#probably best set in the Drastic Measures AU 'verse

[keldae]

Writer’s Month 2023: Day Five

word: sun | setting/AU: poolside

Dantooine's sun shone warmly in the clear blue sky, radiating down over the little natural pool, tucked away in a hidden ravine close to the hidden Jedi refuge. It was peaceful enough that Korin could almost forget about the Zakuulans roaming the hyperspace lanes, making life hell for the rest of the galaxy.

He sat on the edge of the small pond, watching his companion lazily float on her back in the water. It was nice, he thought, to have this moment of quiet relaxation for both of them. Master Kiwiiks had pretty much ordered him to stay for a few days and rest, when he'd come in last night to deliver supplies to the Jedi – apparently he didn't wear the stress of supporting a growing insurgency as well as he thought. Normally, there would have been – he counted inwardly – three Jedi total that he would have ever willingly taken orders from.

But his Jedi mother had died ages ago. His Jedi sister had been killed early on in the Zakuulan invasion, a year and a half ago. And Master Satele was nowhere to be found. Outside of those three, he was normally inclined to argue with any Jedi who tried to direct him around. 

It really wasn't fair how Kira Carsen could just look at him with those big blue eyes, and he could feel his willpower eroding away. Damned Jedi tricks.

"Credit for your thoughts?" he asked Kira, sliding back into the cool water.

Kira hummed, still floating on her back, her auburn hair creating a halo around her head. "Just thinking about how we'll eventually need to head back before people start to talk."

Korin frowned at the reminder that his time in this blissful oasis, with his cute companion, was limited. "What, they have you on a schedule or somethin'?" He slowly swam over to Kira, taking the time to oogle her slim form in the water. There were multiple reasons why he wasn't eager for them to get dressed and go back to the other Jedi yet, and the opportunity to check Kira out was a big one.

"Nah. But if someone notices we've been gone a while…"

"You're, uh, giving me meditation lessons?"

Kira craned her neck up to look at Korin. "While skinny-dipping in a secluded pond?"

"We're connecting with nature!" Korin insisted, and was rewarded with a laugh from Kira. "Ain't that supposed to be somethin' big with Jedi? This has gotta be a good meditation area – 's quiet, peaceful, nice sunny weather, good company…"

Kira laughed and straightened up to tread water. "And the fact that you got me naked is helping, right? Not distracting you at all?"

"I'm plenty focused, thank you." Korin dragged his eyes back up from Kira’s chest to meet her amused gaze. "Besides, you got me naked too, so…"

“If you could run around the galaxy in the buff without getting arrested for public indecency, you’d do it,” Kira retorted, her eyes alight with laughter. 

“Oh, like you’re complaining…”

“I didn’t say I was.” Kira reached up to lazily drape her arms over Korin’s shoulders, conveniently bringing herself closer to him. “So, what’s your master plan, Captain?”

“Retire rich enough to own my own planet, somewhere Zakuul ain’t found yet,” Korin promptly answered. 

“And in the short term?”

“Make sure that if you get in trouble with the Jedi, that it’s worth it?” The smuggler winked at the pretty Jedi, settling his hands on her waist under the water. “If you’re down for such a plan, that is…”

“You are such a bad influence,” Kira laughed. But from how she leaned in to kiss Korin, he figured she didn’t mind at all. And he definitely was okay with his current situation – it wasn’t every day he got to go skinny-dipping with a pretty Jedi girl, who was more interested in having a good time than in preaching Jedi morality at him.

He could almost forget that this was his late sister’s Padawan as he happily kissed her back. Between the warm sunshine radiating down on his head and shoulders, and Kira in his arms (as a friend, with extremely good benefits, if anyone asked), and the peace and quiet of this little pond, he could easily forget about his stress with the occupation, and his lingering grief for his sister, and even the anxiety about if a stray Jedi were to come upon the pair right then. All he wanted to focus on was Kira.

#kel writes #writer's month 2023 #Korin/Kira #SWTOR #KOTFE timeskip #probably best set in the Drastic Measures AU 'verse #in which someone has caught feelings #and he refuses to admit it #Kira Carsen/Male Smuggler #skinny dipping #because why not?

[zephycluster]

Precolonial HWS SEA Rant Post, feel free to ignore

If you're still reading, then you're probably looking for evidence or some juicy tidbits to throw back at me or to try and find dirt to cancel me, like typical Tumblr/Twitter. Go ahead, I don't really care.

