#It's also enjoyable to think about his rise out of pain into something neutral - and then from neutrality to something positive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokidrabbles · 4 years

Text

Keep On Believing (Loki x Reader)

Reader and Loki share a piece of their past with each other. A/N: I’ve had this stuck on my head for a while and I feel happy finally putting it down somewhere. Thank you all for the surge of followers and feedback on my stories! I’ve been using them to keep me focused on something enjoyable for me :) As always, Gender Neutral Reader! Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

In the oddest of spectacles, Loki was seated in your living room, leg crossed over the other, sorting through a pile of photos you had insisted he take a look at. For what he figured was another way for humans to bond, he begrudgingly agreed and was now flipping through a variety of Polaroids he best referred to as ‘photographic illusions.’ Within these, a peek at your childhood and youth caught his interest, curious to learn exactly where you had come from. He observed through the many photos which included birthdays, holiday dinners, vacations, beach days and many more.

With two cups of warm tea, you soon came back into the living room, plopping a seat next to him on the couch. You placed both cups on your small coffee table, leaning over to catch at what Loki was peering at.

“Just so you know, those things in my teeth were there so they could straighten out.” You explained as he squinted at a photo of you, sometime in your elementary and braces years.

“Ah. I didn’t realize human dentures came out misaligned.” He said, flipping through a couple more.

“Only sometimes. What do you think though? Interesting to see how different I ended up looking.”

“From my introspection, I’d want to say that you were quite the attention seeking child. See, here.” He said, showing you a small photo of you with a long forgotten childhood cousin. “From the way your hand is laid on this other child’s chest, I’m suspecting you were shoving them aside to be the main subject matter.”

You snorted. “Very impressive. I was super egoistic when I was younger, but I’m glad that trait didn’t last long.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He sneered as you playfully shoved his shoulder. He continued to sort through and came upon another photo which piqued his interest.

“You mind elaborating as to why you are dressed like...a squash?”

“Pumpkin. Also because it was Halloween. I guess you can say that’s out bastardization of some Pagan traditions.”

“It doesn’t appear like you were having a good time here.” He said, pulling the photo closer to his face.

“Oh no. I hated that costume but my mother was insistent about taking a picture.”

Loki chuckled to himself. “This sour face is quite familiar however. I think you still have a tendency to pout like that when I am intentionally ignoring you.”

You furrowed your brows. “Intentionally?”

“Oops. Did I say that?”

Loki braced for another playful jab at his side once he saw that pout forming once more. You continued to ramble on about your distinct hate for this Halloween costume as Loki flipped through a couple of more brief snapshots of your childhood. This was a new experience for him, albeit a tad strange. The use of photographic illusions wasn’t present back in Asgard, and for the aesir, there really wasn’t much need to have a tangible piece of time like this. Although his memory doesn’t remember every single detail of his younger years, it was still much more vivid than any human’s, and that was impressive to say for someone who was over one thousand years old.

He couldn’t deny your eagerness with all of it however. He observed how excited you had become to share your history with him, and how each small piece of glistening paper had brought back a memory that had been long forgotten. A part of him envied your fondness of your own past, especially with anything having to do with your family. Indeed this was the most bizarre part for him. Aside from his childhood and unconditionally loving mother, things didn’t exactly pan out that well for him. Of course he still struggled with obtaining the full responsibility of his own actions, but this was a part of his history he wished to be entirely blacked out. He certainly wouldn’t show you these parts any time soon, as selfish as it was.

He focused back on your own past, looking over the young human who couldn’t have possibly fathomed the idea of building a connection with a man like him. You were cute as a child and he briefly imagined his own young self meeting you. He wondered if you both would have gotten along as well as you both did now. Maybe, in a different space and age.

“Would it be stupid of me to ask if Asgardians keep family photos as well?” You asked, poking him out of his trance.

“Only if that includes large frescoes of the royal family over heading the royal palace.” “That’s a bummer. I’ve always been curious to see little Loki.”

“Do you want to? It wouldn’t take much honestly.” He responded casually.

“Wait, what?” You asked, bewilderment in your face. “What do you mean?”

“You know I’m a sorcerer, correct? The art of casting illusions, specific ones at that, come almost second nature to me.”

Your eyes widened at the possibility. “Are you telling me you could cast down, like a memory or something like that?”

“Err, I suppose. I can concoct something specific, but of course it wouldn’t be the exact memory.”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, inching at the edge of your seat. “I mean, if it’s cool with you?”

“You’re too excited about this.” He said, eyeing you from top to bottom. “But it will be fine. Close your eyes however, the effect will be more potent like that.”

An inescapable grin cast between your cheeks as you shut your eyes intensely. Loki stood up, tugging at your arm to rise with him, and then beginning to conjure his seidr between his fingers. The green glow rose from his palm and began to cover the entirely of your living room like a thick coat of paint. As it dripped down, your plain walls soon became marbled and golden, mimicking the royal halls back in Asgard. Loki focused on a target memory, involving one of the many times he would often study his magic in the high gardens of Asgard. He purposefully chose a moment when it was just himself, still wanting to avoid exposing you to a painful part of his past. But for now, he figured you’d be more than satisfied with a snapshot of his youth.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Your eyes popped open immediately, darting back and forth, from side to side. Your mouth fell agape at the scenery in front of you. Your living room, with all its tacky decor, was now long gone, and soon replaced with a scene out of a fairy tale. It was a large indoor garden, garnished with a myriad of flowers, hanging vines, large overlooking leaves and a large fountain smack in the middle, flowing with gentle streams of water. At a small garden bench in front of the fountain, sat a small dark haired boy, legs crossed, flipping through a large archaic book. His hair was sleeked back and he wore a dark green robe rimmed with a golden hem. His gaze fell upon his readings, and you certainly could not mistake those inhuman green eyes.

Loki raised an eyebrow at your uncomfortable silence until he patted the top of your head. “You can breathe you know.”

“Loki, is that really you?” You responded incredulously.

“Obviously. This was a little hideout spot from Thor when he wouldn’t allow me to concentrate on my studies.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Again, it’s only from the details I’ve been able to draw back on. Knowing how my mother tended these gardens, I’m sure I am missing much more here.”

“It’s still incredible.” You said while gently forward into the illusion. “Oh, Loki. You were so adorable as a kid!”

"I’ll gladly take that compliment.” He said with a smirk. He felt satisfied with how in awe you appeared at his little scene. While it would never beat having the possibility of showing you the real Asgard, this was just as pleasing. There was still much more he wanted to share with you, the good parts. His inward self however urged him to be cautious with how much he showed you, affirming it would push you away from him one way or another. Despite it, his nature allowed him to dwell in the self-gratifying moment of having you mull over his illusion.

“What exactly are you reading?” You asked, referring to his book.

“Just deepening my understanding of conjuring objects through pocket dimensions. Stuff that would surely bore you to death.”

“You got that right. You think that kid would have wanted to join me during Halloween?” You asked with another toothy grin.

“Only if you agreed to wear that ridiculous pumpkin outfit.”

“Then that will be a big no. Still, it’s incredible to believe this was probably hundreds of years before I was born.”

He nodded. “Did I ever imagine in a thousand years that I’d be stuck in Midgard with a foolish human? Definitely not.”

“Way to ruin the moment.”

He slowly waved his hand over the illusion, causing it to dissipate out of existence. The green glow tore holes through the enchanting scenery, burning all over until it reached the young Loki last. For a brief moment, the young Asgardian peered upwards, his eyes now instantly connected onto yours. You cheekily waved good bye to the young boy until he illusion completely came undone, and your plain living room was back in sight.

“That was amazing!” You said while clapping your hands in a keenly manner. “Can you cast anything else? Oh, what about when-”

Loki shoved a finger onto your lips, instantly shushing you. “Don’t be greedy. I’m not opted to show this just to anyone. Besides, it does tire me when I use my seidr in such a way.”

You nodded slowly and understandingly. “Ah.”

He was quick to catch your eagerness in your bright eyes soon fall over. “I’ll be sure you more at some other time. You have my word.”

You nodded rapidly this time. “Yes sir.”

He let out a deep breath, relieved at how easily you became content. “Very, well. I assuming you want to show me more of these ‘photos’.” He motioned over to the pile on your couch, taking a seat once more

“Only if you want to.” You said, joining him on the couch as well. “I didn’t realize how many I had.”

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

“Oh! Let me just show you my cringe teenage years. I’ll give you permission to make fun of my style back then.”

“See, now those are the things I would be more than eager to take a gander at.”

You took a chunk of the pile and began to sort through various photos, determined to find something from those adolescent years. Loki wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as you began to point out a series of hair dyeing disasters. You looked ridiculous, but he continued to ground himself presently. Unbelievable, how you continued to be more than willing to share a part of your past with him (even the seemingly shameful moments). He began to process what type of scene or moment in time he’d capture in one of his illusions, making sure the next one would continue to encourage you to share yourself with him.

#loki #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki pov #loki drabble #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson

134 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 3 years

Text

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 8

Maul eyed the water on the planet they had found themselves stranded on with no small amount of distaste.

There was no Kilindi here to make the ocean enjoyable, only encroaching danger. Maul could already see where the tide lifted towards the caves high above them. It left a thin line of a sediment where what little vegetation that existed here did not grow.

They would have to abandon the ship and take everything they could carry up to shelter. The water was drinkable, with only small amounts of saline. The Arconan’s would have to rely on water from the ship.

No one else seemed to have noticed the lines that marked the ocean tide, but then again most of them were busy repairing the hull or didn’t have the same kind of low-light vision and Nightbrother and darksider were afforded. He needed no light to see by at all, though it helped with finer details.

Maul kept a careful eye on the draigon’s that circled overhead.

He was still mad that he’d slept through a Force-damned pirate attack.

Slept! Him!

Perhaps he had poured too much of himself into crafting his crystals, but whatever the case was this was one past event he could not change. He’d only woken up hours after everything was over, to discover that they had crash landed on this no-name planet.

Jango kept shooting him worried looks that Maul studiously ignored.

If he was truly pressed, Maul would say that he had pushed himself too hard after being so badly injured, no matter the wound it would leave on his pride. It was better than the truth.

‘Yes, by the way the master I was escaping is a sith apprentice and I’m a time travelling assassin sorta-sith-lord hellbent on vengeance for a literal lifetime of torture he inflicted on me. I was hiding in the vents to make super rare crystals with my mind undisturbed and that's why I slept through a pirate attack. By the way Kenobi is going to become one of the best jedi ever if Jinn will just get his head out of his ass. Do you know why he’s not taking apprentices?’

Yeah, that would go well.

Maul left the crewmen to keep trying to patch up the hull before the water could rise so he could help Jango get their supplies from their rooms, but something in the force lead him to the medical bay.

He stopped in the doorway, the automatic doors cracked open and broken. They made sad, pathetic hissing sounds when they tried to open or close but had no luck with either. He arrived just as the medical droid and Clat’Ha were leaving.

Maul passed them by. While he was here he might as well get a wrap for the wrist he’d twisted when he’d been thrown from his bed onto the floor during the landing. It was the pain that finally woke him.

Qui Gon spared him a glance when he slunk in, a small shadow, and opened drawers until he found what he was looking for. While Maul found long strips of compression fabric Qui Gon studied him and Kenobi intermittently.

Finally, he spoke.

“Obi-Wan, when you accelerated the ship, what thoughts did you have?”

Maul paused. Kenobi had crashed the ship? Why had he even been flying it? Maul would have bet money he’d never flown anything larger than a land speeder.

“Thoughts?” Kenobi asked doubtfully. “I wasn‘t thinking about much of anything. I was afraid of the pirates, and I just knew I had to get away fast.

“So you didn‘t think about the fact that you would tear the ships from the docking bays and kill hundreds of pirates in the process?” Jinn asked in a neutral tone. Neutral, but Maul had been tested enough by Sidious, whose sabacc face was far better than Jinns. There was a trap in his words. A test in his mind. Maul turned to study the Jedi Master. What was he up to?

“I didn‘t think about what I was doing,” Obi-Wan replied. “The Force led me.”

“Were you frightened? Angry?”

There it was. Two strikes against the jedi tenant. Didn’t they understand that anger could be used to make them stronger? Didn’t they understand that fear kept one alive?

“Both,” Kenobi admitted, startling Maul. “I . . . fired on the pirates. I killed, but I didn‘t do it in anger. I did it to save lives.”

How very righteous. How very like Kenobi.

Qui-Gon nodded, just the smallest of movements. “I see.”

Maul could feel it in the Force. Something settling. The prickling on the back of his neck lessened. The test was over and passed, Kenobi had answered correctly. And not been punished for it. Still, Maul felt, Jinn found Kenobi wanting of something.

He was missing pieces here, and the only ones who had those pieces were the two jedi in front of him. Kenobi clearly knew some of it, but he was nearly swaying in his boots and that last time Maul had asked him directly the boy had nearly started crying. Maul did not want a repeat of that.

The Force told him before Si Treemba rushed in. The Arconan was out of breath, panting, and utterly off color.

“What‘s wrong?” Qui-Gon asked. He stood and tenderly stretched his shoulder. He’d been wounded in the fighting, and his arm had nearly been severed.

“Please come quickly!” Si Treemba panted. “Jemba the Hutt has stolen our dactyl!”

Maul rolled his eyes. Of course he did. There wasn’t a dull moment of this Force forsaken vessel, was there?

The three Force wielders followed Si Treemba out of medical and into the dawning light of the planet. The draigons were still sleeping, some floating on harsh drafts of wing above their heads and some nesting in the cliffs near the caves they would no doubt have to shelter in come true day break.

Maul and Kenobi stood between Jango and Jinn facing the massive hutts. They were outnumbered by their whiphid’s, but Maul knew that they could win in a fight if it was down to just the four of them. But it wasn’t.

The Arconan’s weren’t fighters. Si Treemba was the only one among them with any guts at all. They would get caught in the cross fires and die, and Jango was here to protect them. It was meant that they were playing a stupid game of space chicken, and no one was willing to flinch first.

Maul contemplated shooting both hutts in the head and then claiming control over the whiphids.

“You won‘t get away with this,” Jinn warned Jemba the Hutt. He spoke calmly, for all this was a life or death situation for the Arconans who stood silent behind him. It would have been more effective if Jinn didn’t look ready to collapse. His skin was pale and his hand, folded into his long jedi robes, shook faintly.

Jemba shook in amusement like a giant grey worm.

“What can you do, puny Jedi?” he boomed gleefully. “No one can stop the great Jemba! You Arconans were too frightened to face the pirates. They hid, while my men fought and died. Soon these cowards will be my slaves!”

Maul sneered at him. He didn’t disagree. They were cowards, and the whiphids had died for it, but he wasn’t interested in the hutts little corporate games. If anything the arconans owed the whiphids for their help, not the hutts who kept them just as enslaved as anyone else. Maul could see the thin line of collars under their long fur from where he stood.

Jemba and his men had taken over the Arconans‘ lounge. A wall of Offworld miners backed Jemba. The Offworlders stood ready for battle. Maul’s group stared down the barrels of at least thirty blasters. Some of the Offworld thugs also held shields and wore armor. Jemba‘s men obviously held more than just the Arconans‘ dactyl.

They held most of the ship‘s weapons.

Maul would feel Kenobi’s outrage at the injustice and the threat to his little friends. Beside him, Clat‘Ha pulsed with lividity. She held her hands down loosely, ready to draw her weapon. But she and the Arconans were greatly outgunned.

“Be ready,” Maul told Kenobi quietly, taking careful stock of the situation. Space in the room, number of combattants, number of blasters, and who wielded them.

