnda Pryce but she’s supposed to be unlikeable so I won’t blame Timothy Zahn this time.

3. The Clone Wars Gambit duology is basically Karen Miller writing fanfic and I’m HERE FOR IT. As is tradition with Karen Miller’s Star Wars novels, the emotions are dialed up the eleven. Our favorite dumbass Jedi team is back at it again with a mission to save the galaxy and this time they end up going undercover as two lumberjacks from the boonies. Anakin holds an energy shield back from collapsing with his bare hands like a total badass. Obi-Wan is in love with another woman despite it always ending in tragedy, while also bickering like a married couple with Anakin every ten seconds. get a fucking room, you two. These two books inspired one of my fics so they’re near and dear to my heart.

Jedi Master: These Books Have A Seat On The Council Too

4. Wild Space was appropriately named, I’ll tell you that. It’s a wild ride from start to finish. *slaps the front cover* this book can fit so much of Obi-Wan’s suffering in it! @forcearama has elaborated on the many reasons why this book is a gem in Snark Wars blog posts (linked here). It’s also the beginning of the best team-up since Anakin and Obi-Wan...Bail and Obi-Wan! These two bastards get under each other’s skin but it makes for the perfect character development. This book is the reason I screech with delight whenever Bail Organa appears on screen, or is mentioned in conversation. Bail gets a mysterious tip about trouble on a planet, and Obi-Wan decides to go with him to investigate. Cue Sith-induced suffering. It’s cool to see a normal person experiencing the weirdness of Force sensitives and how the world has this extra level of sensory information in it. Plotwise this one isn’t the best, but I think the interactions between characters really shine in this novel. Karen Miller’s writing is like a cup of hot chocolate to me. Indulgent character insight, full of sweet moments, has a bunch of extra marshmallowy dialogue, you’re reading it to have a good time but not to be satisfied with plot. You get me?

5. Do I even have to explain myself here? Kenobi by John Jackson Miller is both an interesting western-style tale set on Tatooine, and a beautiful character study of a man stricken with grief he keeps suppressed. How does one continue on when their whole family was murdered and their whole culture burnt to ash? I wanted to give Obi-Wan a hug the entire time I read this. The characterization was spot-on, from the way he wrangled animals to the way he severed a man’s arm off in a bar with his lightsaber. And when he meets a woman named Annileen Calwell, or Annie for short, Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to call her by her nickname ever and if that doesn’t just break your damn heart fucking fuck.

6. Ahsoka was the first Disney canon book I ever read and it kickstarted my love for E.K. Johnston. The writing is simplistic, but that makes it easy to jump into. Overall, it’s a quick and enjoyable read. By far the best parts are the flashbacks that mull over memories Ahsoka has of the time before Order 66. That shit hits you right in the heart, man. And the part where Ahsoka equates Obi-Wan and Anakin to her adoptive family ohhhhhhh god the tears they flow like a river. There are scenes that allude to Ahsoka becoming the vital part of the Rebellion we know her to be from Rebels, balanced with her current struggles to survive and find herself. Despite having cast away her identity as a Jedi and having any remaining bits of her culture destroyed by Palpatine, Ahsoka shows us all how bright a hero can shine in the darkest of times. AND SHE WAS WRITTEN AS QUEER! finally some good fucking food.

7. Oh shit, another E.K. Johnston book? Don’t be surprised. She’s a prequel fan and so am I, hence why Queen’s Shadow is so high on the list. E.K. Johnston pays homage to our favorite queen and badass senator Padme Amidala. There’s politics, there’s solidarity between female characters, and Bail Organa is in it so you KNOW I simply must give it a high rating. All jokes aside, I thought the story added lots of little details to the world of Star Wars without it being all stereotypical sci-fi nerdy language. You know how people want to describe something beyond our technological capabilities so they throw a bunch of nonsense together like “pre-praxis crystal bio-anode circuitry”? I’m looking at you, Karen Miller, I love you but please. There is none of that in this book. It makes sense, it adds color and culture and life to the worlds of Star Wars. Most of all, it devotes time and love to developing Padme outside of her place in canon as Anakin’s wife, Queen of Naboo, and Senator. She is all of these things, but she’s human too. I do agree that the pacing is slow, but it’s something meant to be savored, I think. E.K. Johnston really shines when she’s writing dialogue because she gets these characters. That’s something to appreciate, because not all canon books agree with the way we’ve perceived the characters as an audience.

8. Rogue Planet chewed me up, spit me out, and declared me an even bigger stan for The Team. People who say Qui-Gon would have been a better master for Anakin can ~get out~ because I could read about these two hooligans getting neck deep in space shenanigans all damn day. Anakin is like twelve, which is a time in his training that we don’t get a lot of in canon. Personally, I think it was equal parts heartwarming and funny to read about their adventures. There is some angst sprinkled in there because hey, we’re reading about Anakin here, let’s not forget the emotional trainwreck that is Anakin Skywalker. The duo is sent to a planet that makes super fast ships that are ?sentient? or at least biologically active. They bond with the pilot, which makes Anakin perfect for this mission. There’s a scene where these little floof things attach all over tiny Anakin because he’s so strong in the Force and it’s god damn adorable how dare he?? I’d probably rate this one even higher if I read it again, but it’s been awhile. Characterization is spot on and reminiscent of Matthew Stover’s writing in how it highlights the strong bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin, how they’re fated to know each other. I’m a sucker for soulmates, what can I say?

9. Lost Stars reads like a movie. Not a script, but just the perfect amount of detail that you can imagine the scenes but the pacing is still quick, the dialogue smooth and natural. I couldn’t help wishing this was a film because the story was so all-encompassing. The highs and lows of the emotions of both protagonists, their relationship developing, the differences in culture. Folks, this book has it all! It’s a totally different perspective on the events of the original trilogy, seen from the side of Imperial cadets training to become pilots. Eventually, one splits off and joins the Rebellion while the other perseveres in the Empire. It’s like star-crossed lovers, but covers so much more ground than that. And the characters are fully developed. These original characters knocked my socks off, and that’s hard to do since I’m usually an Obi-Wan stan through and through. For anyone uncertain of reading Star Wars novels, this book is a great place to start. Action-packed, emotion-filled, and stands on its own despite weaving perfectly into the established universe. What more could you want?

10. Back at it again with the prequel shit, amiright? Queen’s Peril is E.K. Johnston’s most recent Padme-centric novel and it does not disappoint fans that wanted a taste of the Queen’s side of the story. Set during the events of The Phantom Menace, we get a “behind the curtain” look at how all of the handmaidens came to be more than their title suggests. There’s teenage girls getting stuff done! It makes more sense why Padme was elected ruler of her home-world, and you come to appreciate that a royal leader is not alone; there’s actually a whole team at her side to help her overcome everything from the drudgery of daily governing to Trade Federation blockades that threaten to starve her people. I think if you enjoyed Queen’s Shadow, you’ll enjoy this book a lot. For those that are unfamiliar with Johnston’s work, I wouldn’t recommend this one first because it does cover events you’ve already seen in movies and therefore is a less suspenseful companion to them. On the other hand, because it does tie in with TPM, it doesn’t suffer from the pacing issues of Queen’s Shadow to the same degree. I read this all in one sitting, so it’s definitely fun, but wasn’t compelling enough in its character development to elevate the book past some of the others I’ve listed already.

11. Thrawn: Treason was a refreshing return to the Grand Admiral we all know and love after the second installment in this series slowed things down a bit. Although it wasn’t as character-driven as the first book (which I love with all of my heart), there were still many moments that had me cackling at the disparity between Thrawn’s immense intellect and the other Imperials’ sheer stupidity, and that’s what we’re here for in a book about the Empire, right? There’s a lot of pressure on Thrawn, as his TIE Defender project has been pitted against Director Krennic’s Project Stardust. Who will get the funds? We just don’t know?? Tarkin sits in between the two and as usual, manipulates everything to his advantage. Palpatine questions Thrawn’s allegiance to the Empire after some of the choices he has made, leaving him in even more of a pickle. Thrawn is sent on a wild goose chase task that should definitely end in failure (on purpose because Imperials all want to watch each other burn as much as they want to watch the Rebellion burn), but you know Thrawn will find a way. My main squeeze Eli Vanto makes his return after being absent from book 2. Missed you, my sweet sweet country boy. He doesn’t have a leading role in this novel, but every scene he’s in makes the story better. Thrawn says “perhaps” way too often for my taste, but if you can ignore that, this book is a solid read. Equal parts action and deductive reasoning, as any Thrawn book should be.

12. Most of Dark Disciple had me thinking this was going to be a top tier book, and damn do I wish we could have gotten this animated. We follow Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress on a mission to assassinate Count Dooku. Why the Jedi thought this was a good idea, I don’t know. But I’m here for it all the same. 3/4 of the adventure were intriguing, but the ending didn’t do it for me. I won’t spoil things for anyone who hasn’t read this yet, but after all of the character development, to have it squandered so quickly just left me disappointed? I got really attached to everyone in this novel, and I’m sure you will to. I’ve read this and listened to it as an audiobook, and actually I think it’s more memorable as an audiobook. Would recommend, except for Mace Windu’s voice being exceptionally southern for no reason. Weird. I think this novel captures all of the great things about The Clone Wars show; time to really get to know each character and their motivations, action and adventure with the darkness of impending doom tinting everything, and lightsaber fights! Plus, Obi-Wan and Anakin make appearances in this book and it just adds that extra bit of spice. Worth the read, even if you know they aren’t going to get Dooku in the end (which I am still mad about, screw that guy).

Jedi Knight: Passed the Trials but There’s Room for Improvement

13. Few books in the Star Wars universe are centered around characters with no use of the Force, but in Most Wanted, we see a young Han Solo and Qi’ra struggling to survive on Corellia and it provides a humorous but compelling backstory to both characters in the Disney canon. Han is his usual lucky goofball self, and Qi’ra is smart and cunning. You can see how they grew into the versions of themselves in Solo. While the book stays on the lighter side of things (typical of stories written for a younger audience), there are still moments of depth on droid rights, viewing the Force as a religion, and what life is like in a crime syndicate. Addressing these heavier topics without it killing the pace of the story is hard to do, but Rae Carson pulls it off flawlessly. I went into this book with no expectations and was pleasantly surprised by how much fun I had. Han and Qi’ra start off as competitors, but eventually have to learn to work together to survive as more and more people start hunting them down. They’re honestly so cute together, I loved their dynamic. It makes Solo a better movie, and although I liked it on its own, characters like Qi’ra needed a little more time to get to know, which you can get here!

14. Thrawn Alliances was not what I expected at all, and it took me a lot longer to get through. Hell, it has Thrawn, Anakin/Vader, and Padme in it! What’s not to love? Apparently, a lot. The different timepoints and perspectives in this were more jarring than anything else. Although the interactions between Thrawn and Anakin/Vader were enjoyable, it was not enough to elevate this book into the Jedi Master tier. Things felt dry, the characters didn’t grip me like in the first Thrawn, and it all felt like a ploy to introduce Batuu into canon before the launch of Galaxy’s Edge.

15. Leia: Princess of Alderaan was a dive into young Leia’s life before we see her in A New Hope even though this was marketed as a journey to The Last Jedi book, which I disagree with. We really haven’t seen any content about Leia in this time period before, and although I can’t say I was looking for this, I did enjoy it. The book was a little long, but there was adventure and the seeds are planted for Leia to be a bigger part of the Rebellion. The romance wasn’t too memorable, but Holdo wasn’t pointless in this (a stark contrast to her brief appearance in TLJ just to sacrifice herself). There’s a hint about Leia being Force-sensitive but it’s not in-your-face. It’s a typical coming-of-age story but in the gffa. The best part about this is seeing Bail and Breha as parents. I’m forever in pain that we didn’t get to see more of this in movies because it’s so so sweet. Leia must choose what kind of person she is going to be--and what kind of princess she will become. It won’t be for everyone, but I liked it.

16. Master and Apprentice was a typical Star Wars novel, which means it’s full of original characters that are strange and outlandish to serve the plot, a new world full of beautiful landscapes, and Obi-Wan suffering. I want to make it clear that this book is 80% Qui-Gon, 10% Rael Averross, and 10% Obi-Wan. I was expecting it to be 50% Qui-Gon, 50% Obi-Wan, as the cover suggested. Although I was disappointed by that, the story overall was okay. Qui-Gon is kind of an asshole in this? When is he not, though. We really get to sink our teeth into the way he and Obi-Wan fundamentally disagree with each other, so much so that their teacher-student relationship is falling apart. Tragic! They go on one last mission before calling it quits. Qui-Gon is in over his head with prophecies, Obi-Wan just wants to follow the rules, and Rael Averross is Dooku’s previous apprentice that is living his best life as a regent until Pijal’s princess comes of age. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid book. I just don’t vibe with Qui-Gon and want to whack him upside the head every time he avoids confrontation with his own student. My protectiveness for Obi-Wan is showing again, isn’t it? Yikes.

17. James Luceno is one of the most analytical authors I’ve ever read anything from, but it seems to always work? Tarkin is all about...well, Moff Tarkin. He’s ruthless, intelligent, and just downright evil. His backstory was compelling and I found myself drawn into the story by the details, although it is dense and took awhile to finish. I’m not interested in him as a character, but despite that, I enjoyed this story. The plot wasn’t memorable enough for me to recall after 3 years, but it’s similar to how Thrawn rose through the ranks of the Navy, just in a different part of the Empire’s governing body. We don’t get many books completely focused on a villain (I don’t count Vader ones because we know who he was before and the whole damn saga is about him), but this one is good! Don’t be fooled by it only being in the Knight tier. I think people who read a lot of sci-fi will like this book a lot. This is like the opposite of Queen’s Shadow, basically. If you had gripes about that book, you might like this one instead.

18. Battlefront II: Inferno Squad was a worthwhile read for anyone who played Battlefront II. Iden Versio is a great protagonist in the game, and I think Christie Golden totally gets her character. She’s nuanced and relatable. The whole team is interesting and getting introduced to each member before the events of the game makes everything mean more. That’s the real goal of any prequel story, I think. Accomplished! The action scenes are on point, the plot served to highlight what makes Inferno Squad special, and you get a sense for the morally grey area anyone must function in as an operative for the Empire. Although not necessary for the greater canon, it’s a great adventure. Iden and her squad members infiltrate the remains of Saw Gerrara’s group (they’ve become a bit of extremist) and destroy them from the inside. It’s got the suspense of a spy thriller and all of the nerdy space opera elements you expect from Star Wars. Although it’s weird to jump into a story not knowing any of the characters, you’ll get attached to Inferno Squad fast. Well, except for Gideon Hask maybe. He’s kind of a dick.

19. If you’re craving some Dark Side action, Lords of the Sith will give you what you’re looking for. Sidious and Vader crash-land on Ryloth and have to work together to survive, and also defeat the Free Ryloth Movement led by Cham Syndulla. It’s all fucking connected, guys. I love when people weave together stories that fit into the canon timeline like this, bringing in side characters and allowing them to develop some depth. And a chance to sink into the mind of a Sith Lord is always fun, if you’re in the mood to read about destruction and anger. It’s cathartic sometimes. If you’re always wondering, why didn’t Vader just stab Palps when he had the chance, this book explains their dynamic more. It didn’t really change my opinion of any of the characters, which is why it’s not higher on the list.

20. Catalyst suffered from being in a really boring part of galactic history. Despite that, Galen Erso and Orson Krennic have a hilarious relationship that I would have loved to see on-screen. This book really develops Krennic to become more than just the whiny entitled evil man we saw in Rogue One. He’s ten times worse now! But I mean that in the best way, I laugh whenever he’s in a scene, that sassy man just brings me joy. James Luceno is at it again, making things as detailed and dry as possible. I read so many of his stories right at the beginning of my journey through Star Wars canon and it’s a wonder I didn’t quit. Some of them are dark as fuck. And also slow as hell. With this one, I think it all comes down to what you want out of a Star Wars novel. Some people will really enjoy the plot. I think seeing how Galen became a part of Project Stardust was interesting and every time something about the Death Star became more clear, I screeched because I knew what it would eventually become. This book may not hold your interest though, which is why I put it lower on this list.

21. Star Wars: Clone Wars was a decent retelling of the Clone Wars movie. I liked it because I liked the movie, but you have to be able to sit back and enjoy the ride, not thinking too much about the silly parts. For that reason, it’s pretty far down in the rankings. Ahsoka is young and liable to get on your nerves. I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan at this point in the series. The biggest problem is that Karen Traviss is very anti-Jedi. Some authors for Star Wars tend to do this? To me, it’s weird. I didn’t notice it too much because it was one of the first Star Wars books I read, but it contrasts starkly with the truth of the prequel trilogy and some of the other entries in the Clone Wars Novel timeline, like Karen Miller’s books. Needless to say, although this book wasn’t super memorable aside from the familiar plot, it kept me reading Star Wars books, and so it is at least an average book. Plus, any content with Anakin and the clones is worth it for me. I love them.

22. A New Hope was good, for Alan Dean Foster. I’m not a fan, I’ll be honest. But this novelization stands on it’s own. I’m going to have to do a re-read to really go in depth on why this isn’t farther up on the tier list, but the movie is always going to be better to me. If you want to re-live the great beginning of the Original Trilogy, it’s worth your time. I mean, the story is full of adventure and mystery and lovable characters. What’s not to love? I just feel like the movie really elevates the narrative with a great score and fun character design/costumes/sets.