First off, let me just say that If you like Precolonial South-East Asia AUs, feel free to keep enjoying them. I will respectfully support your passions from afar. This post is just to explain why I don't like it, especially the way they keep insisting/portraying PH in it.

Still here? Then let me begin.

Since the recent confirmation that the ASEAN Six Majors (Can't really say ASEAN 10 atm since it's still missing some people) Were completed and the Ma-Phil-Indo Trio was included, there has been a large surge in 'Precolonial' fanarts and portrayals of South East Asians, those three especially.

Even long, long before, circa 2010's ish, a rather well-known fan universe known as 'Maaf' dealt with their story and how their Author thought their intertwined histories went. Written by (my best guesstimate) an Indonesian writer who wants to explore the old, SEA bond.

When I first stumbled across Maaf (I was in Highschool at the time, around age 16-ish), I took a casual interest in it and tried to read it through. But, I will wholeheartedly admit that at the time, Pre-Colonial cultures of South-East Asia in general, let alone Philippine, did not really interest me that much. The focus (I think) was mostly on Indonesia, a country I didn't really know back then, and the liberal use of 'ancient' names and artwork just made it feel like an entirely Original Work (that needed a degree in History to really appreciate) and not something from Hetalia. I also completely disagreed with what I could gather was the story's portrayal of PH but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Do I hate 'Maaf'? No, I don't hate it. Do I wish I never came across it or that it didn't exist? Of course not. Just because I didn't enjoy it or appreciate it that well doesn't mean I wish any ill toward it, its fans, or its creator.

Fast forward to April 2021, the long awaited inclusion of South East Asia to the canon Hetalia verse. I was happy, the other fans were happy, all was good.

Then started the questionable fanarts, fan theories and fan pairings.

Especially the expansion of Precolonial! PH.

Let's go back to Maaf for one moment. From what I understood of Maaf, PH there was a character who once was like all the other South East Asian cultures, trading with them, all around being a nice family.

But all that changed when the Spaniards attacked, so cry the precolonial buffs. They destroyed everything, ransacked and marginalized the tribes, erased everything that PH was!

Did that happen? ABSOLUTELY. The Spaniards had this vision in mind that they must spread Christianity to all of the 'savage, unchristian heathens' of their realm. :V /s

But back up a second, back to PH's portrayal in Maaf. The way she (yeah, she) was portrayed there was that she was slowly losing her memories of being a 'true' South East Asian and grew more and more westernized in the process, like some sort of Culture-specific Alzheimer's or something.

Firstly, that is seriously depressing, and secondly, I just really don't see that happening.

Here's why.

Point 1: Even before Colonial Masters, Filipinos as a people cannot agree on anything.

I'll just begin this segment with a Philippine proverb that outlines what Filipinos call 'Crab Mentality' or 'Crab Bucket Mentality'.

"You don't need a lid for a container when you're keeping multiple crabs. If you keep at least two crabs together, they will just pull each other down instead of helping each other up."

I don't know how it goes with Indonesian or Malaysian history class, but what I know of my homeland, both pre- and post-colonial history, we were never really 'united' or 'together' in the sense that Indonesia and Malaysia were (from what I assume).

Let me pull up a somewhat related question on r/AskHistorians.

The reason I brought this up as it shows the reasons why, in my opinion, a single entity that is 'Precolonial Philippines-tan' is an impossibility.

The answers are long and would extend this already long post to stupid proportions, so I'll just quote relevant sentences. The link is here for those that wanna deep-dive into the answer.

"All this to say that there wasn't a name used for the entire Philippine islands before the Philippines that people now would agree to. An interesting comparison would be the Holy Roman Empire, which might also be characterized as disparate politico-geographic groups of relatively small size that had a history of relations between each other, but one thing they had that the Philippines did not was a common language, or at least a family of mostly mutually intelligible languages, so that the name Deutschland or Germany isn't terribly offensive to anyone. If you called the Philippines the 'Lupang-Tagalog' or even 'Lupang-Tao' the other ethnic groups would protest."

For those in need of translation, 'Lupang Tagalog' means 'Land of the Tagalogs' and 'Lupang Tao' means 'Land of People', specifically. The first one is already exclusive and offensive, as the Tagalog peoples are but one of many ethnicities here.

And for the 'Lupang Tagalog' suggestion specifically, it's even more offensive as they are the majority ethnicity (not by much, just around 28%) From this chart from Geography Now! It would basically be alienating everyone else in the 72% remainder that isn't 'Tagalog'.

