#Poe the crow will continue following them

[nelkcats]

Hood Assistant

Prompt Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Next Ao3

Part 5

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It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do

------------------

Jason couldn't help but feel a surge of protection towards the boy in his arms, he looked so fragile as he tried to stop himself from shivering and snuggled into his chest.

Even though he should feel uncomfortable since they had only met for a couple of days, he didn't push him away, on the contrary, he hid him. Maybe it was some kind of newfound instinct but he wasn't comfortable letting anyone see the cheerful boy in such a dull way, as if the world was trying to eat him up and Jason was his only refuge.

Strangely the pits began to respond to him, he could feel the fury running through his veins, but he wasn't trying to tear the boy to pieces as usual, it almost seemed like it was trying to protect him. His confusion lasted a couple of seconds before the world became clear to his eyes, everything became extremely dangerous, almost oppressive and he had to suppress a groan when he heard footsteps near his location.

Scarecrow had been distracted by the crow that kept leading him away from the alley by yelling and pecking, unlike his previous chatty self the little crow only said "Kar Kar Kar", in its own way the little bird knew the strange man was a threat and he was trying to protect his new family.

Although Jason couldn't see it, the shadows where they were began to darken, hiding them completely inside the alley, the only thing that could be seen with the naked eye were the bright toxic green eyes he was showing, which, instead of being obstructed by the gas mask, made a more ominous scene for the observer. Scarecrow felt a chill run down his spine as the temperature around him dropped but he brushed it off in favor of continuing to chase the troublesome bird.

—----------

On the other side of the city, inside the mansion the alarms from the Batcave were heard, something extremely rare at that time of day.

"Oracle to the Batcave, it's an emergency" was heard over all the communications.

Bruce quickly moved away from the press conference upon noticing the vibration in his watch, he used those seconds to ask what was happening, camouflaging the question as a cough; he didn't get very far before reporters surrounded him questioning if the millionaire had gotten sick after spending so much time renovating the community pool, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Tim was half asleep on his computer but the call jerked him up, he panicked realizing he had a meeting with Wayne Enterprises in an hour but concentrated on the information Babs was about to tell him, priorities (and a bit of responsibility dodging).

When they were going to the kitchen for a snack, two siblings noticed the alert, they rushed but after considering for a few seconds Cass pushed Dick down the stairs, Dick for his part did a somersault landing perfectly on the floor, his gymnastics skills weren't rusty at all.

"Smug" Steph complained from her place on the sofa, she had come to the mansion to visit Cass, but as was the unspoken rule: she had stayed a little longer.

"This is not the time for games, I need assistance in Crime Alley, Crane started his attack and Jason is compromised" Barbara said desperately over the comms, she needed help fast "Are you guys available?"

"It's 4pm, it's too early for the bats to come out" Steph yawned, she would have liked to go out and show off her status as the best member of the bats but her suit was at home, maybe she could find a spare on the batcave.

"And Gotham has never seen us fight during the day, well, most of us." Tim gave Duke a curious look after he had entered through the mansion gates.

"Oh no, you are not going to let me fight the madman alone" he frowned "I just came for my afternoon snack, I'll go back to my patrol after that"

"This is not the time to argue! I don't care if you paint your costume red or put on a clown nose, I need someone supporting Jason with Crane now" Barbara voiced with frustration in her voice "he has a civilian who succumbed to the fear gas and Scarecrow changed the formula, this is urgent"

"Well, I guess the bats will be out early today, it'll be a scary day" Dick joked, although he didn't feel so amused after hearing about his brother's situation.

"I can help with the formula from the cave, I'm not as good with the Batcomputer as Tim but I can do it" Steph affirmed, even if Spoiler didn't go out on the streets she was going to find a way to help.

"Why? I can manage the computer from here while you go out on the field, Scarecrow's greatest strength is his formula so bats with masks integrated into the suit should be a better option" he stated confidently.

"Master Timothy, I hope you're not planning on skipping your 5 o'clock meeting." Alfred scolded the boy gently from behind.

"There's no time for meetings Alfie, Damian's at school and I can handle the computer better anyway" he smiled.

"No, we are enough bats, you can go to your meeting and Steph can handle the computer in the same way as you, the important thing is to get to Jay, this is not up for discussion" Dick spoke while frowning slightly, perhaps it was his concern as an older brother but he couldn't help but want to get to the place as soon as possible. Tim couldn't help but sigh at the tone and gave up on attending the absurd income meeting.

"Civilian, danger" Cass pointed out worriedly, the real issue wasn't saving Jason in this case.

"Yeah, I don't know how Jay ended up with a civilian but we have to get him out of there" Dick nodded "however, it's true that we can't go out that openly in the daytime, Duke do you think you can do something with that?"

"I can hide you," the latest addition to Bruce's adoption papers grumbled, "and focus on the crazy man while Jason is brought out."

"That will do" Barbara spoke a little more relieved "my break is about to end so I won't be able to help in such a direct way, but I will do my best"

"Okay, Orphan and Signal, it's time for the daytime operation" Dick spoke taking temporary leadership of the mission, he ignored the grunts of his siblings at the name "Spoiler, we'll be counting on you"

With that said, everyone went to the cave to take their respective suits; Except for Steph, who didn't really see the need to do it, and even if she was risking Bruce's wrath over the secret identities, she'd figure it out later, she was sure there wasn't much he could do considering she wasn't actually legally adopted, that would be a problem for her future self.

"It's a shame Jarro can't accompany us" Steph joked "seeing that he's in space and everything"

The other bats seemed distracted, from Dick she could understand it but she didn't know what Cass and Duke were thinking, the civilian? It was likely, she really hoped "the rescue" would go well.

—-------

Danny was scared, once the gas got into his system it didn't affect him like it would do on a human or one of the crows as it was originally intended to.

Hallucinations began to appear before his eyes, confusing themselves with memories, and his ghostly characteristics were more present than ever.

The only thing saving him from a complete transformation was Jason. He could feel Jason's gentle touch hiding him from the world, nestling his head on his chest.

Danny kept trying by all possible means to contain everything that could scare someone; He bit his lip, ignoring the sensation of his fangs gently piercing his skin.

Too ghostly for humans

Spectra's voice was heard perfectly in his head. Though years had passed since that incident, it had lingered within his memory, Jazz would have called it trauma, he wasn't so sure.

What are you?

He wanted to scream as the multiple times being called a monster or a threat played through his head. Until now he had no correct answer to that question, not since he was named a "True halfa" and Clockwork informed him that Plasmius was slowly dying.

Are you dead? That is cool! How did you die? Maybe you're a corpse and not a ghost, or a ghost zombie!

The innocent comment of a little boy brought him to tears, it was absurd. The "hero" Phantom had run away at that moment, he knew there was no way the boy would know that the memory affected him, that he could feel the flashes of electricity under his skin. Remembering the pain and the impotence, that didn't make it any better.

He remembered the nights he'd spent awake wondering if the accident had killed him, if he was really a ghost possessing his own corpse and was just prolonging the inevitable.

We don't need you! You are a threat!

Was there anything worse for a child than being rejected by his parents? Every time Danny heard Dr. Fentons yelling at him, whether they intended it or not, he felt the same way. If they told Phantom he wasn't necessary, Danny was the one listening to his parents, when Danny was shot, because they did not bother to repair the guns in his house so they wouldn't be pointed at him, he felt unimportant. What's the point of being showered with loving words while being stabbed through the heart?

You should leave the city

The only comment he pondered for hours. More than harming him, that random person made him understand that maybe Amity Park couldn't be his home anymore, maybe it was time to move on and stop being just Danny the Fenton creep or Phantom the hated hero. Perhaps it was selfish to want to be both.

Why do you always seek attention? We do not want you here and we will not fall for your games!

One of Dr. Fenton's comments flashed through his head, and Danny couldn't help but laugh as he sobbed into Jay's shirt, probably looking as pathetic as he felt. He hated the attention, he hated it so much.

"I didn't want to be a hero" he murmured, although his words were hardly understandable at that moment "I didn't want, I wanted to live, why did it have to be me? Why did they force me to protect them?"

Danny continued to babble on in frustration, the only reason he kept acting like the hero was because of Sam and Tucker, but he always thought it was unfair. Why did the whole town expect a dead child to protect them? Why were they not doing anything when they saw him bleeding ectoplasm in the middle of the street? Why didn't they stop the Fentons when they were developing dangerous weapons or talking about skinning him alive?

When did the living stop caring about the dead? Despite all that he did for the city, very few took into account that he was still a child, a child with too much responsibility, a child too wounded, who continued to heal others.

The situation was absurd. How many more times would he have to pick up his broken heart, praying that it could stick again even if they stole pieces? How much more could he ignore how the city never offered to give him a proper resting place?

He recalled a time as Phantom, in one of his weak moments remarking to a reporter that he never had a grave or proper rest. The rumor spread but apart from Mr. Lancer and some classmates giving him flowers, nobody did anything.

It was stupid really, but ghosts needed graves, graves were symbolic to them, it meant you died but you were loved. That no one noticed his death, the fact no one mourned him, had always felt like a void inside his soul. A void begging for affection.

But what was he supposed to do? Ask Jazz, who had her own coping methods, to lay a grave for his half-alive brother? Did he have to remind his best friends that the portal killed him? Perhaps it did it wrong, or halfway, but he died, undoubtedly.

Sam and Tucker liked to ignore the fact that his friend had come in screaming and came out in ashes. They saw it as a setback, and Danny understood, he wasn't going to spiral them into guilt just to make himself feel better, it was unfair.

"Will you leave me too?" He questioned raising his bright eyes to look at Jason "Are you going to break my heart? I'm warning you: I don't know if I can keep fixing it"

Jason gasped at the blue-green look in the boy's eyes, he could feel the anticipation, the way he was waiting for a positive answer. And he realized that no one had the right to destroy a person that much, because he had a feeling that Danny hadn't done that to himself.

But he could see the signs, he could see how this boy with teary eyes and fear of rejection was the same boy who had walked in without a care in the world to serve a bowl of soup to orphaned children, he could see how he needed approval, positive affection; And that maybe hit a little too close to home, because he knew he wasn't the one to give him those things.

"I won't leave you alone" he chose to reply "but you shouldn't offer your heart to strangers so easily Doll"

"It's funny that you say that" the halfa commented sadly "because you're not a stranger, honestly I gave it to so many people that I don't know how much is left of it, I'm sorry if I'm defective"

"No." Jason's grunt startled Danny, who turned to look at him in alarm.

"No?" He asked confused, for some reason Jason's neon green eyes sent him a sense of security, something inside him screaming protected, safe. To the point where he didn't actually wonder if his eyes weren't a different color earlier.

"No, people are not defective because they are not objects" although he was wearing the gas mask it was obvious that he was frowning "I don't care how many stupid things people told you, you are not defective, you are just human and if you have the nerve to say i'm worth it, I can give you back the same fucking feeling, you cute motherfucker"

"Does that mean you don't want it?" The boy asked instead. He didn't want to have another existential crisis over his humanity when he was barely conscious with the effects of the gas, he felt so drugged. Though his heart definitely sped up at the other's words, did Jason believe he was worth it? he'd have to talk to Johnny about it later, and yell for a while, if he was lucky enough to remember.

"Although I'd love to have it, I'd like you to save it for someone who can take better care of it" Jason spoke, noting that the boy wasn't concentrating on the positive things "you're not in the right state of mind right now Doll, don't do things you'll doubt later"

"But I-"

Their conversation was interrupted when they heard voices in the distance. Jason got back into a defensive position as Danny hid in his chest again, barely controlling the memories that threatened to flash before his eyes. He couldn't succumb again, he had to remember: Jason was safe, Jason was safe.

—--------

The moment Duke arrived on the scene he felt a chill run down his spine, the light and darkness in that whole part of town just felt incorrect, and a feeling of wrongness ran through his body.

"I didn't know it was getting cold in Gotham," Dick complained as he rubbed his arms in an attempt to keep himself warm. He momentarily wondered if Crane was working with Freeze.

"Focus, mission, find brother " Cass motioned to both of them, putting on the gas mask and adjusting it correctly around her face; the language was still a bit confusing for Cass, she was used to having her intentions read through their fights so expressing it in words was always tedious. That's why she usually chose to speak in shorter sentences, to the point instead of winding around, a bit the opposite of her older brother in a certain way.

"You're right, we're getting closer to the place marked by Oracle" Dick nodded as he headed into one of the alleys, both he and Signal had their gas masks on. It was then that he heard noises near one of the alleys.

He leaned out to see the cause of all the fuss and saw how his route was divided in two, on the one hand Cane was fighting with a crow? On the side of the road, looking completely exasperated and furious, Dick honestly took pity on the animal.

On the other side shadows seemed to be covering the alley, although it was hard to see through the smoke, Dick could make out a familiar figure, who had completely toxic green eyes and was snarling at him, yeah, that could be a problem.

"I found Jay" he commented unsure, it was always risky to approach his little brother when he was affected by the pits. He honestly listened to his warnings more as a way to reassure his brother that he was safe, he wasn't afraid of him at all, no matter how much Bruce seemed to think Jason was a mindless being during the episodes.

Dick saw it from a different perspective, Jason "Pitter" Todd was a more primitive form (and Jay absolutely hated the pun Dick created, he repeated the word Peter at least eighty times before giving up), but he retained his consciousness, he didn't instantly turned into a mindless being who went for blood and guts, he was more of a very aggressive person who put instincts as the first priority, being very prone to acting out. Still, definitely Jason.

"We have a problem, Cass come with me and help me determine Jay's condition, Duke take care of Crane" Dick ordered over the comms, to deal with "Pitter" it was better to have Cass on his side, although he was considered more expressive, she was considerably better in reading emotions.

"Oh come on, I said I wasn't going to face the madman alone." Signal frowned, although he was relieved not to have to go near the glowing black hole he could see from where Jason stood, no, he'd heard enough warnings to know it was a bad idea.

"Dayshift" Dick sneered from the comms "we can't be as seen as you can, at least the alley can cover us but we cant help it”

Duke still grumbled as he walked to the opposite side of the strange shadows, where Crane could be seen frustrated with a small crow.

"Are you serious?" Duke questioned in disbelief as he watched the little bird beating one of Gotham's worst villains just by pestering him to death.

"What's next, an army?"  He asked mockingly, however he swallowed his words at the moment when he heard a "Kar" above his head, he looked up and felt hundreds of red eyes watching from the beams of the electrical cables "yes, excellent, an army of crows, exactly what we need for a Scarecrow"

"Kar, Kar, Kar" several of the crows began to sing, for a moment he wondered what they were doing until he turned his gaze to Crane, who was covering his suit as the crow pecked at him.

The little crow moved away from Crane to quickly fly with the others and as if he were a general in a speech he spoke "Kar, sacrifice, Kar", the crow flapped his wings looking determined.

Duke was genuinely concerned about what the crows were learning in Gotham, who had taught them the word sacrifice? And why were they so scary?

"You won't be able to beat me, aerial beasts!" Scarecrow yelled furiously, firing more of the gas. The birds were not affected as they only flew a little higher. Some of them looked genuinely murderous, though, so the gas might have caused a reaction in them.

"Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice" the crows began to sing in unison, Duke felt that he had become a spectator in a horror movie.

"Really, what the hell?" Duke questioned in dismay, he was supposed to write this on the report, dammit.

He moved a little out of the way when he saw the crows preparing to fly toward Crane. He knew what his battles were and this was not one of them.

Almost to confirm his point, hundreds of crows swooped down on Crane at once, pecking and effectively trapping him in one of the alley corners. When they finished him off, the villain had minor injuries all over his body and was surprisingly unconscious. Duke was internally grateful that Crane used so much protection or maybe they would have gouged out his eyes, crows were scary.

"Love, love, love" the little crow repeated happily, his attitude had changed the moment they defeated the villain but Duke had learned not to trust the little creature, small and terrifying.

"Yeah, thanks for doing my job for me, I think" Signal wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to the current situation "at least I didn't do it alone, I guess"

Almost as a signal, the crows withdrew and the scary little buddy made its way to the alley where Dick and Cass were possibly standing, well, that was no longer his problem.

His day shift was officially over, better turn Scarecrow over to the police, he would have to tell Bruce to control Arkham in case he tried to escape again. But his current priority was the pancakes Alfred had in the fridge, without a doubt.

He collected a sample of Crane's gas as he returned, he was sure there would be a couple of casualties by the end of the day so it was best to give Steph a sample when he got to the mansion. Also because of the aggressiveness of the crows, he could add some negative side effects to the birds as a consequence for the new fear gas formula, honestly Duke didn't feel like dealing with bloodier crows than normal.

—--------

"Scared, out of it, protective" Cass informed Dick as soon as he was a few feet away from where Jason seemed to be snarling at him in full rage, although he wasn't quite sure as the mask muffled the noise. This reaction was a bit more intense than he had expected at first, but he still felt that he could deal with it.

"It's fine Little Wing, it's me" Dick held up both hands, a sign that he was obviously unarmed, it was better to treat Jay the way Damian treated the feral cats at the animal shelter. Not that he was going to tell Jay that, ever.

"It took you long enough, bastard" he answered annoyed, but still not loosening his grip on Danny, who seemed to be shaking more the more people got closer, how did he know? One more mystery among many.

"Yeah, sorry, we were a bit busy when the alert came in" Dick sighed "now, if you can hand me the civilian"

"No" was the quick answer.

"No, don't leave me, no," Danny muttered, clinging closer to Jason's shirt, barely understanding what was going on in the conversation beyond a few sentences. He was wondering if he should buy Jay a new shirt, his brain felt so tired all of a sudden.

"Alert, danger, stay away" Cass signed from next to him, it was obvious that neither of them wanted to get away. Although strangely, Cass felt more aggressiveness from the civilian than from Jason himself at the suggestion.

The temperature dropped again, but most of them didn't notice, Dick sighed looking at Jay with a frown "What do you expect us to do Jay? Signal registered taking Scarecrow a few seconds ago"

"Go with him" Jason grumbled, if there was no danger, better, he could get out of the toxic air and take Danny away from there.

"Come on Little Wing, you know I can't leave you in this state" Nightwing denied, just as stubborn as his brother "What are you going to do when I'm gone?"

"Take Danny home" he replied, although the green in his eyes didn't shine as brightly, he still looked quite alert about the whole situation, any wrong move could bring the pits back to full.

"I assume you know the civilian" Dick muttered curiously "Okay but I'm still going to help you, where does Danny live?"

Although the question was said in a friendly tone, the silence that followed was definitely awkward, Jason couldn't help but thank the gas mask, at least that way they couldn't see the embarrassed blush spreading all over his face. He was purposely ignoring that Cass would know for sure, she wasn't a snitch

"You don't know where he lives, right?" Dick asked, knowing that kind of silence all too well.

"It's none of your business," Jason complained, although the friendly interaction seemed to be taking him out of his fury.

"That's my business, where are you hoping to take him? One of your safe houses?" He teased, though his brother's silence was definitely revealing "wait, you're not being serious, are you sure you didn't inhale some gas?"

"I'm sure Big Bird, so shut up, go help with the damn antidote and call me when it's ready," Jason said annoyed, carefully getting up from where he had lain down to give Danny more comfort and starting to walk away from them.

"Not a good time, let it go" Cass signed to her older brother, she detected a lot with that little interaction and thought that the explanation required a complicated sentence to clarify.

"I understand Cass, I'm just worried" Nightwing sighed sadly, he wasn't looking forward to telling B anything.

"Understandable" Cass nodded. It was normal that after bringing Jason back, his "old" family would become attached to him, that could be bad in the long run if Jay refused to clarify things, but it was none of Cass's business. Even if she loved her family, she couldn't express feelings for them, it was better to let them figure it out.

No one noticed Shadow leaning out curiously and watching Jason take Danny away before deciding to disappear, taking the darkness that had settled in the alley with them.

—-----

"Amorpho, I need a favor" Johnny called the ghost through his ghost phone, he wasn't going to call it Fenton phone 2.0 because Technus would be extremely offended.

"Not even a hello? Why should I listen to you?" Amorpho questioned curiously from the other side of the line.

"You can pretend to be Danny and visit the human world" the blonde ghost bribed.

"Tempting, tell me more about this favor" Amorpho said, it was not a secret that he enjoyed imitating the halfa.

"Well, the boy has to attend classes, but his crush apparently kidnapped him and he can't" Johnny explained quickly, he had been worried for a few seconds but Shadow assured him that the halfa wasn't in danger. However Johnny remembered Danny's insistence on his attendance.

"You want me to pretend to be him and attend classes?" Amorpho questioned in disbelief, he had better things to do with his time "And what do you mean with kidnapped?"

"That doesn't matter, but yes, If you accept you can do whatever you want as long as nobody dies after it" Johnny assured, Danny owed him a favor for all the work.

"Whatever I want? Okay, you have a deal" Amorpho agreed, though he still had questions about the kidnapping part.

"Great! I will call Wulf to open the portal to the university, your first class is advanced physics, good luck! Don't forget that you already accepted!" The blond hung up the call before the other ghost could react.

"You mean right now? What the hell is advanced physics? JOHNNY-" By the time the ghost reacted it was too late.

"I think that went well" The blond smiled.

—------

For his part, Jason was grateful to his siblings for being on time. He hated the situation he had inadvertently gotten himself into, but he hated more that Danny was sacrificing himself like it didn't matter. How dare he? He was going to smack the bastard with self-esteem even if he forced it.

He couldn't show it correctly because his head was still filled with that need for PROTECTION before the boy he had in his arms. Jason sighed, deciding to carry him in his arms princess style. Personally he preferred the potato bag style on his shoulder but Danny had been very displeased at the suggestion to get off his chest. Which shouldn't embarrass him nearly as much as it did.

Danny felt calm listening to Jason's heartbeat, it relaxed him as the illusions momentarily disappeared from his head. Jason was the solid ground of him, corny as it sounded.

"I want you to know that this is your fault" he claimed to the boy in his arms as he threw the gas mask to the side of the room once he got to the safe house "but since I don't know where the hell you live you're going to stay here until the antidote is ready"

Jason tried to separate Danny from him then, but every time the boy went more than 5 minutes without finding him he would start to panic and show obvious signs of Scarecrow's hallucinations. Jay was undoubtedly upset to see the bubbly boy turned into a dependent anxiety bag.

Curiously, from the bedroom window a crow could be seen sleeping peacefully, although no one was paying attention to it, the bird looked happy with that arrangement, without noticing the intruder, the boys continued talking.

"Okay Doll, you win, I'll sleep here tonight" Jason finally relented "but we should wake up early tomorrow for a nice breakfast, okay?"

Danny nodded, feeling better now that both of them were in bed and he could hear the boy's heartbeat again. He wriggled in an attempt to get into Jason's arms, where he felt safe and warm.

"You're really persistent" Jay complained, but he let him do what he wanted anyway "What's wrong cutie?"

"I didn't want you to go away in the middle of the night," Danny murmured looking worried, Jason swore he saw one of his eyes being more of a greenish blue for a few seconds, he wondered if he was seeing things "Are you leaving?"

"No, for now I do not intend to do it" the man sighed, wondering if he should add eye color to the long list to investigate "rest, I promise I'll be here in case someone bad comes, okay?"

"Okay" with one last sleepy yawn Danny settled back to listen to the heartbeat of his love interest "I hope Hood doesn't get mad at me"

"He won't find out," Jason teased, feeling a little amused "and if he does he'll have to get over it."