Maul glanced at Jango. The mandalorian seemed oddly calm, but he could feel his anger through the Force and see the tension under his pauldrons.

“It is not justice you seek, Jemba,” Jinn tried to reason, his voice echoing faintly with the Force “You hope only to satisfy your greed. Nothing will be solved this way. Put down your weapons.”

Jemba waved a hand, as if testing the air. “Ooh, is that your powerful Force I feel? Ha!” he spat. “Your Jedi tricks are so puny, they make me laugh. They cannot work on the great Jemba. And look at you, Jedi. You‘d don‘t have the sense to stay out of the way of a vibro-ax. Anyone can see you are too frail to fight. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Fury pulsed off Kenobi at the Hutt‘s taunting, startling Maul. Had he ever felt Kenobi’s anger so clearly before? He leaped past Jinn, directly in front of Jemba. Maul quietly vanished among the arconans and made his way around back, slipping past the whiphids, droids, and humans that made up the Offworld company.

“I can stop you!” Kenobi shouted. He brought up his lightsaber. What foolish, excellent distraction.

Jemba‘s huge eyes narrowed in anger. The thugs who surrounded him stood their ground. They weren‘t afraid of a mere boy.

“What, Jedi?” Jemba said contemptuously to Jinn. “You send a child to fight me? Is this some insult?” Jemba looked to his right and left, and raised a huge fist high enough Maul could see it over the crowd. He made eye contact with Jango and raised his blaster where the Mandalorian could see.

Jango inclined his head, just barely.

Maul grinned and levelled the weapon at the back of Jemba’s head.

Jinn saw Maul too. He reached out and touched Obi-Wan‘s elbow. “Put your weapons away,” he said calmly, his voice carrying easily to Maul as well. “You can‘t win like this. If he opens fire, people will die needlessly. A Jedi must know his true enemies.”

Kenobi was shaking with confusion. Maul scowled. He was not taking orders from a jedi!

He tilted his blaster to make sure he hit Jemba directly in the head.

“What do you mean?” Kenobi asked. Sweat streamed down his pale, freckled face. “Which one of them is our enemy?” His eyes darted briefly to Maul.

“Anger is our enemy,” Qui-Gon said reasonably. He shot a glare across the room to Jemba, and at Maul as well. “Greed and fear are also our enemies. The Arconans can live without dactyl for awhile. You do not need to fight now. Haste is another enemy.”

“A wise move, little one,” Jemba said with a deep laugh. At his prompting the rest of the Offworlders lowered their weapons.

There.

Maul pulled the trigger twice.

Jemba and Grelb, the hutt who had attacked Kenobi at the start of the voyage, fell dead to the ground. Holes smoked out the back of their great, slimy heads.

In the time it took the whiphids, strong but slow, to turn around and raise their blasters Maul had already blasted the heads off of all the droids. Jango drew his own blasters, as did Clat’Ha, and a very irritated looking Jinn ignited his lightsaber.

Jango lifted his blasters but didn’t fire. Maul stood in front of the ensembled Offworld crowd, still but unafraid. He pulled their aggression towards himself, stealing it straight from them. The whiphids looked confused, and the humans shook their heads as their anger started to fade, but no one fired at him. They were at least that smart

“Now that that’s settled,” Jango said, his voice cutting through the crowd, “we’ll be taking the dactyl back. Anyone have a problem with that?”

“He just killed the boss,” one of the humans spun to face Jango, and got a blaster pointed at his face.

“Yeah, he did. Do you really have a problem with that?” Jango asked steadily.

The human eyed the blaster before he looked down at the bodies of the hutts. Finally, he holstered his own blaster and spat on their corpses.

“They died in the crash,” the human said at last, and squared his shoulders. He looked back over the other Offworlders. “Guess that puts me in charge until we get to Bandoneer. Give ‘em the dactyl. I’d like to live long enough to at least see Bandomeer. “

The others grumbled, but no one put up a fight. Someone turned over one of the big crates of dactyl over to Clat’Ha.

Maul strode through the whiphids until he was standing in front of Jango. The Mandalorians head tilted. Maul got the impression of irritation, but he couldn't tell what it was aimed at.

Slowly, the group dispersed.

Maul put his blaster away while Clat’Ha watched him. He couldn't quite read what was in her eyes, but the concern was unmistakable. Concern, and fear perhaps? So be it.

Clat’Ha turned to Jango, a question unspoken, and he just shrugged.

“Kid nearly broke my neck the first time I found him. And he didn’t even have a blaster then.”

Maul scowled at him. “I should have finished what I started, old man.”

Nevermind that Maul had lived longer than Jango ever would. Ever had? Fuck it.

“Now you’re just being rude, ad’ika.”

“I am not a child!”

“You shot them.”

The trio broke out of their ‘discussion’ to find the two jedi were watching them still. Kenobi kept his eyes on Maul. They were bright.

“Well your master wasn’t doing kriff all,” Maul said pointedly, eying Jinn.

Jinn’s mouth thinned into a line. “It was dangerous to engage in combat. What you did was reckless and foolish. You could have gotten yourself and others killed. The arconan’s could survive without dactyl for a while. As I said.”

Maul looked him up and down. Jinn was nearly twice as tall as Maul was now, and the grey in his long hair and bear was gone. Younger and stronger.

“So you would have asked them to suffer while you puttered around and tried to find a ‘diplomatic’ solution?” Maul sneered before his expression morphed into an epiphany. “Or was the jedi going to steal the dactyl back?”

“Master Jinn would never!” Kenobi argued, looking horrified.

Jinn’s cheek twitched. Maul grinned viciously.

“What you did-”

“Worked,” Maul cut in. “And last I checked, no jedi ever came to take me to your sparkly little temple. You have no place to lecture me, Qui Gon Jinn. You are not my master, nor my father, and I owe you less than nothing.”

Jango’s hand landed on Maul’s shoulder, bringing him up short.

“What’s done is done. Maul’s strategy worked. The dactyl will be returned, and only the hutts and a few droids died.”

“Perhaps it was the Will of the Force,” Maul offered, relishing the way Jinn’s hand folded into his robe to hide how tightly his fists had clenched.

Needling Jedi was almost better than killing them, Maul decided.

“What’s done is done,” Jinn repeated, his jaw working under his beard. “I must retire, then, and see my wounds.”

Kenobi looked hesitantly between Maul and Jinn before he finally made to help Jinn to his room. Clat’Ha followed after them.

Once they were alone, Jango tilted his visored face towards Maul.

“As much as I hate to admit it, the jetii wasn’t wrong. That was very dangerous. You made a target of yourself there.”

“I was fine,” Maul shook his head. “I have been in much worse situations.”

Jango was sad, again, and angry. Maul was becoming much more attuned with his emotions.

“That’s not- Maul’ika, that’s not a good thing. You shouldn’t have had to be in those situation. Someone should have protected you.”

Maul bristled, anger flashing in his eyes. He wanted to snarl at Jango that he didn’t need such things but-

But Jango was right.

Sidious’ rearing had made him powerful, it was true, but he would always begrudge the jedi for never coming for him. He would always taste bile when he remembered that time and again he had had to save himself.

“... Some did. Some tried.” Savage had guarded his back. Rook Kast and Gar Saxxon had come for him. Kilindi would have tried even if it killed her, and Daleen too. DeeNine had protected him as best as he could, and in the end saved him from Sidious.

Wasn’t that a strange thought? Almost as bizarre as the idea that he had three whole friends.

Jango’s anger eased.

“That’s something, at least. Come, there’s still much to be done. You did good work today. We’ll need to get you some armor, if you’re going to take risks like that.”

Jango touched his shoulder and guided Maul away. He tried not to be pleased. He didn’t need praise to know he had done well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Obi Wan carefully helped Master Jinn lower himself onto his sleeping couch in his small quarters. The two jedi had been afforded their own rooms on the ship, unlike most of the workers. Maul, too, shared a bunk with Jango Fett.

Master Jinn’s quarters were scant and bare, as a proper Jedi’s should have been. There was nothing sentimental in it. Master Jin rubbed his wounded shoulder gingerly.

Obi Wan fiddled with his sleeve cuffs and shuffled his feet. Master Jinn finally looked up at him.

“Yes, young one?” he asked, sounding faintly amused. Obi Wan felt his neck heat up. He’d been caught.

“What you were saying to Maul. Was it really wrong, to kill Jemba?”

It had made perfect sense to Obi Wan. With Jemba and Grelb gone, the dactyl had been returned to Si Treemba and the other’s, and tension with Offworld had lessened enough for the entire ship to work on repairs at the same time. Was it really wrong to kill them? Maul hadn’t seemed to do it because he hated them, even though he always felt at least a little angry. It was such a foreign sensation to Obi Wan, who had been raised in the serenity of the Jedi Temple.

“Nothing has changed,” he said at last. “Obi-Wan, can‘t you see? Killing Jemba was not the answer. Jemba was but one Hutt, as was Grelb. There are always more, just as evil and greedy as he. Even if he is dead, it won‘t stop his plan from going forward. Another like him, perhaps someone worse, will take his place. What we must do is try to teach these people that -”

“But he is evil, isn‘t he?” Obi-Wan asked. He didn’t understand. Yes, there could be others worse than Jemba, but the arconan’s had been saved. Wasn’t one small act of good better than none? Or was the simple act of killing alone evil? Obi Wan had killed the pirates, and Master Jinn and Clat’Ha had fought them too.

“What Jemba was trying to do was wrong,” Master Jinn answered carefully.

“I‘ve never seen anyone who was so evil,” Obi-Wan burst out. He couldn’t keep it to himself any more. He had felt Jemba’s greed, slimy and viscous against his skin every time the hutt spoke.

A sad smile touched Qui-Gon‘s lips.

“And have you been so many places, young Obi Wan?”

Obi Wan fell silent. He had much to learn. His heart cried out that Jemba was evil, and that evil had spread to enslave innocent victims. If anyone deserved to meet a bitter fate, it was the Hutt. But he would listen to Master Jinn. He was not even a Padawan. It was not his place to question a Master.

“I‘ve seen far worse. If you think of killing in anger, you must know such thoughts come from the dark side.”

“Then how could we make him give the dactyl back? He wouldn’t have done it willingly, not unless they agreed to be his slaves!” Obi Wan didn’t understand. How could Master Jinn not act upon the injustice? How much could he see that was beyond Obi Wan’s reach?

“You can‘t,” Master Jinn said gravely. Obi Wan’s heart sunk. “You can‘t force people to be just and decent. Such qualities arise from within. They cannot be forced from without. For

now, I had chosen to wait. Perhaps Jemba would have a change of heart. Or perhaps some darker fate awaited him. In either case, killing was not the solution. It is not our place to pass these judgements.”

“But . . . you‘ve killed before,” Obi Wan said hesitantly. The pirates. Their bodies were being laid outside as people came across them. Several had light saber burns across their corpses.

“I have,” Master Jinn admitted, “when there was no other choice. But when I kill, I only win a fight. It‘s a small, small victory. There are greater battles to be won. Battles of the heart. Sometimes, with

patience and reason and by setting a good example, I have won more than a fight. I have turned my adversary into a friend.”

Obi Wan considered this. Despite his pain and weakness Master Jinn was taking the time to explain his thoughts to Obi Wan. Only yesterday, the Jedi most likely would have issued a stern order, then dismissed him. Something had changed between them.

“You‘re testing me, aren‘t you,” Obi Wan guessed, hope rising in his chest. “You‘ve changed

your mind! You are considering me for your Padawan.”

He tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

Master Jinn shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly. “I‘m not testing you, Obi Wan.nLife tests you! Every day it brings you new chances for triumph or defeat. And if you pass the test, it doesn‘t make you a Jedi. It makes you human.”

Obi Wan stepped back, as if he’d slapped him. With a rush of sorrow and hurt, he saw into his own heart. He had been fooling himself. He had told himself that he had accepted Qui-Gon‘s decision, that all he wanted was his respect. But somewhere deep inside, he had hoped that if he acted bravely and well on this mission, Master Jinn would change his mind.

Now he saw the truth.

There was no hope for his future. Master Jinn had truly made his decision and he could not be swayed. Obi Wan was too full of anger, and too impulsive.

He would have killed Jemba if he could have. Did he really think it was right, or was that just the lure of the Darkside?

Obi Wan felt like he was choking. His eyes stung and he turned quickly to hide himself from Master Jinn. He would not let the Master see his deep shame. He’d been such a fool.

No wonder no one wanted him. He didn’t even know himself. How could he know the Will of the Force?

He could never be a jedi.

All his anger flowed out of him, but not into the Force like it should have if he was a real Jedi. It left him like air in his lungs, and he felt light and shaky with its disappearance, for all that came back was hollow grief and guilt.

Grief for the life he would never live. Guilt for wasting the time of so many Masters in his desperate quest to be allowed to stay with the Jedi. How could he?

Obi Wan swallowed twice to clear his dry throat and wiped the tears and sweat from his face before he faced Master Jinn and bowed swiftly.

“I’ll let you rest, then,” he said quietly. His voice didn’t shake. He wouldn't let it.

He left the cabin in a daze. He needed rest, but he could not seem to find it anywhere. He tried his cabin, then the lounge. At last he wandered the hall aimlessly. He ended up near the engine rooms, staring out at the wasteland of the unnamed planet. It felt strange there. Hot and bitter and dry. Like a desert, or what Obi Wan assumed they felt like. He had never been to one.

Here there was the remnants of a great anger. Had their been a battle in the engine room?

Whatever there was, he found solace in the quiet. The engines had been turned off while the teams worked to repair the ship, the lights were left off, and through the hatch they’d opened to have access he could see the sky. Five moons, in shades of red and blue, hung like ripe fruits out over a silent ocean. A flight of draigons hovered high in the air, asleep on the wing. The island shore was nothing more than a treacherous bit of wave carved rock, with smatterings of sand.

Farther inland, dark volcanic peaks vented steam, and there draigons perched by the hundreds. A door hissed open behind him.

A moment later, Maul appeared by his side. The smaller boy had most of his head covered by his hood, as was his norm, but from Obi Wan’s vantage point on the floor he could see the dark red and black patterns on his skin.

“What are you doing here, little Jedi? It’s too dark in here for you.” Maul’s voice was gruff. Obi Wan wondered where he had been during the fight. Had he killed, with the deadly aim he used on the hutts? He hadn’t hesitated at all, and he talked back to Master Jinn without hesitation.

Of course, it was as Maul said. He wasn’t a Jedi, and Master Jinn had no say in his actions.

Master Jinn didn’t seem fond of Maul or his caretaker, Jango. Obi Wan couldn’t tell if the Mandalorian was his father, or relative, or just his caretaker.

“I needed to think,” Obi Wan answered. He was glad to see his friend. Maul didn’t mince words, and he was abrasive in some ways. Anger always radiated off of him faintly, but Obi Wan had gotten used to that. Maul wasn’t a Jedi, so he was allowed his emotions.

“And what has your thinking done, besides turn your face red?”

Obi Wan startled. Maul could see him that well in the dark?

His eyes did glow, faint gold in the shadow of his hood. It reminded Obi Wan of the lightsabers that the Temple Guard wielded.

“I thought that my time in the Temple was hard in many ways,” Obi Wan said slowly, picking his words. It felt odd to say his thoughts out loud. “The days were filled with study and effort. The very best was expected of us. I respected my teachers so much, and I thought I knew what I needed not only to survive, but to excel.”

Obi Wan took a breath. His hands were shaking.

“Now I see that I had no idea what kind of evil the universe could show me. I‘ve never seen real greed before, not like the greed of the pirates or Jemba. It sickens me.”