And even 'Lupang Tao', the most generic name in a local language you can think of, would be met with contempt because the name itself is in the Tagalog language.

Just travelling between two individual island groups today would sometimes require a translator because the words can change very rapidly and very drastically. Here's a sample of some differences coming from a friend living in Visayas (in Red) vs. the words I know living in Luzon (In blue).

Ate vs. Manang = Older Sister

Ibon vs. Pispis = Bird

Tumawa vs. Kadlaw = To laugh

Takot vs. Hadlok = Fear

Kain vs. Kaon = To eat

Ngayon vs. Subong = Now, at this point in time

Iyak vs. Hibi/Gibi = to cry

Talampakan vs. Tiil = Foot (in Tagalog, the word retains its 'body part AND unit of measurement' meaning)

Tulog vs. Tuyo = to sleep (Tuyo in Tagalog is either a dried salted fish or 'to dry')

The kicker is that just like Tagalog is just one of many languages here, so too is the language my friend speaks. Ask an entirely new person, like someone from Mindanao, they'll probably have an entirely new set of words.

It's not just Luzon vs. Visayas vs. Mindanao, either. Here's a map listing some of the ethnic groups here.

Even the way they're written differs from location to location.

While we're on the subject of Island divisions, a casual skim across Twitter and Tumblr has shown that their Precolonial PH has been one of the following ancient civilizations: Tondo, Butuan, Sugbu, Namayan. There may have been others but that was what I have found.

Notice how even today, the posters of Precolonial PH can't seem to agree on what he's supposed to be? With Indonesia it's either Majapahit or Srivijaya and Malaysia it's usually Malacca iirc.

What is the big deal? Well, let's go back to the Ask Historians post. "Why didn't the Philippines ever change its name to remove the colonial mark that being named after a Spanish King has?" The answer: "If you suggested something dating to precolonial times, the other ethnic groups would protest."

Since we're on a roll with maps, let me bring this up.

As you can see, the precolonial PH posts have a reason to not be able to agree on one thing, as there is a LOT of options. Do you also see how THAT list is also split up?

It's split up into those aligned with China (Sinified), aligned with India (Indianized), aligned with the Middle East (Islamicized), and no alignment (Animist). Now, let's go back to the main suggestions for which Kingdom/Polity/Civilization/whatever Modern Philippines used to be.

If the Filipino peoples' couldn't agree on something as simple as WHAT TO CALL THE LAND THEY'RE LIVING ON, what more a living, breathing, walking, talking entity that is supposed to be a beacon of all of their 'unified' culture? ESPECIALLY if that entity used to be a currently existing Kingdom/Polity/Rajahnate/Sultanate/whatever.

Tondo? "Of course, always the damn Tagalogs. Tagalog this, Tagalog that. First the capital city, then the language,* THE REST OF US EXIST, YOU KNOW! What about us in Visayas? Mindanao?"

*The national language known as 'Filipino' is just standardized Tagalog*

Butuan? "Wait, you want Butuan to represent us? They're they only Indian-aligned city in the Islam-majority Mindanao! They're not even that many of them! I'm not gonna change my religion!"

Sugbu, the other name for the Rajahnate of Cebu on the map? Lemme bring back my Visayan friend again. According to her, she hails from the Hiligaynon part of Visayas.

"Sure :v and the other islands are what?

Chopped liver?

Not to mention the language and writing barrier helloooo"

And Namayan? Well. I'll let this pic speak for itself.

To summarize, no matter who you pick as Modern PH's previous identity, it will not end well nor be accepted by the other Kingdoms at the time.

"So where does that leave Modern PH, he had to have been ONE of them, right?"

Well, not really. He doesn't HAVE to be one of the Ancient Kingdoms that lasted till the modern day. I mean, predecessor representatives exist in Hetalia canon, after all. Like Modern Greece is a different character from Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt and Modern Egypt, heck even England and his brothers have a canon mother that was the rep before them.

Or you could even use the same logic that Germany does, in that each specific region has/had its own representative and that Modern!PH is just the 'mediator' between them (cause gawd does PH need one). There could be a Tondo, a Namayan, a Butuan, and a Sugbu, all arguing and this Proto-PH is just trying to make headway in making them all satisfied.