Stroking the boy's hair as he slept, Jason noticed a few familiar white strands tucked strategically behind the black hair. It gave him a bad feeling.

He decided to address his suspicions at another time, when memories of Danny forcing himself not to shake wouldn't flicker in his mind, when the expressive blue eyes didn't look so empty and sad inside his memories, and the sound of his laughter wouldn't change to sobs inside his mind.

Jason knew trauma well, and he wasn't overly happy to admit he recognized Danny having one. He ran his fingers gently over the boy's hand, Danny obviously hurt himself to stop the fear if the marks were a sign. He wondered why only one of his hands was hurt, but when he caught a glimpse of a large scar he decided not to push his luck so much. He needed to learn to wait, and maybe trust Danny a little bit, just a little bit.

I'm going to show you that you're worth it Cutie Doll, even if it takes me all my life.

--------------------------------------

Aaand tag time, but first a little clarification: Crane's fear gas was destined to kill the crows after a time to take the gas in their bodies (as an infection) but since it was a prototype, it failed, the crows only became more aggressive; Anyway, the fear gas was destined to affect humans too, this part was a success, except that Danny is not completely human, right? double ups.

The effect worked halfway into him, causing hallucinations but of memories he fears, he is able to resist it if he focuses on something that anchors him to reality (but he is very tired of the mental effort); That is why sometimes he seems lucid and sometimes not, he is a very drugged and sensitive halfa!

@skulld3mort-1fan@sorryiwonnoob@idfk-man10@avelnfear@criticaloverthinker@confusedandghostly @lunadoll36 @spidey29phangirl @suppengott @yjfk@apointlessbox@mimilikey@thegatorsgoose@jaggedheart11@dyinggirldied@pyramaniac@akikkobara@thedragonqueen1998@lostlightandfoundcrazy@xye-chan@saltyladynightmare @ashleysmshly @thewondersoflebanon@illusionwolfwriter24r8@littlefeather345@asphyxia778@amercurio@leftmiraclechaos @dixiwoods @satoshy12@lyra689@meira-3919@quietlyscared@plotwholls @kyrianclawraith @blacksea21090@basilf1res @flowers-n-fauna @8-29pm@phantom-dc@luer-mirin@taniaundertaleau@cloriform@readerkayden@oddlydrawnpuppets@basementloser@little-green-asparagus@echoednonny@yummy-yummy-mmmbones@confusionchaos@ectoplasm024@autumnwulf@666deaddash999@redhoneysugarorange@blue-avis@sailor-goddess@satanicrutialspecialist

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #Hood Assistant #Crows won another time #sorry Crane #Poe the crow will continue following them #this is a little angst #but after this is all hurt/comfort #Jason wants to return the favor #If Danny can't see his own worth he will show him #Danny is a little sad here cause of the memories #Don't worry #he will get better #surprised that I didn't write more about Johnny this time #Johnny thinks he is a solver maker #he is not #he is causing problems accidentally #First Danny and the Bats interaction #I'm not sure if it counts cause he was extremely drugged tho #Jason is starting to believe a little on Danny #Danny will totally remember the Hood part tho #Still they are both helping each other with trauma and that's amazing #Duke had nightmares with crows that day

[storiesforallfandoms]

more than a song ~ alex turner

word count: 2937

request?: yes!

“hi lovely! i wanted to request an alex turner x reader. just something based off of the song you’re so dark by arctic monkeys. he’s been friends with you for a while but a side comment from his girlfriend (something just like she doesn’t get how they’re just friends) and it’s just snaps into place. ig just him writing the song and moments of them together. maybeeeee him jacking off imagining her on all fours 👀. something like that! thank youuuuu”

description: in which he starts by writing a song about his best friend who is much different than him, and it turns into something more

pairing: alex turner x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (male masturbation), kind of cheating since alex is imagining the reader and not his girlfriend (who will be a made up character, not his real girlfriend louise), also the reader doesn’t really know what alex was doing so idk take that into consideration? idk these warnings are a mess now

masterlist (one, two, three)

It all started with a comment his girlfriend, Cheryl, made.

“She’s so dark. How are you two friends?”

They had just left a night out with Alex’s bandmates and his best friend, (Y/N). It was the first time the two women had met, which Alex was hoping would go well since both of them meant so much to him. They had just barley left the bar when Cheryl made the comment.

It amused him so much that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why do you say that?”

Cheryl gave Alex a look. “Really?”

He stopped walking so he could turn to face her. “I’m serious. What do you mean she’s dark?”

“Alex...she talked for nearly an hour about HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe.”

Alex waited, expecting her to explain why that was a bad thing. When she didn’t, he said, “Yeah, those are her favorite authors.”

“They’re very depressing authors.”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve never read any of their stuff.”

Cheryl closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s got a very dark personality, Alex. Like murder of crows follow her around, Addams family’s long lost member dark. It’s just weird to me that you’re her friend when she’s so depressing.”

“Hey, you may think that, but she’s still my best friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Cheryl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should be questioning your friendship with her in different ways.”

It was safe to say the night did not go as planned. Alex brought Cheryl home in a tense silence. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before she got out without a word, slamming her door shut behind her.

The night had definitely left a slight strain on their relationship. Cheryl had decided that she hated (Y/N) just because of this idea she had that Alex and (Y/N) had romantic feelings for one another, but Alex refused to end his friendship with her when that wasn’t true at all, and when he had known (Y/N) for so much longer than Cheryl. So, even though they decided to continue their relationship, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

But Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N)’s personality stuck in Alex’s mind. He had never noticed a “darkness” to his best friend. She was just (Y/N), the person Alex had known since they were kids. But now he was thinking about the things she liked, and the way she acted and just her general personality. He found himself humming to himself around his apartment; a melody at first, but eventually lyrics started forming in his mind.

“You got your HP Lovecraft. Your Edgar Allan Poe.”

He quickly rushed to his work desk to scribble down the lyrics as they came to his head.

“You got your unkind ravens, and your murder of crows.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he thought of Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N) being like a murder of crows. What Cheryl didn’t know was that (Y/N) had a tattoo along the backside of her left shoulder that was a flock of black birds. They weren’t distinguishable birds, but she often said it was a murder of crows since they were black birds. Cheryl would probably have lost her mind if (Y/N) was wearing anything that would’ve showed off that tattoo.

Thinking of Cheryl caused his mind to wander to the turmoil of their relationship. He looked down at the verse and chorus he had written about (Y/N) and thought about the fact that he was in the process of writing a song for his best friend when he had never had thought about writing one for Cheryl at all since they started dating. Maybe Cheryl was right to think Alex felt stronger feelings than friendship for (Y/N).

He shook his head. No, that’s not it. She’s my best friend since we were kids, and I’ve only known Cheryl for a few months. That’s all it is.

“I know you’re nothing like mine, cause she’s walking on sunshine. And your love would tear us apart.”

Alex was at his desk for nearly an hour putting the song together. He had two full verses and a rough outline for the chorus, but it still needed something more. He was toying around with more lyrics when he started writing, “You watch Italian horror and you listen to the scores. Leather-clad and spike collar, I want you down on all fours.”

“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

But now that he had written it, he couldn’t help but picture (Y/N) doing exactly what he had written: on his bed, down on all fours, her ass in the air.

He shook his head. “No,” he scolded himself. “No, stop. This is wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop. He closed his eyes and the image was embedded into his eyelids. He felt himself straining against his jeans as he imagined himself knelt behind her, looking down at her ass in the wear, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear.

He groaned as he palmed himself through his jeans. The desire was far too strong to ignore. He had to take care of this, otherwise he knew he’d have a nasty ache between his legs that he would not be able to get rid of.

Just one time, he thought. Then I’ll never think of her like this again.

Alex unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. His dick was hard as a rock and angry red. He hissed as the cool air touched the sensitive area. He spit on his hand and wrapped his hand around the base. His head tipped back as a moan erupted from his throat.

He closed his eyes and the image of (Y/N) appeared again. Her face buried into the pillow beneath her, moans muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Alex’s dick plunging in and out of her tight pussy, her ass bouncing every time his hips collided with it. He imagined that her moans were as pretty as her regular voice was. Picturing that pretty voice moaning his name caused his dick to twitch in his hand.

The wet sounds of his hand stroking his dick mixed with his heavy breathing and moans filled the room. His mind drifted from having her bent over in front of him to having her sat on his lap in the very chair where he was sat. He imagined (Y/N), still just in a matching lingerie set, pulling him away from his songwriting so she could climb up onto his lap and straddle him. He imagined her pulling the fabric of her panties to the side, a string of arousal connecting her needy hole and the underwear. He could almost feel the warm, wetness of her walls as she sunk herself down onto him, and her lips on his neck as she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “God, that feels so good.”

His desire to have her grew, even though he knew he never would. She was his best friend. There was no way she felt this way for him, too. And he definitely was not going to risk their friendship by bringing these feelings up to her. More than anything, (Y/N) was his friend and he wasn’t about to lose her all together. For now, the only way he’d have her would be in his imagination, and he was more than okay with that.

Behind his closed eyes he could see (Y/N)’s perfect tits bouncing in his face. He squeezed the base of his dick a little tighter as his jerking motions became quicker, almost more desperate. He could feel his high creeping up on him, and he was desperately trying to chase it.

In his mind, (Y/N) was leaning into his ear. In a sexy, sultry voice, he pictured her whispering, “Cum for me, Alex.”

And that was all he needed to go tumbling over the edge. He called out her name into his empty apartment as his hot cum spilled over his hand, lap, and some on his shirt. He mentally cursed to himself for not preparing more for the mess, but physically he felt incapable of fixing it. He let his head rest on the back of the chair as he breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes to finally face reality, he was looking up at the ceiling instead of at (Y/N)’s beautiful face.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as the blood flow from his brain to his dick finally went down. It was loud enough that he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrating on the desk and took him a moment to realize someone was trying to call him. He reached out with his clean hand to look at the caller ID, and his heart skipped a beat when (Y/N)’s name and face popped up on his screen.

Against his better judgement, Alex answered. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” (Y/N) asked, a joking tone in her voice. “I’ve sent you, like, five text messages.”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the lockscreen to see that (Y/N) had in fact tried to text him.

“Hey fucker, what are you doing?”

“Hello? Alex?”

“Quick wanking off and answer me.” (That one both made him laugh and made his heart pound harder against his chest.)

“Listen, can I come over? I wanted to talk about something.”

“I really hope the reason you’re not answering is not what I think.”

“Sorry, I was - uh - I was busy writing,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got really into it and had my phone on silent. Didn’t even know you were texting me. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m currently parked outside your place. Can I come in to talk about it?”

He felt his blood run cold. (Y/N) was outside his place right now trying to come in to talk to him, meanwhile he was sat at his work desk with cum over himself after jerking off to the thought of her.

This truly could not be any worse.

“Yeah! Yeah, just give me a second,” he said, quickly trying to figure out a solution to this.

“Alex, I’ve known you for years, you do not have to tidy the place up for me,” (Y/N) said.

“I know, I just need to...I just have to do something before you come in. Give me a second.”

He hung up before (Y/N) could protest any further. He quickly took off his already cum-stained shirt and used it to wipe off his hand and the area around his dick. He threw the shirt with the rest of his dirty clothes, tucked himself back into his jeans, and found a new shirt to put on. Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, the doorbell started ringing. He quickly raced to his front door and threw it open to reveal (Y/N) stood there.

“Are you done whatever you had to do?” she asked, but pushed past him before he could answer.

“Come on in, make yourself at home,” he teased as he followed her in.

“I always do,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I respect your privacy enough that I didn’t just get that hidden spare key and barge in here before I called.”

Very, very lucky for that, actually.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as they reached his living room. “Your texts sounded serious.”

(Y/N) sighed and flopped down onto his couch. Alex sat across from her, leaving a decent amount of space between them. His mind was still reeling from the mental images from earlier that he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be so close to (Y/N) right now.

But she seemed very troubled, which was very concerning to him. (Y/N) always talked to him when something was wrong, but very rarely did she physically come over to his place to talk about something. He knew whatever it was had to be very serious for her to show up so suddenly like this.

“I ran into Cheryl at the store just now,” she said, looking down at her lap. “And...well...I know she doesn’t like me. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a reason she doesn’t come out anymore when she knows I’m there, and our brief run ins since we first met always include a glare whenever she sees me. Don’t even try to deny it, Alex.”

He wasn’t going to, but his mouth had been open to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said, so he closed his mouth again and allowed her to go on.

“I saw her and decided just to try and avoid her. I expected her to do the same. There was really no reason for her to approach me when it was just her, so I thought. But she came right up to me in the middle of an aisle and she...well, the best way to describe it is she went off on a tirade about not liking me and how she wishes you would just stop being friends with me, and even told me that I should be the one to end our friendship so that she didn’t have to stress about me and you anymore.”

Alex’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He couldn’t believe Cheryl would really go up to (Y/N) like that when he wasn’t around. Like (Y/N), he figured that Cheryl would’ve just walked the other way and left her alone since she disliked her so much. But to go up to his best friend in a public and to go as far as telling her to stop being friends with him for the sake of a relationship that wasn’t even a month in was further than he ever expected her to go.

“I thought you weren’t responding because she got to you first,” (Y/N) continued. “I thought she was going to come to you with some made up bullshit saying that I was the one who attacked her or something.”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Alex said. “I guess she’s waiting till whenever I see her next.”

“Listen, I’m sorry that I’m causing this strain on your relationship - ”

Alex reached out to take (Y/N)’s hand to cut her off. The contact sent a spark through him, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“You’re not the one causing any strain to my relationship. Cheryl is. She’s the one who is feeling so insecure about our relationship that she has to go as far as calling you down to the dirt while I’m not around. I’ve tried everything to assure her there’s nothing to worry about between us, but it’s not enough for her. I think...I don’t think I can continue this relationship with her. Especially not after what you told me.”

(Y/N) looked down at their joined hands. In a soft voice she said, “She’s a fucking bitch.”

Alex smiled and chuckled softly. (Y/N) did as well, and eventually, they were both laughing at her comment.

When the laughter died down silence fell over them. Neither one of them knew how to break it, but they didn’t really feel like they had to. Silence always felt comfortable between the two of them. They never felt like they had to speak if they didn’t want to. They could just sit like this for hours and it would be fine.

But their hands were still joined together. (Y/N) was tracing circles in the back of his hand with her thumb, almost absentmindedly. He liked the feeling of her hand against his. He never wanted to let go of her.

“You said you were writing when I came?” she finally asked, looking up at him. “Anything good?”

“Oh, um, I think so? I haven’t really put it together properly. It’s just a couple verses and a chorus that I have to finish.”

“Can I hear it? Or see what you have written, at least?”

His face burned at the question. He knew he was definitely blushing by the way that a confused look creeped on (Y/N)’s face. How did he show her this song, which was clearly about her and included a line about wanting to fuck her, and not absolutely ruin their friendship in this moment?

“I-I guess, if-if you wanted to,” he stuttered. “But, um...it’s...it’s a little embarrassing because...well, you were my muse for it.”

Her face seemed to brighten. “Really? You were writing about me?”

“Yeah. There’s some lyrics...well, you’d know it was about you the song is released so I guess there’s no getting around it, there’s some lyrics that are a bit...more than friendly.”

And there it was. There was no taking it back.

He watched her face, trying to gauge what her reaction to that revelation would be. She was just looking at him for a moment, as if registering his words, before a smirk crept across her face.

“Then show me,” she told him, her voice low and sultry the exact same way it had been in his imagination.

And Alex swore he had never been more excited than in that moment.

#alex turner #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[writefightandflightclub]

Departures

What is this? 7 of 14 prompt requests for my follower celebration!

What is the prompt? “For your drabbles I got an idea from a video I saw where a dad shaved his beard and him and his wife do a face reveal for their toddler and the kid doesn’t recognize him and starts crying, it was the cutest thing. What if Poe and reader do something similar with their kid/s?” This was hella specific (which is all good, ILY) but I reinterpreted it a little- hope you enjoy and thanks for the request, Anon! 

Author’s note: This can be read as a sequel of sorts to Arrivals but can totally be read as a stand-alone. 

Summary: dad!Poe, husband!Poe, modern!Poe domestic cuteness.

Word count: 1977

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, wifey  x hubby flirting and light sexual innuendos, and typos.

GIF credit: here

“I’m not ready to say goodbye. You’re really going to shave it off?” you ask, with a pet lip, as you run your fingers through your husband’s glorious salt and pepper beard one more time. “It’s just so hot. You look distinguished, like a... hot Duke or something.”

Poe’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “But you like me without a beard too, right?”

“You’re hot all the time. It’s infuriating, actually. Just maybe I’m gonna miss the tickle of your beard on my skin.”

“Between your thighs, you mean?” he teases, his voice a low rumble. It’s not meant to turn you on -his tone is light-hearted- but it does anyway.

“Maybe.” you sing-song, nipping your lip between your teeth.

“You’ve forgotten how much you liked my stubble grazing you there. I’ll be happy to remind you, sweetheart.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” you promise, hopping up on the counter as Poe continues his application of shaving cream and takes his shaving blade in hand.

Ok, maybe you could get used to him without a beard again. There’s something disconcertingly hot about watching him shirtless, shearing the stubble from his chiselled jaw. Something about the smoothness and then the roughness which follows. The smell of those lotions on his skin.

You watch him fondly for a while, careful not to distract him as he moves the blade precisely over the more sensitive contours of his neck. He hums as he does so and, you realise, you’re glad to be reminded of this morning ritual. You tune-in to what he’s humming, and smile as you realise he’s unconsciously humming the theme from your little one’s current cartoon of choice. This man can go from sinful to adorable in the bat of an eye. He really has it all.

“Do you think Juno will like your new face?” you ask, and Poe’s eyes soften immediately from the mere mention of your daughter.

“She’s been strongly encouraging me to shave it off. In fact, she keeps trying to yank my beard right off. Yesterday, she hated it so much she mushed porridge into it and it was stuck in there for hours.”

“Gross, Poe.” you chide and he throws you a feigned angry look. “What if she doesn’t recognise you?”

“What?!” your heart grows several sizes upon hearing how concerned Poe sounds at the suggestion. “She’ll know me, I’m her Papa!” it’s more of a plea than a statement of certainty. He drops the blade down, seeming as if he might halt right there and remain half-bearded if there’s even a slight possibility Juno wouldn’t recognise him.

“I’m sure she will, Poe.” You say, hopping down to rub circles into his shoulder blades. “Just don’t be surprised if she gets a shock when she wakes up, ok?”

Well now he looks more than a little glum. “Maybe I shouldda kept it.” He keeps going, the other side of his beard disappearing stroke-by-stroke. The only patch which remains sits on his top lip. “Should I keep this bit?”

You smile warmly at him in the mirror. “It’s gotta go, Poe. I can’t take you seriously with a moustache.”

“Do you ever take me seriously?”

You respond by giving his ass a squeeze through his relaxed joggers. “You’re seriously sexy.” 

He smiles and you think you might be distracting him a little too much now. “I’m gonna go start on the laundry. Come remind me what that handsome, cleanshaven face feels like when you’re ready, baby.”

You mosey out of the room, swaying your hips as you know he’ll be looking to catch a glimpse through the mirror. 

***

You are pottering in the utility room downstairs when you hear Juno’s cries from the bedroom. You keep an ear out, but you know Poe is up there and likely rushing to her. Still, you wander into the kitchen so that you’re on hand if you’re needed, and so you can greet them when they make their way down to you. 

The crying doesn’t subside and you get a little furrow in your brow. “Everything ok, honey?” you call up the stairs.

You look up at the mouth of the stairs with light concern, and you see Poe approaching across the landing, a bawling little poppet slung at his hip. Juno spots you and stretches her arms towards you with cries of “Mama! Mama!”.

Poe looks upset as he hands Juno over to you and you bundle her into your arms. You give her a gentle bounce on your hip. “Jungle ‘Juno’ Dameron. What’s got you so upset after your nap, huh?”

You look at Poe’s face and he is so distressed that it’s almost comical. You’re not sure who to comfort more - him or the child. “She doesn’t recognise me, honey.”

“Aww. Course she does. Don’t you Juno?” You rub you palm over Poe’s cheek, feeling the smooth skin and the sharp contours of his jaw. “Look Juno, it’s Daddy.” You give Poe a friendly kiss on the cheek. “We love Daddy, don’t we?”

Juno wrings her chubby little hands together, a tremble in her lip as she looks between the both of you, her cries having stopped but crystal ball tears still lingering on her cheeks.

He reaches out to Juno, brushing her tears away. “It’s me, baby.”

“Do the song she likes.” you nudge him, knowing she’ll respond to his familiar and soothing voice. He begins to sing to her and immediately, her face brightens. Although she still looks a little apprehensive, her cheeks apple with her gummy smile.

To your relief, Poe’s face brightens too and soon they are both smiling again.

Now that she’s settled, Juno wriggles against you and signals she wants to be put down. “Ok, baby girl. Shall we get some fresh air in the yard? Where’s Beebs?! Shall we go find Beebs?”

Juno claps her palms together and toddles in the direction of your yard. You follow closely behind her, momentarily confused as to why Poe isn’t following too.

“You coming hubster?”

“In a second. I just need to do something upstairs.” 

You shrug and tootle outside, perching yourself on your back step and smiling softly to yourself as Juno plays in the grass with Beebs at the end of your garden. You pick up the stuffed animal strewn on the patio by your feet -a blurrg Poe had custom-made for Juno’s birthday- and your smile spreads further as you give the ridiculous creature a little snuggle.

Eventually, you hear the approach of Poe’s footsteps through the kitchen and you turn to look up at him as he plants a warm, broad hand on your shoulder. Now you might actually be able to appreciate that clean-shaven face of his. 

You squeal as you turn towards him, however, and observe that he has something inexplicable and black and furry strapped across his chin.

“Woah.” You startle, pressing your palm over the shocked “o” of your lips before a hearty laugh filters through your fingers. 

“I made a beard.” he offers by way of explanation. “I did not like upsetting Juno.” He perches himself by your side on the step. You think he’s smirking beneath the monstrosity strapped to his face, crow’s feet radiating from around his eyes. “Do you think she’ll buy it?”

You laugh. You laugh at this ludicrous man. Your fingertips coming up to tug at... whatever this is. You see he’s been quite creative, hair ties hooking it around his ears.

“What is it?”

“Ok, don’t tell Juno.” he leans in to you as if confessing a secret, his voice dropped low. “I maybe cut up a stuffed animal from that sack of stuff destined for goodwill.” 

You feel overcome that he would do all of this, just so he didn’t upset her. Happy tears brim in your eyes at how loved your daughter is. You run a hand over his makeshift beard. “You are the sweetest man on earth, you know that?”

He gently presses a hand to your rounded, expanding belly. “Anything for my joint-favourite kiddo.” Your pending second child was about to be the joint-luckiest kiddo in the world, you could swear.

You look at him again in disbelief, so utterly wonderful and so utterly ridiculous. “Poe, you know you have a stuffed animal strapped to your face? This. This is one of the reasons people don’t take you seriously.”

“I thought I was seriously sexy.” he purrs, dipping his head towards you to steal a quick kiss from his wife while Juno is happily occupied.

The fibres of the fabric tickle at your nose.

“Just to be clear, honey. There’s no way you’re getting that beard between my thighs.”

You are joined in laughter until Poe’s attention is diverted by Juno making loud, nonsensical noises and tracking her way across the garden to you both. Her hands make a grabby motion as she toddles.