Maul grunted at him, so Obi Wan continued.

“Now I am wondering . . . do I have the seeds of the same greed?” Master Jinn must have seen some in him. It had to have been greed that drove him to try, over and over, to find a Master to take him even when he knew he was being assigned to the Agri-Corps. Greed, for status and knowledge. And fear. Obi Wan didn’t want to be sent away. He didn’t want to say goodbye to all his friends!

Maul stared at him in the dark. Obi Wan got the distinct impression that he was unimpressed. Of course he would be. Obi wan had seen the scars on his hands, when they’d eaten together and he’d taken his gloves off. He knew that he’d been injured recently when pangs of pain came through the Force if he moved certain ways. Maul had had a hard life, and here Obi Wan was, crying because he did not get what he wanted.

He couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“All my life, I‘ve wanted to be a Jedi. I craved it so much. I was willing to fight for the honor, and I became angry when others stood in my way.”

“And this is a bad thing,” Maul said slowly.

Obi-Wan nodded, still looking out at the dark sea.

He felt a deep longing to be home, back at the Temple, where things had clarity and purpose. Here, he felt lost.

“It will be light in a few hours. You have done so much for me already. You helped us with the thermocom. You fought for us with Jemba. But will you help me one last time?”

Maul eyed him wearily.

“That would depend on what you require of me.”

“Help me overcome my anger,” Obi Wan said. His fingers were curled into fists. He looked down at them and uncurled them. Maul always seemed so angry, but when he acted it was not impulsive or brash. Obi Wan had seem him watch the room where the brief fight with the hutts went down. He’d been perfectly calm the entire time.

Maul choked beside him, and wide yellow eyes snapped to Obi Wan. He struggled to explain himself quickly.

“I feel such rage toward Jemba, even now that he is dead. He wanted to use other people for his own game, and I wanted to kill him for that. But I don‘t like the way I feel right now,” Obi Wan’s voice cracked. “Master Jinn was right. If I had tried to stop Jemba, I would be doing so only to satisfy my own rage.”

“... What brought this on?” Maul asked at last. His voice sounded tight.

“Something has just happened,” Obi wan told him quietly. “I just realized something. Master Jinn will never take me as a Padawan. He feels I am unworthy, and perhaps he is right. Maybe I wouldn‘t be good at it.”

“This is not what you’re angry about. You are not angry with Qui Gon Jinn,” Maul observed. He must truly have good night vision, to see that on Obi Wan’s face. Maul was preceptive.

Obi Wan shook his head.

“I feel… light. And lost, too. It‘s as if a burden has been lifted from me, and someone has thrown me into that ocean. Perhaps I could be a good farmer. And to be good . . . to be a good person is more important than being a Jedi.”

“I don’t see why you can’t be both,” Maul said slowly, “There is nothing wrong with anger.”

“Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to the Darkside.” Obi Wan paused. Maul was no Jedi. “The Darkside is a different part of the Force, what we- what Jedi use for our powers,” he clarified. “Jedi use the Lightside. To use the Darkside is a grave offense. So we must let go of our anger, lest it control us and lead us down that path.”

For some reason, Maul laughed. It was a starling, grating sound, like it wasn’t used often.

“Little Jedi,” Maul said with a shake of his head. “You could never use the Darkside, no matter how angry you got. Trust me on this.”

Obi Wan opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but Maul held up a hand, shadowy and vague in the darkness.

“I cannot help you let go of your anger. That is a Jedi trick. I always have anger inside of me, but I do not let it control me. My anger, my rage, my hate. It does not use me to do its bidding. I use it to sharpen my senses and make me stronger, faster, and more durable if I must. On sheer spite I have fought with shattered ribs and a dislocated hip, and still come out on top.”

“But, you’re so young!” Obi Wan was horrified. He knew Maul had had a difficult life, but that-

“I’m not as young as I look,” Maul scowled at him. “And you are the one who asked. I can’t help you over come anything. Do you want to learn to use it? To make yourself stronger? That I can teach you.”

Obi Wan bowed his head.

Maul had looked perfectly at ease in the brief battle. He’d seemed utterly unafraid with a dozen blasters trained on him. In some ways, Obi Wan did want that. He wanted to be able to do what was right, and he still thought that Maul had done that, even if Master Jinn disagreed.

Still.

To hold onto anger, and use it to make yourself stronger… Obi Wan didn’t know that he could do that. His temper had already gotten the best of him so many times. It was what had landed him on this ship in the first place.

So lightly Obi Wan thought he was imagining it, Maul’s hand touched his shoulder.

“Think on it. I’ll be with Jango.”

Something brushed against Obi Wan’s shields. A phantom touch, barely there and gone so fast Obi Wan thought he’d imagined it.

His head snapped around to watch Maul disappear through the doors again, no more than a shadow in the dark.

#Darth Maul #Maul #darth maul time travel #time travel #star wars time travel #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #clat'ha

7 notes · View notes

florbelles · 3 years

Note

background and personality for miss lyra ❤❤❤❤❤

thank you so much, lovely! sorry this took an eternity and a half xx

PERSONALITY

what’s their alignment?

d&d alignments are not her friend!

having said that, she leans towards neutral or chaotic ( very rarely lawful ); neutral in that she does not attempt to disrupt order for the sake of it and does not prioritize personal freedoms over the general ( what she believes to be ) good, chaotic in that she’s willing to do whatever it takes to meet her goals regardless of legality or acceptability and thinks little of the laws and values of society; she considers herself above the law insofar as she does not respect the law or believes it to be fundamentally flawed, but does not opposite the concept of order on principle ( while, on the contrary, she is an enforcer of order and principles within the context of the project; no one is above the judgement of god, herself included ). her loyalty and unconditional love where she gives it earns her high points in the morality category in traditional d&d quizzes, as does her commitment to her cause ( whether that’s with the project or in her life before, conning or murdering corrupt or vile members of society in retaliation ). practically speaking, though, her methods align her with the evil sector, particularly in regards to the lengths she’s willing to go to; she also gets personal enjoyment out of inflicting suffering on those she deems unworthy, derives pleasure from the atrocities she commits. she is driven by passion more than anything else, and is consumed by rage and loathing, meaning she is never truly neutral; because she gets personal satisfaction from her work as the judge, it can’t be said that she’s acting selflessly in the pure interest of upholding the values of the project, so the merit of her devotion in and of itself isn’t without ambiguity. she believes herself to be a monster, but believes her cause is righteous – it takes evil to know it, judge it, and exterminate it – but she has never once in her life done something #fortheevils or in the interest of promoting ( what she believes to be ) evil for the sake of it; for that reason she’s difficult to categorize based on the traditional understanding of the alignments.

tl; dr: given that she truly is driven by rage & passion and very much wants the world to burn ( at least at a certain critical point in her arc ), and given the depravity she’ll resort to in order to reach her end goals, she’s probably best aligned as chaotic to neutral evil ( though she believes herself to be doing right ).

which one of the 16 personality types do they fit into?

enfp-a; the campaigner.

what are their hobbies and interests? do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

setting sinners free, anna karenina, fleetwood mac, driving with the windows down, sinner roasts bonfires in the summer & autumn, watching the sun rise.

favorites are answered here ( x ), activities and interests here ( x )

what are they bad at?

bar games & team sports (anything she can’t cheat at, really).

what kind of things do they dislike/hate?

apathy, willful ignorance, obstinate self-deceit, the song oh john.

do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses?

she turns to risky behaviors, inflicting pain on herself ( via the provocation of others/combat ) or others ( whom she feels are deserving ). she has flirted with most forms of substance abuse in the past, but never crossed the line into full chemical dependency with anything but tobacco ( more because of using nothing specific habitually than out of moderation ).

what are their goals and motivations?

to do right even if she was born wrong ( she might be a monster, but she’s a monster for a cause, and surely that means something ); to keep what she has ( her family, john ); to fulfill her purpose as the judge of eden’s gate; to cast out the unworthy; to get her family safely to new eden. after the collapse, she simply wants to lead and protect the only family she has left — the faithful — until the shepherd joseph promised arrives and releases her from her duty.

what are their manners like? any habits?

full rundown on her mannerisms here. extremely extroverted, open body language, usually smoking; draws herself up to her full height even when seated. often holding a cigarette, talks with her hands. very animated, but graceful and deliberate. uses eye contact and physical touch to either intimidate or establish intimacy; disregards personal space for the same reason.

what are they most afraid of?

answered here.

becoming her mother. losing john. losing herself to her wrath, to an extent, but she would rather burn herself alive than become isabela. ( that was always more something that she would go to any lengths to avoid than a fate she truly feared, at least before john’s death and the collapse; that was the first time she was actually tempted to numb herself and embrace oblivion, but she never did ).

BACKGROUND

where were they born? what was their childhood like?

lyra was born in the hamptons, but she spent most of her childhood (that she can remember) on nantucket island; early childhood she spent out ruling it herself, on beaches, frolicking with the summer people, still trying to get her parents’ attention, then, still wanting what she saw other families have; not perfect, perhaps, but something.

what’s their family like?

BIRTH FAMILY

lyra maintains, for the most part, that the problem was never with her parents, but with her; she told joseph at one point that the difference between the rest of them is that they might not have been born monsters, but she was; nothing made her that way. the reality, of course, is different; because of the fact that lyra’s abuse was tied primarily to neglect as a young girl and later the emotional abuse, exploitation and manipulation by her father, she does not feel entitled to the trauma she carries from it matched against some of the horrors she’s witnessed. ( of her father’s business associates and the men she would target later in life, lawrence was never the worst of them, and for that, she considers herself fortunate ). she’s very aware of the fact that she had the best education money could buy ( provided it also got her as far away from them as possible ), that she was not beaten or, truthfully, reprimanded; her father never touched her, but that was a universally true statement — the most physical contact or affection he displayed towards his daughter was a hand on her shoulder at galas, steering her towards an associate she was meant to beguile, or lifting her hair to fasten his latest bribe around her neck.

she never, in her entire life, felt more like a whore, not even when she was fucking men she met along the road to rob them.

her mother, isabela, was not inherently malicious; she was extremely depressed and jaded and, as a result, heavily self-medicated; she did not turn a blind eye to her husband’s affairs, or to the way he slowly made lyra her replacement, but she smothered it with drugs. she did not hate lyra, and never expressed open animosity towards her and that, to lyra, was the worst of it; she would attempt to provoke her often, would scream, fight, threaten, sob, but isabela was unmovable entirely. she was dead to the world.

the opposite of love, to lyra, was never hatred, it was indifference, and isabela was completely indifferent to her.

it’s the only thing lyra could never forgive.

she ran away often throughout her childhood, and as her sixteenth birthday neared, she finally left for good; she ensured she wasn’t found. they disinherited her within the year upon receiving notice from the family of one of her highschool girlfriends that she was visiting them ( an unintentional betrayal, but one that prevented her from making the mistake of contacting anyone from her old life again ). they sent her an official letter forbidding her from contacting them or returning home, swearing her off and stating that they did not recognize her as their daughter ( though, since she was a minor at the time, the only legal aspect was her removal from their will ).

lawrence would tell his colleagues and friends years later that he did what was necessary because he was afraid of her, that he truly believed she had the capacity to kill him for the inheritance. it was a ludicrous claim; for all of his insistence that she was like him, scheming, manipulative, opportunistic, incapable of feeling, all she ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by her family. she did not want to be a monster, she was simply told she was one all her life. she began to believe it, and, ultimately, she chose to become it.

still, she would have forgiven lawrence everything, in the end, if he’d ever cared to ask. she loved her parents, and later she hated them, but she could never be indifferent. she could never be like them. that, perhaps, was why they never loved her.

THE SEEDS

she loves her chosen family desperately. faith is her best friend and the sister she never had, and though their form of enmeshment makes them occasionally toxic, they truly do love each other; jacob is her mentor and trainer in her role as the judge, they’re quite close; joseph she has perhaps the most tumultuous relationship with because of his concerns about her intemperance and the way she and john indulge each other, but she respects him and understands him in a way john does not — she does not personally seek his approval or fear his rejection, so she views him more objectively. later, of course, they’re all that’s left, and while john will always be the person closest to her heart and the most important part of her life, joseph is the second.

she does make overtures to befriend ethan, but she is only an amplifier of his feelings of isolation and resentment towards his father; no matter what he does, the loyalty of both the flock and his father will always lie with lyra, and that is difficult for him to accept. despite joseph leaving new eden in his hands, ethan is under no illusions about the fact that lyra stayed behind to watch him, and her presence undermines him at every turn, regardless of her intent — she is the de facto leader, for reasons he will never fully understand, and he resents her for it.

john is her whole heart. he’s her soulmate. having him, however briefly, makes everything worth it to her in the end; she can’t ever regret it, no matter what it cost her; she tells poppy that “god gave him to me, and for that, i forgive [god] all the rest.”

what factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

prior to hope county, none; lyra is her own contractor and the center of her own networks.

with the project, lyra serves as the judge; she serves as a sorter, an intel gatherer, a judge of the worthy and unworthy, oversees the realm of the damned; she shows those who are submitted to her judgement their true selves and allows their choices and actions to speak to their character and determine the fate. after all, who is she to judge?

post-collapse, she leads new eden in practice, though not in title, in joseph’s absence.

how do they fit into their “story”?

lyra is the judge of eden’s gate and a seed by marriage. she’s a career serial serial killer and conartist come to hope county seeking refuge after a murder gone wrong; she is a damned woman, and the project is her last resort. she’s the sealbreaker, the lamb, and the wrath of god. in terms of far cry 5 canon, she replaces the deputy as the prophesized hell that followed, though she never has any allegiance but to the project; hers is a cautionary tale in that, in their attempts to avoid the fate joseph foresaw for them, the seeds ultimately bring ruin upon themselves. there’s no junior deputy in her canon; they called in sick the morning of the arrest.

where do they currently live? what’s their place like?

before hope county, lyra was perpetually on the move seeking targets, as her lifestyle demanded; after joining the project, she lives at the seed ranch with her husband.

post-collapse she lives in new eden until the arrival of the highwaymen brings joseph back to oversee it. she retakes prosperity and lives in what’s left of her old home until her death.

how do they eventually die?

she and john get hopped up on rads!bliss on their 70th wedding anniversary and put each other into mutual cardiac arrest. yeah, they fucked to death, what about it. this is the only way either of them ever die. shaggy finds them in a final insult to him.

lyra dies at forty-three — seventeen years later than she’d have liked — after taking a knife between the ribs via her nephew. while that’s the wound that technically does her in, the reality is that it was probably survivable; lyra had been dying for a long time, physically and emotionally broken by the holy war, though she put on a convincing front for the sake of joseph and the flock. she kept herself going until she had done her duty by new eden and fulfilled her purpose, bringing the shepherdess that was promised to the flock; she tells poppy that she’s her sacrifice, and she’s finally free to go back to the grave where she belongs. she does, happily; letting go is a relief.

#pardon the essay #oc: lyra fairbanks #answered #spicevalleys

6 notes · View notes

thedistantstorm · 4 years

Text

Project Compass 16

Read along on AO3 Here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Next Chapter >>

This time: A moment of balance between Thrawn and Eli.

Next Time: Thrawn and Ezra receive their orders. Tensions rise.

It was late. Even for a Chiss. Very few lights were on, as the majority of those within the manor are able to see well enough into the infrared not to necessitate lights, though ornate candles burn at different points down several of the halls. It was a decorative choice, sure, but it also was meant to cater to the human whose rooms were directly across from his. In a way, Thrawn could appreciate it like this, the way the yellow-orange light flickered and splashed across the halls, highlighting historical, ornamental art.