Padawan: These Books Have Much to Learn

23. Attack of the Clones was more entertaining than The Phantom Menace because the characters are in funnier situations. Obi-Wan and Anakin chasing Zam Wesell through the levels of Coruscant? Hilarious, just like the movie. Anakin and Padme falling in love as they spend time together? Holy fuck it’s so much better than the movie. Please read it for that alone. Outside of that, the writing style didn’t really impress me. And my experience with it wasn’t super memorable. There was potential to really make the inner dialogue of these characters impactful, to really develop the story of Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme beyond what we could get from the movie scenes alone. I didn’t think it went above and beyond there. Not a bad story at all, but you don’t get to look at Hayden Christensen, Natalie Portman, or Ewan McGregor the whole time either, so therefore I must rank it lower. So many beautiful people in that movie, holy shit. You can understand my, dilemma, yes?

24. I enjoyed parts of The Phantom Menace book, like deleted scenes with Anakin living on Tatooine before Qui-Gon and Padme meet him. The additional depth is lovely, but I think a story like Queen’s Peril adds more to TPM than this book does. The story overall is still fun. I love this movie so much, it’s hard for me to be critical. I did put a lot of post-it flags in my copy, so it does develop the characters and get you thinking beyond your expectations from the movie. What more could you ask for from a movie novelization? I’d say not much, if I hadn’t read Revenge of the Sith and had my fucking mind blown. In comparison to that, this one is just okay.

25. The Last Jedi novelization wasn’t bad, necessarily. It tried its best to bring this story up to par with some of the interesting novels that don’t have movie counterparts. But still, the plot suffers because of how this movie was made. It’s very focused on Rey and Kylo, and Finn’s little adventure with Rose seems pointless in the grand scheme of things. I’d rather read this again versus watching the film, but that’s all I’ll say on this because I’m trying to keep my opinions on this movie to myself to avoid digging up old arguments. Jason Fry did well, and of the two Sequel Trilogy books I’ve read, I would recommend this one over Ep. 7.

26. The Force Awakens falls short and I think it’s because of Alan Dean Foster’s writing style on this one? It didn’t really expand on anything from the movie, while taking away the beautiful music and visuals. This novel is the antithesis of Revenge of the Sith’s novelization, and for that reason I ranked it fairly low. I wouldn’t read this one unless you really really love the Sequel Trilogy.

27. To be fair, I read the new Thrawn book before I went back and read this one. Even so, Heir to the Empire didn’t impress me at all. Thrawn didn’t seem like a thrilling villain with lots of depth like he did in Timothy Zahn’s reimagined Thrawn novel. We barely saw him. A lot of time was spent on the Original Triology’s trio, which waasn’t bad. I thought Luke, Leia, and Han were all written fairly well. The latter part of the story was redeemed by the interactions between Mara Jade and Luke, for sure. Enemies to lovers, anyone?? Without Thrawn, this book would have been an entertaining story, but for all of the praise it has received from long-time Star Wars fans, I was expecting to be blown away and I wasn’t. Maybe I have to continue the triology to figure out what all of the fuss is about, but after this one, I’m not super motivated to read more. Change my mind?

28. Cloak of Deception really shines when you’re following Palpatine’s perspective because you can feel the undercurrents of his master plan to destroy the Republic underneath his calm persona as a Senator. Other than that, it’s a forgettable plot. This is all about galactic politics and some terrorist group trying to blow up some government officials. Basically the most boring parts of the prequel trilogy. I listened to the audiobook of this at the beginning of this year and I already forget what it’s about. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan should have been able to bring some humor and energy to get you rooting for the good guys, but there was barely any of that. I was disappointed in all of the characters. Everything felt distant, removed from the heart of the characters. Some people in reviews have argued that the events of The Phantom Menace really pinned this novel in a corner because you already know what happens, but I disagree, because we know how Revenge of the Sith goes and The Clone Wars show is that much more tragic and heartbreakingly beautiful because of it. Prequels can be done right. This ain’t it, Luceno. Sorry.

29. Star Wars: The Old Republic, Fatal Alliance needs to go home and rethink it’s life. I’m a huge fan of the Old Republic and I’ve put like 200 hours of my life into playing that game, so I was hoping for some fun content in this part of the timeline. Sadly, this book captured the worst parts of the game, like the fact that there’s way too many factions at war with each other. Jedi, Sith, Empire, Republic, Mandalorians. They’re all here. They’re all ready to throw down. And I’m tired. As with many of the books in this lower tier, I felt there wasn’t enough description of the world or the people in the story. We’re in the gffa, be a little weird and wacky. Be big and bold! Make things terrifying, or beautiful, or both. But give my mind something to work with. The number of characters made the plot messier than it could have been, and it definitely isn’t worth the read. I can’t speak for all Old Republic books, but this one didn’t impress me.

A Sith Lord?! On My Bookshelf? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think

30. So underwhelming, you might as well just read the first half and then stop. Last Shot is absolutely terrible, except for Lando Calrissian’s characterization, which was spot-on. If the whole story had been from his perspective, I probably would have a much difference opinion on the novel as a whole. Sadly, this is not the case. Han was boring, he bottled up his emotions, and seemed drastically different from the badass he was in the original trilogy. There are different timepoints in this novel, and in all of them, Han is unrecognizable. Don’t nerf one of your main characters like that. Daniel Jose Older and I might just not get along. I thought his writing style didn’t fit Star Wars at all. It was like breaking the fourth wall, totally pulling me out of the story constantly. Also, there were little to no descriptions of body language, locations, or movement. It left me feeling disoriented the whole time I was reading. I thought one of the most interesting things would have been seeing Han, Leia, and baby Ben being a family at this point in time, but Han’s family was there as a prop, nothing more. There was a big bad item that was going to cause galactic destruction and our heroes had to go save the day. There was barely any tension and no one lost an arm so I’m pretty pissed off. Is it Star Wars if no one gets their appendage removed? I can’t tell you how much I disliked this book. Which is sad because I was hoping to enjoy it. I like Han. I like Lando. I like space adventures. I’m not that hard to please, or at least I don’t think so.

#Star Wars Novels #tier ranking #long post #i worked hard to put my thoughts into words for you guys #i read these books over a long period of time but I thought I'd encompass all of it in one post #sw lit #i've had so much fun becoming a part of this fandom #and I love the conversations about the books and the gffa in general #hopefully this will inspire some discussion!#i would love you guys to make tier rankings as well #they're always my favorite youtube videos to watch

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vicecityhq · 3 years

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██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: the Italian Mafia, the sound of Lo-Fi beats, a coffee house . With a slight resemblance to NAKAMOTO YUTA of/the NCT 127.

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Last Name, First Name: Maiko, Akuyoshi ALIAS: The Crow Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Japanese Age: 73 Date of Birth: October 31st, 1948 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Species: Demon Occupation: N/A Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

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Skin Color: Pale Eye color: One dark grey almost black the other black with red, white and gold flecks in the iris Scars: two burn scars on either temple, faint scars on his wrists and ankles from long term restraints Piercings: 10 up his right ear from lobe to the top, 5 on his left ear (double lobe, cartilage, helix and daith) Tattoos: Many sporadic tattoos up his arms, and a few on his chest, hip and back. Hair color: jet black with a white/greyish streak in the front Abnormalities: his eyes, and his hair color is natural Horns/ wings/ etc: Transformed form: Akuyoshi’s transformed (demon) form is a four eyed creature with two long black horns coming from his head, dark shadow like wings sprout from his back. The corner of his mouth extend into a sharped tooth grin and his nails grow to abnormal lengths.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: N/A SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Russian, Japanese, English and Below Average Korean SECRETS: The reported terroistic attack on the KGB agency was carried out solely by him, he was in the wind before they could find him. SAVVIES: Guitar, Tinkering/fixing things, Cooking, Assassin work Powers & Abilities: Darkness manipulation, minor pyrokenisis, the ability to possess the living(any 'undead' creatures are immuned), life draining, Infrakenisis (with limitations due to being on earth), Demonic Psionics (with limitations due to being on earth), and able to summon creatures from hell. Expert Stealth, Assassination Tactics, Knowledge in various tranquilizers and poisons, Knowledge in various ways of body disposal, Advance knifing abilities (this includes throwing knives, regular knives, swords and katanas). Traits: patriarchal & mysterious

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: October 31st, 1948 Date of Death: [ if applying for an undead character ] Crime Record: He hates most authority figures, the ones that use their power over others to control them. He’s on many watch lists for assassination of political leaders (rumored), various counts of murder (alleged), various counts of torture (alleged) and a connection to a wealthy and quite suspicious operation worked out of the human city (also alleged), he has never been convicted. He is also technically the sole suspect of the slaughter of 25 KGB agents, 3 high ranked scientists and 2 high ranked psychologist back in 1964.

Background/Biography:

tw: this passage includes vague descriptions of murder, mind control, non-l conscentual impregnation, drug use, sexual abuse, rape, abuse of a minor, blood , parental death, death during childbirth and torture.

Once you are locked away by fiery bars, too powerful to be allowed loose in the human realm or any other, when some from even the darkest depths and realms fear your name on their lips you find yourself, aching to create the chaos you so desperately seek. Cursed to spend the rest of your days roaming the underworld in a special sanctuary for the protection of other hellspawns...and the world, with no way of getting to those realms, in fear of their ultimate destruction what could you possibly do to sate your disgusting lust for those around you to suffer. Easily, he would say, a powerful demon whose name they refused to utter, you create someone else to do the job for you. Sure possession is an option, but all it takes is some divine force to remedy that, especially when it comes to humans, so you….steal a vessel, create living breathing flesh to carry out your sadistic tendencies while you watch from the depths of Hell. All you need is someone to hold it, just for nine months.

Akame Miako’s obsession with the occult lead to her being that vessel. An only child to a hardworking and quite wealthy family in her village she seemed to counter the intense loneliness with spell books and rituals, stories of demonic possession and seances peaked her interest and she went as far to invite one into her home...kind of. Akame didn’t think the stories were true, easy access to summon something that even some other demons feared was far fetched for a mere mortal like her, besides even if she did , she was sure it’d be harmless, as harmless as demon could get. The translation from Latin to Japanese was a bit murky, she did all the things she was supposed to do, shut the door, lit the onyx colored candles and chanted his name. It tasted foul on her lips, metallic and sour as if blood had suddenly come up her throat like bile. The room grew in heat and sweat matted her jet black hair to her forehead, with all this build up the young teen would think that something was bound to happen right? But simply only the candle blew out, casting her room into darkness only set alite by the moon, of course she was right, it was all hullabaloo probably something conjured up by her great great gran something to spook their little village.

But what Akame hadn’t known, was that she’d open the door for exactly what He want ed, she would become his vessel, allowing him to breathe life into flesh another piece of him roaming the planet. It only took a few weeks for her to notice the signs, a usually healthy 18-year-old spent her mornings vomiting crimson, and her nights in searing abdominal pain, maybe a plague was sweeping through their village once more, it wouldn’t be the first time and sure wouldn’t be the last, but it had only been Akame who was harboring this, torturous disease. She hid it for as long as she could, not wanting her parents to worry, time off work meant a dwindle in their status and that was something they couldn’t afford, it wasn’t ‘til her mother founder her, writhing in pain on the floor that the village doctor was called, with a diagnosis no one was expecting, Akame was pregnant. There was no way of convincing her parents that she hadn’t gone against her pledge to wait ‘til marriage. They hadn’t believed that she was some Virgin Mary and she couldn’t even explain it herself. But, an unwed mother and her father’s place in the countries politics was something that they couldn’t afford, they’d locked her away until the babies birth, and it wasn’t until then when they found something was horribly, horribly wrong. It was a taxing birth, the room creaked and groaned, disembodied voices filled the empty space, her stomach twisting and contorting as the creature fought its way out of her. It tore her apart, as it crowned, and Akame was not equipped to handle it. Her feeble and young, she perished as the baby was born leaving her parents in mourning, and the doctor in fear. What was it? Why had it come with jet black hair and dark eyes? Why had it rejected the doctors blessing, crying and wailing as if the prayer was causing it great pain? He could only advise its remaining living relatives one thing, get rid of it.

The Miakofamily wasn’t to keen on killing an infant, in fact they flat out refused, telling the doctor there must be some way to get it far away from them without causing it any harm. They traveled for years, keeping the demonic entity at arms length before an unsuspected visitor received a tantalizing letter. The man was stone cold, with a charming smile, he had a weird accent and shining blue eyes, he’d pay them good money to take the now toddling child into what he called, a ‘school of reform for lost boys’. They took the bate, and the money, almost sad to see it go but happy to be rid of something that they were sure harbored some evil, the thing that killed their daughter, their only child. He said he’d rid it of whatever evil’s that may have come with it, that where it was going it would emerge a new man, and maybe one they would want to communicate with again. Masked by pearly gates and brass door knockers, they weren’t told about the extensive training, and weren't told about the weapon he’d become. How they would abuse him, strip him of his identity and show him how to use his striking looks for his own gain. They didn’t tell him about the monster he’d become, the new man that they’d create on their own accord. And he excelled, climbing in their ranking and leaving bodies and broken bones behind him. His body filled, cut clean, and he followed orders to ever ‘t’. He was reformed sure, a weapon now, molded to their perfect standard, used and abused, raped and pillaged for their own use somewhere in the world, they wanted a monster, masked by something so beautiful and enticing, and so he became one, using his powers at their will. It was a team full of creatures just like him, western Asia’s super weapon.

They assumed that he would continue to stay obedient, assumed he’d bend to their every will, for the rest of his life, but they were not careful, and let him in too close. He became conniving, manipulative, a teacher’s pet with a vendetta against the system and so he took the teacher’s job. Worked his way up until he was eye to eye to those that made him. And then, he destroyed them, and oh, how Olympus has fallen. He left with his life, though he cannot say much for the others. They had taken it all from him, he had no memories of what was before them, no images of family, of what an actual life was. Just a name. His grandfather was long gone, not that he knew, not that he cared, but he took what was given to him, a bank account, frozen until he was eighteen, when he was supposed to return, about 110 million yen, what was left of what they had, a supposed consolidation for abandoning the child, his grandmother fine and comfortable and she came looking, more than once she came looking and each time he left, ran far away from her, he didn’t know her never knew her, not like she wanted. He had become something absent of emotions, absent of memories, he was just a surname, but a name he could not live up to. Thus, he became someone else, just as they wanted.

He wandered on his own a bit, finding solace in the underground, and a band of misfits just like him. But touring, guitar shredding and becoming a confidant didn’t scratch that itch they had created for him. The itch to draw blood, hear torturous screams and extract the information that he wanted. The woman he had met had humanized him, made him feel less of a robot, less of a monster, showed him that he could make genuine connections even if they felt idle or like autopilot. Though, those thoughts still persisted, so he sought out ways to cure his hunger, more like the chef that could cook up such a feast had found him, a tragic case, sucked into another tragedy.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Akuyoshi spit on the ground and slumped back in his chair. The officers furrowed their brows, though fear was apparent of their faces. “We know who you are.” One of them spoke in English, the demon only erupted into a dark laugh, one that drained the color from the younger officers face. “Good.” His Russian accent was sharp, cutting through them like sharpened blades.

“If you want information, you wont get it from me.” He said tilting his head back, wet, sweat covered strands falling from his face. The ex agent had already began picking the lock on the cuffs behind him, brow ticking as they came unlocked. It was in a blink of an eye, blood splattered his face and the ceiling, the elder officer going to the ground with his hand grasping at his throat in panic, the one that was left only looked at him in horror, frozen in place and unable to run to safety, and Aku took the opportunity, taking both of his cheeks in his palms before twisting his wrist, the sound of the snap satisfying.

He disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke, before appearing before the camera that filmed the interview room, “Bozhe pomiluy svoyu dushu,” he said darkly, the word echoing off the walls like the demon’s father had began to ascend before he snatched it from the wall the last thing the overseers seeing was his large smile spreading towards his ears.

#vcaccepted #vccivilian #vchowlers

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gilbirda · 4 years

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Payment

After winning their silly little bet, Lucifer had arranged a vacation for him and his detective in a private island. What he doesn't know is that she had plans of her own.

<< Prequel

[Read in AO3][Read in FF.net]

"So," she heard the voice followed by a loud thump of something really heavy hitting the floor. "What do you think?"

Heavenly, was her first thought, but she was sure he wouldn't like the humour behind her words. Instead, Chloe pulled up her sunglasses and stepped into the mansion - she refused to call it a house - by the beach where Lucifer apparently wanted them to spend the rest of the week.

A beach in a private island, because of course The Devil owned a Caribbean island in the Bermuda Triangle. Despite the creepy mysteries behind planes and boats disappearing here, he had assured her that there wasn’t anything supernatural about this place; and as a bonus they had plenty of privacy here. The smile as he said it told her that he wasn’t exactly referring to nosy neighbours or unwanted visits.

She had never been in a private island. Or any island. One would think that with a famous mother she would have traveled a lot, but the fact is that she always been too busy with her studies and acting school to keep Penelope company in her travels.

Chloe smiled, swallowing down the knee-jerk reaction to Lucifer’s absurd wealth shows, and turned to see his buried under an equally absurd amount of luggage. It was his own fault, insisting that he chose everything she would wear or need as part of their bet, so she didn’t offer any help as she would have any other moment.

He didn’t seem tired, anyway.

“It’s nice,” she shrugged with a smirk, putting back her sunglasses and going inside the mansion with a flick of her hair.

Chloe was having the time of her life. She knew it was petty of her, but sometimes being predictable was boring and wasn't Lucifer complaining all the time about getting bored? That she could use some excitement in her life.

Seems like teasing the Devil was her new favorite pastime.