“I’ll take care of you later.” he promises, with a swift press of a kiss into your hair as he stands. “For now, let’s see if Juno recognises me again. I gotta be honest, it broke my kriffing heart when she didn’t know me.” you smile at his newly invented swear word to use around the little one.

You feel warm inside as he runs to Juno and lifts her in the air, joined in a happy moment as he aeroplanes his baby girl around in his arms, Beebs snapping joyously at his heels.

You reach for your camera phone. You must remember to take a video of him in that ludicrous beard. You don’t want to forget a single, silly, loving moment and you know it is impossible to capture them all. But this one? This one is far too good to let slide.

You stand and mosey down the garden, until you fold over with a jolt of discomfort in your belly. Poe catches it instantly and turns towards you. “Honey?”

“I wasn’t sure earlier. But now I’m pretty confident I’m having contractions. Pretty regular.”

His eyes scold you for not saying anything sooner but at the same time they are only full of love.

“It’s happening! Honey!” he looks like he might smile and cry and freak out all at once. He slings Juno on to his hip so he can wrap his other arm around you, his thoughts evidently going a mile a minute. “I’ll drop Juno next door with Finn until we can get hold of Grandma Leia and Grandpa Han. The bags are in the car. We can do this.”

You look at him in shock. “It’s happening. We’ve got to go. Meet our new baby.”

He presses a loving kiss to your lips, despite that infernal fake beard still adorning his jaw. “I love you so kriffing much,” he says, voice cracking with emotion, “and I’ll be right back. Call your mom, ok?”

He dashes through the yard and you call out to him. “Poe!”

He looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Take that thing off your face, or Finn and Rose will never let you hear the end of it.”

“There’s no time, sweetie! Plus, I wouldn’t want people to start taking me seriously.” He flashes you a grin before resuming his dash through the house.

You stand in the garden alone for a moment, saying softly to yourself. “I love you so much too, Poe Dameron.”

Then, you remember that you’re not quite alone as Beebs rubs up against your calf and yaps at you, as if to helpfully yank you from your slight panic and disbelief as the reality of the situation hits you. It does the job, and you remember suddenly that you need to call your mom, Leia.

When you look down at the phone in your hand, you’re delighted to see you never hit the button to end the video you were recording. You’ve captured that whole exchange.

Tears brim in your eyes, overwhelmed by the family you already have, and the family you’re about to have. You are so glad for every moment.

THE END

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#poe dameron x reader #dad!poe #husband!poe #modern!poe #poe dameron au #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #star wars x reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron #sw #poe dameron fic #star wars fic

[user-name-not-found5]

Interrogation Techniques pt.9

Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7, 8

Kylo Ren is determined to get the map out of the Resistance Pilot. By any. Means. Necessary.

Even if that means exploring new ways to sexually psychologically manipulate his victims into getting what he wants.

AU where the map leads to Luke’s new Jedi Temple, where he is training the next generation of Jedi. Poe is a Resistance pilot, who General Leia Organa has put in charge of running the transport routes in order to bring force-sensitive younglings to the temple where they belong. The First Order is headed by Kylo Ren, a fallen Jedi just as Count Dooku was, and he is determined to end the Jedi for good.

Warnings overall: non-con, torture, violence, manipulation, smut, absolutely filthy smut, degrading language, abuse

Warnings for this chapter: Mild violence/references to violence, lingering drug effects, Poe is a bisexual icon

“-and then I couldn’t do anything but run after him, and he runs straight into the Captain!” The trooper grinned as Poe hobbled along, following BB-8 as he sped ahead, leading them back on the shortest path to the freighter. “I couldn’t understand him, but she did, and somehow he got us by her! He’s a brilliant droid man, I just wish I knew what he was saying.”

BB-8 pivoted his head as he continued rolling. I’m glad you don’t.

“What’d he say?” The trooper pulled hard on Poe’s arm as he started slipping as they rounded a corner.

“Uh… he said he wishes you could too.” Poe grunted as he stumbled, putting a bit more weight on his leg than he meant to. The trooper caught him, and wrapped his free arm tighter around his waist. Poe probably would have blushed if it didn’t hurt his ribs. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“They call me FN-2187.”

Poe snorted. “That isn’t a name.”

“Only one they ever gave me.”

Poe mused it over for a minute. “FN… how’s Finn? I’m gonna call you Finn.”

The trooper- Finn- grinned at him. “You can call me whatever you want if you can pilot us out of here.”

“I think I might be able to give you a hand with that.” 

Finn froze, skidding to a halt and making Poe wince as he glanced up at the unfamiliar figure in the corridor. BB-8 was already bumping and beeping at her happily, and Poe’s face spread into a wide grin.

“Rey you crazy fucking spawn of a bantha, how the hell did you get in here?!”

Finn started. “You know her?”

Poe laughed as Rey rushed forward, crushing him in a firm hug. “Only the best damn Jedi Knight to come out of Luke’s academy!” He grinned. “This is Finn, Rey- he’s been helping BB-8 with the rescue mission.”

He has not! BB-8 whirred down the corridor, checking ahead and letting out a soft string of expletives. Rey grinned. “Good thing you brought a big ship.”

Finn let out a sigh of relief. “Thank stars.”

“Don’t thank me just yet- we have a flight to catch.” She grinned, drawing her saber. It hummed, the blue glow illuminating the polished tiles of the floor. “BB-8 says he can get us to the hangar.”

“That’s where we were headed- again, how did you get here?” Poe winced as she took his other side, increasing their pace after the droid.

“The youngling you were travelling with sent me a vision. I was able to figure out that you guys were farther along the course than we thought, and from there? Some damn fine intel, some stolen data, and…” She trailed off for a second. Poe’s brow furrowed, and Finn glanced past him at her.

“What is it?”

“Ben,” The name ghosted between her lips. Poe grit his teeth, and Finn’s brow furrowed. 

“Who’s Ben? Oh no, do we have to rescue another-”

A mechanical scream echoed in the corridor and the trio stopped dead. Ahead of them, a black-robed figure stood at the end of the hall, his arm extended. BB-8 was frozen in place, screaming for them to run as Ren prevented him from getting back to them. Rey’s lips set in a thin line, and Poe snarled.

“Let the droid go you bastard.”

“Not without the map.” Ren cocked his head to the side, his voice cold and mechanical now with his mask. “I see you’ve brought a friend- and, made one, it seems.”

Finn shuddered under the intense stare, glancing at Rey and Poe in a silent plea of what now?

“Finn,” Rey’s voice was calm. “Take Poe.”

The trooper protested a bit as she handed off the pilot’s weight, and Poe reached to grab her shoulder as she moved forward, but stumbled, forcing Finn to catch him again. Rey paced forward, extending a hand of her own. In one swift motion, she wrenched BB-8 out of Ren’s control, nearly throwing him behind her towards her companions. She kept her eyes locked on Ben.

“Go.”

“Rey-”

“GO.” Her saber hummed, and she leapt forward. Ben’s came to meet her. 

Finn was half-sprinting, half-dragging Poe along with him, BB-8 spinning rapidly through the holo-map to find the hangar bay. Poe spit a bit of blood to the side, reaching his free arm up to wipe his mouth. If Finn noticed, he didn’t say anything, ducking his head around corners and occasionally pulling them up short, letting a patrol down an attached corridor stalk across their path. Poe’s vision was going fuzzy, black spots dancing across his vision as he struggled to remain upright. He heard something distantly, only registering it when Finn started to shake his shoulder.

“Poe? Did you hear me?”

Poe glanced at him, watching as his face split into several, fuzzier versions of it. “Uh huh…”

Finn balked. “Are you going to be okay to fly?!”

“Just get me behind the controls, and I’ll put it in autopilot,” Poe grunted. Finn opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, pulling them both back against the wall, and clamping a hand over Poe’s mouth. Poe grinned. It was warm, and surprisingly soft- his hand smelled like his leather gloves, and faintly of blaster residue. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“Uh… Poe?”

“Mhmm?”

Finn’s hand wasn’t over his mouth anymore, and he frowned, cracking his eyes open. Finn was staring at him, his cheeks a bit darker than Poe thought they’d been a moment before. 

“You’re not… passing out, right? Or like, drugged up?”

Poe slumped his head back against the wall, his head rolling as Finn pulled him up and over his shoulder. “Nope, all good.” He grinned. Finn was handsome, and it felt different to be held by him. It felt nice. He was saying something again- he had a warm voice, and under the brighter lights, he glowed. 

They were moving faster now, up a ramp, and he breathed in deeply. He could smell the engine exhaust, and the dull metallic smell that ships always seemed to hold onto, no matter how weathered they were. He glanced around as Finn helped him through the ship’s narrow corridors, into the cockpit, and down into his pilot’s seat. He whined as he was dumped into the chair, but falling quiet as Finn plopped down in the co-pilot’s seat beside him. BB was saying something, and muscle memory took over as his hands flashed across the dashboard, flipping the engines on, bringing life into the buttons and switches in front of him.

“Woah woah woah, what about Rey?”

“If I know her, she came on her X-wing,” Poe slid his chair forward, his head clearing up a bit now that he and Finn weren’t touching- something he’d have time to digest later. Leaning towards the windshield, he pointed through the glass. “Yup. And here she comes.”

The pair watched as Rey’s robes flashed by, the blue glow of her saber vanishing as she sprinted, vaulting up into the cockpit of her waiting vessel, glancing in their direction and flashing them a big grin. Poe gave her a salute before the freighter’s engines roared, and he followed her X-wing out of the hangar, crowing with Finn and BB-8 as they shot out into open space.

#poe #poe dameron #finn #finnpoe mention #finnpoe #tlj #tros #tfa #canon offshoot #star wars

[egglegion]

Half of a curse: part 2

(Fethry duck x Poe de spell fic)

Fethry woke up by himself.

Except for the raven who was still sleeping on his belly.

Fethry slowly scooped it, and moved it to the side of his hed.

Gladstone din't even make a slund when he left, not wanting to wake up his cousin.

It had been at leat 2 hours. 2 hours of extra sleep Fethry managed to get.

He was feeling just as energetic as always. He was going to get up, din't want to wake the raven who was still in a peaceful rest.

Fethry just sat there, drowsiness began do dawn on him.

"Hey Feth you awake" Della busted through the door. "Help mem and gladdy carry those weapons will ya". Fethry turned his head the spear, triton, and two shields where still laying there, on the ground.

"Do i have toooooo" Gladatone moaned behind della. Donald, who was carrying a sword just walked past, and shot the goose a glare.

"So did you win" Fethry asked. "Nope that witch din't even show up..heh coward" Della said proudly while sniffling, and posing.

"Aren't you worried she might show up?" Fethry asked. "It's okay we got duckworth, beakly, and lena on lookout duty. "Lena?" Gladstone said lightly shoving della out of the way, leaning on Fethry "what is she gonna do?". "Apparently she can sense magica's magic because she was birthed of her magic, or something like that" Della responded. "Do you mean like they share the magic, or it's split between the two... or" Fethry was cut off "i don't know, go ask her yourself" Della said.

The raven woke up during all the comotion. It flew on to the top of Fethry's head. It nuzzled itself in his beanie.

Donald, Della, Gladstone, and Fethry went to scrooge's garage. Webby alrady took her own weapons back into her bedroom.

The cousins where just talking about life. Donald tripped, and cut a hole in his sailor hat, and Gladstone found $20.

Donald left the group, becuase he was pretty upset by the cut of his sailor hat.

The raven was still purched above Fethry's hat.

The three cousins finally arrived at the garage where they proceeded to dump the weapons.

The raven started to wonder a bit, and Fethry kept an eye on it to make sure it wouldn't get lost, or even worse hurt.

Thinking about the crow, Fethry realized he never gave it a name. So he pondered there for a bit. "What should i name it?"

"Gladstone 2" Gladstone answered as he looked at himself in a mirror. He bakced away once the mirror reflected a lady, in a white dress, drowched in blood. "How about Nitro. Cool name right?" Della swang a sword she polished with her sleeve.

"Hmmm i think i'll name it Caim" Seems like a pretty fitting name, if you ask me Gladstone said. "Although i would have preferred Gladstone 2, just saying." "No way. Nitro is a cooler name!" Della exclaimed.

Fethry giggled. "hey Caim, buddy over here" The raven although a bit confused by the name decided to follow them, knowing they were about to exit.

The three of them closed the door.

"Wow the coolest of things were down there, huh" Della said as she gave galdstone the shoulder. "Yeah. Cool" Gladstone sighed.

"So las. What are yoh planning on doing with the other amulate." "I don't know....do you mind keeping it where that vault where yoh have all those weird... and erm dangerous creatures and items are." "Are you sure? those amulets. I know these mean a great deal to you, and i want to make sure that you're sure. You have the most rights to decide where this amulet goes, and what' done about it." "I'm sure. I'm done with my family's magic for a while." Lena, and Scrooge have been having a conversation.

Fethry, and Della got close to them. Gladstone followed a twenty dollar bill, that was down the hall. It had come from an aopen window.

"Where is donald, has that lad finish bringing his armory back." "Nope, but he will soon." "His hat got damaged so he went to get a new one" Della told scrooge. "I see, scrooge said" we were talking about what we should do with the second amulet, i thought lena here should choose what happens to it."

The amulet caught the raven's attention.

They started to walk down the hall, to the "forbidden vault" scrooge always told Fethry, and his cousins not to enter.

Lena was holding the second amulet in her hand. It had started to glow a dark purple color. Webby, and Violet walked in.

"What's it doing, it's kinda pretty, but dangerous, but so glowey?" Webby said in awe. "It seems to be reacting to something, nowing that it din't react before while we were gathered, what ever is spurring that reation is near.

They all paused. "Wait, that raven... uncle Poe?"

Then out of the blue the raven that was perched upon Fethry's hat suddenly swooped down, and snatched the amulet with it's claws.

"Hey" lena yelled. She pointed at tye raven who had now lost itself withing the mansion's doors, and corridors.

They decided to split up to cover more ground.

Webby, Violet, and Fethry ran in the same direction

They spotted the raven, who had the amulet. Fethry pointed out how "Caim" couldn't fly, nor carry that thing far due to it's injured leg.

That's all Webby needed to hear. She took out her grappling hook, and aimed at at a nearby lamp. She swang, and was aiming for the crow.

"Wait!" Fethry yelled. This distracted webby, and she missed her target. What she din't miss was the hard wooden floor.

Fethry, and Violet cringed as webby hit the floow with a loud thud.

The raven continued to fly.

"There was no need to to hurt Caim, right?" Fethry stated with a sheepish look.

Violet calmly checked to see if webby had any serious injuries.k

Although it seemed to be nothing serious, Webby could not walk properly. Her leg seemed to hurt whenever she stepped. She couldn't walk without limping let alone run.

Violet offered to be her support, and shot Fethry an annoyed glare.

"So what are you waiting for. Go catch that raven of yours. It's getting away you buffoon."

"Sorry?" Fethry pulled on his collar with his ring finger, and laughed akwardly.

Violet just shook herr head.

"Right" Fethry said before running after the raven

"Hey Caim, Caim" Fethry stumbled around the corridors "where are you"

he ran into donald. "Hey donald did you see Caim around here" "erm.. who" "my raven".

Fethry continued to go down the hall. Donald looked at him scratching his chin.

"Hey Feathers watch out" Fethry, and Della crashed. Lena Soon arrived from behind.

"You two alright?" Lena said. "Did you find my un- the raven." "Nope" Fethry said in response as he rubbed his head.

"Ooow" Feathry moaned. Della quickly got up, and offered Fethry a hand. Fethry accepted it.

"He flew somewhere around here.

"I guess we should start checking rooms" Della said. "Sounds cool" Lena agreed.

Fethry ran back. He checked a bedroom, but nothing was there except for a plushie of a bunny with blue trousers.

Fethry went back to check the garage. He looked around, and din't see much, but there was so much in this room, that he got distracted.

Fethry looked around. Saw a sword stuck in a big stone. The stone had a plate that reads Excalibur. He touched it, and pulled it up with ease. He quickly put it back not wanting to damage the shiny sword.

Fethry even found a picture of him, and his cousins when they were young. They decided to prank scrooge that day. They put whip cream on his had. He was supposed to wake up once they blowed the horn, and he would smither his face with whip cream. He ended up slapping Donald. Gladstone being Gladstone took a picture, and printed it.

He continued to roam around the garage looking for tue raven. After observing portrait of Donald, Della, and scrooge fighting an army of pirates he sighed, and was about to back out.

He started walking, but bumped into someone. He turned around, and saw Donald.

"Oh hey don, watchu doiiing?" Fethry said while eyeing him up, and down.

Donald just seemed to stand still, and tilted his head as he observed Fethry.

"Hey, don why do you have that gauntlet in your hand?"

It was a gauntlet. A shiny yellow gauntlet that seemed to ge emitting a green aora.

"Hey don, hey don, hey don?" Fethry said, but go no answer, but a stare.

Fethry felt a bit creeped out.

"Mmmmmphhhh" Fethry heard muffled yells from behind him.

He looked back, and saw a white cloth covering to moving figures.

He quickly uncovered it.

He was shook.

He saw Donald, and Gladstone tied together from arms, hands, and ankles. Their beaks were allso shut down by ropes, and some random cloths.

"Mmmmph" They both let out a muffled whimper, looking at Fethry.

"Hold up. Donald, if you're here than who's that?"

He turned around to see the other Donald pointing his gauntlet at him.

The last thing he saw was a green light beam speeding towards him. It hit him with a splash, and the world went black.

#fethry duck #poe de spell #fethry x poe #della duck #gladstone gander #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #the phantom blot #phantom blot #lena de spell #webby vanderquack #violet sabrewing #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #fanfic #fanfiction #egglegion

[that-one-girl-who-writes]

A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The Vile Village.

The book begins with the Baudelaires in Mr. Poe’s office, awaiting a new guardian. Mr. Poe gives a brochure to the Baudelaire orphans about a new program allowing an entire village to serve as guardian, based on the saying ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’

The children choose V.F.D.

V.F.D was an abbreviation to which the Quagmire’s referred to but before they could explain further during their kidnap by Count Olaf and his theater group. The children depart for the unknown V.F.D. by bus, and after a long, hot and dusty walk from the bus stop, they reach the town of V.F.D. which is filled with crows.

They become acquainted with the Council of Elders, who proclaims that the children will do all the chores for the entire village, but they will be living with Hector. A handyman, who takes them to his home, where he shows them the house, the barn, and the Nevermore Tree, where all the crows would come to roost at night.

The Baudelaires learn that V.F.D. stands for the Village of Fowl Devotees. Hector then shows the Baudelaires the following couplet, which he says was found at the base of Nevermore Tree:

For sapphires, we are held in here,

Only you can end our fear.

The Baudelaires discover that Hector has been breaking the voluminous list of strict and unfair town rules by keeping a secret library and working on a hot-air mobile home in his barn so that he can sail away forever. The Baudelaire’s tell Hector how Isadora might be sending them clues through the poems. They also discover a new couplet under the tree, though they’ve kept the tree under surveillance the whole night, which reads:

Until dawn comes we cannot speak,

No words can come from this sad beak.

Three members of the Council of Elders report that Count Olaf has been ‘captured’, and the Baudelaires are to report immediately to the Town Hall. The Baudelaires though discover that Count Olaf was not captured, but instead, a man named Jacques Snicket, who just so happens to share the same surname as the author, was. 

It was because Jacques also had a unibrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. The children insist he is not Count Olaf, but the townspeople ignore them.

The next day Jacques was to be wrongfully burned at the stake so that night the orphans construct a plan that Sunny would keep watch at Nevermore Tree to see where the poems are coming from, Klaus searches the rules of V.F.D. for something to help Jacques out of trouble and Violet helps finish Hector’s hot-air balloon device, for it will be a useful escape device just in case if Count Olaf came after them.

Violet fixes the hot air balloon and Klaus discovers that a rule allows the accused to make a speech explaining himself. If a few people say something, mob psychology can make everyone demand the same thing and thus they can suggest that Jacques be freed. Sunny discovers that the crows are somehow delivering the couplets, and finds a new one:

The first thing you read contains the clue,

An initial way to speak to you.

When the children run to the uptown jail where Jacques is being held, they learn that he is dead. V.F.D.’s police officer, Luciana, announces that Jacques, as Count Olaf, has been murdered in the night, and Olaf, masquerading as Detective Dupin, accuses the Baudelaires of murdering ‘Count Olaf.’

He claims a hair ribbon belonging to Violet and a lens from Klaus’s glasses were found on the scene, and Sunny’s teeth marks are on the body. Of course, the evidence was false but the people ignore the fact that the orphans had solid alibis and they are locked up inside the Deluxe Cell in the prison, prior to being burnt at the stake the following day for breaking the town rules.

Olaf, abandoning his Dupin disguise, tells them that one of them will make a great escape before the burning, as one child is needed alive to inherit the family fortune, and he leaves them to decide who will survive.

While they are locked up, Klaus realizes that it is his 13th birthday before Officer Luciana enters the cell, grudgingly brings them water and bread as that is one of the many rules governing the village.

But Violet is able to use the bread and water to allow them to escape. By pouring the pitcher of water repeatedly down a wooden bench onto the wall to soften the mortar, and then squeezing the water out of the bread where it had collected at the bottom of the wall. This process, repeated all through the day, evening and following morning slowly starts to yield results by weakening the thick brick walls of the prison cell

At daybreak, Hector comes to the window and tells them that if they manage to break out, he has the hot-air balloon ready. He also gives them the daily couplet:

Inside these letters, the eye will see,

Nearby are your friends and V.F.D

They line up all the couplets and read it all once more, using the sixth line, “An initial way to speak to you”, to read the first initial of each line:

For sapphires, we are held in here.

Only you can end our fear.

Until dawn comes we cannot speak.

No words can come from this sad beak.

The first thing you read contains the clue.

An initial way to speak to you.

Inside these letters, the eye will see.

Nearby are your friends and V.F.D.

The Baudelaires figure out the sapphires refer to the Quagmires’ fortune. The Quagmire's way of ‘speaking’ to the Baudelaire orphans is not V.F.D. but the first letter in each verse, which spells out FOUNTAIN so they rush to Fowl Fountain but can't do anything.

They begin falling and Sunny inadvertently presses a secret button in the eye of the crow, which opens the beak, revealing the damp Quagmires inside. They flee the pitchfork-carrying mob and run for the outskirts of town. As they go, the Quagmires explain that Count Olaf locked them in the tower of his house. Then he had his associates build the fountain and imprisoned the Quagmires.

The Quagmires attached a couplet to the crows’ feet every morning, which fell off in the Nevermore Tree when the paper was dry. They tell the Baudelaires that the man who died was Jacques Snicket, but the mob catches sight of them and they have to continue to run. They reach the outskirts of town and Hector arrives in his hot-air mobile home.

He throws down a rope ladder and the Quagmires start to climb up to get inside. Officer Luciana shoots at the rope ladder with a harpoon gun, breaking the rope whilst the Baudelaires are still climbing and preventing them from continuing - they jump down to earth, saying good-bye to the Quagmires who then throw their notebooks down to the orphans so they can read their research. 

Unfortunately, Officer Luciana’s final harpoon pierces the books, destroying and scattering many of the pages, as the hot-air mobile home heads towards the horizon. The book ends with Olaf and Officer Luciana, who removes her helmet and reveals herself to be Esmé Squalor, escape by motorcycle, and the Baudelaires fleeing the village on foot.