But at the same time, he found he much preferred the remainder of the estate in its natural, unlit fashion, the purple black skies, hazy with clouds visible from the floor to ceiling windows in the main lounge that overlooked the front of the manor. Everything was dark, and even with the ability to see into a superior spectrum, most everything had cooled thanks to the temperature regulation systems.

A flicker of lightning danced across the sky, visible through the windows. After a moment followed the deep, rumbling thunder. Thrawn stopped just inside the lounge, head tilted toward the window. It was not yet raining. More lightning flashed, the heat of it lingering long after the light disappeared. Soon.

He did not entirely dislike this place. It was far more appropriate for his brother than he, but it was symbolic that they’d been chosen. That both he and Thrass were destined for far greater things. It was not home, however. His place was aboard a ship, in the inky darkness of space, hurtling across the stars. He could appreciate any number of planets and their peoples, but more importantly, their art - but it would not compare to what drove him. What defined him. He was never going to settle down in this place and live out the rest of his days.

The sound of footsteps from another hallway drew his attention. They were not loud nor tentative - not an attendant, then. They were measured. Even. More thunder crashed. They did not break pace, so he knew it could not be Thrass.

“Surprised you’re up,” Came the casual greeting, the smooth-tone voice that belonged to Eli Vanto. He approached the wall length windows with a sense of wonder, hands going to his hips and eyes turned skyward. “Gonna be one hell of a storm,” He said, words lilting with the mildest twang in Sy Bisti. “Kinda reminds me of summer storms on Lysatra.”

There was a long pause, nearly an entire minute of lightning and the successive thunder before Thrawn spoke. “Do you miss it?” He asked, his Sy Bisti accented ever so slightly with Cheunh.

“Sometimes,” Eli admitted. “But not as much as I expected.” He turned his head, giving Thrawn a once over, though he could only really see the Chiss’s left side. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Thrawn fired back, glowing eyes casting the slightest haze on his cheeks. “The hour is not entirely scandalous for a Chiss, as you no doubt know, but I do not believe it is an hour a human strives to be conscious for.”

Vanto conceded the point with an embarrassed smile. For a second, Thrawn found his eyes drawn to the curve of the other man’s mouth, then shifting up to see the similar softness in his eyes. This was the facial expression of a man Thrawn knew. He recognized Vanto’s sheepish embarrassment and knew immediately what it was. In this, at least, he knew his old comrade. It was a boon that he clung to.

“You were up working on research,” Thrawn appraised him, seeing the lingering dampness of his hair on the next lightning strike. “Your sleep cycle hasn’t reset.”

A purse of Eli’s lips indicated that Thrawn was right.

“Three days?”

“Two and a half,” The human clarified. “But technically, I was up for around four.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Thrawn advised. “The human body is not designed for such-” He broke off, realizing he’d slipped right into command-tone, speaking to Eli as though he were the other man’s superior. It was habit. Instinct. Completely uncalled for, but the words had left his lips and could not be taken back.

Vanto turned to face him bodily, looking up at him now. He smiled, again, and Thrawn froze. “You’re right.” Then, laughing to himself, a small huff of a thing, he added, “Sometimes I think I’d kill to be an ensign again. Only time I get a solid eight these days is when I pull kriff like this.”

Thrawn hummed, pensive. He watched Vanto’s posture, intent on being sure there was no lingering discontent from his words. “I had not meant to reprimand you,” He said. “I was merely-” Merely what, exactly? Thrawn wasn’t entirely sure how to continue. Concerned? Surely he knew Vanto could take care of himself. It was unlike him to speak so carelessly.

“I know. I’m not angry.” He shrugged. In fact, he seemed amused.

It only confused the Chiss more. “You are more expressive now,” Thrawn explained. Then, he added, masking his frustration with his usual cool, “I do not understand.”

“You’re thinking too much.” Lightning flickered, and for a moment Thrawn could see the deep cinnamon-brown flecks in the depths of Vanto’s dark eyes. “I’m goin’ to go down to the kitchens and kick out whomever your dumbass brother has on duty for no reason at o’three hundred. I like makin’ my own breakfast when the situation allows. Want to join me?”

“That will undoubtedly upset Thrass,” Thrawn said. “He will-”

Vanto’s eyes sparked mischievously, one brow rising. Thrawn swallowed hard, taking in the nuance, cataloging it for later reflection. The complexities that he’d layered on, the way he was the same Eli Vanto, and yet at the same time this confident, collected Captain Ivant, all of it was overwhelming, heady. Enticing. “Tell me you don’t like pissing off your brother,” Eli prompted.

That was all the convincing it took, not that Thrawn had been planning to turn down an invitation to make further amends with his current commanding officer. “I have no idea what you mean, Captain,” Thrawn said, facial expression neutral and voice smooth as stone.

“Right,” Eli drawled. “C’mon, Commander, let’s see if I can’t turn out a decent meal with whatever delicacies the chefs keep on hand.”

“Lead the way.”

“One thing I will say about the Chiss is that y’all certainly have better taste in breakfast foods than the Empire ever did.”

“You did not find their powdered protein rations enjoyable?” Thrawn asked dryly, cutting a piece of omelette with his utensil and tasting it. It was good. Not purely Chiss cuisine, but not like anything he’d eaten throughout his time with the Empire, either. It was a fusion of the two.

“I’m a Wild Space hick, remember? My people ate real food they grew, not powder and gel.” Thrawn hummed. Eli plucked a pot of some kind of jellied sauce off a tray in the center of the expansive kitchen island and spooned a generous portion over his own. “You have this stuff? It’s kind of spicy, definitely not meant for this kind of dish, but it’s good.”

Thrawn gestured for it and Eli passed it over. “You’ve cooked in this kitchen before,” He mused, as he followed Eli’s lead. He’d had this sauce before, but it was meant for expensive and exotic meat cuts, not an egg scramble with common vegetable greens. He tried it, and found the spice to be agreeable but not overwhelming. It brought out the buttery flavor of the egg-wrapped greens.

“Yeah. Kinda spent some time here after I got back from Grysk Space.” He didn’t elaborate. Thrawn didn’t expect him to.

“So I was told,” He agreed. They ate in silence, both watching the storm through the window. The silence between them was comfortable. Familiar, with the charge of something new. “My brother considers you a friend,” He said slowly, after a while.

Eli shrugged. “That bother you?”

“Not at all,” Thrawn said, and Eli frowned. “I believe he was baiting me.”

“No doubt he was.” The human turned on his stool, facing him instead of the window in front of them both. “He was worried about you, before I went away.”

Thrawn got the feeling ‘away’ was the mission that got him and Vah’nya captured, but ignored it in lieu of keeping the mood light. “He is not all bad,” The Chiss admitted. “More infuriating than anything.”

“You can say that again,” Eli agreed. “Though I think I’d take infuriating and obtuse over genuine. The few times I’ve seen that were freaky, even for me.”

“Now I know why he likes you,” Thrawn didn’t smile, but there was a sort of warmth to his gaze, a fond quirk of his lips as he regarded his Captain. “You embrace him as he is.”

“I don’t know about that.” He returned to his meal, took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. “He’s a pain in my ass, even when we’re on the same side of an issue.”

“That is his way,” Thrawn agreed. “It’s been twenty years since I’ve spent any real time with him and he’s hardly any different than when I left.”

“That right?”

Thrawn considered it a moment. “He is a bit more over the top now. I suspect it’s due to political tensions that have put strain on his position.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Vanto said.

“I do wonder if it is similarly related to me, though.”

A pensive look crossed Vanto’s features. “We’d be on the brink of war even if you stayed with the Empire. Seems to me like the fissures between the ruling families have gone on ignored for a while. They run deep. I’d prefer to keep them fighting it out in assemblies and council meetings rather than open warfare. The Grysk will be waiting for us, if or when that happens.”

“I think you believe it is a matter of when, not if,” Thrawn pressed.

“Perhaps,” He looked out the window as lightning struck and thunder followed, crisp and loud.

“Can you elaborate?”

This time, Eli fixed him a look. It was regretful, but resolute. “Not yet,” He said. “I’m sorry.”

Thrawn nodded. “I understand. It is… difficult.”

“Weird, you mean.” Eli smiled, small and sad. “It’s weird to be your CO. It must be even weirder to you for me to be comfortable in your family home.”

“It is strange, yes,” Thrawn supposed. “But I do not resent you for it. You are-” He stopped. Considered. “I owe you a great debt,” He said, but Eli could see the way the cogs in his mind were turning. It wasn’t what Thrawn wanted to say, or at least that’s what Eli seemed to think.

Vanto rose from his stool, taking his empty plate and Thrawn’s, rinsing them both in the sink while Thrawn sized him up, analyzing him in the following silence. He let it happen, let the Commander work through his assessment of the situation on his own. The steaming device that sterilized any used cookware and dishes was cycled on with the touch of a button before he returned to his seat, a half-drank mug of tea sitting in front of his stool.

“I need to make something clear with you,” Eli said. “Any debt you could possibly owe me has been paid in full.”

Thrawn protested, “I do not-” But Eli held his ground.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today if you didn’t yank me out of the supply track all those years ago and insist I be your translator. I’ve learned a hell of a lot from you and I’m happy to be where I am.” Conviction laced through his words. “This is where I need to be.”

They stared at each other, irises darting back and forth, almost like some unspoken battle of wills. “I am glad you chose to come to the Ascendancy,” Thrawn said finally. A rare note of overt sincerity flavored his tone. “I do not think I have ever told you as much.”

“Yeah,” Vanto said. “Me too.”

Thrass rolled his eyes spectacularly as he passed by the outdoor courtyard that had become a sparring zone. Off to one side, Un'hee and Ar'alani sat reading under a wide brimmed umbrella that blocked the glare from the sun. In the center of the courtyard, Thrawn was running a clinic, putting his stray Jedi through the paces. Show off, Thrass thought.

"Syndic," Ar'alani acknowledged, not looking up from her work. Un'hee finished the page of her book and turned in her chair to give the elder Mitth brother a smile and wave.

"Good day," He greeted them both. "Have either of you seen our dear friend Captain Ivant?"

Ar'alani inclined her head. "Perhaps he is catching up on sleep. Humans do need more of that, and he did recently work himself silly on a project."

"You military types really are no fun," Thrass pointed out. "I simply wished to thank him for giving my kitchen staff half the night off."

"This does not concern me," Ar'alani said dismissively, returning to her datapad and reviewing whatever information was displayed upon it.

Thrass sighed. "Of course. Well, if you see him, do let me know. I love waking up to my staff gossiping about my brother and his clandestine affairs."

"I see," Ar'alani murmured to herself. "That explains why he's in a good mood."

"Which one?" Thrass groused.

"Thrawn, obviously." Across the way, Ezra grunted, trying to redirect one of Thrawn's advances with minimal success. Thrawn turned it into a teaching moment, and they began again.

"He seems… lighter, today," Un'hee agreed softly. The young navigator flinched, and Ar'alani braced herself. Sure enough, a moment later, Ezra and his practice weapon went flying with a strangled grunt.

"Well," Thrass said, tone brightening as if he remembered his audience, "I suppose that is at least something beneficial in all of this. If you see Ivant, please remind him that my staff is not to be won over or dismissed without my express permission, even at all hours of the night when he feels prone to revisit his love of cooking."

"Is - But Thrawn is a member of your house," Un'hee thought aloud, face furrowing in concentration as she considered the point she wanted to make. "He could dismiss staff if he wanted to, right?"

They studied each other a moment, then Thrass laughed, eyes gleaming. "You are too smart for your own good, Navigator." Thrawn's elder brother checked to make sure he had not drawn his younger sibling's attention with the sharpness of his laugh. "Let’s keep that our little secret, shall we?" He added, conspiratorially.

Un'hee grinned and Thrass patted her once, twice on the crown of her head. Meanwhile, his gaze found the subtle upturn of Ar'alani's lips.

Softly, almost as though under her breath, she released the truth."I believe Ivant and Vah'nya had something to handle this morning," She informed him. "They will be joining us later."

"So he is not sleeping the day away after staying up all night chatting with my brother?" Thrass sounded put out. "It would have been far more enjoyable to tease him had that been the case."

Ar'alani made a show of pulling up a new report and ignoring him, to the delight of Un'hee and her bright, youthful giggles.

#thranto #eli vanto #mitth'raw'nuruodo #eli vanto/thrawn #mitth'ras'safis #ar'alani #un'hee #sw fanfiction #my writing

6 notes · View notes

miss-noo-na · 6 years

Text

Vos Anima Mea (Chapter 5)

* See Masterlist for additional chapters

Title: Vos Anima Mea

Genre: Vampire AU

Rating: PG-13

You felt different when you got upstairs in Kihyun’s quarters, nerves running through you from the adrenaline of watching the performance and what his words had implied. Surprisingly, you’d never thought of it before, Kihyun biting you. Given your penchant for new and exciting experiences you wondered why this was, but thought maybe this whole situation was a little too new and exciting and so it hadn’t even crossed your mind within all the madness of this arrangement.

But now, the images kept flashing through your vision without stop and it weakened your mind and body. His tilted head, parted lips, the unveiling of his fangs as they moved slowly toward your neck. There would be resistance at first, as the first pin-prick met your skin, but with a satisfying release they would sink in fully and the blood would begin to pour. You shivered hard and almost dropped your paint brush.

“You seem distracted.” Kihyun said, and when you looked over at him there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips. You burned in your cheeks at the idea that he could read your thoughts, and quickly turned back to the painting.

“Just a little, no big deal.”

“What is it?” He asked, and before you could answer he followed up “Was it the performance?”

“Maybe” You replied coyly, and heard him chuckle under his breath.

“I didn’t want to presume anything but it seems…”He stopped himself short, considering whether he should say it.

“Go on,” You urged, though you were too bashful to look at him. You focused on your brush strokes.

“It seems like it might be something you wanted to try.”

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip and tipped your chin toward your chest, as if it might mask your blush.

“Maybe” You repeated again, and he laughed more openly this time. Then you heard shuffling and footsteps and looked up to find him walking toward you. You placed your brush down and watched, slack jawed, as he approached.

“You don’t have to play this game with me.” He smiled as he leaned into you. “If you want it, just ask me.”

His bold approach sent a wave of confidence over you, and you found yourself nodding though it took a moment for your words to catch up.

“I think I’d like it if you…” You swallowed, finding it difficult to say the actual words.

“If I what?”

Though he said it wasn’t a game, this felt distinctly like a cat and mouse situation, and he loomed over you ready to take his treat.

“Bit me.”

The words came out almost breathless and his lips twitched at the sound.

His hand came up and he pressed the pads of two fingers under your chin, tipping your head up to look at him as he smiled. It was a sweet smile, but something dark and enticing hid behind it and you would have followed him anywhere in that moment. As he continued to press, you found yourself rising slowly to your feet. He dropped his hand, glided the digits down your arm, and threaded his fingers between yours, tugging you in the direction of the next room over. The one you’d see him take that girl in before.

Your legs felt like jelly as you followed him, and you were thankful to sit on the lush dark red sofa in the room. Something about the lighting and the atmosphere made you feel dizzy, and you wondered briefly if this was a good idea.

Kihyun must’ve noticed your apprehension because he turned your face toward him and locked eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked, and all his teasing faded into a sweet and gentle tone that made you melt.

You nodded once more, and he waited for any more signs of resistance before he tipped your head to one side, using his other hand to brush your hair away from your neck. He leaned in and you sucked in a sharp breath once his lips touched you. He parted them, and grazed the skin with the edges of his fangs and tingles swept down your entire body.