Serious teasing. Sexual teasing. Hinting promises and leave him hanging all day, being extra careful with her tongue movements as they ate ice-cream before, making unnecessary eye-contact every time she responded with an innuendo.

She really have been trying to read this book for a while, too, but Lucifer’s glare was too heavy to ignore even if he had been as quiet as a cat as he hovered around her.

A shadow was cast over her, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him.

“The main protagonist is about to have mind-blowing sex with the Dark Lord, so please move. You are blocking the light.”

The Devil snorted. “Why do you read that crap when you can have real-life mind-blowing sex with your own Dark Lord?”

He was trying so hard to conceal his frustration that her mask of controlled boredom almost cracked for it. It was endearing, watching him squirm and get all bothered because of her.

“Chloe…” he practically whined.

The woman smiled and closed the book, taking off the sunglasses. Maybe it was time to stop her game. She knew that they were here because of that stupid bet and that she was supposed to be living the fantasy of a deserted island with her boyfriend; but the truth is that she had been brewing a plan for this little vacation.

Lucifer thought she wouldn’t notice how he tried so hard to meet her needs, sexualy speaking that is; but the fact is that she did notice him withdrawing every time she presented a more active front. She knew he liked going down on her and tending to her every whim and plea, they had talked about it before, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have a preference or two. He had eons to try everything, true, and he must have a favorite position or kink.

So far she hadn’t approached him about it, but she was going to change that.

“Yeah?”

His expression was a mix of kicked puppy and Trixie’s face when there’s steamed broccoli for dinner.

“Please.” She wasn’t sure if she liked how he sounded saying that word; but the sensation surely won over the impulse of comforting him immediately.

Chloe smirked. “Join me for a quick shower?”

His smile lit up like a Christmas tree.

Breathing heavily, Chloe considered her boyfriend as he rearranged his bathrobe, his hair beyond salvation after the attack of her hands as he did so many wonderful things between her legs.

“Want more?” his voice made her focus on his eyes. They glinted with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” she shook her head, jumping off the bathroom counter. Didn’t bother with a towel, though. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he offered her another robe, opening it for her to pass her arms through.

“You.”

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes at his tone, “but what about, specifically?”

She could cower and let it go, she knew; but between with the deep relaxation after a perfect shower followed by a mindblowing orgasm, she felt bold and brave. She came here with a mission.

“What do you want?”

He blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. You mean for dinner? Or…”

“Sorry. Let me rephrase it,” she cleared her throat, looked at him in the eye, leaning in a bit. “Tell me, what do you desire?” she said trying to mimic his accent.

Lucifer snorted and pinched her nose. “Awful. Just awful. Don’t do that ever again.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t,” Chloe batted his hand away. “But my question still stands. What is it that you most want?”

“You. I thought it was obvious,” he frowned like it was a stupid question.

“I mean, hm…” her bravery was vanishing. “In sex. I know you have a lot of experience and everything… Let me finish!” she said when he opened his mouth to, probably, reassure her once more that monogamy wasn’t a torture and she was more than enough and Detective, please, nothing can compare. “I have a point. What I wanted to say is, I have noticed how you do a bunch of stuff for me but don’t ask anything in return.”

“I thought that it was okay to do something without it being a deal…?” Chloe could almost see the question marks floating around his head.

“Yes! Yes, it is. But, trust me I can’t believe I’m saying this, I would do anything you ask of me. Doesn’t matter how kinky or, dunno, weird.”

“Anything…” he murmured the word, taking a step back, analysing her.

“Tell me, I’ll understand,” she looked down at her fidgeting hands, forcing them to stop. Here it goes, she though. Lucifer, the King of weird kinks and forbidden desires. What kind of thing would be the Devil’s kink? His one forbidden desire? The man who spoke of sex as an everyday thing, who had a BDSM dungeon (she knew about its existence, but never been there) fully stocked, who could draw the darkest and deepest fetishes of people without blinking.

Lucifer was still watching, considering, making her more nervous. Was it so fucked up that he didn’t want to talk about it out loud?

“Detective,” she jumped at his voice, “while I appreciate the thought, you don’t have to do anything for me. What you already give is more than enough for an eternity.”

How could he deliver such corny and cheesy phrases without sounding tacky? It was a mystery, but her money was on the accent. And his height.

Chloe took a deep breath. “I know. I’ve had my fair share of guilt tripping boyfriends pressuring me into sex to know you are not one of them.” He smiled dangerously, making it clear that he wanted the names of those ‘boyfriends’. “This is something I really want to do. And who knows, maybe I’ll like it too?” she gave him a tentative smile.

Lucifer relaxed, smiling back, closing the space between them to softly place a kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered like it was a fact.

And it was.

“Then tell me what you -”

“Stop right there if you value your kidney,” he grumbled. The devil didn’t like her butchering his catchphrase, it seems.

“I wasn’t going go say it.”

“Liar.”

She smirked devilishly, pushing him towards the bed, amazed once more when he let himself be pushed.

“What is it?”

Was it a blush in his cheeks? “Promise you won’t laugh.”

She frowned. “Laugh?” Chloe frowned.

“Yep. Promise.”

“I promise, sure, but I wouldn’t laugh at you anyways.”

He searched inside her eyes for a few seconds before sighing, closing his eyes.

“I want you to dominate me.”

Her eyebrows went to the hairline. “That was unexpected.” But she rolled with it, as she always did with her partner. “I thought Maze…?”

“Dear Mazikeen sure is the dominating type in bed,” he conceded with a slight nod, “and I let her do with me what she wanted more than a few times. But what I crave is more than pain and restraining. True submission is about -”

“Trust,” Lucifer saw the gears work inside her pretty brain. She knew him well, knew about his opinions about free will, about his issues with trust. Hell wasn’t place of trust and friendship, he had told her plenty of times. Maze was his trusted bodyguard and lover, but she was, after all, a demon. “And you trust me.”

“With my whole life.”

Chloe kissed him, hard.

“I don’t do pain, though,” she grabbed his face, looking at him in the eye. “I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” he smiled.

“Good. Then I’m game, if you excuse my inexperience.”

Lucifer moved her so he could stand up from the bed, straightened his bathrobe, and flashed her a charming trademark Lucifer smile.

“Worry not, Detective! We can start with something simple.” With long strides, he glided towards a dresser by the bed, opening a drawer and retrieving some stuff from inside. “Have you ever used one of this?”

Chloe should have expected this. She should, with how the conversation was going. But she wasn’t ready to see a pretty and shiny (and new, she noticed) strap-on with the dildo already attached. She had flashbacks of a moment a long time ago, with a young Chloe awkwardly kissing a woman, a girl who thought that “she was just experimenting” and “just a phase”. Yeah right.

“Once,” her voice didn’t falter, thankfully.

“Nice,” he smiled, showing a lot of teeth, “I want to hear about that story sometime.”

She made a face. Of course he would want to hear about her sex life, even if it wasn’t as colorful as his.

Chloe stood and approached him to retrieve the strap-on, one hand on his chest to push him back towards the bed. He let her, stealing a kiss as he walked backwards. The woman snorted.

“So,” she said, watching him from above, weighing the dildo in one hand as she contemplated what to do next. She wasn’t usually dominating in bed, but… well, it warmed her heart to hear his reasons behind wanting it. “Take off the robe.”

He nodded and did as he was told, making a show of it.

Chloe smiled softly. “Now, I want you to....,” she looked around, considering her words, “kneel.”

His knees made a dull sound when they contacted with the wooden floor, but he didn’t make an expression of pain. Chloe put her free hand on his hair, petting him softly, trying to dictate what kind of dominance she was going for. She didn’t do pain, didn’t do humiliation. He had suffered that enough in his life; and she was absolutely sure that it wasn’t what he was asking for with his request.

“You look so pretty like this, Luce,” her smile was soft, “I love how vulnerable you look around me.” Her hand went down his face, caressing his lips. He leaned into the touch, but didn’t say anything.

“I love kissing you knowing that I am the only one. That your lips are mine,” her nails scrapped his scalp softly when she grabbed a bit of hair, not enough to hurt. “Are they?”

“Yes,” his voice didn’t tremble, but he closed his eyes. Chloe smiled.

“Good. Stand up.”

Being so close to him, his height made him tower above her, but that didn’t make her cower down. It never did.

“On the bed,” she slapped his backside when he turned to do as she told him. “Good devil.”

“Always.”

“Uh-huh, didn’t give you permission to speak,” she stood before him, placing the strap and the dildo somewhere on the mattress and focusing on him.

He arched an eyebrow, but bit down whatever he was going to retort with.

“Now, for your little slip of the tongue, you are not allowed to move,” she locked eyes with him as she kneeled between his legs, her intentions clear. “No words, but you can make sounds. And no touching me.” Her growl was good, he decided. Pasable.

Without preamble, she took him into her mouth, delighted when he jumped and fisted his hands on the sheets. He enjoyed touching her, her face, her hair, her shoulders, anything, as she does her blowjobs; she was sure that part of it was to make sure she was real and was actually doing it. She liked it too, not going to lie, even if sometimes he got a bit rough.

Okay, maybe those times turned her on more that she was going to admit out loud.

She looked up as she bobbed her head up and down his length, smiling around him once she found a very flustered devil, jaw locked in place, trying very hard to control his own body from reaching for her. His eyes were shifting between normal brown and hellfire red, the only sign that she was doing exactly what she wanted.

Lucifer should have expected this, he thought. His Detective was cunning and clever, with a mischievous streak buried deep under her sensible clothes and brown shoes. What he didn’t expect was looking down to find her swallowing him further and further, her face scrunched in concentration as she overcame her gag reflex with the ease of enough practise.

Once she managed to reach all the way up, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Throwing his head back, he moaned loudly, her name on the tip of his tongue, remembering in the last minute that he wasn’t allowed to say words. His hands trembled on his sides, the urge to grab her head and pound into her throat consuming his thoughts until he couldn’t stop imagining it even with his eyes opened.

She kept her head down one moment that felt like eons before withdrawing, taking a deep breath.

“Do you like it?” her lips were swollen as she smiled her question, one hand idly stroking his cock with care. Lucifer nodded hastily, taking the break to breathe himself. “Good devil.” He shivered at her praising. “I love watching you like this, too. I love doing this to you knowing that I am the only one who can touch you like this. Am I? You can speak.”

"Yes.”

He was close, she knew. It was tempting to give her all and make him cum after the teasing, but she was strong enough to ignore the siren’s call.

“Good, good,” she nodded and let him go. Lucifer gasped, looking at her like she had just murdered his puppy. “No talking,” she reminded him when he opened his mouth.

Lucifer rolled his eyes in a very Decker way.

“On the bed,” she made a gesture with her chin, a soft smile on her lips. “Good devil,” the woman said as he did so, ignoring the smug smile when he laid down, hands behind his head, and proudly presenting his Luciferness for her.

Chloe reached for the harness, her hands finding their places in the straps and quickly fastening the contraption between her legs. She felt in control, dominant, and exactly in tune with what she wanted to do. Lucifer watched her with anticipation while she went for the lube and applied a generous quantity over the silicone, stroking the false cock to thoroughly spread the glossy substance.

She kneeled between his legs, reached for a nearby pillow and put it under him, ordering him to lift his hips with a soft slap on the leg, before spreading even more lube on her right hand and grabbing his member by the base, waiting for confirmation. He nodded briefly, letting her hand slid down, biting back a retort about not really needing prep, duh, who has she thinking he was?

“Before you start bitching about it, remember how vulnerable,” she made a point by squeezing his cock almost to an uncomfortable point. He jumped and gasped, but not really for the pain, “you are around me. Trust me.”

The thing is, he did.

Chloe put in a finger, lazily pumping him with her left hand, looking into his eyes as she added almost immediately another finger. She felt him relax into the sensation, not really aroused by it but enjoying the feeling of his Detective touching him in such delightful ways.

The woman added another finger, slowly spreading them, focusing on the rhythm and his reaction to it.

Lucifer gasped when she deemed him sufficiently prepared and withdrew her digits, pouring some more lube just in case.

“Thank you for allowing me this moment, Lucifer,” she caressed his chest as she shuffled closer to him, her fingers leaving wet tracks on his tanned skin, “I love how doing this to you makes me feel. How your body responds to me,” she said as she probed the entrance with the plastic toy.

Without any further warning, she slowly pushed the dildo in, watching out for any discomfort or pain in his expression. He had closed his eyes, one of his hands floating near her hip as if reaching to guide her. Chloe waited for a moment.

Lucifer’s breath hitched when she withdrew as slowly as she entered. No one told him it would be like this. No one could have warned him it could be like this. Sex with the love of his life was amazing and everything but, bloody hell, this woman…!

She thrusted right back in, and he actually mewled in response, his hands choosing to fist around the sheets again. Was he allowed to touch her again…? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure anymore about anything. Why was Chloe doing this? He should have asked sooner. Hell, he should have offered sooner, if this was what got her into his bed.

“You can speak,” her words were like fresh water in the dessert.

“Chloe,” he grumbled, his voice a hybrid of a growl and a moan. “More.”

She didn’t say anything else and picked up the pace a little, her hands searching for anchor in his thighs to power her thrust, searching for the balance of force and speed he craved.

“More!” He arched his back, feeling like something was quite there but not there, making him mad with the need, like scratching an itch he couldn’t reach.

Instead of going faster, Chloe gradually stopped. He opened his eyes, horrified, scared that he said the wrong thing or wanted too much, or she was finally realizing that dating a celestial maybe wasn’t exactly what she wanted-

“On your belly,” her breathing was labored but her expression focused. She slapped his stomach softly when he didn’t move. “I have an idea, one that maybe won’t require cramping my legs.”

In a daze, Lucifer did as told, missing the pressure of the dildo inside of him, missing the reassurance of seeing her face and asses if she was okay or not. His back may not be scarred anymore, and she was allowed to touch him where she wanted now, but he still felt utterly vulnerable in his position. Maybe she knew this?

Chloe run a finger over his spine, right between where his wings would be. “Wings. Out.”

“Chloe?”

She kissed his back instead of answering.

Taking a deep breath he unfurled his enormous wings, careful of not pushing her out of the bed in the process. This wasn’t the first time he showed her his cursed appendages, even during sex; but it was the first time she asked for them. She knew about the conflicted emotions around them, the pain and the loss, about the grooming and what it entailed. What it meant to be touched there.

“I’m going to touch your feathers, maybe pull them. Is that okay with you?” her voice was soft, not demanding at all, breaking character for the one question he knew he could answer truthfully.

The words came easy. “Please do.”

He felt more than saw her nod before feeling the silicone cock touching him again. He angled his ass better for her, delighted when her hands bracketed his hips like they were made to be there. Just as naturally and easy, she pushed in and started to pump in and out again, slow at first as she found the position to power through what she wanted to accomplish.

Lucifer’s arms trembled when her hands roamed up to his wings, her nimble fingers finding places that triggered shivers and sighs and nice feelings; and places that send lighting to his groin, too. He moaned after one powerful thrust, his hand sneaking down, trying to reach that extra completion…

“Uh-huh,” she slapped the hand away.

“No?” he turned his head to look at her beautiful naked body, the visuals of her cock disappearing inside of him giving him the shivers.

“Nope.” She grinned in a very him way, pushing in a bit harder to accentuate her point. She was in control. She did the action.

“O-okay…” he almost screamed, but bit down the urge.

Lucifer closed his eyes, letting himself feel the friction and the delicious sensations she provided. He screamed when she grabbed a handful of feathers and pulled, careful of not hurting him too much even if she couldn’t know that with her human strength she couldn’t really damage his wings. She pulled again, this time accompanied by another powerful thrust.

His arms trembled, unable of supporting his weight anymore, and fell down, losing the last bit of control he held over what she was doing to him, letting himself be held down by the woman.

“Detective,” he moaned into the pillow. She hummed, raking her nails deep into his wings, sending electric currents through his body. Lucifer screamed again.

“My name, Lucifer. I want to hear my name.” Her voice couldn’t be louder than a normal conversation, but it rang loud in his brain.

He didn’t know if it was her tone or how the new angle made the silicone hit just right but he was sure that he was close again. Still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. She was enough, but there were so many things he wanted to do with her. It was always like this. He wanted so much, too much, and he wanted all with her. She said she wanted to fulfill his desires but would she really?

He turned his head to look at her delicious form, her focused expression, her lower lip between her teeth in concentration. She was sweating and breathing hard, but she looked… radiant.

“Detec-”, she slapped his ass, glaring at him when she found his eyes. “Chloe,” her name sounded like a plea. “Please don’t stop.”

She was going to ask what he meant, when she felt the resistance to her movements increase, his legs trembling slightly, and she understood now. As he came, she kept moving at a slower pace, guiding her actions by his breathing and the tone of his moans, how he looked at her with eyes switching between dark brown and hellfire red.

He was beautiful like this, she concluded. His hair messed beyond repair, utterly wrecked and helpless under her body. She pulled some feathers again, smirking when immediately he screamed her name, arching his back as much as she let him.

“Don’t stop, please,” he kept saying, this time with eyes glowing red, “Please.”

And she didn’t stop. Chloe kept thrusting and pulling and caressing and slapping; slowing down sometimes, notching the speed a bit up when she found the strength. Her legs were burning, but she kept going. She could do this. She wanted to do this.

It wasn’t until he eventually stopped pleading and mewling and moaning that she ceased all movements. She was tired. And needed a shower. And water.

Slowly, she withdrew the silicone cock, Lucifer’s body falling limp on the bed. She worried for a moment that she had hurt him, but when she rushed to check if he was alive she found him awake but silent, watching her in a daze-like state. She snapped her fingers and he moved his eyes to hers in question, but didn’t do anything else.