Check out the next summary here: The Hostile Hospital.

#asoue #summaries #booklr #booklover #booksmart #a series of unfortunate events

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Raven”

Y/N is a very unusual metahuman that can use her powerful abilities just once before being turned into a Raven forever; that’s why it’s really strange she decided to sacrifice herself in order to save The Joker’s life. But there’s a reason for everything and maybe the unbreakable curse is nothing more than a blessing in disguise.

“It doesn’t look good,” you hover over The Joker, analyzing the gunshot wound that keeps on bleeding through his green shirt.

“It’s not bad,” he growls, pressing his abdomen.

“Where are you, prick?” someone yells and the echo carries over the words around the abandoned building.

“Do you believe you can escape?” another voice resonates in the vast premises.

“Tick-Tock, Clown!” another man howls in the quietness, certain The King of Gotham has no escape.

“Fuck…,” J tries to get up but he slides back down against the wall.

“I think it’s pretty bad,” you state the obvious. “You’re injured, out of bullets and they are near: your crew won’t find you in time.”

“Shit…,” he groans in pain, the throbbing ache intensifying with each passing moment.

“I’m gonna help you,” Y/N shares her scheme and although the news should make him happy, it doesn’t.

“W-what do you mean?!” The Joker stutters even if he knows the implications of such statement. You’re quiet and he continues: “Why would you do something like that?...”

You smile at his bafflement, the affirmation completely surprising him:

“Because you’re the only one that never asked.”

“You shouldn’t use it on me!” J’s truthful reply is interrupted by the henchmen entering the desolated space where the fallen Prince of Crime has found refuge. “Who am I supposed to talk to if you’re gone?” the genuine question makes you realize there’s actually a soul in this world who’ll miss you.

“We didn’t really talk too much,” you softly chuckle and turn to confront the men halted in their tracks seeing you’re positioned in front of The Joker.

“The freak is here,” a goon whispers loud enough to be heard by the ones arriving behind him.

“Hey Y/N!” their leader detaches from the crowd. “What are you doing here?!”

The lack of an answer combined with the feral expression on your face prompts the mobster to wave his pistol as a sign for truce.

“Let’s not do anything hasty, shall we?... …. Hm?... I’m aware you had so many offers over the years; consider mine again: if you wield your powers to finish the green haired asshole, I will triple the amount of money from the highest bidder!”

You scoff at the absurd idea, describing how stupid you considered the monetary proposals suggested by numerous individuals in the past:

“And what am I supposed to do with the riches once I cease to exist?!”

A bullet shrieks by your ear, ending up in the wall behind where J collapsed a couple of minutes ago.

“Sorry I missed, boss!” the man apologizes and this is enough to set you off; you turn your head to gaze at The Joker, delivering a last warning.

“Close your eyes or you’ll go blind!”

“Don’t let her clap her hands!” the kingpin shouts but it’s too late: a deafening bang fills up the air and the strong light emanating from your body burns J’s closed eyelids. He covers his face with bloody fingers while the screams and smell of torched flesh makes him nauseated; it’s so disgusting he gags yet the insane King can’t help a smirk at the sweet victory, even if comes  with such a heavy price.

Gurgling noises and muffled cries persist for another 15 seconds before they abruptly halt.

“Meet me in dreams,” is Y/N’s final sentence and immediately after the sound of flapping wings queue The Joker to finally open his eyes.

The view is cringe worthy: puddles of steamy, boiling tar scattered all around bearing witness to the consequences of your rage: nobody’s alive anymore except J and the Raven picking at the clothes you wore earlier.

His cell phone goes off and he has difficulty searching the purple jacket for the item he has no need for.

“Sir! We’re coming! Almost on the 32nd street!” Frost reports in a frenzy and The Joker sneers, wheezing from the effort of trying to stay awake.

“Nice timing,” and he hangs up, muttering to himself: ’”Goddamned jerks…”

The bird suddenly flies in his lap, curiously checking him out.

“I think I’m gonna pass out…” the damaged Clown slowly blinks before losing conscience which is alright since he had to speak to you anyway.

Every time you meet in dreams, you are always waiting for him on this deserted, calm beach staring at the waves in the distance. Today is not different.

He takes a sit by the woman that saved his life, silently analyzing her features: The Joker knows he won’t see them again except in this place.

When you said you didn’t speak much, it was true; if he tries to remember the first instance you showed up in his life, the moment blurs out and disappears in the background of his troubled mind. You would just randomly pop up while he was alone, keeping each other company for hours and often barely uttering a sentence. The eerie Y/N preferred J’s presence simply due to his lack of interest in her unusual power and he tolerated her because she never sought any kind of reward from their awkward connection. In the matter of fact, J never even tried to touch you; it was relaxing to be with an individual that plainly didn’t want anything from you whilst the rest of the world begged for attention: how many requested you aid them and manipulate your ability in order to annihilate their enemies? How many promised compensations beyond measure in exchange of your mighty gift? Way too many.

Yet The Joker didn’t care about it; the most he would do was to share his favorite drink after a new brand of grape juice hit the market.

And now the person he shared with was gone forever.

“Your team is almost at the warehouse,” you address him, bending your knees until your chin touches them. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” J indifferently replies. “Told you it’s not serious.”

You snicker at his stubbornness, pointing out the evident reality:

“That’s why you fainted and started to dream about me?”

Your escort huffs, struggling to confess stuff hard to articulate in these circumstances.

“Thank you for…umm…for…”

“You don’t have to thank me; it was my choice and I fulfilled my destiny. It’s over and I’m free. I’ll still visit, ok?”

“Mister Joker! Sir, can you hear me?” Frost’s voice interrupts J’s dream: the gang is searching the deserted property for their leader and the only thing he notices is The Raven flying in circles above his head.

***********

Three weeks later, 9:37pm

The Joker extends his arm and you land on it, gently digging your claws in his skin for equilibrium.

“Where were you all day?!” he scolds and you caw, evoking complaints from the man that can’t sleep without his bird. “I wish you were a nightingale, this way you can chirp some cute songs.”

You fly on his shoulder to peck at the diamond earring, annoyed at his remark.

“Ouch! Ouch!” he shrugs, but doesn’t chase you away. “I recognize crows appreciate shiny things, but it hurts.”

Poking escalates and J vaguely apologizes on his own terms:

“I meant Raven! Raven!!” he repeats and struts inside The Penthouse where your pillow awaits. “Are you hungry?” the Prince of Crime offers a bunch of crumbs and expensive seeds he ordered for the spunky pest. You hop on the nightstand and play with the food, not particularly captivated by the lavish feast.

The Joker rolls in bed, gesturing for the pillow next to him.

“My girlfriend’s out of town, you can crush on her side of bed,” the affirmation makes you float to her cushion, instantly plucking the fabric with your beak, then jump up and down, cawing some more.

The Clown laughs, entertained at the temper tantrum.

“I know you don’t like her and the feeling is mutual,” he caresses the soft, black feathers as you continue to shred Lara’s pillow. “Stoooop! These are fresh sheets!” he pleads and distracts you by showing his patched up abdomen from under the t-shirt. “Look, my lesion is healing; wanna see?” a corner of the bandage is peeled for the guest to properly inspect the stitches.

Y/N bounces on The Joker’s chest, cautiously examining his wound.

“Cool, huh?” he grins and reaches his hand for the book resting under his pillow, surprisingly enough containing your favorite poem. “The Raven. By Edgar Allan Poe,” J emphasizes and you spread your wings with delight, quickly rushing to his neck and cuddle against the playing cards tattoo.

The King of Gotham holds the book with one hand and pets you with the other, his husky tone recites the verses you love so much.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…” the beautiful, dark rhyme soothes a tired Y/N scarcely recalling what it means to be human.

Yet being near HIM reminds her on how much she longs for what was lost when she willingly sacrificed herself to save the one that didn’t ask to be saved.

*************

Following morning, 8:21 am

The Joker is swimming outside on the terrace and you’re having a blast in the inflatable pool he set by his lounge chair for the enchanted, feathered companion. This is a thousand times extra enjoyable when his new girlfriend is not home!

She’s a complete nutcase, totally obsessed with The Clown and certainly doesn’t understand why he’s paying so much attention to a filthy, gross creature.

Who the hell gets a crow as pet?! Apparently her boyfriend, although he didn’t tell her who you truly are. Why bother? It’s a secret you and J share; nobody has to find out, although plenty of concerned parties would spend a fortune for an update: Y/N hasn’t been spotted recently and it’s troublesome.

“Raven Queen!” J emerges from the pool since he has to take it easy; the doctor said no more than 15 minutes of physical activity every day. “I have a little present,” he yanks at the towel on the lounge chair, unraveling a box full of gold rings, Rolexes and chains under it.

Oh my God, so shiny and sparkly in the morning sun!!!

You fly from your pool straight into the container, happily tapping at the treasures. The Joker dries his body and chitchats with his bird, excited you enjoy the shimmering gems.

“You can steal them and hide them,” he winks and you sure are taking advantage of it as soon as possible. “Do you have a nest?” J inquires and teases afterwards: “Did you find yourself a Raven King?”

That’s pretty rude, you think and swiftly attack him, careful not to scratch his face in the process.

“Cut it out!” The Joker demands and gives up the fight really fast. ”OK, OK, I surrender!” he chuckles as you rise up, gliding in the wind gushing above The Penthouse. The plan is simple: charge at the toxic green locks and pull on the strands, assuring at least two or three hairs will be removed as revenge.  J takes a defensive stance, preparing to catch and keep you captive in the fluffy towel until you calm down.

BANG! the gunshot halts the fun and The Clown Prince of crime watches in horror as The Raven falls to the ground in front of his girlfriend.

“Babe, are you alright?” Lara squeals, kicking the bird at her feet. “I told you having a wild animal as pet it’s an awful idea! I saw the crazy bird attacked you, it might have rabies!!” she kicks you again and the small body convulsing on the hard concrete makes him lose his marbles. “Thank heavens I returned sooner than expected,” the woman explains, nervous to detect the angry Joker stomping towards her.

“What the fuck are you doing??!!” he screams and violently pushes her, slapping the gun out of her hand. Lara stumbles on her own steps, not comprehending why her partner is livid rather than showing gratitude.

“What do you mean?” she gulps and J bends over to pick you up when you let out a cry, the sinister noise resembling a human’s wailing. “The bird was attacking you, I was afraid!”

“It wasn’t attacking me, we were messing around!”

“Messing around?!” the woman mumbles, confused.

“Get a hold of Frost and tell him I need a veterinarian! NOW!!!” The Joker barks as he enters The Penthouse.

“Jesus…,” Lara sniffles and texts, irritated at his behavior. “Why is he so mad about?! The dumb beast is nothing but an outbreak of infection and bacteria!” she maliciously grumbles, sending the message to Jonny.

Something whooshes by her and before she has a chance to see what it is, a bunch of ravens and crows unexpectedly storm at the petrified Lara: they are answering your call, mercilessly tearing and scraping at the enemy.

“J!!! J!!!!” she runs without noticing where she’s going, panicked at the multitude of birds relentlessly chasing her; it’s a miracle she stumbles upon the tiny shed which stores pool supplies and manages to squeeze inside.  

The birds keep on bombarding her temporary hideout as she begs for assistance:

“J !!! J !!!! Please help me!!! J!!!!”

Yet The Joker can’t hear: he raced upstairs to the master bedroom and placed you on the comforter, trying to assess how severe the injuries are; one of the wings is bleeding and there are probably broken bones also.

“Don’t die…” J whispers because it sure seems Y/N is fading away: the bird can barely breathe and for the first time in ages he feels sad. “If you leave, we won’t be able to meet in dreams…”

The King of Gotham crawls in bed, unsure if he should caress you or not; what if he dislocates something else by accident? Instead he kisses the top of your head, the velvety feathers tickling his lips.

The sudden glow radiating from The Raven makes him close his eyes tight: it’s so strong it burns just like when you used your powers to rescue him. It doesn’t last longer than 10 seconds and sensing the light dimmed, J decides to open his eyes. A few black quills still drift in the air and he glares at the tearful Y/N, shocked to see her:

“Everything hurts,” you start sobbing and the bloody arm, plus the bruised torso urge him to cover your naked body with the corner of the quilt. “H-how am I h-here?!” you stammer and grab his thumb while The Joker is in a trance, speechless at the witnessed phenomenon because it’s impossible to come up with a logical reasoning.

Such a shame neither of you realize that even affection coming from a rotten heart can be pure enough to shatter an unbreakable curse.  

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me in AO3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho. 

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

[janetbrown711]

"Magica?" Poe looked at her curiously, "you look uh-"

"Like a rotting corpse?!" She picked him up and squeezed against him, her eye accidentally falling out as she did so.

"Woah.. that uh-... that fell right out there," he commented. Magica growled.

"Something has happened," she sneered, picking up her eye and putting it back.

"Yep," poe just nodded.

"I knew it! I could feel the dark shadow forces stirring," she began to pace her small skull island.

"I'm not suprised because i saw her! The princess Webbigail!"

Magica paused.

"Webbigail... alive...?" Her eye twitched.

"That Vanderquack brat?!" She threw Poe against a wall.

"Uh- yes..? I guess she got a kick in the head- the curse just isn't what it used to be," he shrugged.

"That's why im stuck here in limbo!!!" She realized furiously. "My curse is unfulfilled!" She flung her arms out, her hand flying clean off with the rest of her arm length glove. She sat and cried dramatically.

"Oh Poe... look at me," she flung herself on a rock. "I'm falling apart."

"Oh no Magica," Poe said as he brought over her hand. "Considering how long you've been dead, you look pretty good."

"Bah..." she pushed it away as Poe put back on her hand.

"Magica, you do! You do!" He tried to convince.

"Really?" She sniffled.

"Is this the face of a crow who would lie to you?" He smiled innocently. "Come on, for a minute there you had your old spark back!"

"Before I had lost the gift from the dark spirits," she hissed and sat up. "And the key to my powers!"

"What? You mean this old thing," he lifted up the purple gemstone. Magica gasped.

"Where did you find this?" She inquired.

"Oh i found it-"

"Give it to me!" She snatched it.

"Wha-"

"My old friend-"

"Brother-"

"Friend, together again," she had been talking to the stone. She picked it up and embraced it to her cheek.

"Now my dark purpose can be fulfilled!" She laughed. "And the last of the Vanderquacks will die!!!"

"Where is that wind coming from?" Poe looked around, but lightning quickly flashed and shot him out of his seat.

"Come forth my minions!!!" she called, dark shadows swirling out of the purple gen like a massive hurricanes.

"It is time to fulfill your purpose one last time!!! Go!! Fly!!! And kill Princess Webbigail!!!"

.o0o.

Louie was the last one of the three (well four, if you counted the dog- which he didnt) to sit down, and when he tried to sit next to his uncle, Lena had sat down right there and growled at him. Louie rolled his eyes and sat next to Webby.

"Mut gets the window seat," he muttered under his breath. Donald rolled his eyes and continued forging the fake documents for Webby. Webby fiddled with her necklace.

"Hey- you know that's not very ladylike, right? You're a Grand Duchess" Louie asked. Webby harumphed and slumped over.

"How is it you know what a Grand Duchess' is even like?" She said.

"I make it my business to know," he smirked.

"Oh," she gave up and kept playing with the necklace. Louie sighed.

"Look, Webby, i'm just trying to help," he teased. Donald side eyed him. Webby sat up.

"Louie, do you really think im royalty?" She asked.

"You know I do," he said.

"Oh yeah? Then stop bossing me around!" She spat, slouching over and playing with the necklace once again.

Donald chuckled. "She certainly has a mind of her own."

"I hate that in a woman," he growled. Webby stuck out her tongue at him before returning to face the window.

Donald chuckled and marked off "Webby- 24" and "Louie- 3" on a spare piece of paper. He was having fun. There was a long stretch of silence, Webby got out a book (Louie didn't even know if she could actually read, but it appeared so), and Donald excused himself for a moment.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot," Louie sighed.

"Good, I agree," she snarked. "But i accept your apology."

"Apology? Who said I was sorry?" Louie gawked.

"I still accept it," she smiled cheekily and went back to her book. She paused a second.

"Are you gonna miss it?" She asked.

"Miss what?" Louie asked.

"Russia," Webby stared out the window.

"No," Louie said flatly.

"But... it was your home," Webby said.

"It was a place... that I lived in... end of story." he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Well then you must plan on staying and making Paris your home, huh?" Webby asked.

"What is with you a-and home?" He threw his arms in the air.

"Well- for one, its something every normal person wants," she huffed, "and for another thing, its just- ugh. Forget it," she climbed out of the train booth just as Donald appeared with Lena once more.

"Oh thank goodness you are here- get him out of my sight," Webby scowled before leaving.

"Louie, what did you do?" Donald sighed.

"Me?! I-it's her! Won't stop talking about home and stuff..." he crossed his arms and sat back down.

"Louie, it's not her fault. She doesn't know," Donald sat by him.

"Yeah, yeah," he blew it off. Donald sighed and went back to his paperwork.

"I'm... i'm gonna get some fresh air," Louie went out of the cabin.

"And i'll be here," Donald shook his head slowly.

Little did they know, a swarm of dark shadows were flying speedily not too far away.

But for now, it was time for their papers to be checked. As Donald waited in line he overheard a conversation.

"I cannot believe i had to delay this trip for a week because they changed the papers from blue to red! It's outrageous!"

"Blue.. to red?" Donald looked down.

Their papers were blue.

Donald dashed his way out of line and back to Louie, who went back to the cabin not too long ago.

"Something wrong?" Louie asked.

"One thing i hate about this government is that everything is in red," he explained. Louie rubbed his face.

"Hoh boy," Louie rubbed his face and started packing their things.

"I suggest we move to the baggage cart," Donald said.

"On it," Louie nodded. He nudged the sleeping Webby in the corner, who punched him square in the face. He fell back in his seat.

"Oh i'm so- oh it was you. Nevermind," she relaxed. Louie rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, we gotta go," he took her hand.

"Wha- where are we going?" She asked. Louie didn't explain.

"Men are such babies," she muttered under her breath, following him anyway.

"Ah, yes. This'll do nicely," Louie nodded.

"She'll freeze in here," donald rubbed his arms from the cold.

"She'll thaw in Paris," Louie rolled his eyes.

"What are we doing in the baggage car?" Webby asked. Both men shrugged with giant grins on their faces. "There wouldn't be anything wrong with our papers, would there?"

"Of course not, you grace," Louie mocked lightly, "it is just that I hate to see you with all those commonfolk." He spat the words like they were poison. Webby scoffed.

"Funny," she rolled her eyes and sat on a bag, before noticing that Lena wouldn't stop barking at a door.

"Lena? What's wrong?" She asked.

"She's a mutt, that's what," Louie said. Webby shot him a look and only that. As Donald went to investigate, the cart flung and all three of them fell to the ground, the cart somehow separating from the rest of the train. Donald stood up again and noticed that the engine room was on fire like mad.

"I think someone messed with the engine," Donald shouted over the wind. Louie huffed, took off his jacket and went to see for himself, instructing the others to stay there. Louie successfully got in after climbing over the coal cart, but it was too hot see anything and coals and hot pieces of rock were flying everywhere. He tried to look at the speedometer, but the fire grew and practically burned his feet, forcing him back.

"We're going way too fast!" Webby cried out. Louie quickly came back.

"Nobody is driving this train," he explained, "we're gonna have to jump." Webby and Donald nodded. Together they all opened a door they could all jump through but say they were far above the ground, and jumping would be impossible.

"We'll disconnect the car," Louie said, going outside to do it. He put his foot on it, but somehow it had melted.

"C'mon! I need a wrench- an axe- anything!" He called for his uncle, who handed him a hammer.

Lena's continuous barking distracted Webby from her search for something useful.

"What's the matter with you today?" Webby out her hands on her hips and Lena lowered her head to the box she was standing on labeled "explosives".

"Lena! You're a genius!" Webby picked up a stick of dynamite. It was good timing too because not long after, Louie's hammer broke.

"Ugh! C'mon! There's gotta be something in there better than this!" He held his hand out and Webby placed the lit stick of dynamite. Louie blinked and looked at it.

"Well that'll work," he lodged it in it's place. "Go Go Go!" Everyone scrambled to the back of the cart, as the dynamite exploded.

"Well! Now we got plenty of track so we'll wait til it comes to a stop!" Louie said. He jinxed it though, as a swarm of black shadow demons could be seen destroying the larger bridge up ahead.

"You were saying?" Webby blinked. Louie growled, saw a massive chain and hook on the ground and got another idea.

"I need your help donald. Would ya give me a hand?" Louie asked. Just as he did though, Donald fell backward into a giant crate so Webby took her own liberty and decided to fill in.

"Hand me the chain," Louie had climbed down and was using all his strength to connect with the train from the bottom. Webby started to hand it to him when he stopped her.

"Not you!"

"Donald's busy. Wanna die or not?!" She gave him the chain. He took it and secured it to the bottom of the train. Then, a pipe broke loose and almost killed him, but Webby helped pull him up just in time. Their eyes met and he gazed into them for a long moment, but their look snapped when they saw a branch get destroyed.

"And to think it coulda been you," she teased a little, smirking. Louie cleared his throat and she helped him back inside.

"If we get through this... remind me to thank you," he shook his head, trying to get the flushed feeling out of his face.

"Here goes nothing," him and Webby pushed the chain off, and it connected to the track, but jerked the trainso it went off the rails but stilm showed no sign of slowing.

"Well boys, guess this is our stop!" Webby called as the men readied themselves. Soon, they linked arms.

"One... two... three!" They jumped off and into the snow. In the distance they saw the massive explosion the engine and baggage cart left and sighed breaths of relief.

"I... hate trains," Louie panted, collapsing in the snow.

"Me too," Webby groaned.

"Welp... gotta get going sometime. C'mon," Donald helped the two up and they headed off to find a town.

.o0o.

"No!!!" Magica slammed her fists on the table. She had been watching the whole thing with her magic.

"Woah, take it easy there," Poe said. Magica glared at him.

"How could they let her escape?!" She threw and shattered a skull into the ground.

"Ah, you're right, it is very upsetting," he acknowledged. "Guess this relic is broken," he threw it, but Magica scrambled to catch it, so much so her elbow fell off and her muscles streched to catch it.

"You IDIOT!" she growled.

"Now- master I-"

"I sold my soul for this!!!" She picked him up and squeezed him tightly.

"My very existence depends on it!!! And you almost shattered it!!!!" She threw him against a wall, harder than she had before.

"Yeah yeah, blame me, i'm an easy target," he coughed and muttered.

"What are you muttering about?" She looked at him.

"Oh just Webbigail. Wishing I could do the job for you Magica. I'd kill her nice and quick," he saluted.

"You are a crow and an imbecile," she rubbed her forehead, but then laughed to herself. He looked at her puzzled but she patted his head.

"No, no my dear Poe. I have something else in mind. Something a lot more... sinister to finish the job." She cackled, lightning flashing behind her.

"Uh- and what would that be?" He asked.