He widened his mouth and cupped it over a part of your neck, and you gasped a little more when you felt his tongue, stroking over your pulse and sending heat into your core. Once he found the sweet spot, his fangs sank in like a hot knife through butter, and though it hurt, the sting was like a sweet release, and when he sucked to consume the blood that spilled against his tongue, waves of pleasure coursed alongside the pain. You found yourself letting out a tiny moan, and it only made him more enthusiastic to take all that you’d given to him.

Your eyes fell shut and the world was spinning, but you didn’t want it to stop. Once he took an adequate fill and detached from you, your eyes fluttered open slowly and everything was hazy. It was like being between deep sleep and wakefulness, when everything is still dreamy but so very real. You focused on his mouth, his crimson stained lips and how his tongue lulled over them to catch the very last drops.

Your body felt heavy now, and you relaxed back into the couch, sinking down into yourself and letting your limbs go slack, head resting on the back cushion. Kihyun reached over and stroked the side of your face, his thumb grazing the flush on your cheeks.

“Everyone gets a little woozy the first time.” He said reassuringly. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” You said, and a smile tugged at your lips as your eyes glazed over. “Warm. Tingly.”

He laughed, if he hadn’t known better he might’ve thought you were stoned.

“How do I taste?” You asked suddenly, and he seemed surprised at the question, but delighted to answer it.

“Like a deep red wine.”

You giggled, a sound you didn’t make often, but the swimming sensation in your head was doing things to you, and Kihyun seemed to enjoy it just as much.

“That’s good?” You asked, and he nodded.”Very good”

Your eyes traveled back to his mouth, now cleaned of your blood but still plump and glistening. You were overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, more than any time it had crossed your mind before, but even in your nearly drunken state you were able to refrain.

“You should stay with me tonight.” He said then, drawing you out of your thoughts. You looked up into his eyes in question.

“It being your first time, we don’t know how long the side effects will last. I don’t think you should be wandering off into the night in this state.”

Though it seemed unnecessary, he was probably right; you had no idea how you were going to feel later on and if you’d be back to normal enough to walk yourself home. Still, he could have just given you a ride, but you had a feeling he wanted to keep an eye on you. Kihyun was, as you’d come to learn, a bit of a worrier when it came to your human short-comings. He saw you as much more fragile than he, probably from being surrounded by strong, agile, immortals most of his life. He didn’t completely understand mortal abilities, and that you were probably a lot more resilient than he gave you credit for, but you didn’t see a reason to correct him yet, you secretly enjoyed the delicate treatment. It made you feel special.

“Come on.” Kihyun said as he stood, offering you his hand. You took it and before you could even try, he hoisted you to your feet with ease, and continued to hold it as he took you back into the main room. He told you not to worry about the painting and art supplies, someone would be in to clean it up later tonight. In the mean time, you grabbed your coats and he escorted you downstairs. Much of the ethereal feeling had worn off, but now you felt exhausted, like you’d just run a marathon. You were also a little light-headed but in a good way.

Kihyun continued to guide you and handle you like fine china all the way down to the chauffeured car and to his condo downtown. The building was inconspicuous but clearly high-end, and you took a private elevator near the very top. One entire side of the condo had floor to ceiling windows with a spectacular view of the city and all its twinkling lights. You were in awe of it, and approached it to get a closer look.

“This is gorgeous.” You breathed, and Kihyun joined you in a moment of silence, taking in the rush of the city nightlife below you.

“Doesn’t the sunlight bother you?” You asked then, knowing that with windows like this it probably spilled in.

“I have a way around that.” He said, and reached over to trigger a switch, which brought down a black-out cover over the windows. It seemed being a vampire was pretty easy if you were ridiculously rich.

He raised the cover again, and invited you to sit down in the living room.

“Since we’re not going anywhere,” He started as he walked toward the open kitchen area. “Would you like something to drink?” He asked, opening a wine cabinet filled with bottles.

You agreed and he poured two large glasses, handing you one as he came to sit down next to you.

“You asked how it was for me, but how was it for you?” You said to him, now with a clearer mind you could assess the situation. It had been a wonderful experience, like all of the benefits of drugs without any of the drawbacks. You hoped it had been the same for him, in some way.

He smiled a little and averted his eyes, and you were surprised to note that he almost looked bashful, an emotion you didn’t think he was capable of.

“It was very enjoyable.” He said, in his usual regal, detached tone, which made you laugh. As much as he rejected the idea of being a chosen one, he was such a prince.

“I should expect an answer like that.” You teased as you took a sip of your wine.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’d never say anything bad to or about me, not to my face at least. You’re too proper for that.”

“Maybe I just don’t have anything bad to say?”

“Maybe, but nothing too good, either. You’re perfectly pleasant, neutral, and even-tempered” You explained, and realized then how comfortable you’d gotten over time speaking to him. You would have never guessed you’d be this open with your thoughts.

He seemed bothered by the comment, and placed his glass down, leaning into you. You caught his eyes and felt frozen, held in his gaze. You wondered for a moment if he was doing something to you, holding you hostage with some kind of vampire mind-game. You couldn’t look away.

“Truthfully,” He said, in a serious way. “I’ve developed an affection for you that I must keep at bay.”

You weren’t sure exactly what that meant, but it sent shivers all down your spine.

“Why?” You asked, still unable to break from his hold.

He half-smiled. “It would be far too dangerous to get involved.”

“For you or for me?”

“Both.”

With that, he lifted a delicate hand and traced your jaw with his fingertips.

“That being said, drinking your blood was like ecstasy, and that is the truth. Are you happy?”

You swallowed hard and burned all over, nodding vaguely in response. As he looked away, you were released, and all the tension in your body relaxed as you were able to move again. You got the sense Kihyun was more powerful than you realized, and the fact he kept himself so soft around you was a testament to what he must actually feel about you. The revelation caused a torrent of new emotions to wash through you.

You took your glass and gulped down half of it in one drink, then finished the rest of it in silence, though strangely it wasn’t awkward. Kihyun did peer at you from the corner of his eyes occasionally, but there was something relaxed and happy about his face.

“It’s getting a bit late for me.” You said, and Kihyun nodded like he understood, placing his glass down and standing.

“I’ve got a guest bedroom,” He said, angling his head in the direction of his hallway. You got up to follow him and when he flipped the light on, you saw that the bedroom was better decorated and more chic than your entire apartment.

“Get comfortable, I’ll be back.” He said, and you entered the room slowly, as if you weren’t supposed to be there. You drug your hand across the top of the comforter and felt the soft, warm fabric. There were large pieces of art on the walls, an exotic plant in the corner, two oak nightstands and an intricate carved headboard; at the opposite wall, another large window with a view.

Kihyun returned with a black cotton button-up shirt, handing it over to you a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else for you to sleep in.” He said, and you smiled as you took it, telling him it would do just fine.

“I’ll probably be asleep when you wake up. I’ll arrange a car in the morning to take you home, just go downstairs when you’re ready to leave.” He explained, and you thanked him. He hung there for a moment, not sure what to do with himself. When he chanced a look at you, he reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair against your face back behind your ear, caressing your cheek in the process.

“Sweet dreams.”

And with that, he was gone.

You closed the door behind him and stripped down to your underwear, pulling the oversized shirt over your head and making sure the first few buttons were undone to make it more comfortable. You realized it smelled like him, and felt a funny tickle inside.

You slept better than you had in ages, whether it was the wine, the blood-giving, or the amazing bed, you weren’t sure and you didn’t care. All you knew is that being with Kihyun, experiencing his life with him, felt all at once very unfamiliar yet comforting and right. That itch you could never satiate, to see and do something extraordinary, to fulfill a gaping hole within, had felt like it was shrinking more and more with time. You were doing what you loved; you were being recognized for it, you were brought into a secret and exciting new world, and right alongside someone so kind and open. You had nothing to complain about.

When you awoke the next morning the house was dark due to the closed windows, and you tried your best to navigate outside of the bedroom once you were dressed. You went downstairs like you were told, and found the glaring light of morning to be intrusive and vulgar. You weren’t much of a morning person anyway, but having spent so much time up at night lately, the daytime felt foreign and disturbing.

Luckily the large car you were being driven home in was heavily tinted, and once you got back into your apartment you crashed on the bed to get some extra rest before work. You hoped after this was all over Kihyun could get you another job, so you could quit the daytime life altogether and dedicate all of yourself to art. The idea of this eventually ending was something you hadn’t really thought about lately. You were going to finish the portrait, and then what? Would he want nothing more to do with you? Would you go back to being simply a patron in the shadows of one of his clubs? Your stomach ached uneasily at the possibility.

Time between that night and the next was filled with too many thoughts, emotions, and memories. You went back to that moment he bit you a lot, and felt yourself blush every time. Then you thought about being in his apartment, talking with him so intimately, hearing the word “affection” fall from his lips and wondering what that actually meant, because all his cryptic words were a mystery to you. Sometimes he spoke in riddles, or was too much of a gentleman to just come out and say things.

Nevertheless, you were excited to get back to painting, and ushered yourself to the club quickly that night. It was crisp and cool out, and you hugged yourself in your coat closely as you walked, not really looking anywhere but the ground. When you got near the club, you nearly ran into a burly man outside and took a big step back.

“Oh, excuse m-“The words faded out when the man, big and bald, glared down at you and fear streaked through you.

A woman’s voice echoed somewhere behind him, and he stepped aside as if on her command. He revealed someone around your height, but the difference being she was strikingly beautiful, to the point that it took your breath away. You knew immediately she was a vampire.

“Are you the painter?” She asked curiously, with no apparent malice. Her lips were red, skin was pale, and you were transfixed on her dark eyes as she spoke.

“Y-yes, that’s me.” You croaked out, and felt immobile like you’d been with Kihyun that night.

“I see.” She said, giving you a quick once over. “Is Kihyun here tonight?”

“He should be, yes.”

“Good, would you mind telling him Victoria is waiting for him downstairs?” She asked, and then looked away to pull a pair of velvet gloves off her dainty hands. You were released from her graze and a bit shaken, but agreed to do so as you entered the club.

When you got upstaitrs, Kihyun had started to walk over with a smile.

“There you are, I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t- What’s wrong?” He started to say but was washed with concern when he saw your face. You weren’t upset, just confused, and it must have been apparent.

“There’s someone asking for you downstairs.” You said, and he didn’t react at first. “Someone named Victoria” You added, and whatever color he had completely drained from his face as his features and arms went slack.

“Are you sure?” He asked in an unsteady tone, and you nodded firmly.

“Who is she?”

“My ex-fiancée.”

#kihyun scenarios #monsta x scenarios #yoo kihyun #monsta x #kpop scenarios #vampire au #kpop fanfiction #drama #romance #angst #college au #kpop

184 notes · View notes

swampgallows · 6 years

Note

hey so i’ve always been a staunch believer in still being able to love a character without condoning their actions, but i’ve always been curious of what your thoughts are on garrosh’s bombing of theramore? do you think it was as heinous of an act as it’s made to be in the lore, considering all citizens were evacuated?

it’s kind of funny/stunning to me that people care about my opinion on this stuff… im really flattered actually!!! haha i just feel like “oh, you’re actually asking me to talk about Garrosh? well, by all means…”

I can understand the logistics of wanting to take out Theramore. Northwatch Hold is an extension of the Alliance forces troubling the east coast of Kalimdor, which are stationed at the stronghold of Theramore. Northwatch Hold and the humans there have been putting pressure on the orcs for years, and the trolls in the neighboring isles ages before that. Sometimes people forget, I think, that the humans and the trolls have been at war longer than Thrall’s Horde had even existed. Some of your first quests as a Horde character starting in Durotar (back when the tauren, trolls, and orcs all started in the Valley of Trials and were directly funneled into the Barrens, resulting in the notorious Barrens Chat of yore) are to combat the units stationed at Northwatch. And, unfortunately despite Jaina’s efforts, many of the humans of eastern Kalimdor still sought to drive the Horde out, so it was still a matter of the Horde defending their new homes.

If you visit Cataclysm’s Theramore, there is a lot of talk of …not necessarily mutiny, but a budding kind of nationalism and yearning to “return to the old ways”. Just as the orcs who were loyal to Garrosh were itching to return to the version of the Horde that preceded Thrall’s, there were plenty of humans sharpening their blades and talking about “the good old days”. There is even a questline on the Alliance side in Theramore to expose these deserters. Traitors Among Us is one of the first quests you complete. Morgaledh quotes some of the “deserter” NPCs in the WoWhead comments, while adding their own echoed sentiments:

“These people will know Admiral Proudmoore for the true hero he was”“You can’t stop us from exposing the truth about Jaina’s cowardice”“It’s people like you who weaken the Alliance and invite the Horde to take away all we’ve fought for”I’ve done this quest on many characters over many years, and I completely agree with the Agitators. That Thrall-loving @#$% Jaina needs to be deposed, the men-at-arms of Theramore turned to valiant deeds against the animals of Orgrimmar, and this pretense of peace with the green-skins done away with once and for all.

Additionally, Theramore has spies out by Brackenwall, an ogre village allied with the Horde, and was actively sending troops further into the Barrens in the name of King Varian.

I mention this only because, from both Alliance and Horde standpoints, Theramore was by no means a neutral ground, nor lack of a threat. Theramore, whether by Jaina’s decree or not, was already actively brewing resentment and making moves against the Horde.

Garrosh’s plan was good. Parking the Horde ships just outside Theramore’s waters to intimidate—as well as prepare—Theramore for an assault is pretty clever, in my opinion. They had a chance to clear out civilians as well as gather enough Alliance forces to combat the estimated number of Horde units. He also had the Horde march in, engage in a skirmish, and then retreat; it gave the Horde a chance to fight a true battle and sent a direct message to the Alliance about what they were up against. But this was not the whole of Garrosh’s plan, and that is where it gets bad. Everything I just mentioned was only for appearances, as Garrosh’s true intentions were unbeknownst to everyone but his closest associates (Malkorok, some Kor’kron, etc.).

Literally everything else following this is completely fucking obscene, unethical, dishonorable, grotesque, cowardly, and whatever the hell else you want to call it. Even if Theramore hadn’t been nuked, per se, and it was just the enslaved elementals or just the barrage of siege weaponry, the travesty and crime of Garrosh’s attack on Theramore was that it was dishonorable. It was unjust, and it was dishonest. He deliberately withheld information from his own people, including the other racial leaders, and threatened them with treason and/or death if they were to question his methods. He lied to the Horde AND the Alliance. They say all is fair in love and war, but Theramore wasn’t warfare. It was extermination, and Garrosh used every ounce of deception and abuse that he could to screw everybody over.

The bombing of Theramore fucking sucks. Stealing the Focusing Iris is fucking dumb (still have no idea how the Horde managed to pull that shit off, by the way), and reading through Tides of War was a grueling experience. From a fiction standpoint, it is one of the lowest, most non-rewarding experiences I’ve had in WoW’s storytelling. It is similar to a gripe I have with the majority of Pixar films: sometimes the low that is hit is so low, so hopeless, that there is emotionally a point of no return in which, I personally feel, the story has been fatally wounded. Maybe it’s because of my own experiences with trauma or whatever, but reaching an “emotional dead-end” in a story like that completely negates whatever sort of redemption buds from that conflict; it may heal, but it leaves a scar. Maybe it’s because I’m a pathetic softie grown on Disney movies that can’t handle more than two seconds of a bad time, who knows. But I hate knowing shit can be irreparably damaged in stories with zero hopeful outlook, especially when I myself as a viewer, or in identifying with the protagonist, am held accountable. I don’t glean entertainment or enjoyment from stories that infuse me with guilt and tell me that everything is my fault and that I let this happen and deserve to be punished or killed.