But, even after all this, there is another reason why I personally don't subscribe to the 'Precolonial PH' idea, and by tangential extension, the Indo x Phil pairing.

Point 2: Even without intending to, Precolonial Indo x Phil just comes off as patronizing

This second point is just ENTIRELY personal preference and barely has any facts to back it up.

Again, if you like the pairing and disagree with me, You do you. I will respectfully support you and your passions from a distance.

But for me, Indo being Phil's seme/bae/boyfriend and consistently bringing up precolonial times just comes off as patronizing.

Just one more time, I'd like to point out that I am NOT bashing Indonesia, its people or the subscribers of Indo x Phil. This is just how the pairing feels to ME specifically.

The way I see it, Indo x Phil as a pairing, especially if it extends back into precolonial times, reads the same way as a long-since married couple where the husband/wife CONSTANTLY brings up that ONE outing you had together, or that ONE prom night where you kissed while dancing, even it happened like 30 some-odd years ago and so much more happened since then.

Even in a platonic sense, It reads like two besties where one ALWAYS mentions stuff like 'Yeah but you looked so much cooler back in High School' or 'Back in Grade School you would've known that', or 'Remember back in Pre-school we did X? How could you forget that?'

How does one respond to the notion that no matter what you do now, it will never compare to a past you've already forgotten or barely remember? That the best version of 'you' is already long gone?

"That's because the westerners made you forget your culture! You gotta take it back!"

While it is true, yes, as a collective we barely remember the Kingdom that commissioned the Laguna Copperplate, or created the Banaue Rice Terraces, or created the millennia old bonds that we still share with Indonesia and Malaysia.

But to keep pushing the precolonial identity would be to neglect and cast aside the one REAL binding belief and culture that spans the entirety of these islands we call the Philippines.

We take on all the bad stuff that happens to us, conquer it, and make it our own. Be it natural disasters, foreign powers, or negative stereotypical mentalities.

Yes, we've forgotten the ancient kingdoms of old and are just now digging through the closet for those remnants of the past. Yes, the colonizers imposed that on us, and made us forget. But in the process we've also taken everything that they left behind, everything that they threw at us, and created something that can only come from us.

The lanterns that the Spaniards used to light the way to the morning masses they made us attend became our globally known symbol of Christmas. The junked vehicles that the Americans left behind in World War 2 are now rolling works of art that announce themselves loud and proud on the streets (for better or for worse). The iced dessert recipe that the Japanese forced us to learn while they were occupying the country is now so distinct and famous it is synonymous with us, and is so delicious even Italy has taken notice.

Even after all this? Even after all the 425-ish years total we have been under a foreign power, with all the progress we've made as a country, a people, and a nation, you would still imply our fragmented, jigsaw puzzle state of being in the past was better just because it was pure 'South East Asian' like everyone else?

We might not be as well put-together as Indonesia or Malaysia, but we made this melting pot of angry, leg-pulling, dogpiling, Native, Mestizo, Chinoy, and Fil-Am crabs OURS, damnit!

It's now 4:30 AM and I have work in 5 or so hours. I'll be going to sleep now.

#hws #hws philippines #precolonial philippines #hws theory #hetalia #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hetalia headcanons #aph #axis powers hetalia #aph philippines #hetalia philippines #aph hetalia

[faithlessdragon]

Bloodline Drowning: A Canon-Divergent Potterverse AU

The Malfoys were worried, but trying hard to hide it from their son; after all, they had spent nearly his whole life telling him how much better the world would be if the Dark Lord were still around. They couldn’t now very well admit that they were terrified of what his return would mean for them -- terrified of the punishment he would exact for their renouncing his service in order to save their own skins; terrified of what duties his return would demand; terrified of him.

When Lord Voldemort rose again in that graveyard, Lucius knew better than to hesitate before going to his master’s side. Their only other option was to run, and they knew if they did he would follow. Better for him to do his best to ingratiated himself to the Dark Lord once more, to rely on his silver tongue and slippy nature to carry him through -- and just in case it didn’t work, Narcissa was ready to fly to Hogwarts, grab Draco, and flee the country a widow.

Thankfully they did not have to resort to such drastic measures...but perhaps they should have. Because Lord Voldemort was not the only corpse to return from the grave that night...and when Regulus Black stumbled over his cousin’s threshold, babbling about being unable to get into his home in Grimmauld Place and about his wretched old elf and a locket he needed to find, he neglected to mention that he had betrayed the Dark Lord they all once so faithfully served -- a fact that didn’t slip out until after the Malfoys had already offered Regulus succor, and thus doomed themselves beside him.