Deciding that it was okay as a response, she unfastened the straps and got out of the bed, waggling towards the bathroom as fast as her tired legs could. She wetted a cloth and came back to clean a still unresponsive Lucifer, wrestling with his celestial weight and wings to turn him to clean the bodily fluids clinging to his skin. He would need to shower too, but that was for the them of the future.

For now, napping.

If he agreed or not, she couldn’t know. The only signs that he was alive were his still changing eyes watching her every movement, a blank expression in his face. She had broken him, she knew. For a few seconds, she considered getting this moment captured in a photo for future blackmail, but she dismissed the idea with a smile.

Once they both were clean enough for her standards, she threw the cloth to a nearby table and proceeded to yank the sheets from under the Devil’s body. If she was tired before, she was about to collapse now. Chloe didn’t care if it wasn’t night yet, she was going to nap.

At last she got under the covers with her boyfriend, spooning his unresponsive form, wings and all. She closed her eyes, humming with delight.

“Chloe,” she heard him whisper.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” His voice broke with emotion. She didn’t comment on it.

“I know,” she kissed the back of his head. “Now, sleep.”

“Okay.”

#lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x chloe #gil writes #fanfic #fanfiction #writeblr

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your-angle-of-music · 3 years

Text

Anyone want my playlist for my dream cast version of The Phantom of the Opera?

Coming right up!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGFe3xKBIJQ&list=PLyXOfYb8cpfkWW_8EO-XHO2MIBFLMevmn

To my knowledge, this has all the songs that count as songs, but as always, I welcome other people’s additions or suggestions!

Check out under the cut for the list of songs and actors, and my notes and explanations for each of them. Enjoy!

1. Prologue/Overture - Barry Clark as the Auctioneer, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta (Original Broadway)

To be honest, I was never too fond of this long prologue, which is never relevant again and reveals very little about the characters’ future. Clark’s Auctioneer does create a properly grand feel, and Barton’s Raoul does sound heartbroken, but what I’m really here for is that epic, bombastic, beautiful overture. No matter how many times I hear it, it will never stop being exhilarating. This track also features the Hannibal opera part. Ashe’s Carlotta sounds deliciously dramatic and her high note on “Rome” treads that line between impressive and annoying perfectly.

2. Think of Me - Katie Hall as Christine Daae, Angela Caesar as Carlotta, Simon Bailey as Raoul de Chagny (UK Tour)

God, I love Caesar’s Carlotta. She takes her time with all her lines, to excellent effect, and her “spare a thought for me” is both genuinely pretty and utterly distinct from Hall’s Christine’s. I also adore the alternating weepiness and shoutiness she puts into her “these things do happen” tirade, and you can hear her clapping during “all the time!”. And then her “this thing does not happen!” is gloriously over-the-top. Meanwhile, Hall’s Christine’s voice is so lovely here. I appreciate how quietly she starts out, barely audible, and then how sweet her voice is once she gets more confident on “that oh so distant day.” She sounds pure and innocent but yet still clearly classically trained, and damn, she can project. I love the way she sings “think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned” especially. And then that final “think of me” cadenza is perfect. She makes the high notes seem effortless and they’re buttery smooth. Bailey’s Raoul also makes an excellent first impression.

3. Angel of Music - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Janet Devenish as Meg Giry, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

We start of strong with Crawford’s Phantom’s absolutely haunting “bravi, bravi, bravissimi.” And then I adore Devenish’s Meg — she has such a pure, clear, young voice that sounds perfect for her role. Devenish makes this the best version of this song in my opinion, even though I prefer the new lyric ““I watched your face from the shadows / distant through all the applause. / I hear your voice in the darkness, / yet the words aren’t yours” to the one that Devenish’s Meg sings here, “Christine, you must have been dreaming, / stories like this can’t come true. / Christine, you’re talking in riddles, / and it’s not like you” (because come on now, talking in riddles is one of Christine’s defining personality traits). Brightman’s Christine sounds gorgeous on the high notes, especially when she sings softly, and I love her on her “father once spoke of an angel” part.

4. Little Lotte/The Mirror - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

Barton’s Raoul will always be my favorite. There’s a sweetness and a warmth to his voice that makes him always seem likable, when other musical Raouls seem patronizing or boring or manipulative or dumb. I like the mischievous, flirtatious note in Brightman’s Christine’s “you remember that too.” And most of all, I like Crawford’s Phantom’s powerful “insolent boy!” that manages to sound both scary and strangely far-off and echoey — I’d believe he was an angel too. And then the gentleness in his “flattering child, you shall know me” seems more book accurate and likable to me. Crawford has a unique quality to his voice that makes me love his rendition of the “angel of music” motif the best of any actor’s. I am a little sorry that the end of Barton’s cry of “angel” gets cut off in this recording, though.

5. The Phantom of the Opera - Michael Crawford as the Phantom, Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae (Original Broadway)

Brightman’s Christine might not be the strongest, acting-wise, but vocally? She has the range, darlings. She sings the soft, low beginning of this song and the piercing, high end of it with the same facility — I mean, just listen to that last high E. It sounds effortless. And everything in between is good too; her first “the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind” has a breathtakingly haunting quality. Crawford’s Phantom is also very good with the high notes. I just love the way he sings the words “my power over you grows stronger yet” and “in all your fantasies, you always knew” almost too airily, and of course every time he sings “phantom,” it’s powerful enough to give me chills. And I love how soft he is on his first few rounds of “sing for me.”

6. The Music of the Night - Earl Carpenter as the Phantom (London 2006)

This is one of the few tracks on here that I have video for, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Everything about Carpenter’s Phantom’s body language really makes this song for me, in addition to his positively angelic voice. Carpenter embodies the version of the Phantom that I know from the novel, hesitant and gentle even though he’s...Like That, and he manages to make “The Music of the Night” really seem like a love song. I appreciate that he remains so quiet for so much of the beginning, almost inaudible with your computer’s volume turned up less than a third, and the sweetness he puts into the phrase “night unfurls its splendor.” Also that little hand block he does on “tremulous and tender” and the way he never quite touches Christine during “turn your face away from the garish light of day” makes me Feel Things. The crescendo fakeout he does on “close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams” is masterful, as is his high note on “soar” and the way he turns his masked side away from Christine’s hand on “the darkness of the music of the night” and...oh God, we’re only three minutes in. But he’s not just soft and sweet; his “let your soul take you where you long to be” is strong and powerful. I really, really like how he keeps his distance even when he has his arm around her, and the way he stops her hand during “savor each sensation.” Christine’s faint looks weird, because it always does, because it’s really dumb, but I appreciate that Carpenter actually catches her — and looks a small bit panicked about it. And then when he strokes her hair and sings that last “night” the softest and purest of all...perfection.

7. I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It - John Owen-Jones as the Phantom, Rachel Barrell as Christine Daae (London 2005)

Another one with video! And oh boy, what a video. First of all, Barrell’s Christine has a very cool and interesting voice, and I love the way she sings “on the lake there was a boat, and in the boat there was a man,” delicate and unsure, before you can hear her steeling her courage on “who was that shape in the shadows?” I’m equally happy with the way JOJ’s Phantom snarls out that “you little lying Delilah! you little viper!” while still making it sound good, and that over-the-top, extremely JOJ final “damn you! curse you!” that ends in a sob ‘n growl, because if there’s ever a show to be melodramatic in, it’s Phantom. And then his hissed out “stranger than you dreamt it” and the fact that he keeps his hand over his face the entire time makes it perfect. His wounded-animal-style crawling starting on “fear can turn to love” and the roughness and pain and prettiness in his voice reminds me a lot of Erik’s characterization in the novel, as is his sobbed “oh, Christine!” right afterwards, and his “those two fools who run my theater will be missing you!” is believably scary.

8. Magical Lasso - Janos Kurucz as Joseph Buquet, Mary Millar as Madame Giry (Original Broadway)

It’s such a small song, but I really love the unique quality to Kurucz��s Buquet’s voice, as well as the anxiety in Millar’s Madame Giry’s “heat of his eyes.”

9. Notes/Prima Donna - Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta, John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Mary Millar as Madame Giry, Janet Devenish as Meg Giry, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

This song is way more of a bop than it has any right to be. I absolutely adore Savident’s Firmin and Firth’s Andre, with their humor and their bluster and their old married husbands vibes. I love that overpowering “damnable!” and that long-suffering sigh on “Wrote. Written.” All the indignant drama that Ashe’s Carlotta brings is delightful in every way, especially on her high Italian parts and that “it’s no use trying to appease me, you’re only saying this to please me.” Crawford’s Phantom’s “one last chance” is chilling, and I like how pretty his sound is here — it’s way creepier than growly anger. The “Prima Donna” section is just such a gorgeous melody, really, and Savident and Firth have such rich, lovely voices. And Barton’s Raoul is also amazing; his “is this her angel of music” especially is so gorgeous. I do wish I could hear Millar’s Madame Giry a little bit more clearly, but I love her voice. And Ashe’s last “once more” high note is really quite breathtaking, as is Crawford’s “a disaster beyond your imagination will occur.“ This recording also features a section of Il Muto that will overlap a little bit with the next track — sorry about that.

10. Il Muto - Kim Stengel as Carlotta, Elizabeth Loyacano as Christine Daae, Howard McGillin as the Phantom (Broadway 2008)

There’s some video for this one, which is good, because all the actors are hilarious. This Raoul...sounds like a bit of an asshole, but to be fair, the script shoves him pretty firmly into that role. I can’t find the name of the actor who plays the Count anywhere, but he is perfect. I love the way he holds that “observe her” note, and his hammy self-awareness in doing so. The real MVP here is Stengel’s Carlotta, with all her imperiousness and her high notes and her dramatic nervous laughter and the way she bosses around Christine and the conductor. And her croaking. The croaking is perfect, especially when she does it offstage. Loyacano’s Christine doesn’t have too much to do in this scene, but her kissing in time is amazing. Same for McGillin’s Phantom, although I like how quiet and genuinely amused he is on his “perhaps it is you who are the toad” as well as his maniacal laughter when he kills Buquet. Actually, the whole ballet section is perfectly executed (although I’m not much of an expert on dancing).

11. Why Have You Brought Us Here/All I Ask of You - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, Michael Crawford as the Phantom (Original Broadway)

Brightman’s Christine is wonderful here, sounding properly hysterical on “and in this labyrinth, where night is blind” and “Raoul, I’ve been there” and beautiful and sad on the “yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world” bit. And did I mention that I love Barton’s Raoul? Because I do. I really, really do. The beginning of this song can make Raoul look. Really bad. But this one manages to pull it off, sounding so concerned and so utterly in love. When he sings “no more talk of darkness” and “let me be your shelter, let me be your light” his voice sounds so soft and warm and gentle and my God, you can hear the smile and the hug, and then his “then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime” is urgent and soaring and lovely. Brightman matches his energy, and she has a lovely, delicate voice that balances perfectly with his. Her “say the word and I will follow you” sounds so tender and there’s a gorgeous intensity in her “say you love me.” Their last “love me, that’s all I ask of you” is sweet and soft, and I love the lightness in Brightman’s “I must go” and of course the warm solidity in Barton’s “Christine, I love you” that sets up the contrast that will absolutely make me cry later. Crawford’s Phantom is perfect too, right from that first haunting, echoing “Christine” at the beginning. He sounds vulnerable and almost disbelieving and on “I gave you my music” and the last repetitions of “Christine,” and that “Go!” is TERRIFYING.

12. Entr’acte - John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre (Original Broadway)

I don’t have that many feelings about which orchestra in particular preforms this, but I definitely want to include it. I do adore Webber’s score and the switches between the different melody motifs are pretty awesome. Fair warning, though, that it does include the very beginning of “Masquerade” but cuts off in the middle of “I must say, all the same, that it’s a shame that Phantom fellow isn’t here,” which frustrates me to no end.

13. Masquerade - Anna O’Byrne as Christine Daae, Alexander Lewis(???) as Raoul de Chagny (Australia 2009)

Another song with video! And it’s good quality too, highlighting the colorfulness of this scene. O’Byrne’s Christine and Lewis’ Raoul enter at “who can name the face,” and they’re graceful dancers, and everyone reflects the high energy of the scene, especially on the quiet verse. O’Byrne’s Christine sounds young here, but in a good way, and quite scared on “you promised me,” and Lewis lets his Raoul be exasperated on “it’s an engagement, not a crime” — it feels like they’ve had this argument many times before. The part where Christine and Raoul get separated feels genuinely suspenseful, and I really love the lighting just before the Phantom’s entrance.

14. Why So Silent? - Earl Carpenter as the Phantom (London 2005 - 2007)

I do love Carpenter’s Phantom because he’s sweet, but sometimes I love him because he’s really, really scary. There’s video for this bit so we can all admire his Red Death costume and the lighting to match. He stays creepily quiet for the beginning, so that his “remember there are worse things than a shattered chandelier” and his “your chains are still mine! you will sing for me!” are all the more powerful.

15. Notes/Twisted Every Way - Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny, John Savident as Monsieur Firmin, David Firth as Monsieur Andre, Mary Millar as Madame Giry, Rosemary Ashe as Carlotta (Original Broadway)

Honestly, Ashe’s Christine is one of the best parts of this song. The way she sings “outrage!” and “ha! here’s our little flower” and the way she absolutely snarls “she’s the one behind this, Christine Daae!” is perfection. She’s also brilliant in the “Don Juan Triumphant” rehearsal. Savident’s Firmin and Firth’s Andre are wonderful as usual, and Barton’s Raoul manages to sound gentle and good in a script that is not kind to the character here — his “you don’t have to, they can’t make you” and “you said yourself, he was nothing but a man” and “every hope and every prayer rests on you now“ are lovely. Millar’s Madame Giry sounds frail and scared and determined (I love her “monsieur, be careful, we have seen him kill”) and she reminds me a lot of her characterization in the novel, and Crawford’s Phantom is deliciously creepy in his letter, and I adore his almost sighing sound on phrases like “an office not the arts” and “her teacher.” His “your obedient friend” gives me chills. Brightman’s Christine also shines here. I actually like the quiet almost-shrillness in her “how dare you” because it sounds like she’s been trying to do what she’s supposed to all along but she’s beginning to snap under the stress, and same goes for her “I’ll go mad!” which sounds genuine and spontaneous. Her “twisted every way” section is haunting and haunted and ethereally beautiful and I could listen to it all day. This recording also includes the beginning of “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” so heads up about that.

16. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again - Leila Benn Harris as Christine Daae (London 2008)

There’s some video for this one, but the quality isn’t great — sorry about that. Harris’ Christine, however, is extremely great. Her voice contains sweetness and sadness and trauma and anger all at once and her dynamics are just perfection. The way she sings “that voice which calls to me and speaks my name” provokes instant goosebumps every time, and then the softness in her “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing” is brilliant. The fierce anger in her “sculpted angels, cold and monumental” is what really made me fall in love with Harris’ rendition. And that strength and power in her “why can’t the past just die” and then the softness and clearness in “help me say goodbye” with the last ringing, gorgeous high note. God, she is perfect, isn’t she.

17. Wandering Child/Bravo, Monsieur - Michael Crawford as the Phantom, Sarah Brightman as Christine Daae, Steve Barton as Raoul de Chagny (Original Broadway)

Hands down, this song, at least the first half, is my favorite in the show, and these three singers’ voices pull it off perfectly. Brightman’s Christine has such a delicate voice that sounds so lovely with the two lower ones, and she puts so much gentleness and sadness into that “angel or father, friend or phantom, who is it there staring?” and she sounds beautiful and tortured on that “Angel of Music, I denied you, turning from true beauty.” Her acting on “oh, Raoul!” and “Raoul, come back!” is...not the best, but her singing makes it well worth it to me. And Crawford’s Phantom sounds, well, like an angel. There’s such a strangeness and sadness and beauty in his voice. The way he sings “have you forgotten your angel?” is lovely and soft, and I just love how he says “far from my far-reaching gaze” (and I also love the lyric itself; I think it’s really creepy when later Phantoms change it to “fathering gaze”). And his “turning from true beauty” and “come to your strange angel” are powerful and perfect in every way. His “I am your Angel of Music, come to me, Angel of Music” is properly hypnotic, and I like the steadiness of it amidst Christine’s and Raoul’s panic. And speaking of Raoul, Barton kills it with all of his harmonies, and there’s genuine worry in his deliciously soft “once again she is his, once again she returns” and in his loud and long and powerful “luring her back from the grave.” Crawford’s and Barton’s “bravo, monsieur” exchange sounds properly scary, and I almost like how over-the-top Crawford is being compared to Barton’s relative calmness — they are just on such different pages, emotionally, and are assessing the situation in completely different ways. This recording also gets into the beginning of “The Point of No Return,” or rather “Don Juan Triumphant,” and it sounds...demonic is the best word I can think of, honestly, but that is definitely a good thing. I’m not too fond of Brightman’s Christine or Crawford’s Phantom in this part, but I do appreciate their excellent voices as always.