"Poe... where's the fun in telling you that?"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

#webbistasia #ducktales #my fics #magica de spell #webby vanderquack #louie duck #lena de spell #donald duck #poe de spell #fun times amirite

[romana73]

REYLO FANFIC: YIN AND YAN. 3 PART

WRITER: Romana73 TIME: One year after Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi THEME AND FANDOM: Star Wars RATING: Explicit TITLE: Yin and Yan CATEGORIES: M / F COUPLES: Kylo Ren / Ben Solo and Rey CHARACTERS: Rey, Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, Anakin Skywalker (nominated), BB - 8, Knights of Ren, Chewbacca, Darth Vader (nominated), Finn, General Hux, Han Solo (nominated), Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, boys from Canto Bright, Snoke (nominated), various Resistance and First Order fighters WARNINGS: The characters, the world and the stories of Star Wars AREN’T MINE AND DON’T BELONG TO ME, but they are created and owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Disney, J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson and the actors who play the Star Wars characters and their stories. I’M NOT IN ANY WAY LINKED TO THESE PEOPLE AND CINEMATOGRAPHIC HOUSES. I DON’T KNOW NO ONE OF THEM and I’M IN NO WAY IN CONTACT WITH THEM WARNINGS 2: violence, also at the language level. The starting idea of ​​this story derives from a leaks I read last year and which struck my imagination CHAPTER I can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189784450126/reylo-fanfiction-yin-e-yan CHAPTER II can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189959876431/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-part-2

CHAPTER III

Rey remembered attacking Kylo with all herself, animated by a dull anger, until then, she didn't know she was feeling. Sometimes her vision blurred, while in her mind images of workouts she had spied on boy 's head swirled when they had joined hands on Anch - To, and now her body repeated these moves diligently and precisely. Nonetheless, Kylo dodged her shots with calm, dexterity and precision. A couple of times, Rey had blocked Kylo's lightsaber by raising one hand and using Force, but he had twisted her move against her, blocking her lightsaber. Clash had continued in that way, until a strong pain had flooded Rey's brain throwing her on the ground in excruciating spasms. Rolling on the ground with her head in her hands, she had had time to notice  Kylo was in same condition, before someone lifted her up and took her away. Rey had seen her other companions throw themselves on Kylo, ​​immobilize him and tie his wrists with anti - Force handcuffs. - Where did you get those?- Rey had heard herself babbling before she passed out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rey had woken up the next day, lying in her quarters bed. Sitting up, she had looked around until her eyes had fallen on tray covered with a white napkin, resting on bedside table next to bed. Raising cloth, Rey had found several dishes, a bottle of water and a glass with pills next to it. She had shaken her head annoyed. She felt groggy and didn't like it. Raising a hand to her head, Rey had inhaled deeply, until he calmed down and concentrated. Images of clash of last night had infiltrated nebulous blankets occupied her brain, until they became increasingly clear. Kylo Ren! They had caught him! How had they succeeded? Had they really taken it? Rey had expanded her senses and jumped as her eyes filled with tears. Leia's pain had overwhelmed her like a Tsunami. Rey had placed a hand on her chest as her breathing became labored. Swiftly swallowing pills on tray and opening water, to attach herself to the bottle, swallowing enough water to knock them down, Rey had jumped out of bed and rushed to General Organa's door. - Leia! - Rey had run into room, throwing herself at woman's neck, sitting at table in her room, her eyes closed, one hand resting on her forehead. Leia had barely had time to lift her head, open her eyes and turn to side where girl was, before finding Rey in her arms. Old woman had held Rey tight. -…it's true? Is... is he here? - Rey asked hesitantly.

Pain she read in Leia's eyes was impressive. Princess had nodded, silent and sad. Crouching in front of her, Rey had taken woman's hands in her own, looking at her sympathetically. -Where is he now? -  She asked sweetly. - In anti - Force cell, below us. He didn't want to meet me - Leia had sighed tiredly. -All right. He will want to meet me then - clutching Leia's hands once again, Rey had stood up, heading for exit. A step away from door, Rey had stopped, turning to Leia. - Since do we have anti - Force tools? - She asked, frowning thoughtfully. Leia had shrugged. -I don't know about handcuffs. As for anti-Force cell... Luke had built it for safety. Emperor and our father were dead, but nobody assured us there were no survivors or crazy cells... not to mention someone could always fall on the Dark Side... - Leia's voice had cracked, while she had lowered her shiny eyes on hands she held in her lap.

Rey had nodded, smiling.

- Rest, General Organa. I'll take care of rest - Rey had brought an outstretched hand to her temple, slamming her heels before going out. Leia had reacted to hoax with a faint smile and Rey had nodded. Girl had just left room, when a excruciating pain had caused her to crouch on the ground, her mouth distorted in a grimace of pain, without being able to make a sound. Rey had brought both hands to her chest, closing her eyes and tightening her eyelids, waiting for pain to pass. Someone was torturing Kylo Ren and Leia didn't have to know. Woman was too much sad and Rey feared she wouldn’t stand news. As soon as pain had passed, Rey had run to underground prisons. He was in first cell. Rey had widened her eyes in horror at seeing scene appeared before her. C3PO ran from one side of cell to other like a hen, shaking his head and murmuring in agitation what they had done. R2 - D2 turned his head left and right, following C3PO movements. Poe and Finn were standing in front of Kylo, ​​hanging by arms on ceiling thanks to a pair of long and massive chains. Kylo's wrists were tight in thick, narrow iron rings, his head dangled on left side, his long, wavy black hair covered half his face, like a black wing of a crow, his eyes were closed, his skin shone with sweat. Rey's eyes had moved to new Supreme Leader’s cheast, where she had also felt pain. Young woman had jumped. A deep diagonal wound ripped through man's skin. Blood rivulet ran down his skin, smearing belt of his black leather pants and dripping on the floor beneath him. Rey had felt her breathing gasp as she frantically looked around. Eventually she had noticed Finn was holding a long bloody blade in his hand. Acting instinctively, Rey had reached out to cell lock, trying to blow it up using Force. Not only had nothing happened, but a kind of invisible electric shock had hit her palm, causing her to withdraw and scream. These movements had attracted two adventure companions attention . Finn and Poe both turned their heads towards her. - R-Rey ... - Finn stammered, widening his eyes and tightening even more blade he held in his hand. Rey had noticed beige linen shirt worn by man was stained with blood splashes, her friend was breathing heavily and his pupils were dilated. Poe wasn’t in better shape and he had stared at her as if a horn had come out in her forehead. - What are you doing here?- Poe had asked, genuinely surprised to see her in prisons. -Let me in!- Rey had roared. - Now! - She added, narrowing her eyes trying to influence them. - Are you crazy? Were you really trying to manipulate us? Do you remember this area is anti - Force and then... were you doing it for HIM? - Poe had finished, in a scandalized tone, blinking, pointing to Kylo with his thumb, but staring at her. R2-D2 had rushed to Rey's aid, opening cell door. Rey had come in like a tornado. In silence, she had run her eyes over Kylo's hung and exhausted figure. Planting her feet on the ground, legs spread and chest out, Rey had turned to Finn and Poe. -You are mad! Since do we torture people? We must be better than them! - Rey had thundered. -You can't blame us! Kylo has hurt us all! Poe was tortured, I was seriously injured, you ... - Finn reacted animatedly, gesturing furiously.

Rey was surprised.

- Fortunately you aren’t Force sensitive, otherwise ... - Rey had murmured, becoming sad to see her friend in those conditions. Finn's neck veins had swelled, his face was red, his eyes out of his sockets. Rey had a pang in heart when she saw her friend, usually sweet and cheerful, overwhelmed with anger and hatred. This was also Kylo’s fault, ​​of his decision not to end war and First Order. -If he had been Force sensitive, today he would surely have fallen into Dark Side... - Kylo's tired voice had a cavernous and sarcastic tone.

Poe moved threateningly towards him.

- Shut up, damn you! - Pilot had shouted.

Rey stood in front of him, with open arms, blocking him.

- That's enough! He just wants to provoke us! Come back, I think about it - she said firmly.

Rey had half-closed her mouth, with a surprised expression when she saw two men move an inch, staring at her suspiciously.

- Kylo said you have helped him to kill Snoke and you became his ally... - Poe explained, answering her silent question. -That's why I hit him. I know I didn't have to do it, sorry, but I'm tired of his lies! Especially when it concerns you. I thought he just wanted to muddy you, but now you're defending him ... - Finn had spoken ardently, going out on the end, as if he were disappointed by Rey's behavior.

Girl had staggered for a moment to hear Kylo had revealed some of truth so easily, most likely to hurt her friends and undermine her relationship with them. Rey could feel Kylo's lips curl into a satisfied, malicious smile. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she had pushed them back. Sighing deeply, Rey had lowered her arms, relaxing. - I'm defending you ... us - she corrected herself, shaking her head. - I don't like seeing you in these conditions. You aren’t these. Don't let him win, please!- Rey had taken Finn's hands in her own. At that sight, Kylo had made a threatening, snarling sound. Poe had sighed.

- Okay, as you like, but if he does something ... - - Don’t worry. Poe ... General Organa isn’t very well - Rey had informed him, spying out of her eye corner Kylo Ren’s reaction. Suddenly, Supreme Leader had fallen silent and darkened. -R2 -D2 go with him. Leia may need you. Finn - Rey had grabbed her friend’s arm, stopping him. He had turned his sweaty face towards her, staring at her with a serious expression. - Calm down and rest - Rey had lightly squeezed his arm, Finn nodding, had left cell. - ... what about me, Miss Rey? What should I do? - C3PO had intervened.

Rey smiled kindly.

- Come here, help me get he down - Rey had stood on tiptoe, fumbling until an iron ring was released, while C3PO had thought of the other. Kylo had fallen dead on her, threatening to make her fall to the ground. -It seems you have hidden various things from your friends... this is also a Jedi thing, you know? - Kylo had whispered in her ear.

Rey bit her lower lip, refraining from screaming. C3PO had run to help her, taking Kylo by arm and passing it around his robotic neck. Rey had done same with other, transporting Kylo to a corner and letting him go on an old moldy mattress. -Fault of all this is yours, you could have ended war, but you didn't - Rey had hissed between her teeth, with flashing eyes. Kylo had laughed bitterly - Of course, as usual. You have no faults, do you? You could killed me. It would have been easy, I was passed out... you knew choice I had made, but you didn't. You got caught up in sentimentality... Luke, great Jedi hero and master, would have killed me without even thinking about it. Did you tell your friends you saved my life? I think they would have something to say about it ... - Kylo had spoken sharply, though weakened. By end of his speech, Rey's breathing had become labored and this time she had been unable to hold back tears that had started to run free along her cheeks. She had got up and ran away. Kylo's blood had started to boil in fury as he followed Rey's thin, nimble figure with his eyes. For a moment his attention had been drawn to something else. Kylo had inspected place by making his eyes dance between his half-closed eyelids, but it was difficult to focus wounded in way, with cell interference. He had turned on his side, falling into a kind of doze until, through Force, he had heard Rey return to him. She seemed to have recovered and eaten. Rey senses were clear and he had had no difficulty communicating mentally with her. Kylo was surprised when she started to medicate him silently until she decided to drop bomb - What are you doing here? Why did you get caught ... Kylo? -

#adam driver #anti reddit #anti the rise of skywalker #anti tros #ben solo #Carrie Fisher #daisy ridley #fanfiction #finn #kylo ren #leia organa #Luke Skywalker #my fanfiction #oscar isaac #poe dameron #rey #reylo #reylo fanfic #reylofic #reylo fandom #Reylo is the story #star wars #star wars anti tros

[javajunkieao3]

The Space Between: Episode III

Summary:  Rey travels to the world between worlds to save Ben Solo.  It turns out, the rescue was only part of the adventure.  

AKA: The rescue and the life that follows.

Read Episode I HERE.

Read Episode II HERE.

Episode III:

           The four of them sat at a back table in the bar, Poe and Ben playing holochess while Rey and Finn looked on.  It was their third game, Ben winning the first and Poe winning the last by a narrow margin.  It was Ben’s turn and he methodically analyzed the board, planning out his next move.  He was taking longer than the last go, and Poe said, “It cannot possibly be taking you this long.”

           “I need to think it through,” Ben said, eyes trained on the board.

           “It’s only a game.”  Poe’s voice was lilting.  Leading.  Ben glanced up and drily retorted, “Yes, which you made abundantly clear when you announced your win to the entire bar.”

           Poe smirked and gave a yielding shrug.  “You have to admit it was a pretty spectacular win.”

           Ben returned his attention to the board and had one of his pieces attack Poe’s lone karkath.  It was a savvy move and the karkath easily went through its health points and disappeared.  Poe’s jaw ticked and he said, “That was a good move.”

           “Yes.  I know.”

           Poe looked up at his opponent and in a measured voice said, “This might be a good time for me to remind you about that time you took me prisoner.”

           Finn let out a bark of laughter and went, “Are you trying to guilt trip him into going easy on you?”

           “I’m just stating a fact!  It is entirely up to Ben what he chooses to do with that fact,” Poe held, while Ben shook his head with a sliver of a smile and said, “Play your turn, Poe.”

           Rey rested her hand on Ben’s leg beneath the table and he absentmindedly took it in his own, interlacing their fingers as he argued with Poe over his next move.  She took a sip of her ale, tipping her head back to finish the last bit of the brown liquid.  After glancing at the rest of the lot’s glasses, she stood up and said, “I’ll get us another round.”  Casting a look between Ben and Poe, she gamely teased, “Behave yourselves while I’m gone.”

           As she walked away, she heard Poe make his move – a decidedly foolhardy one – and Finn said, “Maybe Chewie wasn’t cheating all those times he beat you.”

           Rey stepped up to the bar and ordered four ales, turning around and resting her back on the bar as she looked around the room. It was crowded for a Tuesday evening. People were drinking and laughing. A frivolity in the air that wouldn’t have seemed possible only months earlier.  Her eyes rested on their table, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched Poe and Finn squabble over something.  Ben’s back was to her, but he turned when he felt her gaze.  Eyes meeting across the room, she felt her cheeks color, and a smile slowly spread on his face.  In that moment, she forgot all about the drinks.  There was only him and that smile that had been so rare before, but now a steady constant.  Finn knocked him on the arm, and Ben looked away, shaking his head at something Finn said.

           “I don’t know how you can all be so familiar with him,” a voice said beside her.  She knew that voice and didn’t particularly enjoy it or its owner.  The man had tried his own hand toward her after Exogor, advances which resulted in a sprained wrist.  A rational person would have avoided her after such an episode, but he wasn’t exactly rational.

           “Ben is a good man,” Rey said simply, hoping that her drinks would come and she could be on her way.

           “He slaughtered millions and he’ll do it again.”

           Rey ignored him, looking searchingly for the bartender and her drinks.  She saw three ales were filled to the brim.  One more to go.

           “He’s only biding his time before he sees another opportunity,” the man continued.  “Lying in wait like a snake.”

           The bartender brought Rey’s drinks and she quickly paid, turning to leave when the man said, “I only hope when the time comes, he kills you first.  It would serve you right for bringing him here.”

           Without a second thought, Rey threw one of the ales clear in his face.  The liquid poured down his face and left muddy stains on his robes.  Those in the near vicinity looked on at the scene, but the entire bar became involved when the man loudly crowed, “How dare you!”

           The bartender wordlessly handed Rey another ale and she calmly walked back to the table, sitting next to Ben.  His gaze was still back on the man at the bar.  Galactic bouncers escorted him out and the clatter of the bar resumed.

           “What was that about?”  Poe asked.

           “It was nothing,” she said.

           “He said something to you, didn’t he?” Ben said in a low voice.  She avoided his gaze as she passed out the ales and he asked, “What did he say to you?”

           “It was nothing,” she repeated.  “Let’s just get back to the game.  Who’s winning now?”

           “It’s too early to tell,” Finn said.  “But my money is on Ben.”

           “Hey, how is that fair?”  Poe tossed back.

           Ben wanted to ask more about what happened at the bar, but he could tell that Rey wouldn’t budge, so he pivoted his attention back to the game.  Rey’s muscles were still tense from her exchange at the bar, but they slowly relaxed as the holochess game resumed.  By the time they left, it was as if the entire scene had never happened.  But, Ben remembered.  Entire parts of his days were spent cataloguing the looks he received. The conversations that stopped when he entered a room.  It was expected, but he never saw it so directly involve her.

           That evening, he watched her quietly as she changed for bed.  She took her hair down, brushing it out methodically in front of the mirror.  She caught his gaze in the reflection and offered him a slight smile.  

           “It was about me, wasn’t it?”  he asked.  “What happened at the bar.”

           The smile fell from her face and she nodded. “Yes.”

           “How often does that happen?”

           “Not very often,” she said, but her words rang false.  “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

           “I know,” he said, looking down at his hands. “But, should you have to?”

           “What’s the alternative?” she asked, voice hard.

           “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “We could leave here.”  Her face fell and he said, “But I know you don’t want that.  Besides, what I did –“

           “It wasn’t you,” she interjected.

           He shook his head and said, “As much as I would like to believe that, it was me, Rey. I would never do those things again, but I can’t deny that they happened.  And those people, I can’t blame them for how they look at me.  How they fear me.  I’ve accepted that as my legacy, but not yours.”

           She stepped toward him and said, “How can you possibly know what your legacy will be when you still have so much ahead of you?” She took his hands in hers.  “And I don’t care how they look at me.  Or what they say.  I know you are good.  One day they will see that, too.”

           He still was not entirely convinced, but when she tucked her head against his chest, arms wound tightly around him, he almost believed her.  He held her tightly, his own tiny, mightiest champion.  His fears were not entirely assuaged, but he decided that for that night, he would let them rest.

           “Hey, I was meaning to ask you something,” Ben said.

           She glanced up at him.  “Yeah?”

           “Do you think Poe purposely spilled his ale on the holochess board?”

           She nodded.  “Yes, without a doubt.”

#reylo #relylo fanfiction #star wars #Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker #Rey Skywalker #Rey x Ben Solo #Rey x Kylo Ren #Finn #Poe Dameron

[rebelrebelwrites]

Desti—ny: Supernaturally-Sized Reylo Crack

SUMMARY: In which Rey and Ben, massive Supernatural fans, accidentally summon an angel, a demon, and two hunters to their watch party for the final season.

NOTES

For Rowan, aka @midnightbluefox, have this incredibly crazy crack set in the Pacific Northwest, where hunters and demons and angels and Den Headmistresses freely roam, sort of. Happy birthday! @thereylowritingden

(P.S. This is easily the silliest thing I’ve ever written as an adult. Ever.)

“How’re we doing on snacks?”

“Popcorn is popped, pizza and plates are artfully arranged in the kitchen buffet-style, and your candy receptacle is primed for a true chocolate binge.”

Rey glared at her boyfriend.

“It’s a candy jar, Ben.”

“Sure, if a grown woman could squeeze into a jar.”

“That was one time, and I’d eaten that special gummy bear without knowing— ”

“It’s a tub, Rey. A candy tub.”

Rey rolled her eyes and resumed digging through their hamper. The clothes were clean, but they hadn’t gotten around to folding them yet, so her Destiel shirt would be a bit wrinkled.

“I can’t believe we had to do laundry just so you could— ”

Rey whipped around, shirt in hand. It wasn’t as wrinkled as she thought it’d be; success.

“Excuse me? What’s that you’re wearing?”

Ben looked down. He’d crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against their bedroom doorframe; now, he let them dangle at his sides.

“You bought this,” he harrumphed, nodding to his Eat More Pie t-shirt.

She grinned.

“That’s right I did! Now come on, we’ve only got like ten minutes ‘til the premiere starts, and everyone else will be— ”

The shrill, almost metallic sound of their apartment intercom interrupted her.

“They’re here!”

She blew past him, dancing over to their front door. She’d barely turned the knob before it burst open; Finn, Rose, and Poe pouring inside with the energy of three sugar-stuffed children.

“9 minutes and 14 seconds until the new season starts!” crowed Finn.

“Are you actually counting down?” Ben asked from behind Rey. He’d followed her into their living room, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and pie shirt still on. Much as he pretended he wasn’t as invested as the rest of them, the truth was, he was just as big of a fan of Supernatural as Rey and the others, and Rey knew Dean was his favorite character.

“Of course he is,” Rose chirped, sidestepping her boyfriends so she could hand Rey a massive apple pie. Rey weighed it in her hands; the whole thing was almost as wide as she was.

“Holy— ”  

“Yup!” Rose proclaimed proudly, “It’s caramel apple chocolate peanut butter pie with a candied crumble on top. Thank Pinterest.”

“Dean would be proud,” Rey said, grinning. “Ben, will you go put this in the kitchen with the pizza? I’m gonna go grab our, uh, spooky pre-show surprise while everyone settles in.”

Ben nodded, taking the pie from her with one hand. Rose’s eyebrows lifted a little at that, but she held back her giggle till he’d lumbered away.

“Shut it,” said Rey, blushing. Rose giggled again but pranced over to their couch, snuggling in between Finn and Poe.

Rey took the opportunity to slip back to her and Ben’s bedroom to grab it. When she emerged holding the old book above her head, she received mixed reactions: from their spots on the couch, Finn looked intrigued, Rose wary, and Poe confused. Ben just smirked from where he was perched on their threadbare armchair.

“What the hell is that?”

“Rey found this ratty old joke of a b— ”

“It’s a spellbook!” Rey interrupted him. She raised it higher overhead, beaming.

Everyone else burst out laughing.

“It looks like a community theater prop,” Poe sniggered.

“It… really does,” said Finn, wincing. “Sorry, Peanut, but I think you got duped.”

“Hey now, hey now,” Rose interjected, stifling her laughter, “we don’t know that!” She looked up at her best friend. “Where’d you get it?”

Despite her friends’ teasing, Rey’s smile hadn’t slipped even an inch.

“Rowan,” she shot Poe and Finn a look to quell any more laughter, “You know, my Destiel Discord friend.”

“You’re not actually taking any of this seriously, are you?” Poe asked.

“No, of course not,” Rey said hotly, bending to flip the book open on their coffee table, “it’s just for fun. I figured we’d read a couple of silly passages as a joke before we start the new season, that’s all. She sent it to me as a funny gift.”

She glanced up at Ben, who looked surprisingly pensive.

“What?”

He shook his head but said nothing.

“Well, I’m intrigued,” Poe said, pulling the book toward himself. “It’s silly and hilarious and the Winchesters, bless their beautiful hair, would love us for it. I’m in! Shall we?”

“Me too,” agreed Finn, scooting closer (slightly squashing Rose in the process).

“No harm ever came from reading a book,” Rose added, smiling and shrugging. Rey grinned again and sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, leaning her elbows on the glass to try and read the thing upside down.

“Well, this is gibberish,” said Finn, squinting at the page.

“Gobbledygook. Come on, Shakespeare, lend us a hand,” called Poe, trying to wave Ben over.

Ben rolled his eyes.

“Please, Ben?” Rey asked, “Your experience lecturing about Mary Shelley to high school kids makes you the most qualified.”

His lips twitched; a suppressed smile.

“You’re the one who speaks engineer.”

“Together, then?” she needled him.

He sighed and flopped down next to Rey. Rose turned the book toward them both, and they each grabbed a side.

“It looks like that weird alien font in Microsoft Word,” Rey said, pressing a finger to the first passage.

“It does,” Ben agreed. “Maybe just… try sounding it out?” He bit the inside of his cheek, then started to try and shape words out of all of the odd vowels. “Zod ee reh doh noh koh ah...”

“...beh rah ma geh nah zod peh sah geh…?” Rey continued, reciting the incantation — or whatever you’d call it — like a question. She couldn’t seem to keep her giggles from infecting the gobbledygook.