Theramore was the death knell of a thousand things. Anything Jaina does from now on is going to be seen as irrational because of her own people standing against her and players trying to justify reasons for why Garrosh did what he did and how he, technically, was blah blah blah. Jaina is put through a meatgrinder and made to feel some of the worst pain anyone can ever feel. Jaina has already been through an entire shitshow. She has lost her father, her fiancé, her people, her home, and anyone she could have ever trusted. She has lost everything she has sacrificed these things for: peace. It’s gone. In the blink of an eye. Jaina built Theramore.

Everyone jokes about death knights giving the Illidari a side-eye when they ask “I’ve sacrificed everything—what have you given?” How does it feel to be the woman who, maybe, she’ll never know, might have been able to prevent the rise of the Lich King? Was she wrong to reject Arthas at Stratholme? To reject Kael’thas in Dalaran? To reject her father Daelin and stand with Thrall? People take pity on Illidan, who even gets a redemptive arc in Legion and is literally a demon, yet accuse Jaina of being a dreadlord because of the justified anger she feels and pain she has endured. Theramore is now a scapegoat for all of her sorrow as people conveniently forget the rest of her history.

Garrosh’s character was executed with Theramore. Anything after that must have been emotionally exhausting beyond belief. I can’t imagine having to play through Pandaria with that piece of shit as Warchief. He let everyone down. How could anyone say “for the Horde” proudly with anything but hatred in their hearts? Who could condone that? Bringing the enormity of something like that to a video game that is supposed to be fun and interesting and certainly have a bit of storytelling conflict, sure, but not to that degree, ultimately sucks the fun out of it. Theramore didn’t need to happen the way it did, and personally I think the dropping of the mana bomb/nuke, and all of the deaths associated with it, and how graphically it was recounted in Tides of War—Jaina sifting through the rubble of her home, touching the remains of Kinndy and having them burst into arcane powder in her hands, dedicating the length of the book to building up to the event—was incredibly fucking tasteless. It could have been a barrage of bombs, even, like the goblins do all the time, or, like I said, it would have sealed the deal enough to have Garrosh abuse the elements and lie to his people to paint him as a villain.

I mean, I guess they wanted to tie in Dalaran’s neutrality somehow and create conflict there (for some reason, even though both the Horde and the Alliance are back there in Legion, I guess because Jaina left the Kirin Tor), and Rhonin could have died in literally any other imaginable way. It didn’t have to be from a “magical” nuke. If it was supposed to somehow “forward” WoW’s standard technology (which is indeed one thing that Garrosh did, pulling the Horde into the industrial age), they fucked up by making it a one-time resource like the Focusing Iris and using it in such a grisly, abominable way that even the Forsaken’s stomachs turned. From a gameplay, story, and even lore perspective, it was absolute overkill.

tl;dr Garrosh’s attack on Theramore was absolutely heinous and was the death of his character. I don’t know how anyone took the Divine Bell as a threat after the Theramore scenario, and literally the only way they could have upped the evil ante for Garrosh at the end of Mists was to have him seize the heart of a dead Old God, the only thing more evil and more powerful than the demons he apparently so reviled. It fucked up everything, including the overall storytelling tone of the Warcraft franchise. Nobody won and nothing about it is entertaining in the slightest. It’s incredibly tasteless and, in my opinion, a huge smudge on the lore, and one of Blizzard’s most—if not the most—flagrant cases of “bad writing”. People still talk about it, sure, not because it was emotionally gray and compelling like the mak’gora between Garrosh and Thrall, but because it was outlandishly inappropriate for the setting.

I love Garrosh as a character, but Theramore is honestly one of those things I basically just block out of my mind. I am more comfortable with him stealing the heart of Y’shaarj than the extermination of Theramore.

#long post #yamyell #anon #ask #metacraft

69 notes · View notes

morshtalon · 5 years

Text

Shin Megami Tensei II

(Part 7 of the MegaTen thing)

WARNING: This review contains some moderate spoilers for SMT1 and 2! Read at your own risk!

At last! After two years and three games of questionable quality under their belt, Atlus finally decided to stop fooling around and got its shit together to develop a proper sequel to SMT1. Honestly, the time frame between Majin Tensei and SMT2 means they were probably developed concurrently. There were likely several teams working on these games and Majin Tensei just happened to have been finished first or something like that. Regardless, as one playing through the series in order, I was pleased after Majin Tensei was over, first because it was over, and second because the next title in line was Shin Megami Tensei II.

I was really looking forward to SMT2 at the time. I remember I was in my dentist grandfather’s home about 80 miles away from mine because a tooth restoration had gone somewhat awry and I needed a root canal. During the final moments of Majin Tensei, I had to deal with severe tooth pain, which only heightened the distress of the whole situation, but now - I thought - maybe my gaming experience of the day will alleviate the pain instead of making things worse.

As you boot up the game, you’re treated to a “no relation to real life persons” screen, which I found kind of funny. SMT2 is, in general, much less close to real life than SMT1 was, and no game so far concerned itself with the disclaimer, so I wonder what could have happened behind the scenes to warrant it here. I guess it was because of the intense religious symbolism and inspiration, much bigger than in any other game of the series so far, but I’m not 100% sure. Anyway, I found it interesting.

Anyway, once you get past that, some introductory exposition begins. The game takes place after the Neutral ending of SMT1, and during this cutscene, you are informed that a city, Tokyo Millenium, was built on the site of the ruins of the final dungeon in that game by member of the Messian church, the Law faction representatives of the series.

Of course, this means that the grip of the Messians reaches far in SMT2. Huge chunks of the plot are dedicated to things related to them, their methods, and their relation with Millenium itself. It’s pretty surreal to see a game from this franchise embrace such an overbearing anti-Law philosophy for major, obligatory bullet points in the script, and the whole time I kept thinking “the axis is still there, right? What could the Law path possibly even be about?” and thinking back to how this dynamic existed in SMT1. As I said in my review of that game, on some levels it was a bit arbitrary to select which side you wanted to join, and there were a lot of parallels between them that made the choices feel like they were just giving me an illusion of control. I’m really glad they decided to mature from that and offer a narrative that seems to directly challenge the notion of parallelism that was built in the first installment. Well, spoiler alert, even the Law path is a tad antiestablishment this time around - there’s really no way it couldn’t have been, given the ambitions of the story - and goes against the unrighteousness of the Messians behind Millenium’s stranger, more questionable happenings.

I will say though, it still doesn’t feel like there’s a lot of basic difference between law and chaos, but for different reasons this time around. There is definitely no parallels as to story significance here, but the goals of all alignment paths end up feeling pretty similar. I think the best way to illustrate my point is to note that SMT1 had 3 ways the final part of the game could go, depending on your alignment, but they were basically 2 mirrors of each other and you could either go one way for Law, the other way for Chaos, or both ways for Neutral. In this game, the conditions at which you reach the final point are pretty different (though Neutral feels extremely close to Chaos all the way through SMT2 and the end is no exception), but the final boss is always the same for all three alignments. It makes things a bit of an interesting experience and a definite change of pace from SMT1, but I can’t help but feel, way in the back of my mind, that this story… wasn’t supposed to have the SMT axis, you know? As I said, Neutral and Chaos are very similar and kind of work the same, while Law is basically the game coming up with excuses as to why the player engages in the same activities as the other two, but with different intentions. Frankly, I don’t really need alignment, particularly. I never thought it was an essential element of the series, so it didn’t truly bother me at all, and I mostly thought about this after having already finished playing. For those who might be expecting a more exciting, more philosophical clash of visions and well-developed ideologies, however, I’m afraid SMT2 still falls short of that. But hey, it’s still a commendable effort for 1994, and it feels a lot more adult than its peers at the time.

The plot itself, as is, is very enjoyable. Whereas 1 had a more episodic structure with clear events separating one part of the game from the next, 2 opts for a more continuous progression. There are still momentous events that break up the game and result in major landscape changes, but they’re not as prominent as the ones from the first game. Everything has a bit of a surreal tone to it, and it borrows far more from classic cyberpunk tropes than 1 did. While 1 eventually engages in a post-apocalyptic scenario, it’s more just an excuse to start putting in motion its more outlandish plot points regarding demons and the rising relevance of its fictional figures. 2 fully embraces its setting and extrapolates quite a lot on stuff that had been set up, tackling themes of classism and social discrimination through the tried-and-true methods of a city that’s divided into multiple sectors with a different quality of life and purpose for each of them, as well as several slum-like locales where you come across the people that fell victim to the injustice and cruelty of the governmental powers that be. It also expands quite a bit on the personalities of the different demon races. A new axis was properly established, Light vs. Dark, the axis of virtue, which for now doesn’t serve much of a gameplay purpose but possibly helped the devs more clearly visualize the roles of all the dozens of demon subfactions that exist in the game. Though there is still no shortage of human character-based interaction, a significant amount of time was dedicated to giving the demons themselves more of a persnality and inner quarrels between one another. These elements I described kind of interact with each other; there are some correlations between them and sometimes you have to use items acquired in a certain arc to progress in a different, mostly unrelated arc later on, but I feel like the interconnectivity of the game as a big picture thing could have been deeper.

On that note, we can go on to say that, while I felt like the characters in 1 had more permanence overall, sticking around for longer periods of time before something made the relevant cast rotate around, 2 feels more cyclical with them, making you stumble upon each of the relevant ones at a larger number of points in the storyline but keeping their appearances shorter in comparison. In my opinion, it’s preferrable that way, because old games like these tended to not really develop characters too much while they were with you, instead choosing to further their role in the story at select few moments, so with a larger number of them, a greater amount of interesting developments can occur. However, by the same note, it also feels like they were juggling more separate plot threads of their own as the player’s involvement switches between each faster than they did in 1, which mostly had a central focus for each of its “episodes”.

Even the protagonist himself, while still silent, receives some plot development of his own, perhaps a lesson learned from Last Bible 2 and Majin Tensei. His particular role and how it relates to the other relevant characters is actually one of the highlights of the plot, but I find it doesn’t pay off much in regards to the third act, besides possibly explaining his ability to take down hordes of powerful demons. It’s still interesting to witness though.

Speaking of hordes of demons, I find the game to be as easy as ever. This time, magic effect ammunition has been significantly nerfed, but now it kind of seems like most the time the enemies are just… not really threatening. The first proper arc of the game managed to kill me twice because it’s the beginning and the game has greater control of the circumstances before the huge amount of levels starts piling on and making build possibilities ever more variable. After that, though, the rest is a cakewalk. I’m not a particularly diligent demon recruiter, I didn’t go out of my way to farm for valuable equipment, I never found any sword fusion candidates worth my time, yet I still managed to blaze through the entire game with no problems whatsoever. I wish it had been more difficult, because SMT2 starts losing control of itself again and tossing ridiculosuly powerful - in lore terms - demons at you as you get close to the end. However, the simplicity and repeatability of attack strategies which prove reliable through the entire game means that, for the fifth time, that auto-battle option was put under quite a bit of use, even for these powerful guys. It took out some of the visceral, immersive quality that a properly set up, difficult enemy can have.

Still, I feel like this time, the interesting, juicy plot and the exploration factor kept me from being really bothered by the lack of difficulty. Things are much more streamlined than they were in 1 now. I will admit, conceptually I don’t appreciate the layout and presentation of the world map. As in SMT1, you’re represented by a blue spinning pointer thing, but everything around you is, as mentioned previously, sectioned off, and each section consists of a relatively short, linear walk through a bland, bluish cityscape with token building decorations that feel like you’re dragging your finger through a board game or a chalk drawing on the ground acting like that stands in for movement. It’s very artificial, and when you enter a battle in the world map, you can actually catch a glimpse of what the city looks like, with what seems to be some verticality and layers and quite a dense skyline. It’s the first glimpse in the entire series of a truly awe-inspiring, immersive setting. I wish it were like that all the way through.

Furthermore, first-person areas are as labyrinthine as ever, with maze-like designs with no regard for how it would actually translate to any real place, and a repeated texture that prevents the addition of decoration, flavor or personality. By 1994, it has started to get on my nerves, and it feels unbecoming of a story that, in my opinion, oozes personality on its own. They’re not boring, per se, as they interact nicely with the world map and with their own setpiece trigger tiles (a series staple at this point) to create a raw gameplay experience that feels stimulating as you work through to your next destination. There’s some enjoyment to be had in going really far in one direction, going out into the world map, then into a new area, then out through another exit, then into some other place and so on, progressing with no save point in sight and an ever dwindling supply of resources, getting more and more uncertain you’re even going the right way, until the game gives you some cutscene that confirms that you were doing the right thing all along. I’m glad that, even though there’s a new system in place that basically tells you whete you need to go, it’s still used in a way that leaves the player guessing the internal elements of the journey, and the game balances short bursts of activity and long treks in a satisfying way that kept things interesting from a gameplay perspective. There is an arc where you’re directly going after McGuffins, but I think it’s pulled of with some grace here; there’s a point to it, and once again the ways in which you collect them are an excuse for the designers to get a little cuter with their level design.

Speaking of which, one of the biggest draws for me is that SMT2 starts getting really quirky. Copyright protected versions of Beetlejuice and Michael Jackson make an appearance, there’s a silly reference to Berserk, you barge in on Belphegor sitting in his toilet and kill him while he takes a dump, some demons ask you if you’re gonna turn them into a bundle of experience points, you have to enter a dance contest and steal chameleon-esque robes from a nymph while she takes a shower… A lot of crazy, quirky, funny things happen that help elevate the game and the series’s personality quite a bit, and I feel like there’s a level of confidence and playfulness on the part of the designers, having put in so many things that can go against the somber tone of the narrative, that I can truly appreciate. It’s sort of the same balance of silly and mature/horrifying that would exist in Shadow Hearts a few years down the line, but I feel like SMT2 is much more careful and restrained about it, mostly relegating the silliness to short setpieces to spice up the progression, and it ends up better for it.

When I first heard about the Shin Megami Tensei series, working my way back from Persona 3 and researching some fundamental aspects of the mythos, as well as hearing about how good it all was, I formed a certain image in my mind. It wasn’t very tangible, but it was a high-expectations fueled idealization of what a game with this kind of potential could be like. So far, games in the series haven’t really been able to deliver on that so much. Shin Megami Tensei II is, I believe, the first one to take steps in the direction of this idealization. It plays a lot more with its tropes, it isn’t afraid of utilizing whichever established figure it had througout the series to make a little bit more of a philosophical point this time around, there’s development by the hands of the human characters, and by the end, it feels grand and satisfying. My rating for this game is a very appreciative 7.6 out of 10. Though the gameplay still needs work, I had a blast playing it and enjoying its wackiness and its more somber points on human relationships. They’re simplistic, yes, nothing compared to literary works presenting the same kinds of fundamental points, but in those, you can’t pump the devil’s face full of lead after a chinese turtle god cast tarukaja on you several times in a row so that your bullets come out with the world’s vengeance on their shoulders. If you’re a fan of old-school games, and would like to try out a more complete, more fully visualized old MegaTen story, I really think you should try this game. I liked it quite a bit.