18. The Point of No Return - Ramin Karimloo as the Phantom, Sierra Boggess as Christine Daae (25th Anniversary)

Unpopular opinion, perhaps bordering on life-threatening: I’m generally not that into Karimloo’s portrayal of the Phantom. His voice is just a bit too smooth for me, too glamorous and sexy, not an eerie Crawford or an angelic Carpenter or a tortured JOJ, and his acting usually reflects that side of him a bit too much for the Phantom I know. But in this song? It works. Holy everloving fuck, it works. I love the way he says “no backward glances” and “what warm unspoken secrets will we learn” Boggess’ Christine is absolutely mesmerizing here too — her high notes on “you have brought me” and her vibrato on “our passion play has now at last begun” and the huskiness of her “past the point of right or wrong” are brilliant in every way. I’m especially glad that I have video for this song, because these two really make it with their body language. The way Boggess’ Christine springs up and bolts away just before her “you have brought me” line and, of course, Karimloo’s Phantom’s shaking hands on “until we’re one” are perfect. And then, after Boggess’ Christine’s realization that it’s the Phantom she’s singing with at “consume us,” their dynamic is perfect, with Karimloo’s growling determination and Boggess’ anger and fear, both expressed perfectly in their “so stand and watch it burn.” I love the way their “return”s are out of sync after Boggess’ Christine reveals the Phantom’s mask, and the way Karimloo spits out his “-turn” like a challenge. And then the tenor sweetness and intensity of his “say you’ll share with me” can just about break me every time, yet it also sounds properly distinct from Raoul’s earlier version, like with the fiercely desperate edge to his “one lifetime,” and his “anywhere you go let me go too” almost has a different melody. And then I think his snarling and “no”ing when Christine unmasks him at the end is...a little much, but still very on-brand. Oh, and there’s like ten seconds of silence at the end of this recording, just to warn you.

19. Down Once More/The Final Lair - John Owen-Jones as the Phantom, Katie Hall as Christine Daae, Simon Bailey as Raoul de Chagny (UK Tour)

I love this production so, so much, and I wish I had video for it, because nothing exemplifies its understanding of the characters like the staging of The Kiss — instead of the standard staging, in which Christine kisses the Phantom, then hugs him, then kisses him again with more enthusiasm, in this production, Hall’s Christine kisses JOJ’s Phantom once, and then he falls to his knees and she hugs him as he sinks into her and then pushes her away. But I’m here for the audio, too. We start of strong with JOJ’s Phantom’s “into darkness deep as hell!” which he holds for an amazingly long time in this voice of beautiful despair, followed by a properly tortured “why, you ask, was I bound and chained” section. His “a mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing” is heartwrenching, and his “monsieur, I bid you welcome” section is chilling. Despite his awesomeness, I might still need to hand the MVP award to Hall’s Christine, who carries an anger and defiance into this scene that I rarely see in other Christines that you can hear in her “am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh” and her “it’s in your soul that the true distortion lies” and of course her iconic “tears of hate.” And Bailey’s Raoul is compelling, and his “free her!” and “I did it all for you and all for nothing” are wonderfully delivered. In the frantic part where all three characters sing at the same time, their voices are balanced perfectly. I absolutely adore JOJ’s Phantom’s “for either way you choose you cannot win” and Bailey’s Raoul’s “why make her lie to you to save me” and Hall’s Christine’s “Angel of Music, you deceived me.” JOJ’s Phantom’s “you try my patience, make your choice!” is scary but not deafening, and then comes the tender perfection of Hall’s Christine’s “pitiful creature of darkness” (although I wish there was a slightly longer pause before it” and her angelic “alone” and God, I love them all. Hall’s little “no please” when she sees the Phantom approaching Raoul is an excellent detail, and JOJ’s “angel in hell” sounds desperate and almost childlike. I wish his “go now and leave me” wasn’t quite so loud — my throat hurts just thinking about it, but then his “Christine, I love you.” Oh my God, that “Christine, I love you.” I think stabbing me in the heart would be less painful. And I love the lightness and gentleness of Hall’s and Bailey’s final “All I Ask of You” reprise. Yeah. I adore this production, and I adore this show.

Thank you for stopping by! I’d be happy to talk about these choices or Phantom in general with anyone, any time :)

#poto #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #phantom #angle o speak

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hnnnfdfds · 5 years

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Higanbana (1227 words) by Sternstunde Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Death - Character Additional Tags: talks about suicide, like no one tries it or sth, but it gets mentioned a lot bc dazai, and death but like, ye Summary:

It’s a bit strange to him and Atsushi really can’t explain it in words or even in gestures but, well—Death’s haunting him.

Maybe that’s too vague but it fits, he thinks as he looks at the figure hovering in the corner of his dorm room. It casts no shadow and makes no noises and Atsushi wonders and ponders about the way it just watches him.

It’s a bit strange to him and Atsushi really can’t explain it in words or even in gestures but, well—Death’s haunting him.

It could be anything, everything, someone would surely tell him.

But he sees the signs for what they are.

Butterflies hovering around the figure, children crying and dogs barking. The black marks appearing on other’s or his own skin—only visible to him—when the figure hovers too close and accidentally brushes against them.

Flowers wilt wherever the figure appears.

And the figure is always there, over them, holding a hand out.

Atsushi doesn’t know how to ignore the signs when they scream so badly at him, telling him anything, everything, he needs to know.

Death’s cold presence warps around him and he thinks about it, the way it’s there. Maybe he would have screamed before, feared it’s glaring existence but then he remembers that he does not pray for any gods and his mentor’s warm eyes and smile seek the very existence of the being that stays with him.

It’s weird though, he must admit upon observing Dazai spinning tales about the best suicide methods to exit, it’s weird how Death pays him no attention.

But then again, Atsushi has also seen the unloaded guns and the frayed ropes. He knows by heart now, thoughts and words he’s never said to his mentor, the man would prevail even in the midst of his suffering.

Death just stares at him, humming softly and Atsushi wonders once again as Dazai dances around him.

Then Death lifts his head and stares at him as if he’s asking for something.

“Dazai-san,” he eventually speaks up, not bothering to look away from Death.

His mentor stops jumping around and grins at him. “What is it, Atsushi-kun? Interested in my suicide methods?”

And as Death doesn’t glance away, Atsushi knows the cold air will never stop surrounding him so he nods slightly. “Yes, I actually am.”

The grin drops as fast as it appeared and he can feel his mentor’s whole existence screaming in alarm.

Atsushi loves life above all.

“... Atsushi-kun?”

And then he finally lets his gaze wander from his quiet companion to his superior and smiles.

“Maybe Death’s going to visit me,” he tells him.

They are already here, observing my every move.

“Don’t…,” Dazai speaks, something in his voice screaming in agony, “don’t let them in.”

It’s too late, is what he doesn’t matter.

—

He understands very quickly that Death has not come for his life.

It lets Atsushi roam around without any concerns and it does not ask for anything of him. He cherishes that because he isn’t sure if he could help them at all.

Dazai’s more careful nowadays, always sending quick glances at him and talking less about suicide in front of him to almost never. The other members still complain about his whining though.

One day, whilst on break, he sits on the couch in the agency and sees beyond the cloak Death’s wearing.

Swirling eyes and nothing else capture him in their webs of dreams and suffering and he can hear the screams, the agony, and the pleas.

It makes him scream himself and before he knows it, Dazai’s rushing to him, Kyouka behind.

Hands are clutching his shoulders, shaking him as Dazai keeps talking and talking, trying to get him out of it but he only stares past Dazai, past Kyouka, past anyone else at those swirling eyes.

It’s just like that, a voice as cold as the winter whispers to him, that’s how it is.

Life’s unforgiving he realizes belatedly when he snaps out of it with red eyes and dried tears. Dazai’s hugging him, his form shaking a bit.

Atsushi can’t be bothered to acknowledge anything anymore, his mind wandering back to lost souls and a train that has left them behind.

Life’s cruel but we fear Death instead.

Then he carefully lifts a hand and puts clutches his mentor’s hand.

“You don’t really want to die, do you?”

Dazai looks up, chocolate brown eyes staring into his soul.

“... You just fear Life.”

The eyes widen and he looks back at the figure past everyone else.

That’s just how it is.

Maybe.

—

Dazai keeps a close hold onto him after that but still refuses to confirm Atsushi’s suspicions. Atsushi doesn’t really mind it, too busy with the continued hovering of Death.

One day though, they are on a mission and they run into Nakahara Chuuya. Death looks at him and floats closer.

And Dazai’s Dazai so he spins a new tale about his future lover, the beautiful woman, that would leave for the afterworld with him.

“It must be a gorgeous lady,” he insists, continuing to ramble about her stunning looks, her sunshine smile, and her gentle hands. The mafia member scoffs at him but Atsushi knows better now, glances at Death and indulges in the nod he gets.

A beautiful lady, with the best of all qualities, who is willing to get along with a suicidal maniac who purposely acts like the most annoying person on earth, and who would happily commit suicide with Dazai.

There’s no woman like that—it’s as clear as the current day and Atsushi knows that Chuuya understands that as well.

Dazai’s not seeking for someone to commit suicide with, he’s seeking for an excuse to fail his own attempts. This man hates Life and loves Death but he’s got things he wants to do, to find, and Atsushi can feel it every time he stares into his mentor’s eyes.

“If I’d commit suicide,” he speaks up, catching both his mentor’s and the mafioso’s attention, “I would want to be alone and everything to be quiet.”

Death hums a melody and Dazai adverts his glance. Atsushi says exactly for that reason.

He wants the truth from Dazai.

—

One day he’s walking side by side with Dazai as Death lurks around, always near Atsushi. Out of nowhere though, his mentor stops and stares at him.

“I want to feel the barrel against my head and press the trigger,” he says.

Atsushi doesn’t respond.

“I want to drown in the cold water and let it feel my lungs as I fall asleep to the sound of silence.”

Still no response from him.

“I want to feel the cut from the blade against my wrists, coloring everything in the darkest red.”

Atsushi doesn’t talk.

“I want to put a rope around my neck and to choke on it as I lose steadiness.”

Those are all truths, Atsushi knows that. So he sighs and responds.

“I want to look Life in the eyes and tell them I made it.”

Dazai stares at him.

He stares at Dazai.

“I want to be able to hold your hand in the future and see you smile genuinely.”

His mentor’s eyes widen and Death hums his song.

It’s just like that, isn’t it?

Death curls around him later when they lay on his futon, Atsushi being held by Dazai who buries his face into his neck. Neither one speaks.

Death sings.

Atsushi hums back.

The melody’s gorgeous.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazatsu #dazushi #nakajima atsushi #dazai osamu #my stars

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trashpandaorigins · 5 years

Text

The Body Keeps the Score Chapter 2 Xandarians

“You said it yourself bitch, we’re the Guardians of the Galaxy.” Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title “The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma,” by Bessel van der Kolk

And wherever you've gone, and wherever we might go

It don't seem fair, today just disappeared

Your lights reflected now, reflected from a far

We were but stones, your light made us stars”

Light Years - Pearl Jam

Someone was holding him. Hands, warm and spindly were wrung through his fur touching his flesh. No! NO! Rocket bolted upward through a throbbing fog of pain, Quill relinquished his hold and the raccoonoid scrambled free, claws scraping against the mess of branches and leaves. A million little lights cast shadows across the wooden nest. The lights themselves pulsing. Rocket shook his head through the dull ache in his head and limbs. What...where..? He looked around wildly. One of the lights drifted close in front of his nose, golden and perfect. Not lights. Spores. No!

Quyiit - Seventh Quadrant, Seven Months Earlier

“I am G...groot!”

“If you hadn’t given away our position we wouldn’t be in this jam now would we!” Rocket tripped over a large branch. Groot sat in a heap, he’d grown his entire arms around the raccoonoid, making a protective nest around the gunfire. Now branches and twigs lay strewn about in all directions.

“I...I am G...groot.”

“Stop being a drama queen you didn’t die.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket looked up from his gun sharply, eyeing the flora colossus with momentary fret.

“Tsch, well just don’t do it again you big idiot.”

The raccoonoid sprang over to Groot, his paws clinging to the chest with inscrutable effort.

“No Groot!” He beseeched, “you can’t, you’ll die!” The ship was crashing and Groot was protecting them. The ship was crashing and he, he was the reason for it. For this, for the sap that gathered in Groot’s eyes. Rocket didn’t have a heart but if he had, it would have broken.

Why are you doing this?!” Groot didn’t owe this people shit! The only person he owed anything to was Rocket himself and the only thing he owed him was to...to stay alive flark it! One long vine grew forth from the Flora’s chest, navigating between the gentle spores of light and gently caressing the wound on his temple. A tender, heavy touch. Rocket leaned into it, eyes widening to take in Groot’s sanguine look. The bark around his mouth cracked into words.

“We. Are. Groot.”

For the first time in their short partnership, Rocket did not understand his words. The raccoonoid tried to form a response but the velocity of the fall stole them from him. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, everything shook violently. Groot...g...groot! Something deep and primal within him commanded Rocket to curl into a ball and burrow, burrow deeply against the Flora’s chest, to safety. Small paws clutched to the wood with all his might. Wood split and cracked, a sudden impact, jostled fright. Groot! Groo... a violent smack hit against his temple and Rocket felt no more.

---

The metal in his enhanced spine ached, everything spun. Rocket opened his eyes, holding up one paw against the garish light. The outlines of Xandarians gathered around, watching. His stomach turned,

Flark, Groot won’t like these weirdos staring at us.

It was a strange thought to have coming to, but it was what his frayed mind came up with first upon waking. He looked around for the lumbering flora, probably having a nervous breakdown. He bit back the agony in his limbs, trying to summon the energy to stand. After all this time, after all they’d done to him, all the cybernetics in his spine, it still felt better to be crouched on all fours. His nimble palms felt the roughness of wood below. Something cracked and crumbled as Star-Turd got to his feet. Wood. Rocket blinked, stomach dropping in horror. Branches. No. No, no, no! He looked around frantically. Scattered among the wreck of the ship was a field of burning wood. Rocket tried to swallow, heaved for breath.

Groot... his hands quivered, flakes of wood falling from his fur. He shook his head, more dust of pale wood sloughing off.

“I...I called him an idiot,” Rocket mumbled over the ringing in his head. He plucked the three nearest twigs from the ground, one claw gently stroking them. He shook, trying to calm his nerves, shoulders trembling. He looked at his fur, bits ...there were bits of Groot stuck all over him. The dry taste of wood in his mouth. Rocket stuck two claws down the back of his mouth, forcing himself to vomit. He needed to get out of here, he needed to turn back time to minutes ago when he impulsively decided to crash his ship into the Dark Aster, before any of this shit. He needed to clean himself up. More snapping of wood, making him wince.

There he was, the blue fucker. Rocket forced himself to stand, holding on the three twigs in his hand in a fury.

“You killed Groot!”

He launched himself towards the accuser. Something slammed into his chest, knocking him down to ground once more. He rolled, ducking his head, trying to ignore the sound of Groot’s ruined branches cracking underneath him.

---

Think, think, think! Rocket’s mind may not have been functioning but his hands were and he put them to good use, gathering the remains of the Hadron Enforcer, hot-wiring the thing and aiming it at Ronan as Quill did some weird movements with his hips in what the humie called a “dance.”

“I’m distracting you, you big turd blossom!”

Rocket held the wires together, just enough to make a spark, to let Quill make a run for it, grabbing the power stone. A purple omnipresent energy exploded forward knocking him to the ground once more. The raccoonoid tried to get to his feet as he watched the humie struggle to contain the stone. His heart hammered, run, run, run, get the fuck out of here, run! No. If Groot were here, he’d help them he reasoned watching Gamora’s body constrict in anguish as she took hold of Quill’s hand. Drax followed suit shortly thereafter, the large strongman throwing head back in pain at the force of the stone. His fur stuck on end, get away! Get the fuck away! No...Groot, Groot would do it. Groot who was kind and good and dashed to pieces all around them. Still clinging to his fur and in his ears and between his teeth. Rocket trudged forward, every nerve in his small body pricking with hot electrifying force.

Drax’s left hand splayed out, tense. Rocket grabbing his finger. A flash of terrible racking power coursed through his arm, lighting through the cybernetic enhancements radiating, burning. A shameful yowling yelp escaped the raccoonoid’s muzzle. His breath came in short bursts. The power of the stone slowly relinquishing in its intensity the longer he held on.

“You said it yourself bitch, we’re the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

The words barely registered in Rocket’s whirling mind. He did not cheer in exuberance with the other Xandarians when Ronan was defeated. The banter between Quill and the blue Ravager man. He only knelt among the turmoil, every sniff of his nose bringing the bitter burning smell of the wood, of Groot burning. He plucked a twig from scorched ground, a brittle fragile thing and held it in his paws. Even here amid all the eyes, he could not keep the tears at bay.

They were not the mewling sickly tears of Halfworld.

They were not the grateful humbled confused tears of the first time Groot held him in his arms.

They were not the stifling strained tears he had tried so hard to keep at bay just yesterday on Knowhere.

I called him an idiot….Groot...after all he did for me.

Rocket stroked the thin piece of wood softly, thick tears running in rivulets down his fur. He lifted the stick closer, ever so carefully, curling around it as if to protect. To hold on to this scrap, this shred of the only being in the dast galaxy who had given a flark about him.

It should’ve been me...it should’ve…

Something touched him. Rocket coiled like a spring ready to go off but...stopped. Drax had sat down beside him and….pat him softly. Warm hands caressing through his fur not unlike Groot. He straightened, allowing his tail to uncurl in mild comfortability. The touch rocked him, soothsaying the darkest of his thoughts as he pored over the piece of Groot in his hands.

“Come my friend,” Drax’s warm voice whispered after some intangible time, “we must go.”

Go? Go where? Groot is here!

Rocket stood, shaking following the large tattooed man clutching that twig to his chest with all the ferocity in the world. He peered over his shoulder as they led him away. The people who had gathered around had already begun to pick through the destruction. Picking branches up and throwing them off to the side. Stepping unceremoniously over the remains of his friend.

�� ---

Bright....too bright...