Rose laughed next to her, and the boys made a show of looking around the room dramatically as if a demon might pop out at any second. Even Ben chuckled.

“Wait, we should check each other’s eyes,” Rose suggested, still giggling, “you know, make sure everyone has the white in their eyeballs.” At that, she actually snorted a little.

Then, the room shook.

The laughter died.

“Sounds like some kind of construction,” started Poe.

“We didn’t see any when we came in,” countered Finn.

“What do you think that was?” Rose asked Rey, frowning. Rey opened her mouth to reply, but the room rocked again; so hard this time she toppled over into Ben’s lap. His arms immediately circled her.

The shaking didn’t relent; in fact, it just got louder and louder, buzzing in their ears and their eyes, so Rey clamped hers shut, trying to drown it all out, and then—

Silence.

“Where the hell are we?” growled a deep voice.

Rey opened her eyes. In front of her, Rose, Finn, and Poe were all wide-eyed with shock. She whipped her head around to see what they were looking at, Ben still clutching her tight. When she saw who it was, her jaw practically fell to the floor.

The cast of Supernatural was in her living room.

Not the whole cast, but Jensen, Jared, Misha, and Mark. Rey’s insides went squiggly as she took each of them in. How did they…?

She ran the risk of some serious drool with her mouth hanging open this much.

By the looks of it, they were halfway through some sort of scene — Jensen had Mark by his shirt collar, anyway, with Jared looming over his shoulder and Misha hovering, all dressed in their character’s costumes. In her living room.

Behind her, Rose let out a strangled little sigh.

“How in the…?” Ben trailed off. He still hadn’t let go of her, which was probably a good thing, because her legs felt like jelly.

“Where the hell did you take us, Crowley?” Jared asked.

“Don’t look at me, Moose. This is above my pay grade. Talk to the giraffe,” Mark replied, rolling his eyes.

“Are you guys serious?” Ben asked, tone caught somewhere between disbelief, confusion, and utter awe. Slowly, his hold on her loosened.

“Oh— ”

“— my —”

“— god!”

Rey couldn’t tell who’d shrieked what; it could’ve been Rose, Poe or Finn, but it was Finn who barreled on. At least someone could string words together — something she was having trouble with at the moment.

“They’re in the middle of a scene!” Finn insisted. “In your… living room. After appearing magically. Right after you guys read that thing in that book. And the whole apartment felt like it was going to come down.” He eyed Jared, grinning weakly. “We’re big fans.”

Jensen groaned.

“Fans? Damn it, don’t tell me we’re in that alternate universe again!” He rounded on Finn, letting go of Mark. “You know us?”

The room fell deathly silent.

“Holy shit,” Rey finally said, realization sweeping over her in a wave. “Guys. It’s them. It’s Dean. And Sam. And Cas. And Crowley. We actually summoned the real thing!”

“Rey, don’t be silly,” Ben said, “They’re actors. You know Sam and Dean aren’t actually real.”

“You know about hunters?” asked Sam.

“Of course we do!” said Rose, springing to her feet. Even feet away, she looked hilarious compared to his giant frame.

“We’re in that alternate dimension again,” Dean groaned, “Did you do this, Cas? If it wasn’t Boris over there, then this has some serious angel stink all over it.”

“It was not me, you know that, Dean,” Cas said solemnly, eyes shining. Dean practically flinched before turning back to them, and Rey couldn’t help squealing a little.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Destiel is so canon!” she shouted. “You two love each other, don’t you?”

“What?!” asked Dean. The slight absence of the typical gravel in his voice was enough for Rey — that, and how Cas’s face fell.

“It’s complicated,” said Cas, body stiff as a straightjacket in his trench. “Anyway, we can deal with that later; I think I know how they summoned us here.”

“Frankly, I’d like to hear more about whatever Destiel is,” quipped Crowley.

“This is insane,” muttered Poe. Like his boyfriend and girlfriend, his eyes kept trailing Sam, who didn’t seem to know what to do with all of the attention apart from averting his eyes.

“Enough!” said Dean. “Go ahead, Cas.”

“These two,” the angel started, stalking toward Rey and Ben, “Seemed to have accidentally summoned me — through multiple dimensions — with a very ancient, very powerful summoning spell.” He bent down, and before Ben could reach for her, Castiel had snatched the book from where it still lay on the coffee table behind them.

“Not sure how it’s possible that you two somehow deciphered Enochian, but here we are,” he finished.

Rey looked at Ben, and then they both shrugged.

“We’re big fans, too?” Ben offered.

“And good at linguistics,” Rey added.

“Right,” Sam said, “Cas, can you get us out of here?”

“Now that I’ve got this back, yes,” he said, tucking the book under his arm. Rey opened her mouth to protest, but the look he gave her made her reconsider. And think that maybe she’d been wrong about who wore the pants in his obvious relationship with Dean.

“I think I’m chuffed here, thanks,” said Crowley, but Sam clapped a massive hand on his shoulder, forcing him to join him in grabbing onto Cas’s trench coat.

“Sayonara, alternate dimension uh… fans,” said Dean. He grabbed Cas’s wrist, noticed Rey watching him like a hawk, then flinched and glanced at Ben. “I like your shirt.”

And with that, there was a flash blinding, white-blue light, and they were gone. Just like that.

“Rowan is never going to believe this,” Rey murmured, slumping to the floor.

“I’m not sure I do, and I was here for the whole thing,” said Ben, joining her.

“Hey,” said Finn, glancing at his watch, “The premiere started over ten minutes ago. Did anyone remember to DVR it?”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” squeaked Rose, falling back in between Poe and Finn on the couch. Poe made a noncommittal sort of grunt, slinking an arm around her, while Finn did the same on her other side.

“Oops,” said Rey.

Everyone looked at each other before erupting into a fit of giggles.

“Well,” said Ben, reaching for the remote — now that Sam had (presumably) left the building, he had the longest limbs, no doubt — “Least we got a special preview.”

“Worth it,” Rey agreed.

THE END

#birthday fic #reylo #supernatural #crackfic #destiel #I don't know how to tag this even more than usual #ben solo #rey of jakku #kylo ren #rose tico #finn #poe dameron #the reylo writing den #supernatural crossover #star wars crossover #fanfic #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #happy birthday

[snicketsleuth]

Slackin’ with the Sleuth: reviewing Netflix’s “The Vile Village”

After two sluggish double-episodes, we are now headed to the three best two-parters of the second season, nay, of the entire show until now. Today, we’re going to talk about direction. “A Series of Unfortunate Events” has suffered not only from being overwritten, but also from being under-directed.  Not an unfortunate consequence of the original writer being involved in the production of the television series, but rather of the other writers not controlling him enough. Episodes written by Daniel Handler get a bad rep amongst the fandom, but from their structure it’s pretty clear that he was more than willing to change his own outlines and listen to the contributions of other people. That being said, it’s hard to criticize the guy who came up with the work you’re supposed to adapt. Which is why episodes written by other people and peer-reviewed by Handler tend to fare better, as his role is to remind everyone of what made the story so successful in the first place.

We’ll see how this contributed to the improvement in direction in the latter half of Season 2. Most of it comes from the production team finally treating the series not only as an adaptation, but also as its own cinematic work. Let’s determine why below the cut.

DISCLAIMER (NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REVIEW):

I missed you guys, it’s been a while.

I apologize for abandoning the blog for so long, to the point that some of you people started worrying about me. I do appreciate the concern, so thank you. Most of my absence can simply be explained away by the many hours I’ve had to put into my day job. This has led to difficult choices regarding my hobbies and extra-work activities, writing for this blog being one of them. Truth be told, I don’t feel this blog fulfils as interesting a purpose as it did before. I’ve already talked about most book theories I cared about, and the books have been discussed to death at that point. As to other types of analyses, there are plenty of talented people on Tumblr who do it as well as me, so I didn’t feel the need to add much to the debate. But I’ve had time to think about plenty of Snicket-related topics during my absence, so no, the blog isn’t dead, just… much less active as it was a few years back. Stay tuned for more, my love for the books and their associated material is very much alive and kicking.

With all due respect (and affection) for our community, your duly devoted Sleuth.

This is the most atmospheric episode to date, and a beautiful one at that. While episodes of the first season certainly had their ambiance, most of it came from the introduction of new musical themes. The second season tries to bring the direction to the next level by fashioning each double-episode after a certain genre, which influences the entire aesthetic of the piece from its writing, colors and camera work. This is perfectly in line with the tone of the original series: each book focuses on a vivid and peculiar location which becomes a character in and of itself, and also parodies specific literary tropes. In keeping with this tradition, the televised version of  “The Austere Academy” mocks coming-of-age teen movies, “The Erstaz Elevator” has shades of musical romantic comedies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, “The Vile Village” pays homage to Westerns, “The Hostile Hospital” is a straight-up horror exploitation flick and “The Carnivorous Carnival” is a neo-expressionist drama. Or rather that’s what we were supposed to infer. In reality, “The Austere Academy” and “The Erstaz Elevator” don’t have anything special in terms of direction to truly allude to their models, and while “The Carnivorous Carnivale” is a blatant remake of “Freaks”, so was the book in the first place. Only with “The Vile Village” and “The Hostile Hospital” do we see the direction add a substantial commentary on the original aesthetic of their respective book. So while the intention is laudable, the execution is somewhat lacking as far as the entire season is concerned. More on that in the next review.

But for now let’s just gush over the gorgeous visuals of “The Vile Village”. Westerns describe the struggle of civilization in a lawless territory, a perfect setting for the crux of a book concerned with legality and mob psychology. While the introduction of the Nevermore tree leaves something to be desired, we do eventually get some fantastic shots. The integration of the CGI and the digital matte paintings significantly improves from this episode on, although whether the artificiality of previous episodes was an intentional choice from the directors is anyone’s guess. The scene of Hector’s first flight aboard the self-sustaining mobile home is a work of beauty. One must regret his line about crows being too “scary”, though. Not only is this an unnecessary change to his character (he is fascinated by the crows in the book), it doesn’t even make sense as the adaptation does not portray Hector as being scared of crows in any shape or form otherwise. He actually has a line about admiring them in the first part of the episode! What on Earth were the writers thinking?

The feels of Western movies is well-rendered, with an impressive focus or lighting. What the director seems to have forgotten is how dusty the Village of Fowl Devotees should look. This is pretty unforgivable given that the book insists on the unbearable feeling of dirtiness which permeates the town. There’s an egregious continuity error where the Baudelaire orphans escape from prison in a massive cloud of debris… then come into the next shot with immaculate clothing. This is a major sin as far as immersion goes.

Another blatant directorial choice is the tendency to film scenes across a two-dimensional space, with characters moving from one side of the screen to the next. This ever-present horizontal axis gives the series a somewhat stiff aspect, with characters not being able to express themselves in a dynamic body language in action scene. There are two possible reasons for this camerawork. Firstly, it makes certain scenes easier to follow (we must not forget that the series is expected to remain watchable for small children), although a little boring on the visual side. Secondly, it does imitate the format of a theater stage, and the theater world plays an important role in Snicket’s world, from “The Marvelous Marriage” to “La Forza del Destino”. I do think the showrunners went a little too far in this direction, though. If they’re so deadest on reproducing the feel of a theater production, maybe they should just pitch the series as a Broadway show rather than a television series. The chase sequences in this double-episode look more like a Street Fighter screen than a cinematic production.

But by far the greatest contribution of this episode is the merciful introduction of SILENCE. What a relief to hear the godforsaken concertina shut up for one minute and let us enjoy the dialogue! The heart of the double-episode comes from the back-and-forth dynamic between Jacques and Olaf (or, to a lesser extent, Esmé and Olivia). Truly a battle between blind, hopeful idealism and cynical nihilism. Major props to Nathan Fillion, who remains possibly the best actor in the entire series, and Neil Patrick Harris who should ruin the seriousness of the scenes with his constant bebopping but somehow doesn’t.

This however comes as the expanse of the Baudelaire orphans themselves, whose presence is somewhat secondary in this episode. The symbolism of them escaping the town in a fire truck is a strike of genius… but the Isadora couplet subplot is drastically skipped over and the unnecessary introduction of Mr Poe drastically reduces their screentime. It’s more forgivable than in “The Erstaz Elevator” as most scenes between the adult characters do help move the plot forward and provide interesting information, but it’s still one of our major criticisms for this season. The writers are clearly infatuated with the adult actors, which hurts the pacing of the story. It’s a shame as the child actors’ acting shows major improvements in the second season. Louis Hynes comes into his own in the prison scene, but the breakneck speed of the scene’s direction does not leave him enough room to grow. We will however concede that Jacquelyn and Larry don’t overstay their welcome in this episode, and that Jacques and Olivia’s romance is sweet to look at. While we disagree with the changes made to Olivia’s character on the whole (we’ll get to that in my review of “The Carnivorous Carnival”), it did produce some well-written, well-acted scenes. Less appreciated is the unnecessary and overstated introduction of a Violet/Duncan romance subplot… this is what happens when you base 90% of an adaptation on what admittedly amounts to fan-pandering. It’s sweet, then it’s sweeter, then you’ve got diabetes.

As far as character development goes, it’s pretty hit-or-miss. Esmé is as usual fantastic. The writers have managed to attain a difficult equilibrium regarding her character dynamic: she obeys enough not to overshadow him, but she also acts as her own antagonist, pursuing her own goals and betraying him if the need arises. The rest of the troupe also has an interesting dynamic with her and her integration in the crime family feels pretty seamless.

But so far we’ve saved the worst for the last paragraph, and as you’ve probably guessed, we’re going to have to speak about Hector. Gods almighty, what a waste of a perfectly good character. Josephine’s death was shot in a very disrespectful manner, but at least her character remained mostly the same. Here the Hector from the books, a tragic and heartbreaking portrayal of peer pressure and social anxiety, is reduced to a joke. To add insult to injury, it’s not even a funny joke: his constant fainting gets tedious quickly. And the ultimate twist about his mom’s fate not being the source of his trauma after all basically reduces his arc to a complete waste of the viewer’s time. If the writers hated him so much, why not just cut his screen time instead of demeaning his entire existence? This does not bode well for a potential adaptation of “All The Wrong Questions”, as Hector’s outlook on family loyalty and peer pressure is somewhat of a plot point in this series. I truly cannot begin to understand these choices as Hector plays a similar role to Hal, Charles and Jerome, who also have likewise personalities… but the writers have adapted Hal, Charles and Jerome faithfully and cleverly, so what gives?

#0542 #Lemony Snicket #ASoUE #a series of unfortunate events #review #daniel handler #Sunny Baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #violet baudelaire #Hector #esme squalor #count olaf #Arthur Poe #jacques snicket #neil patrick harris #nathan fillion #asoue netflix

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Halloween 2018 Perfume Blends

Calling all witches, hags, demons, goat-lovers, and assorted tricksters! 

We've truly outdone ourselves with the Halloween 2018 collection, exploring strange new depths in diablerie as well as perfumerie. In addition to many classic treats, we've also got a spooky Chaos Theory, a timely Poe tale storyboarded in scent, a pile of Dead Leaves, a ribald new series of blends inspired by goats in classical art, and more! Never fear -- Trading Post's hair gloss and atmosphere sprays will be coming soon! 

You’ll find the full compendium of Halloween scent descriptions below, but BEWARE... You may find more thrills than e'er you bargained for.!

++ HALLOWEEN 2018

ALL SOULS A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

BLUE GHOST BLUES I feel myself sinkin' down I feel myself sinkin' down My body is freezin' I feel something cold creepin' around

My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round This haunted house blues is killin' me I feel myself sinkin' down

I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord And I can't get away

They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They haunt me all night long So I can't sleep no more

The Blue Ghost haunts me all night The nightmare rides me all night long The Blue Ghost haunts me at night The nightmare rides me all night long They worry me so in this haunted house I wished I was dead and gone

- Lonnie Johnson

A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.

BONFIRE TOFFEE Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.

DIA DE LOS MUERTOS A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte... Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "...chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

FEEDING THE DEAD A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

GHOST MUSIC Gloomy and bare the organ-loft, Bent-backed and blind the organist. From rafters looming shadowy, From the pipes’ tuneful company, Drifted together drowsily, Innumerable, formless, dim, The ghosts of long-dead melodies, Of anthems, stately, thunderous, Of Kyries shrill and tremulous: In melancholy drowsy-sweet They huddled there in harmony. Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.

- Robert Graves

Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.

GHOULISH Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron.

THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working,

The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.

Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.

THE HARE In the black furrow of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she cocked her lissome ear, And she eyed the moon so bright, And she nibbled o' the green; And I whispered 'Whsst! witch-hare,' Away like a ghostie o'er the field She fled, and left the moonlight there.

A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.

Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.

HUESOS DE SANTO On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.

Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.

INSIDE THE GOLDEN AMBER OF HER EYEBALLS A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place your sight can knock on, echoing; but here within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze will be absorbed and utterly disappear:

just as a raving madman, when nothing else can ease him, charges into his dark night howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels the rage being taken in and pacified.

She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen into her, so that, like an audience, she can look them over, menacing and sullen, and curl to sleep with them. But all at once

as if awakened, she turns her face to yours; and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny, inside the golden amber of her eyeballs suspended, like a prehistoric fly.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Sleek black fur and gleaming amber shining in the shadows, a rumble of myrrh, and claws as sharp as ti leaf.

LAMBS-WOOL According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool."

A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

MAGNIFICENT AUTUMN By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.

Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

The scene changes.

It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and

A filmy mist,

Lies like a silver lining on the sky.

The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!

Another change.

The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.

A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.

MIDNIGHT BONFIRE Lighting the path between worlds, the beacon at the threshold: night-blooming jasmine, smoldering maple leaves, a cluster of patchouli and blackened ti leaf, black sage, and pinewood smoke.

PUMPKIN CRÈME BRULEE With vanilla bean scrapings.

PUMPKIN DUST Shavings of white pumpkin rind and honey powder.

PUMPKIN MUSK AND BLACK OUDH A strangely romantic, disturbingly erotic perfume.

PUMPKIN TOBACCO Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.

SAMHAIN Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

SAMHAINOPHOBIA The Fear of Halloween

Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

SCARECROW TURNED PHILOSOPHER Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this lonely field.”

And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it.”

Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have known that joy.”

Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

- Kahlil Gibran

Corn husks waving on an autumn breeze, beams of amber sunlight, hay bales, and late summer wildflowers.

SUCK IT Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.

THIS WAN WHITE HUMMING HIVE And where should the living feel alive But here in this wan white humming hive, As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold, And one by one they creep back to the fold? And where should a man hold his mate and say: "One more, one more, ere we go their way"? For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night, When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

White patchouli leaf, beeswax, ambergris, and pale incense.

WHEN COLORS ALL TO BLACK ARE CAST In night when colors all to black are cast, Distinction lost, or gone down with the light; The eye a watch to inward senses placed, Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,

Gives vain alarums to the inward sense, Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny, Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense, Doth forge and raise impossibility:

Such as in thick depriving darknesses, Proper reflections of the error be, And images of self-confusednesses, Which hurt imaginations only see;

And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils, Which but expressions be of inward evils.

- Lord Brooke Fulke Greville

Ink-black musk and dried blackberries, midnight opoponax and sweet labdanum.

THE WITCH BRIDE A fair witch crept to a young man's side, And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But a Shape came in at the dead of night, And fill'd the room with snowy light.

And he saw how in his arms there lay A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.

And he girded himself, and follow'd still When sunset sainted the western hill.

But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side, Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

YIPE In the vein (GET IT?) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.

++ ALL HALLOWS CHAOS

Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent.

Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and each bottle is unique.

Hail Eris! After a long hiatus, Chaos Theory is back!

This year, the aforementioned chaos is expressing itself through decidedly seasonal metaphors associated with gathering the harvest and welcoming the “dark half” of the year. Is it comfort you seek, or incantations whispered through a tear in the Veil? Thanks to the options below, you don’t have to choose — you can have it both ways! This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each bottle is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.

Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that’s the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:VIII or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.

By purchasing CT:VIII, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project.

Each CT:VIII scent has a base inspired by one of our favorite ‘Weenies, in wildly varying proportions:

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: PUMPKIN SPICE

Variety is the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”

― William Cowper, 1785

Forget about the War on Christmas — the year’s most contentious seasonal battle is actually waged over this inescapable melange of palate-massaging flavors. We’ve got the formula down pat, and invite you to join us in a mad-science experiment: Just how far can we bend it before it breaks?

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: SAMHAIN 

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.” ― Mary Shelley, 1831 This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”

++ HALLOWEEN: MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH

Art by Tenebrous Kate

Words by Edgar Allan Poe

THE RED DEATH The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

Splatters of red musk, bruise-purple violets, vetiver, and pimento.

HAPPY AND DAUNTLESS AND SAGACIOUS But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.

Imprisoned in frenzied joy: ribbons of raspberry and red currant streaming through thick goat’s milk.

IT WAS FOLLY TO GRIEVE, OR TO THINK The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.

Ginger-squeezed champagne with crushed diamonds, orange blossoms, and peach blossoms.

THERE WAS BEAUTY, THERE WAS WINE The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.

A MASKED BALL OF THE MOST UNUSUAL MAGNIFICENCE It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

Opulent golden oudh, red benzoin, and bitter almond.

A GIGANTIC CLOCK OF EBONY It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

The chiming of the clock: ebony wood and black pepper, narcissus blossom and tuberose, clanging with dull, heavy opoponax and thick olibanum.

THE TASTES OF THE DUKE WERE PECULIAR But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

The swirl of a thousand glittering vices: absinthe and laudanum, opium poppy and neroli, star anise and black currant, whip leather and iron shackles, gilded vanilla flower and King mandarin.

GLARE AND GLITTER AND PIQUANCY AND PHANTASM He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.

Delirious fancies such as the madman fashions, arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments: orris absolute and leather contorted by cherry and orange blossom.

A MULTITUDE OF DREAMS There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.

A blackened lavender mist, thick with opoponax, licorice root, and benzoin.

ALL IS SILENT SAVE THE VOICE OF THE CLOCK And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.

Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.

THE NIGHT IS WANING AWAY But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.

Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.

THE SOUNDING OF MIDNIGHT UPON THE CLOCK And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

Terror, horror, and disgust: a bowel-churning sweet clench of myrhh and green musk in a pool of suffocating black moss and a shock of white cognac.

THE SCARLET HORROR In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"

Blasphemous mockery: blood musk and vetiver.

A GROUP OF PALE COURTIERS It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.

A sycophant’s polished stench: green musk fougere, lime, and rose-tufted wig powder.

A CERTAIN NAMELESS AWE But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.

Death unimpeded: bone-white sandalwood, dry cognac, and chilled ambergris accord.

A DEADLY TERROR THAT HAD SEIZED UPON ALL It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.

He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.

ILLIMITABLE DOMINION OVER ALL And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death: blood musk and black tobacco, birch tar and bleeding cypress sap.