#megaten #shin megami tensei #megami tensei #review #rpg #game

1 note · View note

odelln8185291508-blog · 6 years

Text

10 Ways To create You Rejoice.

Really good pictures are vital for optimal effect in preaching on stewardship. I disliked being an unfilled vessel, and as I started going out with, I anticipated that special a person to follow along, fill me up, and make me delighted. When the Large Ben strikes 12 in the midnight, people gathering along with loved ones at homes or out on the streets. Once they create close friends with themselves as well as are able to be who they are, this is challenging to believe alone again. First of all, never ever think that if you familiarize how to make your man happy in bedroom, then you have actually succeeded the battle. Don't forget, although this could appear like a great deal of work, you are worth that and also you may do this. The secret is to try and also make your action measures exciting and also enjoyable and certainly not simply seem like a lot from hard work. Idea 1: Freedom: Resolve certainly not relying coming from other individuals to attain your objectives in lifestyle. So, yes, Commenter, I may opt to be happy or think instants of joy and internal love, despite all that's taking place. I feel this's not just my accountability yet my duty that can help hold an even more nurturing vibration on this planet-- specifically today. A female which wants to experiment is actually something that every guy long for, so if you intend to create him definitely satisfied, provide him a chance try something brand-new. You will definitely discover some center causes for this, and also comprehending these main reasons will certainly assist you create the proper modifications. Performing like you may thrive fine without him will certainly make your ex-spouse man desire you a great deal, he will certainly tell you exactly how sorry he is and also beg you to have him back. Enjoying sewing, creating Needle Produced a brand-new Shirt/Blouse distinct appealing, may also be actually causing you a lot pleasure, opting for colours to add to texture. It had me practically forty eight years to ultimately realize I can be delighted as well as beneficial as well as not feel responsible or self-conscious from it. For me, there is no going back to the pessimism. There are actually a lot of things you can possibly do in order to enhance your relationship through producing your spouse pleased. That weekend break helped me to understand that it wasn't my hubby's duty to create me pleased. Cooking and also horticulture are actually excellent interests and also can be built making a lifestyle for yourself, delight you when you are alone, or even be actually shared with others. Listed below is actually a Health and wellness Objective Instance: It is June 1st 2010 and I am actually so happy once I have actually obtained my aim at goal body weight of 75kg. A snack bar supper along with sparkling silver chafing meals for the meals could possibly also make a 75th birthday party more elegant. Our team possess a choice about what to carry out concerning that. Therefore, quit take, knock, knockin' on the unfortunate gal's door as well as opt to enjoy about your relationship and also your lifestyle. I am actually going to bring in a persisting appointment in my duty manager to intend a vacation each month - regardless of whether I do not take one that commonly. Nonetheless If our company started from a position of certainly not moring than happy and also not having any kind of peace of mind in ourselves or even our capabilities at that point this rise in loan will definitely not transform points all around and make our team pleased. Isolation occasionally does certainly not make a person anymore the unhappier, it often gives you space to believe making suggestions out of bests, understanding onesself a lot better, in many - ways! Among the very best spots to get concepts for an 80th birthday celebration party is actually coming from the guest of honor, himself. There is actually a lot in my history to advise that I need to be happy with the good things I have possessed, and also I undoubtedly am actually to a degree, but I was never ever totally delighted with myself as well as my reason in lifestyle. As we are actually still in January (only!) I determined this morning to write a listing from some of the many things that produce me satisfied. If you don't view a solid female which is content with her lifestyle exactly as it is actually, you have to create some significant changes. This offers some sizzling dishes like Grilled Mahi, Shrimp Jumbo Shrimp Scampi, Spanish Paella, Pot Seared Atlantic Salmon, Cuban Braised Fish, and Veal Piccata and so on I assumed that the secrets I carry out will make people ask yourself as well as this is certainly not therefore essential exactly what I say. I regularly aim to show individuals on my weblog and short articles to become wide as well as certainly not to create any kind of limitation on their own. Delicious chocolate peanut butter no bake biscuits create fantastic grandparents gifts, educator presents, birthday celebration presents, thanks gifts and also more. After the event has been actually kept, tailored static is actually ideal for thank-you details. If you loved this posting and you would like to acquire far more info about yellow pages online (click through the next webpage) kindly take a look at our own web-page. When pair of individuals come with each other for whatever reason, relationships are actually neither unhappy neither satisfied; it is an objective and neutral component generated. This's part of your core being, however understand that when she's all around and give her your complete attention if you want to maintain her delighted. I hated being a vacant vessel, and also as I started dating, I expected that special someone to come along, load me up, as well as make me pleased. Cute life quotes are one such a manner in which ensure to deliver instant countenance your skin. Thus although I desire my household to constantly more than happy, I must never ever downplay their pain or even trouble, yet just allow them understand that I love all of them and also when they prepare to allow this go, I'll exist to help them. I'm not coordinated, I can't fill out the space, I'll never enjoy because fill in the blank once more and so on, you incorporate an additional brick to the wall structure from worry. The vivid quiz with dazzling components have to startle the attendees in the Christmas celebration. But just before you jump ship, specifically in struggling times, be actually certain you possess good, audio causes for desiring to make an improvement. When you think of living a satisfied lifestyle along with every little thing that may create you delighted - meals is actually the first thing that comes to your mind. Right here are 18 of my favorite amusing companionship estimates to show to those you love. You may encourage others, like others, even encourage others, yet when it is all claimed and also performed, they will certainly regularly make their personal choice whether you accept of it or otherwise. You make me happy whether you understand it or not I am therefore pleased recognizing you are actually the one that ill love for the rest of my days. Select an elegant food selection coming from the starters with the deserts that might help make the celebrant, and the guests, think special throughout the meal. However there are points you can possibly do making things operate even more smoothly and also to prevent shooting on your own in the foot. The income appreciation for the innumerable sacrifices that mothers create their family, today is actually monitored in the whole UK and also the globe. Considering that holding vehicle insurance coverage is an essential need in a lot of conditions from the United States, it's certainly never a good idea to perform away along with it fully, but you could adapt your policy as well as find other smart as well as effortless to decrease auto insurance coverage costs effectively. He certainly never comes home and also offers our team a lecture from how to make a living, but we learn that from his face that seems like a warrior wheelsed after a war. Perhaps you are actually looking for to add a proper quote to individualized celebration invitations or even chooses.

0 notes

katalyna-rose · 7 years

Text

Vhenan Chapter Three

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Solas/Female Lavellan, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke, Zevrain/Female Warden Mahariel

AKA: Lyna/Solas, Fenris/Alie, Zevran/Kahlia

Angst, Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Mildly Conon-Divergent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isablea/Merrill, Constructive Criticism Welcome

Summary: Solas, the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel, has left Lyna behind in an attempt to fix mistakes made thousands of years ago. Willing to destroy everything for his goals, he doesn’t realize exactly how determined Lyna is to show him a better path. Both worlds could thrive, given the chance. Her world is real and valid and deserves a chance, but so does his. There must be a middle ground.

And there is another reason that Lyna must find Solas, a secret kept from the world that attempted to put her up on a pedestal. But how would Thedas react to such a secret, such undeniable proof that their Herald of Andraste is a person like any other? That she is someone who loves, someone who makes mistakes, who bleeds and cries. And is having the Dread Wolf’s child.

Read on AO3!

From the Beginning

What felt like only moments later, sunlight speared into Lyna’s eyes. She groaned and shifted, trying to block it out, but when she moved she realized that she was lying on soft grass rather than her silk sheets in her bed at Skyhold. She was also completely naked. She sat up slowly, the events of the previous night flooding back and heating her cheeks.

“On dhea,” Solas said softly, drawing her attention to the present moment. He was at the water’s edge, having apparently washed up while she slept on. She looked at the sky, but the shaft of sunlight that had woken her was one of the first; it was barely dawn, the sky still pink.

Lyna smiled at her lover, a pleasant glow suffusing her body. “On dhea,” she replied. He didn’t meet her eyes, but she didn’t notice through the haze of lingering pleasure. She joined him by the water, delicious soreness spreading through her muscles, particularly her hips. She knelt and splashed waster between her thighs, scrubbing at the sticky mess with her fingers. She’d take a proper bath back at Skyhold, but she needed to be presentable for now. Or at least not covered in the evidence of her night’s activities.

She glanced over at Solas, but he was nearly dressed already and was turning his shirt right side out, revealing the broad, bare expanse of his back.

“Oh!” Lyna cried, and he cast a startled glance in her direction. “I scratched up your back pretty badly,” she said apologetically. He shook his head, seeming vaguely amused.

“Do not be concerned,” he told her quietly. “The marks will heal.” He pulled on his shirt and Lyna repressed her disappointment at having her view interrupted. He stood, then looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time that morning. His expression was grim and she frowned, tilting her head in worried confusion. “It was…” he began hesitantly, then swallowed hard. “Last night was beautiful,” he breathed and she smiled softly.

“Yes,” she agreed. For a moment there was a deep longing in his eyes, a desire that went far beyond the physical, an intensity that almost frightened her. Then his face closed, expression becoming the neutral mask she remembered from when they first met. She hadn’t seen that part of him in a long time and she’d hoped never to see it again except in the presence of particularly annoying nobility.

“I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.” He said it with a finality that staggered her and she swayed on her knees as though he’d struck her.

“Solas…” she said, shocked and hurt, disbelieving. She reached out to him but he stepped away.

“Please, vhenan,” he implored, though what he was asking for she couldn’t guess. It sounded strangely like a plea for mercy.

“Solas,” she said again, shaking her head, trying to think through the pain stabbing into her heart at his sudden rejection. “Don’t leave me, not now. I love you.” The words slipped out before she could even think to stop them, but he needed to know. She loved him. She thought she’d seen love in his eyes last night, thought she’d felt it in his every kiss and caress. Had she been wrong? She didn’t think so, especially in the face of his quickly crumbling neutrality.

He took an unsteady breath, shaking his head to try to stop her protests. “You have a rare and marvelous spirit,” he told her, his voice breaking slightly. “In another world…”

“Why not this one?” she asked desperately, reaching for him again. But he backed away some more, raising his hands to ward her off as if her touch could break him.

“I can’t,” he said, and she let her arm drop. His tone approached panic and she couldn’t fathom why. He felt regret for their love making, that much was clear, but she didn’t understand. What had she done wrong?

“Whatever you need, we can find together,” she promised, and she was so certain. She knew him, she loved him, and they were so good together. They made each other stronger, better, gave each other something more to fight for. Whatever it was he sought, they could chase it down together. She reached for him again, but again he stepped away. It didn’t make any sense. All she knew with any clarity was that any effort she made to make him stay was futile.

“We can’t,” he told her, his conviction shattering hers. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, and turned away. She watched him leave, despair rising in her throat like bile. She didn’t understand, only knew that he was rejecting her, leaving her, ending everything they had built together, and it was breaking her. He was at the cave entrance when the tears overwhelmed her and she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

Lyna yanked the brush through her white blonde hair, wishing she could get Solas out of her head. Then she laughed grimly at herself, giving up on her tangles and putting down the brush with more force than was necessary. Her face, bare of Vallaslin, mocked her thoughts nearly as much as her swollen middle did. Not to mention that she was missing half of her left arm. She would never be able to forget him, especially not with such obvious physical evidence of his presence in her life.

She was in love with the Dread Wolf, and he had forsaken her love and her entire world to a promise made over three thousand years ago to people long dead. She sighed, shaking her head, and daubed powder under her eyes to try to hide the dark circles under them. It was a fruitless effort, the pallor of her ivory skin, made paler by her raging hormones, ensured that the contrast between the dark bags under eyes and her pale cheeks was stark and would not be hidden.

There was a knock at the door and she almost wanted to shout at whoever disturbed her to leave her alone.

“Lyna?” It was Hawke. Lyna had come to stay with the Champion and Fenris at their home in Kirkwall a few months ago, once she could no longer disguise the swell of her belly with a little clever tailoring. In the Free Marches, where the Inquisition hadn’t had much presence, she styled her hair differently, or rather didn’t style it at all, and wore the clothes of Ferelden, like many of the refugees who had fled the Blight more than ten years before. No one realized who she was, which was, of course, the whole reason she was there. The people didn’t need to know that their hero, their Herald of Andraste, who healed the sky and defeated a would-be god, was having the Dread Wolf’s child in two months.

Lyna had been planning on staying in the Alienage with those few elves who hadn’t vanished when she announced the Inquisition disbanded. Hawke and Fenris had met her at the docks when her ship arrived and announced that they would not let their friend stay in such a dreary, run down place. It had been an exceedingly generous thing to do and she was grateful to be sleeping in silk sheets rather than scratchy cotton ones that were nibbled by rodents, yet it often left her feeling beholden to her friends.

“Yes?” she answered when Hawke knocked again.

“Your appointment with the healer is in less than twenty minutes,” she reminded her friend. “Are you ready?”

Lyna opened the door to see her concerned friend standing just beyond it. She gave Hawke a small smile, all that she could manage under the circumstances. “I’m ready.” The Champion of Kirkwall returned her smile with a lot more warmth than Lyna had managed to summon. She knew how hard this was for her friend, and she did her best to make it easier.

“Come on, then,” Alie said with a smile and a wave. “Fenris already left to meet Varric and the others. They’ll be sneaking up on the slavers at about the same time we arrive at the clinic.” Lyna chuckled with real amusement.

“I’m surprised you didn’t insist on being there to help thrash them,” she said. “And that Varric is going hunting for slavers! Did he foist his viscount duties onto Bran for the day again?” Alie smiled, her usual sarcasm muted for now.

“Of course Varric took they day off! And this is more important to me than eviscerating slavers,” Lyna was informed.

“Well, aren’t I special?” Hawke laughed, as she was meant to.

“I admit it,” Hawke said with a mocking grin, her usual terrible sense of humor back and strong once more. “Few things are as important as beating up a bunch of child-stealing bastards. And few things are as enjoyable.” Lyna chuckled again.

Alie was careful to lock the door between the cellar and the main house behind them. They traveled through the extensive underground halls, then descended the stairs to the secret entrance to Darktown. That door was also carefully locked, and with a different key.

The clinic had once belonged to Anders, the mage who had begun the mage rebellion in Kirkwall by blowing up the Chantry. More recently, it was operated by a number of healers, most of who had once belonged to the Circle that once stood in the Gallows and now were members of the College of Enchanters. None of them knew that it was one of their patients who had ensured that they retained their freedom.

The healer who had been tending to Lyna and her unborn child since they arrived in Kirkwall, an elven woman named Elarra, saw her patient enter with her friend and smiled, waving them over. She was older, her once-stark beauty softened by age, her dark hair graying at the roots. Kindness twinkled in her eyes.

“There you are, Lyna!” she said, gesturing over to her exam table with a grin. Lyna obediently lay down atop it.

There was little danger in using her real name, as long as she didn’t use her clan name. Clan Lavellan was still settled in Wycome and it was widely known that the Inquisitor had been born to that clan, though few knew the Inquisitor’s given name. She could have gone to her clan, but undoubtedly word would have spread that she was there, and subsequently word would have spread that she was with child. That was not something that she was ready to face, the questions and assumptions that would surround her growing child. So she was in Kirkwall with Hawke instead, though her mother had come to see her twice, under the pretense of visiting Kirkwall on official business with the Viscount. Varric, naturally, had kept the entire thing a secret.

“How have you been feeling?” Elarra asked.

“Aside from some truly awful heartburn, we’ve been fine,” Lyna told her honestly. The healer checked her physically first, measure her pulse and reflexes. She wrapped a knotted cord around her waist to measure the growth, writing everything down in her notebook. Then she placed her hands, glowing with magic, on Lyna’s enormous belly. Eyes closed, breathing deeply, she measured the child with her magic. Lyna waited as patiently as she could, but it was difficult to contain her worry and excitement. Despite all the pain she felt when she thought about the man who had fathered her child, she wanted this. She wanted this piece of what they’d once had, a little baby to call her own, to teach the ways of the People and that the Dread Wolf was nothing to fear, to nurture and protect. She hoped her child would look like him, too. Will I have a blue-eyed child, or will I see my own violet eyes in my babe’s face? I hope, at least, that dimple in his chin is shared between them.