Rocket’s eyes looked listlessly at the twig he’d picked out among the wreck. He lay on the bed they gave him, squinting his eyes against the light. The walls of the room were white, far, far too luminous Like the lights above on Halfworld. They exposed him and all his imperfections. The gurgle from his stomach beckoned him to rise. In a daze he made his way from the room they assigned him, down the hall, following others towards the dining hall. The eyes of a thousand Xandarian’s watched him as he walked, looking down on him. He selected a tray and waited for the alien behind the counter to serve him.Some sort of red globby sludge. It didn’t really matter, whatever it was. He’d most likely throw it up in a few hours.

He reached for the spoons, too high up. He tried again, the laughter of the onlookers passing through his ears and out again. For once he did not have a smart remark to make, the impulse to shoot them was dulled. If Groot were here he’d beat the living daylights out of ‘em. But Groot wasn’t here, nor would he ever be.

“Your holding up the line! Where’s your owner?” Rocket only blinked, reaching blindly, desperately for the utensil that was so close. Their laughter washed over him and through him. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. He didn’t have the energy to retort. Hell he just wanted to grab this lousy excuse for a meal and get the flark out of here.

The sharp sound of clanging metal brought him back into focus. Spoons clattered everywhere, Gamrora...who had been in front of him this whole time turned and knocked them over. He made his move, crouching and snatching one up without looking at her.

Don’t need her, don’t need her pity.

He scurried away, sneaking out of the mess hall back toward his quarters. He ate, looking at the little twig and threw up in the bathroom, then laid down again, curling in a tight ball. If he could make himself smaller . ..so small... maybe he could keep reality away. Maybe they wouldn’t see him. If they can’t see me they can’t hurt me. He blinked slowly, laying on the bed cradling the stick in his hands. Rocket dragged himself upward once more going to the small bathroom, on the counter lay several items. A sink, something to brush your teeth or fangs-he couldn’t recall what the contraption was called, and a small container of what looked like stersies. He examined it closely in both hands, it smelled clean, felt smooth. The depth would be enough for some soil. If Groot could regrow limbs maybe he could...

Knock knock.

“Flark it.” Rocket dumped the stersies out and placed the twig in the little white container and running to the door, pressing the button for it to open.

“Subject 89P13. Nova Prime requests your presence.”

Under normal circumstances he would’ve blown the glark off the stupid officer. But his guns were all the way over by the window and they were so, so heavy.

He dashed for the twig, plucking it up and carrying it with him as he followed the officer down the hall, through several corridors and a flight of stairs before coming to a guarded door. The man opened it, ushering Rocket in and closing the door behind him.

Another cage,

The fur on his back and neck raised upward. Breaths coming in and out rapidly as he assessed the room. A single table with two chairs. He could probably reconfigure the light fixture above into something…

“Ahh, Subject 89P13,” he turned to face the woman known as Nova Prime. She appraised him with a smile. “Though I assume you prefer your alias, Rocket.” He nodded. “I wish to express, on behalf of all of Xandar, our deepest thanks for your heroic efforts to save our planet. And…” her eyes fell on the stick held tightly in Rocket’s right paw, “our most heartfelt condolences to you companion who lost his life. His sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

Yeah right.

“Waddayah want lady?”

Nova Prime’s smile disappeared for a moment, then returned with a practiced recovery.

“Will you be joining Peter Quill when he leaves Xandar?”

What the hell, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Get rich with Groot and go splurge units on Contraxia or some other divey planet was dream that had died long ago.

“I guess,” he drawled.

“Good. Drax the Destroyer as well as Gamora also plan on joining him. You will make quite a crew.”

“Yeah sure, whatever. What’s this got to do with me?” His voice curled into a growl. Nova Prime nodded, crossing over the table and typing. Rocket watched a hologram appear before her.

Gamora’s record. And I thought I killed a lot of people.

“I have a proposition for you 89P13.”

“It’s Rocket,” the threat was there on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t have the energy to follow through.

“Rocket, of course. We have a proposition for your Rocket. Clearly you are aware of your teammates...colorful history.”

Teammates, that was a strong word. He only snorted, folding his arms.

“We’d like you to ...report on Gamora’s activity. Any of her communications, her trips to and from the ship anything out of the ordinary.”

“You want me to snitch on her?”

“We want you to help us protect the galaxy. As the self-proclaimed guardian of it you should look at this as an honorable duty.” Rockt rolled his eyes, these freaking Xandarians always on about honor and all that crap. Nova Prime must have read the doubt in his face. “We cannot expect a daughter of Thanos to go galavanting freely.”

“What’s in it for me?” Nova smirked, pressing several more buttons on the screen; his file.

“You’ve procured several bounties over time haven’t you? But you haven’t retained them for very long and only turned in four out of…” Rocket watched her eyes scan through his record.

“Three hundred and seven,” he finished, spitting on the ground.

And it was only thanks to Groot we caught those four ...he finally admitted to himself.

“You’d be compensated for any information you can give us. We cannot ask the Destroyer because he is not as attentive to these matters and Peter Quill is too close to her. We’d start you at 100,000 units. Starting today, if you accept and it will increase over time. The more information you give us, the more you will be given in turn. What you do say Rocket, want to get rich?”

---

“What I can’t have a discussion with this gentleman?” He looked up at Gamora who grinned and slowly motioned for him to follow her towards the ship. He carried the little twig in its container, having grabbed some soil from one of the lawns late last night- and heaved it onto his hip. Walking into the refurbished ship Quill had christened the Benetar. He followed them up the gangway into the cockpit.

When he looked over his shoulder, Drax nodded to him. A soft silent acknowledgement of their shared pain. He turned back, something in his chest expanding too far, too much and it would shatter the iron in his bones. He swallowed it down and turned away. Something gurgled and moved. Rocket’s stomach flipped, looking down.

No, it can’t be...stars don’t give me flarking hope. Yet there it was, there he was. Two spindly little arms stretched out, uncurling beautifully. The little head tilting back and yawning widely. Moving, cooing, alive there before him.

Groot.

Rocket’s chest inflated, gazing down at the little thing, so tiny and helpless and oh, so perfect. Perfect . Groot was here. Quill’s “I Want You Back” belted throughout the ship. Drax laughed and Gamora stood between their two chairs.

“We’ll follow your lead Star Lord.”

Groot was with him.

They were all with him.

#my writing #gotg #rocket raccoon #groot #gamora #drax #star lord #peter quill #the body keeps the score fic

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kingedmundsroyalmurder · 6 years

Text

Brickclub: 1.7.3

Oh boy, another Jean Valjean introspection chapter. You know what that means, it means all the lighting symbolism!

We’re returning to a lot of metaphors and symbols we’ve already used. The human soul is a place where you can find the brightest of light and the darkest of shadows, something very reminiscent of the earlier Jean Valjean chapters. This interplay of light and shadow is something we’re going to keep coming back to, as the two forces of light and dark, good and evil war within him for the dominance of his soul. It’s a pretty obvious metaphor, but one that Hugo does some interesting things with.

We start with another mention of lightning, our first since Javert’s introduction. “He sensed shadows filled with thunder and lightning gathering overhead." These are metaphorical shadows, heralding a storm inside his soul. A tempest of the brain, as it were.

This isn’t direct lighting symbolism, but we’re told explicitly that there aren’t any stars in the sky. The last time we were told that specifically, it was when Valjean was being rejected from Digne. Once again, nature itself is rejecting Jean Valjean.

And now we get to one of the more interesting things that Hugo does with light and Valjean. We’ve already gotten a hint of it before, when the light in his mind was the idea of stealing the silver from the Bishop, but here again we get this idea that clarity is not always the same as goodness. In hiding his identity, Jean Valjean has cloaked himself in obscurity. His legal name shines like a light, piercing that obscurity and revealing the truth. To make things even more confusing, this light has the potential to increase and solidify the darkness, should he choose to reject it.

This is our first clue as to what the narrative believes the right choice for Jean Valjean to be. Obviously common sense tells us that telling the truth, in this kind of story, is the Right Path, but the symbolism is also telling us that. And we’ll get to how Jean Valjean himself deal with light in a bit, but it’s telling that the symbolism and his actions are not always in harmony here. The narrative has an idea of what the right answer to this dilemma is, but its ideas are not always in accord with Valjean’s.

We continue onwards through the chapter, with a few passing mentions of light or darkness. Jean Valjean perceives himself as waking from a dream and seeing Champmathieu through the gloom. He acknowledges that depriving another man of his place under the sun is a monstrous act. There’s this idea of prison as darkness and freedom as light, which contrasts sharply with the other running theme of truth as light and lies as darkness. And that contrast illustrates why coming to this decision is so hard for Valjean. Both choices lead to darkness: one a darkness of the flesh, with him being literally denied his time in the sunlight, and the other a darkness of the soul, as he damns someone else in his place.

And so he makes up his mind to go to Arras and denounce himself, and we get a return to blatantly metaphorical light (but also possibly non-metaphorical, break with reality light -- again, Hugo’s pretty good about only going in for grand visual metaphors when his characters could realistically be having visions). His duty to denounce himself is written in blazing letters before his eyes, as clear a sign as any you could ask for that this is the correct choice. Slowly, he sees the conflict between his two desires transform into two literal beings fighting a literal battle in his brain. Tellingly, though, he sees them, “among shadows and glimmerings of light.” We’ve very rapidly moved from clear, obvious light back to the disorienting flashes of light and darkness that characterize Valjean’s confusion.

From this flashing, we then eventually get Fantine, springing into his mind like a ray of light. And it’s clear now that when Hugo uses light to describe Valjean’s thoughts he doesn’t use it to signify rightness, he uses it to signify clarity. Hugo’s metaphors are not subtle, but his Infinite sometimes is, and this is one of those times. Repeatedly now, we’ve seen the sudden burst of light in Valjean’s mind be used to illustrate a sudden clarity of thought or burst of decisiveness. Here, Fantine shows up like a ray of light and abruptly derails his spiraling thoughts to remind him that other people exist. This reminder changes the way everything else looks, as the light pierces the weird flashes and changes the perspective. But, and this is key, just because it’s clear doesn’t mean it’s right. We’ve got this tension between the things the narrative is telling us as narrative (the obscurity of Jean Valjean’s false identity, for instance) versus what the narrative is telling us as Valjean’s thoughts. In the first, light is pretty consistently associated with the right choice. The light is always the choice to turn himself in. In the second, the light is associated with whatever the dominant thought is in his mind at the time.

We see the culmination of this towards the end, when he’s exhausted and still doesn’t know what to do, and the light just gives up and turns to smoke. There is no more clarity. No darkness, no light, just the aftermath of both.

And this takes us neatly to the other way light is used in this chapter, which is Jean Valjean’s interactions with the lighting in the room. From the top:

-he extinguishes his candle at the beginning of the night, paranoid that something can see him. This starts off his mental back and forth.

-he relights the candle when he comes to the decision not to turn himself in. Clarity of mind, a decision made. He feels secure in his choices and suddenly isn’t afraid of being watched anymore.

-he lights a fire around midnight, to stave off the cold. We’re not told if the fire casts light yet (I mean, obviously fire casts light, but it’s not drawn attention to yet.) Valjean, meanwhile, is confuse and uncertain, having lost all clarity of mind.

-he throws his old prison clothes into said fire, and it abruptly blazes red. The last time we got red light, it was when Valjean was threatening Petit Gervais, and he was lit up from behind by the sunset. Red light is not a good thing. Red light is an allusion to Hellfire (particularly telling, given the allusion to Dante’s journey into Hell at the beginning of the chapter) and Hellfire is not a good thing. Even the candlesticks are glowing faintly with this light, as if to warn us and him that this course of action has the potential to destroy everything he’s worked for and turn all of it to evil.

Again, when directly associated with Valjean’s thoughts and actions, light tends to mean clarity over correctness. But even then, when Valjean knows that his clarity is leading him astray, that light takes on a sinister tone, as though warning him that sometimes light burns as well as warms. It’s an extremely consistent metaphor used in some actually kind of interesting ways. Hugo knew his stuff.

#brickclub #1.7.3 #this fcking book though #i was going to get this up this morning #and then decided i wanted more time to write it #and then decided to go out drinking instead #so hopefully this still all makes sense and says something that's not just blindingly obvious

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iluvzfewdnstoreyz · 5 years

Text

The Monster of Ceder Hill

“This may be too big of a post and it kind of spans out over a good chunk of Texas throughout the years, but I don’t really get an outlet for these things so I will include everything with every detail as I can remember them. I would say the first weird, or remotely scary, things that started happening when my family soon moved here from Missouri, was in Cedar Hill.

For the first few years we lived there, everything was pretty uneventful. The area we lived in was a nice neighborhood and every house was in close proximity. Your pretty standard suburban neighborhood I would say. We started hearing really weird sounds around our house. Could have easily have been birds, but it sounded like a combination of an electric saw and a cricket chirp. It was so loud that it sounded as if it was coming from the bushes outside the window, but no one in the house ventured out into the night to see what it was. I am surprised if neighbors didn’t hear it. That’s how loud it was.

Also, my sister would often sleep in my room because she was scared of the dark and we would sit up and look out of the window toward the infamous radio towers of Cedar Hill. Especially during thunderstorms. One night we were doing our usual thing and I had decided to lay down finally and I noticed my sister wasn’t replying to me, or acknowledging what I was saying so I looked up and she had her head pressed firmly against the screen looking down toward the first floor. I sat up and asked, “What are you looking at?”

She didn’t answer, so I scooted closer to the screen to look where she was looking and noticed a shadow of something dash off toward the alley. A lady behind us had floodlights all around her house as a security precaution. Her son played for the Oakland Raiders and for some reason people would harass her or vandalize her home. So, there was plenty of light in our driveway, and even the side of the house, just from her lights. I didn’t see what it was, but it moved fast and the shadow that was cast on the neighbor’s house was almost moving like as if whatever it was floated off as opposed to ran. If that makes sense.

The next day, I asked my sister what she had seen and she described a weird creature she had never seen before. She said it had big eyes, fangs, and something came out of its mouth. YEARS later, I had stumbled across a book about Chupacabras and the image of that thing matched what my sister claimed she saw. I ask her about it today as adults, and she doesn’t remember.

Fast forward a bit more. Our house wasn’t haunted and I wouldn’t ever consider these next two events to be considered a haunting, but they are creepy. My mom had called me downstairs one night and called me into her room. I walk in and on her TV over and over it said, “Shawn did it. Shawn did it. Shawn Did it. Shawn did…” Her and my dad asked me if I did that. And obviously, I didn’t. I had no way of knowing how to do that on a T.V. Even to this day with me being way more tech savvy, I’m unsure of how anyone would actually input just text on the screen.

My sister, still sleeping in my room from fear of the dark, and I would sneak downstairs at night to get food and eat in our rooms because we weren’t allowed to do that. She had got upstairs before I did and again, like the window incident, she was staring at something in my room very intently with a look like “What is that?” on her face. I asked what she was staring at and she looked at me and said, “I don’t know. This thing with big black eyes was standing on your bed and then when it heard you, it sunk down and disappeared.” Needless to say, we slept in her room instead that night.

I don’t know why, but I never told my parents that. I think the last really WEIRD thing I can think of is one day during the beginning of spring when it was still cool enough to have the windows open, I was getting dressed and walking down the stairs. I was just about to pull my shirt over my head. As I looked to my right at one of the open windows and I saw the weirdest set of legs I have ever seen. If I could describe them. They looked like hairless kangaroo/ dog feet, but larger and more stout and bulky. Hell, like a Velociraptor. I would say they looked like that, but not scaly. It looked like skin. I was so shocked and taken back about what I had just seen that I ran and dashed down toward the window to try and see what the hell that was. I couldn’t see anything.

I jumped over the couch and ran straight to the back door. Our fence had blown down from a storm so whatever it was could easily just walk in the backyard. But nothing was there. I was too scared to go outside, but this was broad daylight and in a neighborhood. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Whatever it was looked like it had only two legs, but I never saw the whole thing so I can’t say it was a bipedal creature, but I have never seen legs like that before, or ever again. As far as Cedar Hill goes, that is about it. My cat one night was at the back door and when I opened it, he motioned for me to follow him and I also found guts of a goat from a nearby farm scattered all over the place in this small batch of trees close to the neighborhood, but that was about it.

As I remember. My friend’s grandparents owned some land in Blum, TX. It was about an hour or so south of Cedar Hill. We would go there often for Thanksgiving and get-togethers. One particular Thanksgiving my friend and I decided to visit the neighbor. This was a huge plot of land, but the neighbor’s house and property line were close to theirs, so you could actually see his house from theirs despite both properties taking up many acres. He had told us to be careful because there was a panther around the area. When he said that, he said it kind of as if he was unsure of what he was saying, but I didn’t question it much. We hung around and talked with him and his daughter arrived with her son and he took us up this hill where he and his brother would play hide and seek. We get to the top of the hill and there is a big opening within the trees and what looked like a bunch of dead fish hanging from a clothesline and small trailer home.

On his grandpa’s property. He said it was weird and he had never seen it before. Right at that moment in the tree line, we heard bipedal footsteps closing in on us. We immediately ran down a trail, further from his grandpa’s property. I had no idea where we were going, but I was the fastest and they were behind me following me. Despite us running in fear and potentially for our lives, my friend was screaming and crying that The Blair Witch was behind us and it was going to kill us. He was in tears crying. I, however, was laughing. Telling him that it wasn’t real and it was faked for the movie. “No! It’s not! It’s real and it’s behind us!!”