Listen to Poe’s complete tale here, on our YouTube Channel:

++ PICKMAN GALLERY 2018

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: ARKHAM’S PICKMAN GALLERY ACQUIRES CURIOUS COLLECTION OF GOAT ART, DEEMED ‘GREATEST OF ALL TIME’ Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra on view at the Pickman Gallery from September 22 to December 28, 2018, Arkham, MA — On view from September 18 through December 28, 2018 at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra. Greatest Of All Time is guest curated by the Santa Fe Art Institute’s Antonia Vasquez-Thackeray, who also holds a degree in Livestock Science.  In this first-of-its-kind exhibition, Mx. Vasquez-Thackeray explores the social co-evolution of humankind and goatkind, a history which stretches back at least 10,000 years. Researchers note that goat remains have been found at archaeological sites in Western Asia including Jericho, Choga Mami, Djeitun, and Çayönü. Via their innate curiosity and horizontally-pupilled eyes, goats have enjoyed a unique view of human civilization, and our ancestors’ myths and legends have proven us nothing if not fearful of their scrutiny. “Our projections in terms of goat consciousness and goat archetypes have eclipsed anything a goat might tell us about us, or itself,“ Vasquez-Thackeray writes in the introduction to her upcoming MY GOAT, MY INQUISITOR, a salvo against the bias and anthropomorphism that has infected the relations between these two closely interrelated worlds -- but which carefully does not disavow the propensity for deceit, diabolism and witchcraft within the Caprian mind. Greatest of All Time consists of works hand-selected to commune with our species’ most recent common ancestor. About this evolutionary MacGuffin, Max Robinson, Ph.D. Molecular Biology and Biotechnology & Evolutionary Genetics, University of Washington, has written: “Millions of years ago, there was some kind of animal that eventually evolved into both goats and humans. It probably had claws rather than hooves or hands. It had a liver, four legs, eyes, and a brain, just like humans and goats still do.” Unfathomably, a lineage extends directly from that ancestor to this season’s exhibition, which will serve as a family reunion of sorts: several goats from Vasquez-Thackeray’s personal herd will be in residence as docents throughout the duration of the show. (Their reactions to the art as well as to the guests will be recorded via motion-capture and analyzed by individuals from SFAI, MIT, and, by special request, members of Arkham’s Thousand Young Lodge.

A BOAR AND A GOAT 18th century Russian lubok, illustrator unknown Red amber, frankincense CO2 absolute, green fig, labdanum, King mandarin, Atlas cedar, and bitter almond.

A HOARD OF CREATURES WITH THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS BEFORE A TAVERN Cornelis Saftleven Peru balsam, leather, castoreum accord, frankincense, and hay.

A YOUNG BOY AND HIS BROTHER SEATED ON A GOAT Christoffel Pierson Polished mahogany, copal resin, Java sandalwood, teakwood, and Sumantran patchouli.

AN ENCAMPMENT OF SHEPHERDS Tassili N'Ajjer, 4000-1500BC Tonka bean, red clay, rose tobacco, and oudh.

ANIMAL ALLEGORY Cornelis Saftleven Dust, dry incense, parchment, and tobacco leaf.

BOY WITH GOAT IN A LANDSCAPE Rudolf Koller Grapevine and ivy, olive blossom, lavender, cypress, bay leaf, honey myrtle, Tuscany sage, and jasmine sambac.

CABRAS Giuseppe Palizzi Black pine, white sage, creeping ivy, and wild juniper.

EEN SATYR Jacob Jordaens A heavy, animalic musk with cognac, fir balsam, grapevine, black cypress, patchouli, honey, and copaiba balsam.

THE GOAT AND THE VINE Harrison Weir Golden apples, cedar and redwood trellises heavy with grapevine, beeswax, hemp, vanilla benzoin, and bois de rose.

THE GREAT HE-GOAT Francisco Goya Haitian vetiver, Egyptian amber, carnation, black musk, pomegranate, patchouli, and smoked ginger.

HALF-HUMAN, HALF-MONKEY BARBERS SHAVING A GOAT Engraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.

JACOB WITH THE DAUGHTERS OF LABAN

Louis Gauffier Lebanese cedar, chamomile, frankincense, and cinnamon.

JUPITER NOURISHED BY THE GOAT AMALTHEA Engraving by Jacques Jordaens Goat’s milk, nectar, ambrosia, and honey.

LITHOGRAPH OF A MOUNTAIN GOAT H Weir White sandalwood, black pepper, muguet, agarwood, labdanum, and 3-year aged patchouli.

RUHENDE ZIEGE MIT KITZCHEN

Johann Christian Reinhart Brown musk, leather, castoreum accord, white cedar, amber oudh, and clove bud.

STUDIE EINER ZIEGE Pieter Boel Sweet labdanum with clove, tobacco absolute, and guiac wood.

TWO SHEEP AND TWO GOATS RESTING TOGETHER IN A FIELD A. Ducote Sweet vetiver, bourbon vanilla, and wool.

VENUS PANDEMOS Venus Pandemos Hay, rose otto, red benzoin, torch smoke, and pink carnation.

THE WITCHES’ RIDE

Otto Goetze Red roses and vetiver with cashmere incense, rue, and cauldron spices.

ZOE AND THE GOAT

Lorenz Frølich Caramelized patchouli, cream, and thick golden honey.

++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE

About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery. - Pausanias

POMEGRANATE GROVE: ALICE

POMEGRANATE GROVE: DORIAN

POMEGRANATE GROVE: EMBALMING FLUID

POMEGRANATE GROVE: MOROCCO

POMEGRANATE GROVE: SNAKE OIL

++ HALLOWEEN: PILE OF LEAVES

Every leaf tells a story.

DEAD LEAVES AND MAPLE SAP

DEAD LEAVES, BLACKBERRY, AND RED PATCHOULI

DEAD LEAVES, GREEN COGNAC, IRIS ROOT, AND WHITE LEATHER

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET MYRRH, LEATHER, GREEN POMELO, AND RED CURRANT

DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON VETIVER, NAGARMOTHA, AND VANILLA ABSOLUTE

DEAD LEAVES AND RED CARNATIONS

DEAD LEAVES AND PUMPKIN SEEDS

DEAD LEAVES AND SCOTCH

DEAD LEAVES AND WARM SUGAR COOKIES

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET OAKMOSS, WHITE SAGE, AND CHAPARRAL

DEAD LEAVES AND VANILLA INCENSE

DEAD LEAVES, APRICOT, AMBERGRIS, AND TOBACCO

DEAD LEAVES AND COFFEE BEANS

DEAD LEAVES, BLACK TEA, AND TOBACCO LEAF

DEAD LEAVES, MAGNOLIA CHAMPACA, AMBERETTE SEED, PERU BALSAM, AND SUGARED CHESTNUTS

DEAD LEAVES, RED WINE, AND BLACK OUDH

#halloween #perfume #halloween perfume #dead leaves #goats #edgar allan poe #poe #the masque of the red death

[rannadylin]

Some canon characters appearing in the Citlatl cast needed portraits to go along with all these orlan OCs of mine. :-D Edér and Aloth are visiting Vi’s hometown in Ixamitl so of course they, too, are wearing Ixamitl clothes. Also, I like drawing Ixamitl clothes with all their fancy embroidery and beads.

Won’t be necessary to type up all the character details since I’m sure PoE players already know who these fellows are, but some notes on their roles in Soul and Shield:

Edér is courting Violet (which is how you know this story is an AU, I guess...) since the end of Clan and Court some months ago: Established relationship, yet still sort of figuring things out. 

Currently in the story he’s mostly just helping out wherever needed with the investigation...plus being on his best behavior since Vi’s parents are still not quite persuaded their daughter should be dating him.

Aloth may or may not have become aware at this point of the particular attentions of a certain recently-Awakened elven rogue in his direction...

In Vi’s worldstate, Aloth suppressed Iselmyr; but I’ve been writing it more as a matter of him taking control of his own life to the extent that she doesn’t interfere as much because he’s less in need of intervention. She’s not as silent as suppressed-Iselmyr seems to be in Deadfire, at any rate, and writing the two of them coordinated is one of the most delightful parts of this fic project.

Currently in the story, Aloth is most interested in the part of the investigation that involves interfering with whatever the Leaden Key are up to in the region, though they’ve had little progress on that since he helped Lenneth fight off one of their attacks and then the whole group - well, most of the group - fought off another attack in the Tlacu marketplace. Aloth has assisted Anselm a bit with looking for LK clues in various unsolved cases but that’s been a dead end so far. So he’s also been accompanying Lenneth, sometimes, on her visits to temples in an attempt to remember more of what Glynis - her Awakened life - knew; Aloth’s also been, along with Violet, a voice of experience and empathy in helping Lenneth learn to deal with her Awakening.

Behind the cut, some of my favorite scenes so far for these two in the story:

Aloth

Think she’ll lead us stret to the hooded fyndes? Iselmyr suggested hopefully.

Aloth couldn’t discount the possibility. There had to be more Lenneth wasn’t telling them, and he had noted how earnestly she argued for the pursuit of the animancer, even if it meant leaving the Leaden Key (coincidentally, or conveniently?) unchallenged. But for the moment, Lenneth seemed to be leading them nowhere directly, but taking a most circuitous route, as if she knew she was being followed.

Fortunately, Aloth had a fair bit of experience with tailing and being tailed. Ferretting out the Leaden Key around the Dyrwood had been much simpler when they kept coming after the Watcher. In his attempts to shut down their well-hidden operations since then, he’d had to learn their tricks more thoroughly than even when he had been one of them. Iselmyr had little patience for these subtleties -- but she could also be remarkably perceptive when he let her take the lead, and keeping up with a mark as slippery as this one seemed to appeal to her competitive nature. Between the two of them, Aloth managed to keep Lenneth in his sights, just barely, as she skirted the temple district, blended with the crowds in three separate marketplaces, doubled back through alleys, and traveled rooftops through a seedier district that turned out to be the home of the Adra Antelope.

Aloth watched her vanish into the inn, not by the front door under the weathered sign painted with the inn’s namesake animal in garish green as far as it could be from the actual color of adra, but through a second-story window. He crept a quick patrol up and down the streets overlooking both that window and that door, waiting to see by which she would emerge. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of a familiarly hooded figure lurking across the street from the Adra Antelope’s entrance. The sight made Iselmyr crow with joy. Our quirry! Ga’on, let’s take this’n oot --

Aloth bade her wait. Pausing as if to take his bearings at the crossroads, he counted three more of Iselmyr’s hooded fyndes watching the building. I don’t think she’s here to meet with them, he grudgingly advised Iselmyr. And I don’t think it’s us she was avoiding, with that route.

Iselmyr drew his attention to a fifth lurker, now creeping down the inn’s wall toward the same window Lenneth had entered. Fye, that’s yin she’ll be hard pressed ta avoid. Let’s take that’n oot, fer a start.

Aloth concurred, already finding the page in his grimoire and beginning to summon the spell. With the last arcane word, the figure on the wall froze in place, halfway through the window, then suddenly peeled away from the wall, his petrified form no longer able to grasp the handholds, and plummeted to the street below.

“Lenneth?” She turned to find Aloth lingering in the parlor too, wringing his hands and hesitating to look at her.

“Yeah?” she prompted softly, coming to sit in the chair next to him.

“I…” He met her eyes briefly. “First, I owe you an apology. For my rudeness when we first met.”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “You know, I really don’t blame you if you didn’t trust me. I was lying about why I needed to find Grigor, and anyway, I’m hardly the most trustworthy sort.”

“I’m not certain I agree,” he murmured before meeting her eyes again. “Look. About your Awakening. You’re in good hands now, you know. Violet knows what she’s doing, as much as anyone can, in these matters.”

Lenneth smiled. “That’s...good to hear. Thank you.”

Aloth nodded. “It helps that she’s a Watcher, of course, and that she’s experienced an Awakening herself. But it’s not just her own Awakening. She has a way of...of collecting people like us, it seems,” he finished with a slight laugh and a sudden tension, clasping his hands together so that the fidgeting stopped.

Lenneth gasped and grabbed at his arm. “Wait, you too?”

He shrugged, confirming it with half a nod and half a smile. “Me too.”

“Really? Oh, that’s -- No, you have to tell me more now. What’s it like? How long have you…?”

Aloth’s smile turned wry. “Do you ever ask just one question at a time?”

“It would take longer!”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Okay, for starters, have you been Awakened long? Longer than me, I assume.”

Aloth nodded. “Most of my life. Since I was a child.”

Lenneth’s eyes widened. “What’s it like?”

“Terrifying, at first. Confusing. But, once I understood what had happened to me: annoying, mostly,” he said. “Which is why I spent most of my life fighting it. I’ve...come to terms with it, more or less, largely thanks to the Watcher’s influence, and it’s not all bad, there are some advantages, but it’s still often annoying, that intrusion of a presence that just doesn’t really fit with this life.”

“Same,” Lenneth sighed. “I mean, it’s sort of intriguing to think that somewhere deep down I might actually know what’s going on with the light out there,” she waved at the window, “but there ought to be less awkward ways than springing memories on me like that, right?”

“If only.”

Time passed, not easily marked by the night sky in its current condition, as Lenneth drew out more and more of Aloth’s story and he grew more at ease with telling it. So they were deep in a recounting of how he had come to terms with Iselmyr after so many years spent resisting her Awakening, when Aloth interrupted his own story with an involuntary yawn and Lenneth couldn’t help but echo it.

“Sorry,” she said. “Guess it’s later than it looks, and all that.”

“Indeed,” he winced. “I apologize for keeping you from sleep like this, especially with as much damage as you took before we reached you in the fight today.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lenneth assured him. “Honestly, thank you for this. I’m glad we got to talk. It’s...such a relief knowing it’s not just me, you know?”

Thanks to her sudden vise-like grip of his hand, Aloth had a moment’s warning. This allowed him to, none too clumsily, catch Lenneth when she gasped and her knees suddenly gave way there in the birthing chamber. “Lenneth?” he began to call to her, “Lenn--” but broke off as he realized that what was happening was probably just the thing they were trying to achieve. So he caught her and carefully hefted her over to the nearest couch. Well, birthing couch, technically, he supposed. But it would have to do.

“What’s happening?” the little priestess worried at him. “Is she all right? Did she trip? Is she --”

“Fine,” Aloth insisted, to himself as well as to the priestess. “She’s fine. Just a spell -- this sort of thing takes her sometimes -- climbing all those stairs, perhaps,” he fumbled.

“Oh, heavens,” the priestess breathed out in what sounded suspiciously more like delight at the drama than concern for a woman’s well-being. “Here, lay her down. She’s breathing, isn’t she? Make sure she’s breathing.”

She was staring straight ahead, still squeezing his hand for dear life; but yes, she was breathing. Very deeply breathing, in fact. “She’s fine,” Aloth repeated.

“Does she need a physician? Oh, it’s a shame we don’t have midwives on staff here these days. Of course I suppose it’s not a midwife she needs, but a proper physician -- unless,” she cast a hopeful glance at the catatonic Lenneth. “Is she with child?”

Aloth felt his face warm and avoided more than a glance out the corner of his eye at Lenneth’s petite form. “Not...not that I’m aware of, no,” he managed.

“Oh, what a shame,” the priestess sighed. “For a moment I thought -- well, I hoped the light in the sky might have heralded such an event! The first birth at the Sky-Mother’s temple in generations! Ah, well.” She patted Aloth’s arm, then Lenneth’s. Then she frowned at Lenneth’s continued stillness. “Perhaps I should go for that physician after all.”

“I really don’t think that will be necessary,” Aloth insisted, studying the flickering of Lenneth’s eyelids. “But could I trouble you for -- for some refreshment? For when she recovers, that is. She…” His memory flashed to that morning, at the Haven’s edge, when he’d observed Xipil sitting with her through just such a vision as Aloth hoped she was having now. “She does find a bit of chocolate to be very restorative, at these moments.”

The priestess smiled kindly. “I have just the thing. Wait right here.” And with a flutter of her feathered headdress, she darted back up the stairs.

“As if we were going anywhere else,” Aloth muttered under his breath when she was well out of hearing.

A minute passed, then another. Then Lenneth’s eyelids fluttered again, and with a gasp, she sat up, still clutching Aloth’s hand.

“My baby!” she croaked with the voice of a woman whose cries had for hours flown to Hylea under her midwife’s care. Panting for breath, she blinked slowly, looking around in bewilderment at the underground chamber. Her eyes met Aloth’s. She blinked once more, and then quietly asked, her voice fading back to its normal register, “Did...did I just have a baby?”

“You most certainly did not,” he answered with a wry half-smile, untangling his fingers from hers as her grasp finally relaxed. “But I think, perhaps…”

Her eyes went wide as she finished the thought. “Glynis did.”

 Edér

Violet came back to herself as she slowly became aware of the sound of a heartbeat. Not her own, she realized after a moment. She was warm, and cozy, as if waking up from a nap, but also there was movement, and quiet, familiar voices surrounded her.

She drew breath and blinked her eyes open to see Edér looking down at her, first in concern and then with a relieved grin. “Hey honey,” he murmured. “There you are. All good now?”

She stirred, looking over her shoulder to see that she was in his arms, held against his chest in a bridal carry, and they were walking through the streets of Citlatl again. Ahead, she saw Audie arguing with Anselm in low voices. Behind, she heard Yolotli questioning, then Lenneth in reply, and Aloth sounding curt and strained.

“What happened?” Violet asked quietly, looking back to Edér.

“Typical Watcher stuff, at first,” Edér reported. “Then you just dropped. Out cold. Couldn’t rouse you.” He held her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It was like one of them nightmares you used to have. Scared us all.”

“I think I’m out of practice,” Violet said. “I don’t remember getting so caught up in a soul like that before. When it came to the end, it was -- it wouldn’t let me go. Like its desperation overtook me.”

“Well, there’s some in the party,” he nodded in Audie’s direction, “as just about took a piece outta Anselm for putting you in harm’s way like that.” Indeed, it looked like Anselm was not to hear the end of it anytime soon. Audie’s grudges were legendary; she’d barely come to terms with Anselm’s treatment of Violet years ago, even after months of his friendly association with the family at Caed Nua. “Aloth and me, we figured you’d snap out of it like usual. But we’re on our way back to the house, just in case.” The tension in his voice, and relief at having her awake to hear this report, belied his calm dismissal of the episode. Violet wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Edér stroked his beard, stepping closer to the Haven. “So it’s just some magical hoard sort of thing? Storing all the power? Think it’s actually dangerous, up this close, or…?”

“Well, it may be,” Aloth began. “To condense so much essence in a confined space, that could…”

But before he could finish his thought, Edér was poking at the Haven with the edge of his sword. “Huh,” said he. “Don’t feel anything much.”

Aloth blanched as Edér switched to poking at it with a finger. “Be careful. It could --” But too late: With a brief shout, Edér brought up his shield and barreled straight through the barrier to the other side. He turned around to grin at them all even as they were still drawing sharp breaths to cry out. “Huh,” he said again. “Tingles a little. Long as I’m not on fire, seems okay?”

Anselm crossed his arms, regarding the man with a smirk. “No fire that I can see. The state of your hair suggests a bit of static, nothing more. Please don’t go and get yourself killed, though. There’s no way I could explain that to Violet.”

Edér nodded sheepishly, running a hand through his hair that did little to actually smooth it down, then walked along the edge of the Haven for a few steps, inspecting it from the outside. “Looks about the same over here. Hey, Aloth. Can you cast something through it? A missile or something?”

Aloth frowned. “At what?”

“Well, not me,” Edér said. “Promised not to get myself killed. Rock over there’ll do. Just to see if a spell goes through.”

So Aloth obliged, lifting his grimoire again and summoning a small bolt, then a larger one. Both sailed cleanly through the Haven and impacted against the target rock, the first in a flash of light and scattering of splintered stone, the second in an explosion of dust as the whole rock shattered.

“Okay,” Edér nodded, “so that looked about right. Now come cast one from this side.”

Aloth paled. “If I can. I’ve expended a fair bit of my grimoire’s resources already today, and if the Haven interferes with its recharging…”

“Just one,” Edér insisted. “Got an idea about this thing. And don’t worry, it’s safe enough to step through. Makes your hair stand on end, is all.”

So Aloth drew a deep breath and plunged through to the outside, where Edér greeted him with a friendly slap on the back. As he drew out his grimoire again to find a suitable spell, his eyes widened. “Hm. It’s...That’s interesting. It has recharged somewhat.” He glanced over to the Haven. “Passing through this thing...perhaps the essence held within remains accessible so long as the grimoire, too, is within its bounds.”

Anselm’s eyebrows raised. “Good to know.”

Aloth walked along the Haven’s edge to a place a few yards away from those still standing inside its bounds and again launched a spell from his grimoire. Without impediment, the arcane bolt sailed forth at his gesture towards the wall of light, but this time, rather than passing cleanly through as the previous spells had, it crashed against the Haven with a flare of light and a shriek of inanimate wrath.

Edér looked around the group with a satisfied smile. “It’s a shield,” he interpreted, hoisting his own, more mundane shield in demonstration. “City can fire magic out, but no one can fire it in.”

Lenneth looked from the group on the inside to the two now on the outside of the Haven, and back again. “Okay, but is it just for magic? Can you two get back in?”

Edér’s smile faded to a concerned furrowing of his brow. “Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” He approached the Haven and once again poked at it with his sword, then gingerly pressed his shield against the barrier. “Seems okay,” he said. From there it was a matter of once again poking at it with a finger before he finally gathered confidence, raised his shield before his face, just in case, and stepped back through.

He stood for a moment, slowly lowering his sheld and glancing back over his shoulder at the Haven. Aloth fidgeted on the other side and called out, “Well?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Edér said. “Still tingles a little, and it’s -- it sorta slows you down, going through that way. Like walking through porridge. But it wouldn’t stop anyone. Come on back.”

“I’m going to take lunch up to Mother and Papa,” she began, lacing her fingers with his and biting at her lip. She glanced up to him, and the corners of her eyes creased with tension. “Come with me?”

It took him a moment to grasp why she looked so nervous about lunch, or about visiting her mother like they’d come here to do in the first place, or why she’d need Edér to help when he hadn’t as yet even met -- “Oh,” he said as comprehension dawned, gathering her hands in his and drawing her closer. “Ah. Course, Vi. I’m with you, sweetheart. Nothing to worry ‘bout. Gonna go fine.”

She giggled -- a brittle sound, not her usual light bubbling of amusement he so loved to hear -- as he bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “Now you sound more nervous than I feel,” she said.

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Just...y’know, anytime I’ve gone to meet a gal’s parents, officially and all, it always sort of...goes to pieces, somehow. If I mess this one up, I’m sorry. I love you, and I’ll be on my best behavior, but…”

Violet smiled and threw her arms around his waist, resting her cheek to his chest. “I already expect this one to go to pieces, dear Edér. But it has to be done all the same, doesn’t it?”

“And now’s as good a time as any,” he agreed, holding her close. “Least with expectations like that, nothing much’s gonna disappoint you, huh?”

#pillars of eternity #eder teylecg #aloth corfiser #eder #aloth #ranna draws #soul and shield #csi: citlatl #from the desk of ranna

[whirlybirbs]

pilot this!

summary: she didn’t ask to be rescued. she totally had it under control... okay, that’s a lie, but did leia have to send dameron? pairing: poe dameron x ofc word count: 2.3k a/n: a new story set before the force awakens. will most likely follow the plot of poe’s comic series! a slow burn! mel’s a bad-ass princess! poe is an insufferably perfect pilot! buckle up, babes! 

“Get your filthy hands off of me!”

Senator Melieva Solusar has gotten herself into something she wasn’t quite sure she was going to be able to get herself out of.

The hulking crimson guards have strong grips on her arms and the young, wide-eyed politician was sure that these men weren’t going to let her see the light of Hosnian Prime again. Struggling, she finally shook the guards off when she was tossed into the private dining area of the one and only Senator Erudo Ro-Kiintor.