It took more than ten minutes for Elarra to finish her examination. That was longer than usual, but Lyna kept her concern in check. The child was growing fast now and no doubt that meant it would simply take longer to make sure everything was as it should be. It was no cause for panic.

Finally, the light of Elarra’s magic dimmed and her hands fell away. She sat down wearily and smiled at the concerned mother as she received a draught of lyrium from one of the children who had recently come into their magic and was there to learn. “The child is extraordinarily healthy,” she announced. Lyna grinned with relief, relaxing, and Hawke squeezed her hand. “I can tell you the sex, if you like. You’re far enough along that I can detect it.”

She thought for a moment, wondering if she wanted to draw out the surprise. But she’d never had much patience for surprises. “I’d like to know,” she told the healer, who smiled warmly.

“You’re having a boy,” Elarra announced with soft affection. Lyna’s grin widened.

“A boy,” she repeated reverently, running her hand over her belly. With sudden, undeniable conviction, she said, “I’ll name him for his father.” Hawke gasped in surprise and Elarra looked curious.

“You’ve never mentioned the father,” she said. “I thought that perhaps he had abandoned you when you told him you were to have his child. Now I don’t think that’s the case.”

Lyna looked away. “The truth is far more complicated,” she told Elarra softly. Hawke squeezed her hand again, offering whatever comfort she could give. Lyna sent her a smile and sat up. “Suffice it to say that my little boy is not likely to ever know him, but I still love and respect him very much.”

“I see,” Elarra said, and Lyna thought that perhaps she did. “Well, you’re all set now. I want to see you in a week.”

“So soon?” Hawke asked, startled. Lyna had been seeing her every two weeks.

Elarra gave the pair a patient look. “You’re nearing the end of your pregnancy. If you go into labor early, it could endanger the child. Seeing you weekly until you are ready to give birth gives me a much better chance of detecting problems before they arise and preventing them. Remember, if anything happens, come see me at once. If you feel pain, or the child moves continuously for more than half an hour, or doesn’t move at all for more than half an hour, or anything out of the ordinary, no matter how trivial it may seem, do not hesitate to come to the clinic.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lyna told her, and she and Hawke headed home.

“You’re really going to name him Solas?” Hawke asked once they were back in the main house.

“Yes, I am,” Lyna confirmed, caressing her middle as she sank gratefully into a chair in front of the fireplace.

Alie hummed, seeming uncertain. Finally she sighed and said what was on her mind even though she knew it was probably a bad idea. She usually did. “Honestly, if Fenris had done to me what Solas did to you, I’d want nothing to do with him.”

Lyna laughed, startled. “But he did do to you what Solas did to me!” she told her friend. The other woman opened her mouth to protest and was cut off. “You two developed feelings for each other that culminated in one glorious night together. When the passion faded and reality came flooding back, he left naked in bed for reasons you didn’t fully understand. Then he tried to continue on with business as if nothing had really happened. How is that not the same?”

Alie frowned, considering it. “All right,” she finally conceded. “I see your point. However, if I’d been with child and he had disappeared completely, I would have kept the baby but I would not have named it for him.” Lyna laughed again as Hawke muttered, “And at least Fenris came to his senses.”

“Likely, you would have named your child after your sister or your father,” Lyna said, and Hawke looked startled and pleased, so she must have hit the mark.

Orana hurried up to them as Hawke lit the fire with a gesture. “Would you like anything, mistress?” she asked in that nervous way of hers.

“Some tea would be lovely, Orana. Thank you,” Hawke replied, ever gentle to the former slave who kept her house. The elven girl bowed.

“Anything for you?” she asked Lyna, who smiled at the girl’s generosity and diligence in her role.

“I think some willow tea, if you would. My back is aching horribly,” she said. Orana bowed again and hurried off.

Hawke and Lyna settled in their usual chairs by the now-roaring fire, watching the flames crackle and leap as Lyna ran her hand over her swollen middle, feeling her son follow the movements, chasing his mother’s touch.

“I still don’t understand,” Hawke said once the tea arrived. “Why are you naming him after his father?”

Lyna laughed, though the question made pain lance through her chest. “Solas is many things,” she said. “He hurt me deeply, yes. He left me behind three times, the first time the morning after our son was conceived, the second time right after Corypheus was defeated, and finally again when I tracked him through the Eluvians and disrupted the Qunari plot against Thedas. But he is also wise, and kind, and brave. He loves me, I know he does. He has done so much for me and for the whole world. He’s made mistakes, but who hasn’t? He loves me, I know he does, and that will never fade. But he doesn’t want to hurt me and he thinks I’ll be better off without him.” The explanation left a lot to be desired, but it was the best she could do. Solas had always defied description.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him you were pregnant when you saw him last,” Hawke said after a moment, pursing her lips. Lyna laughed, glad that Hawke had no idea what happened in the Fade.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” she said after she’d sobered. “And if I’d told him about our child and he’d left anyway, that would have hurt more than anything else. So I didn’t bother to hurt us both and still end up in the same place anyway.”

Hawke frowned, lips still pursed in disapproval, mulling over her answer. Then Fenris came in, still wiping his bloody blade on a rag, and she jumped to her feet to greet him with a kiss that he returned fiercely. Orana materialized and relieved him of his sword with his thanks, then informed them that she had run a hot bath upstairs for them. They had a tendency to spend a lot of time alone when they returned from annihilating slavers. Lyna didn’t pretend to understand why that particular form of violence made them so frisky, but she wasn’t one to judge.

Fenris nodded a greeting to his pregnant houseguest, his attention clearly already on the bath and what would happen in it, then after it. Hawke opened her mouth, likely to say she should stay downstairs to play host, but Lyna cut her off before she could.

“Go enjoy, you two. From the looks of things, Fenris needs that bath rather desperately,” she told them, then wrinkled her nose at the blood covering the elven man with sex on his mind. Hawke laughed and gave in, following her new husband upstairs and giggling at whatever he whispered in her ear as he palmed the generous curves of her ass.

Lyna turned her attention back to the fireplace and finished sipping her tea as the relief from pain that willow bark brought spread through her body. She caressed her son where he slept beneath her breast. She couldn’t wait to hold him in her arms and no longer have to deal with this constant heart burn without relief.

#katalyna writes #vhenan #solavellan

0 notes

viralhottopics · 7 years

Text

Ive Had 3 Surgeries In 5 Months. My Mom Wants To Know Why I Dont Have A Job

Every week, theAsk Beccacolumn tackles life’s complicated questions, big and small! From sex and love to health and workplace problems, I’m here to address questions and concerns that we can all relate to.

Have a query of your own? Send it to [email protected]! We sort through tonsof reader submissions every week to look for questions that will help everyone in our audience deal with the complex ups and downs of the human experience.

There’s nothing better than starting a powerful conversation that brings people together. That’s why we also love to see you weigh in with your own advice in the comments section!

Last week, the column took on a new relationship with a younger man, a dad who left the picture, diminished sex drive, and the difficulties of a blended family.

This week, we’re addressing medical mysteries, political divisions, a bitter divorce, and the jumpback into the job market.

Scroll through below to read my very best advice, and add your own words of wisdom.

If you have your own complicated questions and are in the market for some insights, shoot me an email at [email protected]!

Photo Credit: Flickr / Mark Doliner

Like our Page

Share on Facebook

Sick And Tired

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Dear Becca,

Hopefully you have some insight for me. I’ve been very ill and I have no family in the area. I am struggling with the little things; even paying for food has become difficult.

My only support system is Facebook. My family gets upset that I share things on Facebook or ask for help when things are bad.

However, they do not attempt to help me and have flat out refused when I have asked. I don’t want to have a grudge against my family and I don’t want to upset them, but I also don’t want to lose my support through Facebook.

My mom’s concern is that future employers will see what I have been through and decide not to hire me because I’ve been sick in the past. (I’ve been in the hospital 10 times and have had three surgeries in five months. All hospital stays have been multi-day stays and the doctors have been unable to explain what is going on.)

I need help, but I’m unsure where to turn at this point.

-Confused and Alone

Dear C&A,

I’m so sorry that you’ve been going through the medical wringer. There’s nothing worse than feeling awful and having no idea what’s causing all the trouble.

I also agree that Facebook (and the internet in general) can be a lovely support system. That’s especially true when you’re stuck in a hospital bed and can’t socialize in person.

It also sounds like your family really isn’t there for you, which is a shame. Your mom should know better than to put so much pressure on you when you’re that ill.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with turning to online friends for help and emotional support in a time of need. However, I think it’s a good idea to be very careful about soliciting too much financial help from your friends online.

Asking for a ride to the hospital or company for dinneris totally fine, but if you frequently request money, you’re going to burn through a lot of goodwill quickly. In the end, if you abuse the kindness and generosity of your friends, you might find that your support system starts to fade away.

Here’s what I would suggest.

Cast out a wide net to all of your friends online with a new request: Ask if anyone knows of any part-time, low-impact jobs that are hiring, and ask if anyone knows of support groups and funds for people with chronic illnesses. Having a part-time job that you can do online and from home could help pay the bills, and help build up your rsum for future employment.

Meanwhile, having a support group that can help to fund medical expenses in a pinch is a great way to make sure that you have a well-informed safety net to turn to in an emergency.TheHealthWell Foundationmight be a good resource!

Who knows, you might even find a way to combine both goals. I bet there are a lot of chronic-illness support groups out there looking for part-time bloggers and social media specialists. That might be an ideal solution!

Best of luck, and here’s hoping that your health takes a turn for the better!

Becca

Stuck In The Middle

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Hi Becca,

My family is very divided when it comes to politics, especially my two sisters. One is very liberal, one is very conservative. We have a family reunion coming up where everyone will be there. Im dreading the arguments that might happen.

What can I do to diffuse any situations? Do I change the subject? I love everyone in my family and want the event to be enjoyable for everyone, regardless of politics.

How can I make sure everyone stays civil? What should I say if someone asks me a loaded question?

-Tug of War

Dear Tug of War,

Oh boy. I hear you. Political discussions of any kind are a doozy this year.

No matter which side of the aisle you fall on personally, it’s tough to deal with the bitterness and resentment left behind after a tough election year.

As someone who wants to stay neutral in political conflicts, you’re in a very tough position. Of course,anyone in your family who is stirring the pot probably feels very strongly about their beliefs, and it might be hard to guide them back onto neutral ground.

A certain amount of political conflict just isn’t avoidable. People in your family are going to have to talk out some of their disagreements, otherwise that tension isn’t going anywhere.

However, in the interest of keeping the event pleasant for everyone, maybe you just have to take it upon yourself to be the referee.

If you spot a heated debate beginning, it might be your moment to drift in, an angel of neutrality. Try to turn the conversation away from politics to something less divisive.

If that doesn’t work, try to find some common ground; even your most partisan relatives might be surprised to find that they share a few core political beliefs.

Of course, if the debaters are just spoiling for a fight and can’t be turned away from the conversation, kindly suggest that they take their conversation elsewhere. If they want to get into an intense argument, they can do so in private without ruining the whole event and pulling everyone else into the disagreement.

Good luck keeping the peace!

Becca

Still Struggling

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Dear Becca,

My ex-husband and I went through a very messy divorce, and even though it was a long time ago (10 years), I still struggle to get over what he put me through.

My whole life was torn upside down, financially and emotionally. I know its in the past, but I cant get over what he did to me and took from me.

But Im so sick of being bitter and angry. How can I forgive and move on? Im ready to be happy again, but I dont know how to let go.

Thanks, Divorce

Dear Divorce,

There’s really no expiration date on an emotional, grief-laden experience like a divorce. People might tell you to “get over it,” but you’ll recover at your own pace. Whether it takes six months or 10 years, there’s no wrong way to mourn a complicated and painful marriage.

You express the desire to move on. Honestly, justsayingthose words is the first step. Wanting to move on proves that now, you’re readyto go ahead and leave the pain of the past behind you.

You don’t necessarily need to dredge up all the pain of the bad old days to feel better. Maybe go through all your mementos and shared stuff, and get rid of anything that is full of bad memories. Hang on to any shared stuff you really can’t bear to part with, though we’ll get back to that in a minute.

Take one day to think through your whole relationship with him, from start to finish. Try not to fixate too much on any high or lowpart, just allow yourself to follow the timeline.

When you reach the end of the relationship, say, “Thank you, John, for the experience of our marriage, good and bad. I forgive you for the bad, I’ll remember you for the good, and now I’m letting you go.”

Call me a hippie if you want, but this kind of symbolic ending can really,reallyhelp you close the book on a messy part of your life.

Next, a little more hippie stuff. Find a way to cleanse your space and any shared stuff you hang onto. Do whatever it takes to make your spaceand your memory feel fresh and clean andyours. Scrub it with Lysol and bleach, or smudge everything with sage smoke whatever helps get to your idea of “cleansed.”

All that matters is that you do plenty of mental and literal spring cleaning and give yourself a fresh start.

With love and best wishes for a new beginning,

Becca

Ready To Retire

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Hi Becca,

My job is killing me and I want to start looking for a new one, but Im turning 62 this year. Who is going to hire me at this age? I have years of experience, but people only seem to hire twentysomethings.

I need to pay my bills and I cant retire, but I cant keep going like this.

Do you have any interview tips for an old lady like me? Please help!

Sincerely,

Burnt Out

Dear Burnt Out,

I’m sorry to hear that your job isn’t treating you well. The job market has never been very kind to older employees, and that has only become more complicated in recent years. The cost of living (and therefore the cost of retiring) has been rising and rising, but most companies aren’t upping their paychecks to match.

I think you have a few options here.

First and foremost, don’t count yourself out. There might be lots of companies that are only interested in hiring young whippersnappers, but there are still plenty of businesses that recognize the value of years of experience. You might actually be an ideal candidate for many companies, especially if you are keeping abreast of new developments in your field.

If your job involves new technology, new research, or anything else that didn’t exist when you first started out, get yourself up to speed. Make sure that you are just as much of an expert as any twentysomething who grew up on the computer.

It’s not easy, but it’s also far from impossible. If you can master those new trends, you can combine the expertise of a young person with the experience and maturity of an older employee. Believe it or not, that combo makes you theperfecthire for a new job.

As for interviewing, as long as you come in knowing your stuff about new developments in the field, you’ll blow the hiring manager away. As a mature adult woman with lots of professional experience, you are definitely going to make a better first impression than an unkempt 25-year-old in a too-big suit. Sorry kiddo, better luck next time.

Secondly, consider whether retiring is really as far-fetched as you think it is. You have three years before you hit “official” retirement age. What can you do in that time to help secure a comfortable future? Talk to a financial advisor about investing any savings you have, moving to a more affordable area, and cutting out unnecessary expenses.

With a few savvy financial choices, you might be surprised by how much a small nest egg can grow in just a few years.

You still might not be able to fully retire at 65, but you may be able to semi-retire if you play your cards right. You can take a step back from the working world, and put in maybe 20 hours a week, instead of forty. You’ll still have some income, and your stress will be lowered substantially. You may even find that work is a lot more fun (and more productive) when you’re only doing it 2o hours a week!

Show ‘em that you’ve still got it!

Becca

Laura Caseley for LittleThings

Have a question for Becca? Shoot!

Email [email protected], and let us know whats going on.

And dont forget to SHARE with friends and family!