As I’m laughing I look down this hill and I see my friend’s grandparents house and I see our family and friends outside. So, we slid down. Dropped in said hello and went back to the neighbors. We told him what we had seen and he looked extremely puzzled because no one should have been up there on his property. On this same spot of land, down at the front of the property, was where my other friend and his family lived. He was tired so he left to go walk to his house and he came back shortly later saying that he thinks he saw that Panther. However, he said, “I thought it was a big black dog. It just stared at me. So, I turned back and came back here.” It was only a couple of years ago I learned that here in Texas many people had been seeing black panthers, but ended up being these things called “Dogmen”. I’m not saying my friend didn’t see a Panther, but he specifically said he thought it was a big black dog. I asked him about it a few months ago and he laughed through text said: “Oh, yeah I remember that!” I immediately asked him, “Were you sure it was a panther and not a doglike creature or something?” never answered me. He read the message but never replied.

The last incident on this property was me and my first friend I mentioned. (The one who was sure Blair Witch was gunning for us). We were outside, at night, chilling with our BB Guns when something with some sort of incredibly fast ability darted from some brush, into another set of brush. Almost instantaneously his aunt came out of the house and hurried us inside. I remember she had an attitude like she was scared for us. I don’t know why she did that with such urgency, but her timing was very odd. My sister spent more time there than I did. She said they always heard some crazy weird stuff out there.

Fast forwarding a few years. My dad had lost his job and ended up finding a temporary one in San Antonio. So, of course, we had to move. I read a story on here last night about this weird kid off of Hearne Ave in San Antonio and it reminded me of this. We moved next door to this one weird family. They kept to themselves and I think I hardly ever heard them talk. Their house looked creepy too. It was always the creepiest, darkest house on the block in comparison to the rest. Their son’s name was Nelson, and I only knew that because my sister met him at some point. But she said his dad made him go inside.

The kid wasn’t odd looking, but he had the longest hair I have ever seen any boy have. It was down to his butt and he was maybe the same age as my sister (12 at the time). One time I went over there to see if he wanted to come out and the dad answered and just like the story of Hearne Ave, their house was very dark inside and they only opened the door slightly. I hardly ever even seen them leave. I would see Nelson in the backyard sometimes playing by himself, but he never talked to me. I also want to note that I always heard what sounded like footsteps on my roof. Not on the ceiling, but on the roof. Of course, I never ventured out to see what it was.

The rest of my time there was pretty uneventful as far as spooky stuff goes, but we eventually moved back up to north TX where I now currently reside. The last bit of this involves, of all things, what I believe to have been a Bigfoot. In of all places, Benbrook. Benbrook isn’t a rural area, it has some woods, but it also isn’t deep forest like you’d think would be an ideal place for a Sasquatch. My friends and I would always try and go camping when it got cold and Benbrook was free and for a bunch of teenagers with no money, you can’t beat free.

The original spot we went to ended up becoming pay to stay and we just spent all of our money on hot dogs and booze to drink for our underage shenanigans. So, we found a new spot. My friend was gathering up some wood sometime after the sun went down and he calls to me in a frantic tone. He tells me to bring a flashlight and hurry. So, I do. I leave the rest of our group and run to him which was a short distance away. He had me shine the light way up into the trees. Way higher than 6ft. I asked what the deal was and he said “Dude. I swear I saw something large go from that tree to that tree.” The trees were small. Way too small to hide something large. They were too small to hide a child. So, perhaps whatever it was hit the ground? Maybe it even saw me coming with the light and dashed off? I’ve always been a firm believer in the unexplained and I am not above the existence of a Bigfoot. Gathering information over the years. These things tend to be a lot faster and way more agile than one thinks. They’re also not often far from civilization apparently. Benbrook is not far from Downtown Fort Worth.

If you get to the right spot, you can see Fort Worth. Hardly a deep forested place you’d expect to run into something as large as a Bigfoot. Anyway, back to the story. This new spot was actually pretty cool. So the following year we went back but this time a little further up than where we were. We had seen a huge shooting star and we all cracked jokes about how it was an alien ship. At this moment, we started hearing heavy footsteps in the tree line across the creek from us. Anyone who has ears can hear the difference in bipedal steps and something on 4 legs. This was clearly two legs. It walked around us as much as it could but never coming to the treeline within range of the firelight. It stopped and we never heard it leave. Whatever it was. A homeless person? Some kids? Could have been anything, but it was clearly on two feet.

That pretty much sums up my stories. I hope the post isn’t too long. I have many others, but they occurred outside of Texas. As well do most of the people in my family. I noticed on this site that a lot of stuff seems to be happening in The Valley (Donna, Mcallen, Harlingen). And guess where I gotta go for a wedding next year? Hopefully, that trip will be uneventful and flying humanoid free.”

#FewdnStoreyz #GhostStories #fewdnstoreyz #ghoststories #ghoststoriesfromtherez #ghosts #ghost #ghost stories #skinwalker

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demonhuntxrs · 7 years

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The Girl who braved Outland

She didn’t know why she had thought coming here of all places would bring her peace, she wondered how ‘Go and find Illidan Stormrage’ had ever been a sound idea in her head. Even still she wondered why even with her doubts she pressed on through the dying world.

There was no going back she knew that much, she had braved the sweltering heat and dust storms of the Peninsula, trekked through the forests that were so similar to the forests of her birth yet all the more foreign. Especially in their darkest places were not even a night elves sight could pierce the falling shadows and bird shaped figures stalked among them.

She reminded herself that she had nowhere left to go, no one to call family, and yet blazing in her mind one image stood out, the image of Illidan Stormrage pulling a glaive from the corpse of one of those demon dogs in front of her. He had the answers he had too, Illidan’s devotion to destroying the legion was whispered about in the shadows while the majority of their people condemned him.

She looked up at the great stone walls that rose into the sky above her. She had done it she had made it to Illidan’s stronghold, the architecture was as foreign and frightening as the rest of this world. She flinched as she heard rough foreign words from atop the walls, had they seen her? Would they kill her if they had? So lost in her worries was she that Illsalyn didn’t even hear the sound of wings approaching nor did she hear the sound of hooves on stone until a great shadow was cast over her.

“A bit far out of the woods aren’t you, Shadewing.” A familiar, confident voice stated. She turned on her heels and saw him.

He wasn't a demon,but he surely wasn't fully an elf either. She had heard he’d been changed but this wasn't what she had imagined, they had made him sound like monster but even here where she was the outsider and he was in charge there was an air of patience about him. He wasn't her enemy.

“Lord Stormrage, you're looking well. I've come to you having heard of your deeds against the legion, for they have wronged me too and word is you’re the only one with any kind of plan to stop them once and for all. I want in.” She said some of her natural defiant tone slipping away under Illidan’s burning gaze.

He moved again it was calculated and graceful, he moved liked a predator stalking prey. His hand caught her chin, and he seemed to be looking through her with those eyes of his. It felt like hours had passed he let her go and straightened back up to his full height.

“It will not be easy. You might even die.” He said in a flat voice. “But should you succeed you will be one of many who stand a chance against the legion.This is your one and only warning, I can portal you back to where you came or you stay here no matter what happens.”

Her response was instantaneous “I’ll do it My Lord.”

He made a slight noise of approval and by the time she looked back his direction he was gone and out from the Shadows stepped two Sin’dorei males. They looked like him in the sense that they two sported a pair of horns on their heads and wore blindfold over their eyes which glowed that fel green colour like Illidan’s did. They didn’t say anything to her but she got the feeling she was supposed to follow them so she cautiously approached them.

“You know Lord Illidan then?” The one on her left asked.

“Gonna sound weird in this context but yeah, we went to school together.” She replied curtly.

The one on her right snorted as if the idea of Illidan ever having been a school boy was a foreign concept to him. She couldn’t suppose she blamed him she would find it odd too if she had met him the first time as he was now. Even having known him prior she felt like she’d just been looking at power being who surely couldn’t have come from the simple life of Illidan prior to this.

As they walked further into the decrepit building Illsalyn noticed that instead of security getting tighter there seemed to be fewer and fewer people in the halls and walks. She flinched as somewhere someone let out a bloodcurdling scream and her ears pinned back in surprise.

“You’ll get used to that eventually…. Or else you’re gonna not get a lot of sleep around here.”

She was a bit off put by that, what was Illidan doing to the elves here that people were routinely screaming at odd hours of the night.

---

Several weeks had passed and most of her questions had been answered though some things were still mysterious to her, like what made the full members of the Illidari different. She had come to get know some of the other hopeful initiates all of them coming from places as bleak as hers.

She was easily recognisable among them not only for her height but the fact that whenever someone went screaming into the night (which happened just as much as Kayn and Varedis had warned her it would) Illsalyn was often the first on her feet chasing them down. As far as she was concerned it was good exercise. She had gone from a girl who had once only joked about making someone disappear to a quick and efficient killer, and that didn’t even include the demons she’d practiced on.

The night of the initiation had been long and hard to watch, as Illidan walked down the line of two hundred elves and had them step into a circle fight a felhound, eat it’s heart then collapse. Illsalyn however showed no outward fear as some did, she watched one of the elves standing beside her chew his nails anxiously.

When it was her turn she finally felt afraid as she battled with the demon that was now inside her. It showed her visions of the day that she and Ornthalas had been separated how she let her brother who she had sworn to protect be surrounded by demons.She had ran but a felhound, the felhound chased after her and she understood, she could keep running forever and let this demon take her over or she could do something about it. She watched it over and over until she could not bear to watch her own failures any longer and the only rational thing to do was to plunge her nails into her own eyes. What she saw and Illidan told her after that should have made her give up but she didn’t.

When she was conscious enough to be aware of her surroundings she realised she was not on the terrace where they had all been, but somewhere else. The world was dark now and she remembered what she had done to herself, it all felt like dream thinking back on it but care examination proved it wasn’t.

“You will get used to it, eventually.” Her head turned in the direction of the speaker. “I did and I had no one to teach me how it worked.” Illidan explained, she heard his hooves click against the stone floor.

An inexplicable compulsion fueled a sudden feeling of aggression in her. Kill him. He will kill you. Said a voice that was not quite her own and she snarled at him. Even blinded she was fast she launched herself at him only to find herself in a choke hold. Even so she still clawed at the hand around her throat and the arm it belonged to.

“Feisty aren’t you? Well I can’t have you doing this to my tattooer, I rather like him you see. And I’m a bit worried that he can’t handle you quite yet.” The Half demon mused not even phases by the scratches she dragged down his arm, this wasn’t his first time dealing with this.

Illsalyn found herself being shoved back onto the bed a strong hand still keeping her pinned at the neck. “Do try not to squirm so much.” He remarked. Before she could react she felt something touch her and burn, it moved over she sides and back and at one point over her stomach, she didn’t know how long Illidan held her there or what he was doing to her but when it was over the voice in her mind was less aggressive and loud in fact it was incredibly quiet now.

“Consider that your warning Shadewing. Attack me again and the only place you’ll find yourself is your grave.”

- Illsalyn stood in front of the mirror in the den. She had figured out the whole spectral sight thing as Illidan said she would and was more than curious as to what she looked like now, staring back at her was a women who both was and was not Illsalyn Shadewing, same in the face and sporting her tell-tale braid. But the tattoos, the fel fires for eyes, the scaled skin, she was not who she once was and she was all the more happier for that.

There was just one thing left to do. She pulled a small dagger out of her pocket and fingered her braid, long gone where her days in court, as was her status of Highborne. Her family name meant nothing now except a constant reminder of why she was here at all. It was quick motion that sent the braid curling to the ground like a snake. She looked back in the mirror at herself with short hair for the first time in millennia.

Now she was Illsalyn Shadewing once more.

#Drabble #Illsalyn Shadewing #Long post

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maned-cerdae · 7 years

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Dreams

wait i still know how to do lore? its a miracle!

A gentle breeze through the woods, carrying a slight scent of rot from the Wastelands on it. This far from the border, however, it wasn’t strong. The trees here grew mostly normal, with only the occasional mutation creating strangely covered leaves or bark with weird textures.

“Oi, slow down!”

You stopped and looked backwards at Icemane, who was several yards behind you. “Oh. I didn’t notice you fell behind.”

Icemane stopped next to them and pouted dramatically. “You are the absolute worst gathering partner. I can’t believe this. You’re so cold I’m crying now.”

You snorted. “Come on. We got to finish gathering for the party tomorrow and get back.”

“You aren’t fun. I say we should just hang out in the woods all night and have our own party!”

“You’re suggesting skipping your own birthday party?”

“Well, it’s not just mine. It’s yours. And Violetdream’s. And Crystalfur’s.” He frowned slightly. “This is the reason I shouldn’t be skipping it, isn’t it.”

“Congratulations on realizing it.”

He elbowed you, but he was smiling. “Like I said. Incredibly cold.” Icemane scanned the forest, looking for food or other supplies to bring back. His eyes light up and ran over to something further ahead, kneeling to pick something up. You walked over cautiously and he stood up, holding a bunch of strawberries in his hand. He pulled the leaves off and popped one in his mouth before wincing in disgust.

“What’s with that face?”

“They’re sour. All plants are sour. I feel bad for breeds that have to eat plants.”

“That’s what I think whenever you convince me to eat some of that nasty fish of yours.”

“But fish are good! Plants, however, are disgusting. Well, a few can stay as long as they taste good with fish.”

You held out your hand and he threw one into your hand. He put the rest in the bag at his side and bent down to pick the rest on the plant, but then he realized you weren’t next to him. Icemane looked over his shoulder and saw you leaning against a tree, blantaly not even thinking about helping.

“Hey!”

You smirked. “You deserve this for suggesting skipping the party.”

Icemane turned away and you frowned. But then he jumped up, spun around, and smeared something all over your face. Jolting back in surprise, you remembered the tree and swore. He started laughing and you realized what he did. You stuck your tongue out and licked at the stuff on your face. Yup, a bunch of crushed strawberries.

“Are you serious?”

His only response was more laughter, but you couldn’t find yourself to be mad. Especially when you wiped off your face with your hand and cleaned it on his face in return. He sputtered and…

You blinked and found yourself in a dark tunnel. He still stood in front of you, but he was older now.

A part of your mind screamed it was just a dream of what happened, but the fear you felt was just as intense as when it really happened. Icemane swayed, unsteady on his feet. He smiled and his teeth were sharp, far too sharp, and his eyes. They were completely black, except two little glowing pinpoints, one glowing red and the other gold. The wound over his right eye had reopened and was glowing a sickly dull purplish color. Patches of feather grew and fell off just as suddenly as his body started to have trouble holding him into his shifted form. Where the feathers grew thin lines of pitch black blood dripped, creating delicate patterns on his skin. He cocked his head, staring at you with that grin and those dark eyes and the feathers and blood falling to ground. You backed up as far as you could, but the wall of the tunnel stopped you. He took a hesitant step like he thought he might fall over and wrapped his hands around your neck. Sharp claws dug into your neck. Slowly, very slowly, still grinning, he drug those sharp claws across your neck.

Another blink, a different place. It was brightly lit and crowded with dragons shoving each other to get the best view. A guard grabbed your arm and drug you through the horde. You glanced up at the guard, but they pointedly stared forward. The crowd suddenly ended and the guard shoved you to your knees, keeping on hand on your shoulder. Just a few feet away from you was your mother, bound with rope and surrounded by guards. If you were to move forward just a bit you could touch her. The guard’s grip on your shoulder tightened like they had heard your thought. Your eyes drifted to the two people in the front of the room, sitting on twin thrones on a dais. On one was King Mesmer. Your father. He stifled a yawn as he watched over the room. And sitting next to him was Queen Begonia. She noticed you looking at her and sneered. You flinched, her look of disgust so strong it felt like a slap in the face. Cypress is nowhere to be seen though. Of course, wouldn’t want the precious little prince to see something that might scare him.

Begonia stood up and the entire room went silent. She walked down the steps of the dias slowly, still weak from the assassination attempt, dress billowing out behind her slightly. Stopping in front of Delphine, she waved the guards away. They hesitated and she glared at them until they retreated. She pulled a small bottle from some kind of hidden pocket that was filled with a shimmering pink liquid.

“Delphine Worseer, you have been charged and found guilty of trying to assassinate the queen. Thus, you are sentenced to execution. Do you have any last words?”

“Fuck. You.”

Begonia sighed. “I’m not sure if I expected anything else.” She waved her hand at the guards. “One of you, come back here.” Begonia kneeled down in front of your mom and tossed the bottle between her hands. Delphine’s eyes followed it and Begonia laughed. “Would you like a taste of you own medicine, quite literally? Oh, I think you do.”

Begonia looked up at the guard who had came forward. “Get her to open her mouth.”

Delphine’s eyes widened, but before she could do anything, the guard stabbed her in the arm. You sat numbly as dark purple blood splattered on the pristine white floors. Delphine opened her mouth to cry out in pain and Begonia cursed as she hurried to open the bottle. “I didn’t mean right away!” she hissed at the guard as she pulled the cork out and dumped the liquid into Delphine’s mouth. She scrambled away and looked over at the guard. “If you don’t want to lose your sword, I suggest retrieving it now. Oh, but could you cut the rope? It would make things much more. Interesting.”