General Verse Background Details:

This verse can either steer close to general canon (aside from the obvious divergence) or it can take a broader AU direction.

The main divergence point of this verse is set near the end of Goblet of Fire, when Voldemort restores himself to body and power in his family’s graveyard. The premise is that the magics of his resurrection had a sort of backlash effect and also restored to life (or something like life, at least) one of the inferi in his Horcrux Cave: Regulus Black.

If Regulus brings the issue of Horcruxes into play early, will that make Voldemort easier to defeat -- or just alert him to his danger so he can take more precautions?

How long does it take for Regulus to be reunited with the Horcrux he set Kreacher to destroy? Will there be a reconciliation with one Sirius Black -- who thus may or may not survive the opening salvo of the war, this time -- along the way? If Regulus is “alive” again, does that mean that he now owns No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and the house-elf that comes with it? At what point will he try to claim it: before or after it’s become the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?

What sort of difference will it make, having not one but three Death Eaters on the Order’s side this time, albeit grudgingly? At what point does the Malfoys’ shift in allegiance become known to the Dark Lord? How does Bellatrix react to losing her remaining sister -- and will that be before or after she’s freed from Azkaban?

General Status of Draco in This Verse:

Draco and his parents didn’t choose to oppose Voldemort; they had that decision thrust upon them by the inconvenient bond of family ties that they didn’t know soon enough they ought to renounce. His opinions on blood-status and which side is in the moral “right” of this war are thus unchanged; the only reason he wants to see Voldemort fall is to save his own skin.

It probably takes time for Draco to really come around to the idea that there’s no going back -- no way to convince the Dark Lord to accept the Malfoys’ allegiance again. Time, and possibly a painful loss to make the lesson sink in...and even then, he’d be more than willing to sacrifice any of his new “allies” should it mean keeping himself or his parents safe. What would it take to make him actually loyal to the people leading the fight against Voldemort?

Draco remains as cowardly as ever, but unlike in canon this time there’s no way for him to stick to the sidelines. The Malfoys know too much which makes all of them a target. Knowing that he’s as good as dead if Voldemort wins is likely to inspire Draco to find, if not courage, at least the facsimile of a backbone for the fight.

Growing up without any family outside the immediate circle of those in the manor itself means that the sudden imposition of a cousin (or more than one, should the filthy Tonkses get involved) is a wholly unfamiliar situation for Draco. Who is this not-dead boy who doesn’t dote on him, who doesn’t think he’s the most important thing in the entire world? That’s not how family behaves...is it?

Interaction Notes: I am primarily interested in interactions in this verse set in the immediate aftermath of Regulus’s return throughout the war, but am open to later-set interactions as well although those will likely require more pre-plotting!

#verse #hp au rp #trio era rp #hp rp #indie draco malfoy rp #v: bloodline drowning #a purer shade of queue

[sleepyfan-blog]

I’m honestly really curious to see the first Ink/Cross encounter with Dream and Nightmare for the ‘bounty on their head/what I’m fighting for’ verse. I just feel like there’s a story there and I really love this verse too.

Dreamswap is by @onebizarrekai

Set in the same verse as this and this.

Characters and pairing: DS Dream, DS Nightmare, DS Cross, DS Ink, DS Dreammare, DS Crink

warnings: none

summary: DS Nightmare and Dream find Cross and Ink in what’s left of X-Tale

tag list: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey

Nightmare had been sensing something… Off for at least a week. It wasn’t the despair of a genocide timeline (he had figured out what that sensation was decades ago. Dream had told him to interrupt whatever he was doing the moment he felt such a shift so that the  two of them- and as Justice Reigns continued to grow, a handful of strong and trustworthy individuals, both to evacuate the civilians, and to… Deal with the killer Determined Being. Still, if whatever it was pinged on his senses, it was something that they needed to deal with sooner rather than later. He sighed and stretched a little bit, frowning a little in concentration as he used his senses to find -

Ah, Dream was in the orphanage again. A small smile appeared on his face as Nightmare walked to where the orphanage was - wanting to give his other half some time there. He knew that Dream liked interacting with the kids - checking in on them to see how they were healing from what had happened to them, encouraging them to look towards the future, all that positive jazz.