He was a skinny man, bald and beady-eyed. One might have likened him to a Cerulean hook hawk, with a long protruding nose and a crooked, snide smile. The man was as intimidating as a jawa, really, as even Melieva was sure she could have snapped the man in two. However, it was the towering personal guards looming behind the seated senator that made the young spitfire of a woman hold her silvertongue.

“I invite you as guest aboard my yacht, Senator Solusar,” his voice is low, eyes trained on the piece of meat before him. Spiny fingers balance a carving knife and a fork, severing the fillet in two with a violent slicing motion, “and you thank me by snooping in my personal artifacts?”

Mel watches as he picks at his dinner, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes scan her face and look for any fleeting glimpse of guilt. Mel, huffing and snarling slightly, thinks perhaps she should have gone into acting rather than politics. Her tone sounds convincing, she thinks.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you’re talking about, Senator, and I don’t take lightly to being accused.”

Nicely played, Mel. Keep up the act long enough and the traitor might actually believe you.

In all fairness, Ro-Kiintor’s accusations were completely true. The young senator wasn’t aboard Senator Ro-Kiintor’s yacht the Hevurion Grace to make friends nor wine nor dine. Though her moves had suggested so in Senatorial meets back in the capital and at Galactic Senate functions, Solusar had her own suspicions. Suspicions she shared in confidence with her follow New Republic Senator, General Leia Organa. Melieva’s father, now a retired politician with strong ties to the Senate, didn’t believe the First Order was a feasible threat— neither did a lot of the capital. But, deep down, Mel knew that there was something there. 

Something terrible.

“Do go on, Senator Solusar,” he crowed sarcastically, “It’s not as if we don’t have the surveillance to prove it.”

Damn.

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“This is the Hevurion Grace, Senator Erudo Ro-Kiintor’s personal yacht,” Leia explains. “It’s a Pinnacle-class luxury ship, made by Vekker Corp. I’ve seen Pinnacles once or twice before. They’re exclusive ships, everything aboard handmade, or so Vekker advertises. Only the very wealthy can afford them. They trade luxury for efficiency, practically hang an invitation off the hull for pirates saying, ‘Money in here.’ And this is where our loyal friend Senator Melieva Solusar is being held.”

“Never heard of her,” the man under Leia’s gaze offers, arms crossed and dark eyes tracing the outline of the luxury ship’s holo-print.

Flight Commander Poe Dameron. Best there is, really. Even if the young, hotheaded pilot was on the New Republic’s no-fly list, Leia couldn’t hide her adoration for the man. He was brash, witty, good-natured... His mother, Shara Bey, had meant a lot to Leia. She had passed on her looks and her skills in the cockpit to her son Poe. Now, Poe stood before her, just as his mother did long ago.

Leia stands to his right, a gentle hand signaling to her ever so obedient gold, C series protocol droid. “Threepio, if you would, please.”

The holo chimes into static and blips up with a projection of a wide eyed young woman as C-3P0 nods. “Of course, princess.”

Poe narrows his eyes, motioning to the holo with an open palm. “Isn’t she a little young to be a Senator? The holo says she is only twenty-three years old.”

Leia tosses him a smirk at him from across her office in Home One. “Mind who you’re speaking to, Commander Dameron.”

The star Resistance pilot straightens his shoulders as he blinks, shaking his head as a chuckle rises from his throat. He forgets sometimes who she is. This legendary woman, General to the Resistance and youngest Senator to ever hold a seat in the Galactic Empire, simply smiles and circles the hologram.

“Her protocol droid C0-N9 broadcasted a distress signal about an hour ago. She was on an assignment to gather information on Senator Ro-Kiintor’s involvement with the First Order. I presume she’s been found out, and I need her back safely. Her father has no idea she’s aboard. The old grouch thinks she’s out in the outer rim, furthering unstable trade unions.”

“I’m assuming this is where I come in?” Poe’s eyes are trained on the hologram of the young senator. Her formal gown and intricate hairstyles suggest a spoiled lifestyle to him and the small crystal band circling her head reminds him who he’s really dealing with. Royalty.

“Yes,” Leia motioned to the hologram of the Hevurion Grace, “Remember that bit about pirates that I mentioned?”

NOW:

“This vessel is now property of the Irving Boys!”

Of course. As if there weren’t already enough problems.

The luxury yacht had exited hyperspace only to be ambushed by pirates and gunned dead in the stars as panic set in onboard. She was hauled off alongside Senator Ro-Kiintor by his guards as the vulture-like man barked order at the pilot to broadcast a distress signal. The once intricately blue lit hallways were now darker than ever, and once the lights finally came back on they bathed everything in crimson just as they came face to face with one single pirate.

The guards hault, gazes set on the man. For a moment, the hallway is quiet.

Mel’s head tilts, brows knotting. Just... one?

“Hands up!”

His EVA suit was bulky, and the voice barking orders at them was mechanical and deep. The blaster carbine in his hands almost looked comically small and Mel had to bite back a laugh. Did he really think he was going to be able to secure this ship alone?

The bald senator spluttered. “Do you know who I am? How dare—”

The pirate fired a shot at the deck, sending sparks into the air and catching the guards off kilter. Mel winces as blaster shots ring out around her, small hands moving to cover her eyes from the bright bolts. When she peels her eyes open, both guards are sprawled on the floor to her sides.

He’s a good shot.

“Mine!” He roars. His eyes land on Mel and she recoils slightly in fear. “You’re good stock! You’ll make a fine slave!”

Suddenly, the man is dredging forward, grasping Melieva’s wrist and hauling her over his shoulder. She yelps, shrieking profanities in her native tongue and struggling in the firm hold of the pirate. His fists connect with the back plating of his EVA suit as she squirms.

Ro-Kiintor blanches, recoiling to hide behind his servant. “Now… now, let’s not do anything hasty….”

“You have ten seconds to leave my ship!” The man in the EVA suit bellows, “Or else you’ll be mine, too!”

He fires a second shot into the deck for emphasis. The senator, the pilot, and the servant practically trample one another running for the escape pods as Mel was left alone to deal with this member of the Irving Boys.

Poe winces as she pounds his back and shrieks in his ear. The impact he made making the jump from his unmarked Z-95 to the boarding hatch of the ship was enough to knock the air out of his lungs and leave his head spinning, so the pilot wasn’t about to let the woman continue to struggle in his arms. She was stronger than she looked. Poe trudged to the elevator and proceeded to unceremoniously dump the Senator on the marble-slated floor as the door hissed closed.

He instantly regretted the decision.

“You no good, kriffing piece of bantha fodder!” Melieva didn’t care if her chiffon dress was hiked to her thighs as she kicked at his ankles with her dangerously spiked heels. In one swoop of her foot, she made contact with his groin. The man's yelps of pain were followed by expletives as he dropped to the floor of the elevator and began to wrestle with the senator, trying to subdue the lithe little spitfire. Her voice roars, more threats leaving her lips as she lands punch after punch.

Poe, underneath his helmet, is sweating trying not to hurt the --

“Hey! Stop that! OW! Stop! I’m with the Resistance, damn it!”

Melieva freezes, going slack under the man in the suit and furrowing her brows. “What?!”

“The name’s Poe Dameron,” Poe clutches his crotch in fear of another strike, his other hand outstretched and posed in surrender, “I’m with the Resistance. General Organa sent me.”

“She sent... you.”

Silence. His EVA helmet stares blankly back at her.

“...One man with a tiny blaster?”

Poe blinks down at the carbine.

“Well,” his head tilts, the visor glinting in the elevator’s lights, “Technically she sent four of us, but the other’s are a little tied up at the moment.”

Another blast rocks the ship. Of course. Ro-Kiinor’s guards. They’d mobilized.

Mel can’t help but drop her head against the floor and close her eyes. “This is so not how I saw today going.”

Poe didn’t either. His helmet bars her from seeing his actual face, and he’s thankful for it. He’s pale; that crotch-shot did him in good. “Come on, we need to go. My team is waiting for us to make the jump.”

“That’s wonderful, Poo,” she chides, mucking his name up and standing to smooth out her dress. Mel’s eyes narrow, “But, I have some important things to sort out.”

“It’s Poe.”

“I don’t care, Moe.”

The elevator doors chime open, and Mel moves quickly, ducking out of his grasp and bolting down the hall.

“Argh!” Poe groans loudly, exasperated and breathless from pain. He waves his arms in the air. “Hey! Where are you going?! We need to go!”

“I’m not leaving without my droid!” her shouts echo off the walls as she quickly peels around the corner and throws herself into her private quarters. The rusted and out-dated droid shuffles out from the den, arms waving in an ecstatic motion at the sight of its master. “Miss Solusar! Y-Y-You’re back!”

Mel makes a mental note to check into his systems malfunction. The vocal destabilization was getting worse.

She smiles at the droid. “Ready to get off this over glorified refresher, En-Nine?”

“W-W-Why I thought you’d never ask.”

Her hands fly to the draw beside her bed and retrieve the datastick. It contained the ships logs, messages between Ro-Kiintor and General Hux, as well as specs on First Order ships. Maybe more. Melieva hadn’t had the time to sift through the entire data splurge. She was too busy ducking the suspicions of the rogue Senator. Tucking the stick into the front of her dress, Melieva motions for her chrome protocol droid C0-N9 to follow her.

That man, Poe Dameron, was settled by an evac pod, waiting in the open doors for the Senator. Poe couldn’t help but tap his foot impatiently. The brat of a Senator had run off, and now he’s stuck feeling like some glorified cabbie. There wasn’t any time to waste. Soon enough, the Hevurion Grace’s distress signal would be intercepted and—

Snap’s voice echoes in the helmet of his EVA suit.

“Commander, we’ve got more company.”

The entire ship is rocked with the appearance of a Star Destroyer.

His comms suddenly light up, his entire team warning him that they’ve been intercepted and are now facing hordes of TIE fighters. Jessikka, Iolo and Karé are now locked in dogfights, their maneuvers rocking the comms in his suit helmet.

“Mind speedin’ things up, Commander?” It’s Iolo’s voice again, “We’re not making this jump without you.”

“Iolo, Jessikka, Karé,” Poe’s tone is sharp, “Make the jump. I’ve got the senator, I’ll be right behind you. That’s an order.”

“All due respect sir,” Karé snickers into the comms, “No.”

Just as Poe’s about to open his mouth and battle back, Mel skids around the corner, her protocol droid shuffling close behind her. She’s breathless, hair wild as she gives him a look.

“What are you doing?” she bites, “We need to go.”

“Oh, right,” he snips back, “Sorry, I was busy warming your seat.”

Mel pushes past him, hiking her dress up as she does so, clambering into the co-pilots seat as Dameron hauls himself into piloting mode. His eyes dark eyes are trained on the black of space being lit with the contending fire of the TIE’s and the squadron of Z-95’s. The senator watches him carefully, noticing the lack of hesitation as the man punched in the coordinates and warmed the hyperdrive.

“You know how to fly this thing?”

“I can fly anything.”

Poe’s signature grin floods his face as he keys in his comms to the cockpit’s speakers, ditching his EVA helmet and relishing in the fresh air. The suit reeked of plastic and sweat, and Poe wants nothing more than to brush his teeth. Carding a hand through helmet-haired curls, he checks in with his team.

“You guys ready to ditch these bucketheads?”

There’s a chorus of approval from the squadron as Poe punches in the coordinates for D’Qar, offering a look to the Senator. “Ready?”

She knows who he is now. He’s the one that went against direct New Republic orders about six months prior. He had been a high-up in the Republic’s Navy, someone who her father had petitioned to court-martial. Instead, General Organa recruited him and annulled his actions. Mel hadn’t realized he was so... pretty. Giving a slight nod, the young senator was just glad to get away from the entire fiasco as the slip of hyperspace enveloped them.

Within seconds, the familiar planet of D’Qar was before them. In the distance, the glow of her home system shone in the sky.

“Welcome back, Senator.”

#poe dameron x oc #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe x oc #poe fanfic #pilot this! #lmao #poo

[aion-rsa]

Disney+ Christmas Movies for Kids: The Best Family Films to Watch this Holiday Season

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It’s the time of year when you can’t enter a store without hearing those familiar holiday jingles as your shopping soundtrack. With many families reducing their gatherings this year, it’s a good time to snuggle up, stay in, and share some Christmas movies with your kids. Here are some of the best that Disney+ has to offer.

Lego Star Wars Holiday Special

This season’s brand new holiday special features the cast of the Star Wars Sequel trilogy celebrating Life Day. Rey feels she’s failing Finn as his teacher in the ways of the Jedi, so she seeks out an ancient technique at an old temple—which sends her through Star Wars history, witnessing moments in the training of Anakin, Luke, and Obi-Wan. When Darth Vader follows her from the second Death Star, chaos ensues, and a chase through the various Star Wars properties—including The Mandalorian—brings her back into conflict with Kylo Ren, once again with Luke Skywalker at her side.

Meanwhile Poe, Finn, and Rose host a Life Day celebration with Chewbacca’s family on Kashyyyk. The nods to the original (and deservedly maligned) Star Wars Holiday Special are sure to delight viewers who suffered through those very long two hours. While a rendition of “Jingle Bells” in Huttese will entertain, it’s Finn finally getting his Jedi training that makes this special really standout. Now, if only we could see that in live-action…

Once Upon a Snowman

Also new to Disney+ this season is a new short featuring everyone’s favorite snowman, Olaf. This new tale is set during the events of Frozen (also streaming on Disney+, along with its sequel and its previous holiday short “Olaf’s Frozen Adventure”). After Elsa creates Olaf and continues up the mountain, Olaf is left wondering who he is and what he’s supposed to do with himself. He’s also after a nose, but when he arrives at Oaken’s (where viewers get a quick glimpse of Anna, Kristoff, and Sven), there are no carrots left.

Various nose possibilities reveal how Olaf came to love summer, and why the wolves ended up running after Kristoff’s sleigh. If you’re planning a full family movie marathon, these four related films and shorts will make for a fun event! Top it off with the Arendelle Castle Yule Log as a background for your family celebration.

Noelle

When Kris Kringle is ready to retire, his son Nick plans to take over—but when he can’t handle the pressure, it’s up to his sister, Noelle (played by Anna Kendrick) to save the day. Originally slated for a movie theater release, Noelle instead became one of the first original films to be released straight to Disney+ when the streaming service debuted in 2019. While the film has gotten mixed reviews, Anna Kendrick as a female Santa is enough fun to make a great family movie night.

On Pointe

Missing your chance to see The Nutcracker live this year? Disney+ is taking viewers behind the scenes with this brand new, unscripted series. Over six episodes, the show follows ballet dancers auditioning and preparing for the performance of The Nutcracker in New York City. Episodes start streaming on Dec. 18.

The Nutcracker and the Four Realms

If the behind-the-scenes of the ballet doesn’t fill your Nutcracker craving, you can also stream The Nutcracker and the Four Realms, starting Dec. 4. This twist on the original ballet features a young Clara traveling to a land her mother created where toys are brought to life. The Sugar Plum Fairy convinces Clara to go retrieve a key from Mother Ginger, who is at war with the other kingdoms, so that the other realms can be safe. With plenty of nods to the original ballet, the fantasy features music from and inspired by Tchaikovsky’s famous score.

Babes in Toyland

For another film full of toy soldiers, the classic Babes in Toyland is an option that parents may remember with either full nostalgia or terror—in no small part because it’s one of the creepiest family Christmas movies this side of The Nightmare Before Christmas (also streaming on Disney+).

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The strange plot features a pair of lovers who are separated by a villainous wretch who wants the woman for his own bride. When the lovers end up in Toyland, they end up offering to help the Toymaker, whose toys have been destroyed. The Toymaker has also made a shrink-ray, but when the villain gets control of it, it’s the hero who gets cut down to size. It’s a strange film that may or may not hold up well to the test of time (some stereotyped references to the Romani people definitely do not hold up). But it’s an old classic that may be enjoyed by a new generation.

Miracle on 34th Street

Fewer films are as classic as Miracle on 34th Street, which, as another Den of Geek writer pointed out, is as much a Thanksgiving classic as it is a Christmas film. In the movie, the real Kris Kringle (Edmund Gwenn in an Oscar winning role) is hired as Macy’s Santa and ends up spreading goodwill and cheer despite the commercial nature of his position.

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The woman who hires him, Doris (Maureen O’Hara), has raised her daughter, Susan (little Natalie Wood), not to believe in fairy tales, so when Kris tells Susan he is the real Santa, she worries that he’s mentally ill; but Doris’ neighbor, a lawyer named Fred (John Payne), has more faith, and ends up representing Kris in a case to prove he is the one and only Santa Claus. While there have been remakes of this film, the old 1947 classic, which is the version available to stream on Disney+, still stands out as a Christmas favorite.

Pluto’s Christmas Tree

Speaking of holiday classics, this 1952 short is another familiar feature, with Pluto vying for Christmas Tree superiority against Chip and Dale. Although it’s always fun to root for those two rascally chipmunks (who were such great characters they went on to star in their own Disney afternoon show, Chip and Dale’s Rescue Rangers, also available on Disney+), Pluto’s need to protect his Christmas with Mickey is really relatable. Of course it ends with the message that sharing makes the holiday more worthwhile, and everyone wins.

Santa’s Workshop

For an even deeper dive into Disney’s collection of animated shorts, this 1932 celebration of Santa and his elves features some wonderful bass voices and elves reminiscent of Snow White’s dwarfs. The assembly line work is clever, with dolls getting their curly hair because the elves scare them with spiders, and checkerboards painted with checkered paint. Because it was made in the 1930s, it does feature outdated depictions of gender and some ethnic stereotyping among the toys, but it’s interesting to see how far Disney’s animation has come since those early years!

Winter Sports Shorts

Though technically not holiday titles, Disney has made several animated shorts featuring winter sports over the years. “Mickey’s On Ice” is an ice skating story where Mickey shows his skills on blades, and Donald’s prank on Pluto goes awry (warning: there are depictions of tobacco products).

“Donald Duck Hockey Champ” pits Donald against Huey, Dewey, and Louie in a hockey game that quickly becomes an extreme sport. The boys are brattier here than their Duck Tales incarnations, and the cartoon violence rivals Looney Tunes, with plenty of wacky antics and draw laughs. The Art of Skiing is classic Goofy, featuring his typical attempts to follow the narrator’s advice (and fail completely). 

Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas

In 1999, Disney collected some of their newer shorts into a holiday special just over an hour long. Huey, Dewey, and Louie wish every day was Christmas and have a Groundhog Day style learning experience in “Stuck on Christmas.” The second short, “A Very Goofy Christmas,” features the Goof Troop version of Goofy with his son, Max, celebrating their holiday together with all the expected mishaps. Max struggles with the idea that Santa might not be real—and nearly ruins Christmas for both of them.

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“The Gift of the Magi” is a retelling of the O. Henry story, in which both Mickey and Minnie give up something precious to give the other the perfect gift. Each of the shorts runs about twenty minutes—almost long enough to be a special on their own—and short bridges, presenting each one as a present beneath a Christmas tree, provides the segues between them. 

Mickey’s Twice Upon a Christmas

This 2004 special moves from the traditional 2D style of animation for Mickey and his pals, depicting them closer to their styles in Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Like Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas, this collects several shorts as well. “Belles on Ice” pits Minnie and Daisy, who are best friends, competing for the spotlight in their figure skating performance. “Christmas Impossible” shows Huey, Dewey, and Louie first ruining Christmas for Donald, Daisy, and Scrooge, then ending up at the North Pole to save it.

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“Christmas Maximus” features a Christmas between Goofy and an adult Max, who brings home his girlfriend for the holiday. “Donald’s Gift” features a Donald bah-humbuging his way through the holiday, but eventually discovering that bringing people together is the way to find the Christmas spirit. Finally, “Mickey’s Dog-gone Christmas” is another Pluto and Mickey story, but when Pluto almost ruins Chirstmas, he has to go all the way to the North Pole to make things right—and seeing Pluto flying with reindeer is sure to please!

Prep and Landing

One of Disney’s newer animated Christmas specials is the Prep and Landing series, in which high-tech elves have to save Christmas for everyone. The original special features two elves—a grumpy veteran, Wayne, upset to be passed over for promotion, and an idealistic rookie, Lanny—whose mission goes awry. In the sequel, Prep and Landing: Naughty vs. Nice, Wayne and Lanny return to recover specialized North Pole technology that has fallen into the hands of a naughty kid hacker. The mix of spy adventure and traditional Christmas elves is clever, and these computer animated films make a nice counterpoint to the more traditional 2D specials.

Mickey’s Christmas Carol

While Charles Dickens’ classic A Christmas Carol has been told in many versions, and Ebeneezer Scrooge has been played by many actors, one of the most memorable of these is the version with Mickey Mouse as Bob Cratchitt, and Scrooge McDuck playing his namesake. The special, which runs 26 minutes, first debuted in 1983, so the nostalgia for children of the eighties runs very high. It’s also just a fun adaptation, particularly because there’s no character more perfect to play Scrooge than Scrooge!

The Muppet Christmas Carol

It just isn’t Christmas until Kermit, Gonzo, and the gang sing “Wherever You Find Love, It Feels Like Christmas.” In this version of Dickens’ classic, Gonzo plays Charles Dickens himself, narrating events, while Kermit and Piggy play the Cratchitts, and Robin, Kermit’s nephew, plays an excellent Tiny Tim. The human cast here, led by Michael Caine as Scrooge, is also excellent, and the mix of Muppety humor and optimism fits the classic story perfectly.

A Christmas Carol (2009)

For an all-human version of the Dickens classic, Jim Carrey’s A Christmas Carol rounds out the Disney+ retellings. Here, Carrey stars (in heavy CGI and motion capture) as Ebenezer Scrooge, with Colin Firth as his cheerful and Christmas-loving nephew, and Gary Oldman as his beleaguered clerk Bob Cratchitt. Other members of the cast include Cary Elwes, Bob Hoskins, and Robin Penn, making this one a star studded adaptation.

Home Alone

The Home Alone reboot may be a topic of heavy debate, but the original is up on the streaming service in all its nostalgic glory. The story is about a boy, Kevin, who is accidentally left at home by himself in the chaos of the annual huge family Christmas trip, and who ends up defending his home from burglars (through Looney Tunes level violence and Rube Goldberg-like traps).

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Kevin’s adventures continue the next year when he manages to get on the wrong plane for the family vacation in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. (A third installment, Home Alone 3, features a different child also outsmarting a gang of criminals, and doesn’t take place at Christmastime.)

The Santa Clause

Fans of the Toy Story franchise may recognize Buzz Lightyear in the voice of the man who becomes Santa in this series of films, starring Tim Allen. When Santa Claus falls from Scott Calvin’s roof, Scott has to put on the suit and take on the mantle of Santa, much to his son Charlie’s delight. Scott then has 11 months to put his affairs in order before he comes to the North Pole full-time—but it’s going to take Scott that long to accept that it isn’t all a dream. Allen returns as Santa in The Santa Clause 2 and The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause for a possible Santa-centered movie marathon.

Other Holiday Celebrations

While Disney+ doesn’t feature any films for holidays other than Christmas, two Disney series feature episodes of other holidays celebrated at this time of year. In Even Stevens season 1, episode 15, the characters celebrate one “Heck of a Hanukkah.” The Proud Family celebrates the “Seven Days of Kwanzaa” in season 1, episode 11. Viewers can hope that this will expand to full on feature films in the future, but for now, these specials do offer a little diversity for the holiday season.

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