They blinked and quickly pulled their sword out of Delphine’s arm and then used it to cut the rope. Delphine fell forward a bit before managing to put an arm in front of her to catch herself. There was a strange almost popping noise and she started coughing. Drops of purple Shadow blood and liquid Arcane magic splattered onto the floor before her. Another pop and she screamed as cracks started racing up her arms, glowing pink. You watched as the cracks grew. She dug her fingers into them and they started to bleed, but the blood was literally boiling and turned into steam as it hit the surface. The tips of her fingers started to burn and blister and, oh. Oh Gods. They started to gray and turn to ash that drifted to the floor. Try as you might, you couldn’t pull your eyes away. One of the ashes drifted over to you and landed on your cheek, sizzling slightly from the residual magic in it. You flinched, but didn’t feel the grip on your shoulder from earlier. You managed to look up and saw the guard had their hands clasped over their mouth, looking like they were about to either bolt or throw up or both. Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself to your feet and started running through the spectators to the doors. No one stopped you, too focused on what was happening up front, and you ran through the halls of the palace until you found the darkest corner you could, and then laid down and cried.

***

Flowerstorm jerked upright, gasping. It was nearly completely dark, but there was a small distant light in the distance down the tunnel leading to the cave Icemane had declared their bedroom and moved his and their stuff in to. Speaking of Icemane, the coatl was missing. Flowerstorm frowned at the spot where he had been when the two of them went to sleep, mind too tired to work properly. The light in the distance reached the cave and Flowerstorm muttered and put a hand up to shield their eyes.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” Icemane asked as he put his lantern down on a shelf and uncorked a bottle he was holding. He took a sip and cringed.

“Mm. It wasn’t you, it was nightmares.” They looked at the bottle he was holding and the scar over his right eye and shivered. “What were you doing?”

Icemane held up the bottle and shook it slightly. “My Light magic started acting up and I wasn’t gonna wake one of the healers up to write a spell tag or start casting bolts into the sky and attract every creature is a 50 mile radius. So I grabbed a healing potion and hoped it would work.” He took another sip and cringed again. “This thing tastes like shit though. I think I might have preferred being mauled by some random animal that followed my Light spell being launched into the sky.”

“Tau and Nightsbane would flip though.”

“Eh, it’s fine. If I die, they can’t yell at me.”

Flowerstorm wiggled their fingers dramatically. “Magic. They’ll find a way.”

“Fuck.”

They laughed, but it turned into a yawn halfway through. Icemane finished the rest of the potion and placed it beside the lantern before blowing it out. He made his way over to the mess of furs and blankets he had declared a nest and laid down next to Flowerstorm. “I just thought of another reason why I shouldn’t go outside, shot a bunch of light around, and let myself get eaten by wild animals.”

“Hmm, did you finally develop a survival instinct?”

“No. Our anniversary is in like. A couple of days isn’t it? And if it’s past midnight it’s my birthday. What if I had done it and gotten eaten like a minute before my birthday? That would’ve sucked.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Still so mean to me after all these years.”

“Shush.”

They didn’t have nightmares for the rest of the night.

#flight rising #main lore #c: Icemane #c: Flowerstorm #c: Mesmer #c: Begonia #c: Delphine #wont tag violt dream and crystalfur and stuff because theyre only mentioned #*violetdream

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Wars The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark Review

https://ift.tt/36EbO2U

Star Wars: The Clone Wars is having a Renaissance at the moment. The powerful, status quo-shattering season seven was just one of the ways this fan-favorite animated series was able to live on past its original 2014 series finale. And after the success of the seventh season, which saw the show revisit some of the darkest moments in Revenge of the Sith, it isn’t much of a surprise that Lucasfilm is anxious to bring more The Clone Wars stories to life.

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

Unfortunately, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark short story anthology doesn’t really show us new parts of the well-trodden conflict. The impressive table of contents is more diverse than the stories themselves would suggest: most of the stories are competent but unexciting, told in a standard, unadorned voice. Since they are retellings of episodes (with one pleasant exception), there isn’t much new to discover here. Whether you enjoy it might depend on whether you’re already a fan of the animated series, or on the strength of a few stand-out stories with a strong dose of Star Wars heart.

Each story retells an episode from the animated series. While the subtitle suggests the stories might be organized according to the light side and the dark side, a la the “heroes on both sides” line The Clone Wars promised to explore, they aren’t that clearly delineated. Stories from the first through fifth seasons are presented in chronological order. There are some particularly good episodes included, like the Umbara arc, as well as some important story beats crucial when it comes to the overarching saga of The Clone Wars, such as Maul’s takeover of Mandalore. But fans who haven’t watched the show in a while, or don’t remember the episodes all that well, might end up confused. While I can’t fault the concept of letting a myriad of authors novelize a wide variety of episodes, it does make the collection feel disjointed.

I’d be remiss to focus entirely on the stories without mentioning the art from prominent fan artist Ksenia Zelentsova. Her watercolor paintings adorn the covers and interior. Her painting style gives a unique hand-made look to the characters that blends The Clone Wars‘ angular faces with some more flowing lines and natural-looking costumes.

Along with the illustrations, the other brand-new material in the book is a short story by E. Anne Convery, wife of the show’s producer Dave Filoni and a compelling Disney-style storyteller in her own right. Her story, “Bug,” bleeds a little bit of horror into a twist on the fundamental Star Wars fantasy of a child on a backwater planet yearning for adventure. It nicely establishes the Nightsisters as a spooky, dangerous faction with ambitions equal to the Sith. This might inevitably have been one of the most memorable stories in the collection by virtue of being new, but the compelling, charming plot also helps it stand out.

Jason Fry’s and Rebecca Roanhorse’s stories work particularly well at getting inside the heads of the characters. Fry’s adaptation of one of Yoda’s first missions with clone troopers offers deep characterization and fun new insights. (Yoda is surprised the clone army would be made up of humans, since they are, as a species, “raucous and impatient.”) Roanhorse chose the second person to cast Maul’s voice as a whisper in the ear of a child, his rebirth re-written as an ominous fairy tale. The result is a character voice that is strong and eerie. Between the two of them, these stories present the light and dark as told in the title: Yoda learns more about the humanity of the people around him, and Maul sinks deeper into his self-obsessed thirst for revenge, slaughtering innocents along the way to draw the attention of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

What Star Wars: The Clone Wars Says About Maul and Ahsoka’s Connection

By Megan Crouse

How Star Wars: The Clone Wars Forgot About Durge

By Ryan Britt

While they don’t all resonate, many of the stories have some interesting qualities. Tom Angleberger creates a fun, funny voice for bounty hunter Cad Bane, although his choice of episode is one of the cases where it is most obvious the story is part of an arc and could do with more context for readers who don’t remember the episode well. Zoraida Córdova’s Asajj Ventress story makes her episode’s arc more obvious and captures Ventress’ joy at using the Force without restriction.

Some stories serve mostly to remind fans how good some of the episodes were. “The Pursuit of Peace” adaptation by Anne Ursu highlights Padmé Amidala’s role in galactic politics, and the story of war profiteering and financial manipulation on both sides hits close to home. Yoon Ha Lee’s take on “Shadow of Umbara” doesn’t show off the author’s penchant for flashy, weird military science fiction but is a loyal recreation of a hard-hitting episode.

At worst, some of the stories use flat, boring prose to simply retell a decent episode. Both fight scenes and dialogue tend to be devoid of any additional commentary from the characters when they could be the best places to show characterization. The physical comedy on the show just doesn’t work as well on the page, especially if it wasn’t brilliant in the show in the first place.

The anthology novelization format means there just isn’t enough new material here. If you’re willing to pay the price for just a particular favorite character or episode, you’ll get pretty much what you’d expect from a glossy, gift-able collection: lovely illustrations and inoffensive retellings of stories you already know. As a kid-friendly way to carry favorite stories around in a new way, it works. But even as the staunchest supporter of experiencing Star Wars stories in whatever bizarre order you want, the lack of context for some of the stories seems more confusing than intriguing.

Stories of Light and Dark is thoroughly fine. The novelty anthology shows off capable authors, some of whom I’d love to see tackle longer, original Star Wars stories in the future.

The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark is out now.

The post Star Wars The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark Review appeared first on Den of Geek.

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lunatheranter · 7 years

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Luna Takes on The Vegan(ist)s

Let's be honest, I was going to pop up on one side of this at some point. You might be surprised to learn that Luna the Ranter is actually fairly neutral when it comes to the vegan/non-vegan argument; I don't have any strong opinions on whether or not one should or should not consume animal products. There are fair points on both sides. Back in the day, my mum used to say she'd never met a healthy vegan – but back in the 80s, the kind of nutritious alternatives we have now didn't exist and vegans pretty much had lettuce. On the other hand, animal products provide important sources of vitamins and minerals which we, as omnivorous predators, need to survive and it is somewhat ingrained into our nature. Give a lion a salad, I dare you.

What I do have strong opinions about, however, is the aggressive, we're-right-and-you're-immoral vegan uprising that's been steadily heading over the past year or so. To kick off, let me state outright the problems with this approach:

1. It's aggressive. Aggression is not positive, it is not fair, it is not necessary, and it does not work. It's more likely to force people to agree with you externally and then go somewhere else and do the polar opposite of what you've told them to do. And yes, it's not asking. It's telling. Guilt-tripping, yelling, forcing disturbing images in people's faces – these things are not only going to make people walk away, but also cast a shadow on any positivity in your movement. It is totally counter-productive and in the meantime you just make other people feel like shit. 2. It's obsessive. It nitpicks. It delves into the darkest, dankest corners and generalises its findings. It hunts through lists of ingredients to find a vitamin which may be derived from an animal product's second cousin twice removed. It demonises people who use animal products. Do you like being called an evil, immoral, heartless demon with no humanity on your way to feed homeless orphans because there's eggs on the menu? No. Does it even make sense? No. 3. It is immoral in itself to try to force another person to think the way you do, to believe the same things you do. That is called indoctrination, and that constitutes harm. By forcing your opinions on somebody else, you are harming them. This is part of my own moral code and belief system, so feel free to draw your own conclusions on this point.* 4. It is unrealistic. I am not a vegan. I am not ever going to be a vegan. I had a dream where I got water on my vintage suede trousers and I woke up in cold sweats so the idea of me getting rid of them is ludicrous. There are thousands of people like me who are not and will not be vegan, no matter how many statistics you yell at them. Trying to straight-up convert people who do not want to be converted is a fool's game. More on this later.

*Secondly, I feel I have to make a statement about morality before I continue; when addressing such a topic, it is important to note that we are born with humanity (that is, the ability to love, to care, to nurture etc (with the exclusion of sociopaths)) but morality is not inate. Morality is something we build for ourselves. It doesn't come from some mystical far-off cloud land, and nobody's moral code is exactly the same (if yours matches somebody else's without discrepancy, I'm afraid you've been indoctrinated; refer to point 3 above). It's based on our experiences, opinions, ideas, and formation of the way we individually understand the world. We are not born moral beings. If we were, history and society would look very, very different.

But enough of the support act, let's get the headliner on stage. I'm obviously aware that this does not apply to ALL vegans (the same way it's not ALL men and not ALL white people; that's not the point we're addressing here) and I am specifically addressing the aggressive, obsessive, narrow-minded veganist (can we call it veganist? I like veganist) movement that's been spreading of late. The video which was the final straw in my shall-I-shan't-I internal debate on whether to post something was shared by a good friend of mine who is a vegetarian and animal rights activist, and who agreed with... the meat-eating man. Because she, like myself, does not like to see people aggressively ramming their opinions down somebody else's throat.

In this video, they quote a conversion statistic which cannot be verified. This is one of my bug-bares with these people. Are they calculating based on people who said they would convert on the day? More than likely. Did they conduct 6 to 12 month follow up interviews to find out whether those people actually made those changes? I highly doubt it. Therefore, the statistic is completely null. I see this time and time again with this type of movement. They take the most extreme, raw statistic and blast it out there like it's the word of a deity. Why do I know that this happens? Because I've done it. For my dissertation, I went to WHO and quoted the raw suicide rate instead of the age standardised rate. Why? Because it's higher. Because I want to make people think “oh my god, that's horrible!” (I then went back and corrected the statistic because that’s not ethical practice). I'm going to rest my case on stats and facts right here and let you mull it over while we have a paragraph break.

Silly, silly veganists (I'm using this term now). Did you really think that screaming “You're a bad person!” in my face as I walk down the street was going to change my mind? No. You've just ruined my day. So what I'm going to do is sit in front of your protest and eat this steak, because I no longer believe that your opinions are valid. You've successfully invalidated your own movement. Applause. Spamming social networks with disturbing pictures of mutilated animals is only going to get you blocked. This approach not only doesn't work, it can be dangerous. You could cause somebody serious mental harm by doing this. I've seen clearly anxious people forced to engage in arguments by these people. I've seen people crying because they're being spammed with traumatic images. This is nothing short of pure aggression. The desire to upset people. Unfortunately, it seems that a lot of people jump on the bandwagon purely because they want to hurt others in this way, and not because they genuinely support the cause. It's extraordinary the lengths people will go to. It's unethical, it's unfair, and it's totally unnecessary.

Let me exemplify with an analogy or two: I used to eat a lot of meat. I'm talking seven days a week, at least twice a day. My family have always been big meaties. Meat in everything. Meat with a side of meat garnished with meat. It was like meat > water. I didn't notice it for a while, but I was getting sick of eating so much meat. It actually made me quite ill. Don't get me wrong, I've always had a very healthy diet, but I started to meat overload. I needed to cut down. Then I went to Bermondsey Market, where I encountered RAW. The woman was super friendly, answering all my questions about how the vegan cakes were made, what's in everything, what kind of extra nutrients I can get from this food. I loved how varied the ingredients were. I bought some food to try, and I loved it. I now eat consequently vegetarian or vegan meals about 4~6 days a week. It's not even a conscious effort; I was shown an alternative, and I liked it, so I ended up cutting down. A lot. But wait! There's more! SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London) is known for it's... um... alternative? societies and events, so naturally we have a vegan soc. They like to do bakesales. I like it when they do bakesales, because my first ever taste of vegan cake was THE BEST lemon drizzle cake I've EVER had. I bought a few things to try, and I loved all of them. Not one of them was a different consistency than regular cake, not one of them tasted a bit weird. This year, I made myself a vegan birthday cake (mostly because we were having a dinner party, and one of my housemates is vegan, but I had wanted to try vegan baking since the bakesale) and when I discovered how easy it was, I switched to vegan baking. I'm not strict with it, but it's there (plus, if I want my housemate to try my cookies........) Why am I telling you this? I want you to notice how it was achieved. There were no placards or disturbing videos of people taking bites out of live cows. There was no demonising, no guilt-tripping, no force-feeding somebody else's moral code. I was simply offered the opportunity to try an alternative, with the hope that it might result in me making changes. Nobody told me that I'm evil for not being a vegan, immoral for my lifestyle choices. They just said “hey, would you like to try this? It's healthy and sustainable” so I said “yeah, let's give that a go”, and when I liked it, viola! It resulted in change. This just in! Being nice to people makes them want to listen to you more than being shitty and aggressive! Oh, that's not just in? What do you mean, that's been around for centuries?! Moving on...

I want to talk (briefly, because this is getting tl;dr) about the idealism of the veganist (I've coined the term now, it can't be revoked) movement, because it's not realistic. These people want everyone to stop using animal products overnight. Though I detest to do so, I must inform you that that's not going to happen. First of all, we need to remember that being vegan isn't just about diet – a vegan can't wear, wash in, eat or otherwise use ANYTHING which contains substances derived from animals. That means checking your fabrics, toiletries, appliances (because polymer and some other plastics (rather unecessarily, to be completely honest) use animal fat in the manufacturing process) for vegan friendly status before buying. Expecting everyone to suddenly commit to this change is just ludicrous. What we can ask people to do is to cut down. To reduce. To aim for things which are kinder and more sustainable. In mass production, even the “good” things aren't as great as we want them to be. We can encourage people to switch from supermarket to local marketplace buying as the animal products usually come from local, sustainable, well-structured farms which don't operate on a large scale and therefore rear their animals to a much better standard. We can ask for people to use less. To petition and rally for better farming practices. To be willing to pay a little more for better treatment of farm animals. In year 9 biology, we watched a video from a battery egg farm. I went home so disturbed that I point blank refused to eat anything other than free-range eggs. My mum said they were too expensive. She spent years saying they're too expensive. I still refused to eat eggs from caged hens. I went without eggs. Now that I'm an adult and I control what I buy, I was picking up free-range eggs every time I went home, because I knew my mum would have caged. One day, my brother ate one of my eggs (I was mad). When he noticed that the quality was much, much better than the ones he's used to eating, guess what? He refused to eat caged hen eggs. So then there were two of us. My brother pestered my mum relentlessly, insisting that free-range was much better. She now buys free-range eggs, and we all agree. It's better. My point is, it took me years to get one person to make this change. Some people will change their lifestyle at the drop of a hat. Others won't. Some will never come completely to your side, but telling them they're bad people isn't going to change their mind. I'm not ever going to be vegan. I can state that outright. But I've made dietary changes: all of the meat I buy is locally and sustainably sourced, I often opt for meat-free options purely of my own free will, I only buy free-range animal products and my milk consumption has dropped from 4 pints a week (hella milk) to 2 pints a fortnight (not so much milk). I know that I'm not willing to commit to a fully vegan lifestyle, (I eat A LOT of eggs and I love my purple suede trousers waaaaaay too much) but I have been encouraged to make changes by people who have approachably and enthusiastically offered me alternatives that I've enjoyed.

My problem is not and never has been with the movement. Your lifestyle choices are yours to make. It's not my place to tell people what they should or should not eat. My problem is with the methods, because aggression is NEVER the answer, and calmly offering an alternative always works much better than trying to force people to agree with you – and if it's not my place to tell you what to eat, it's not your place to do so either.

Luna out on vegan(ist)s.

#Luna the Ranter #LtR #veganism #vegan #modern movements #propaganda #society #veganists #I was going to call it veganazis but I wasn't prepared for the backlash

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