He found Dream covered in kids, a bright smile on his face as a couple of them hid in his wings, giggling brightly. “Having fun?” Nightmare teased as he made his way through the sea of tiny mortals. “Or do you need to be rescued?”

“Hmm? Oh, I am fine. They decided to tackle me all at once, to see if they could find where I was ticklish.” Dream responded with a light laugh.

Nightmare’s eye lights brightened, and a wicked smirk appeared on his face “Ticklish, hmm? Have any of you figured that out, yet?”

The positive spirit narrowed his eye lights up at his mate a little “Nightmare…” There was a hint of a playful warning in the other’s voice.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out~!” The negative spirit responded, still grinning mischievously “I’m just curious if they’ve figured it out yet.”

“Nu-uh! We haven’t figured it out, lord Von Licht.” A tiny bunny monster responded, shaking xer head, their little ears flapping a little. Their eyes were wide and emotional aura adorably curious as they asked “Do you know?”

Nightmare hummed and nodded, kneeling down and gently patting the top of xer head “I sure do… We’re mates after all. But I’m pretty sure that he’d rather I keep that a secret. And I”m sorry, but I kind of need to steal him away from you all for a bit.”

All of the kids fussed a little bit, pouting adorably as they snuggled further into Dream “Do you really hafta?” A tiny lizard monster asked, tears threatening to fall from their face.

“Hey now, there’s no need for tears, kiddo…” Nightmare murmured, awkwardly reaching out to the kid, glad that they didn’t flinch away from him as he awkwardly patted the top of their head “It’s just boring adult things. You’ll have your fluffy angel back in no more than an hour or two, probably.”

Dream sighed and lightly whacked him with an edge of one of his wings “How many times must I ask you not to call me that? It encourages the others.”

Nightmare snickered a little bit at that “It’s what you get for being all fluffy, Dreamy-wings. ‘Sides you are my angel. You’ve been trying to keep me on the goody-two-shoes path since we were first created… And you’ve saved me when I needed it most.” Fuck. He was being sappy.

The expression on Dream’s face was soft and his aura was loving and Nightmare was going to hide no- where had Dream gone? The other’s voice spoke up from behind and above him (stupidly tall jerk) as a pair of familiar arms wrap around him, his wing folding around the both of them as well. “I love you too, Nightmare. Let’s go somewhere more private, hmm?”

Nightmare nodded, feeling a light blush dusting his cheeks “Yeah. Wasn’t lying about needing to talk to you about something.” He responds softly.

Dream nods, lowers his wings and says his goodbyes to the children, encouraging them to return to their studies before the two of them left the orphanage, walking to their private rooms hand in hand.

~

“There’s been a shift. I’ve been feeling it for about an hour. It doesn’t feel like a murderous one? But we need to see what’s going on. I… It’s important.” Nightmare explains the moment that they’re alone.

Dream frowns a little and nods “I can sense it as well - I will inform Champion that we will be leaving the timeline, and then we’ll search for this… Issue. Depending on what it is, we may need backup.”

The negative spirit nods, and waits impatiently for the message to be sent off, shutting off his eye lights and pacing around the room - the sensation is definitely intensifying and it’s making him antsy. He focuses on the connections between worlds, searching for the source of the pull, having not quite summoned a portal, but getting close to doing so.

Nightmare’s found the correct connection point when Dream comes back, nodding to him “Champion has been informed - he’s gathering a couple of teams, depending on what we may end up needing to do - be it disaster relief or… More drastic measures.”

The negative spirit nods, saying “I believe I’ve found the AU that needs help.” He opens the portal moments later and the two of them walk into the world together.

It’s… A completely blank, white space. There’s a yawning emptiness in this place, but Nightmare feels strongly pulled deeper inside of this space. Is it really an alternate universe? He calls out as loudly as he dares, his voice echoing faintly “Hello? Is there someone here? You don’t have to hide… We… We’re here to help.” Stars above and below he hopes that didn’t sound as awkward as he felt it was.

Dream sends him a small smile and gently grabbed one of his hands, squeezing for a moment before, nodding a little bit and smiling warmly at his other half. “I can sense something as well…”

They continue walking for a frankly unknowable distance, and a voice from further in this white void speaks out, confused and slightly terrified “I-Ink did you hear someone else speak a little bit ago?”

“Yes… It’s something new, Cross… Let’s go check it out.” The other voice responded, sounding vaguely curious. Two Sanses come running towards them at high speed, one wearing brown and blue clothes, the other in a monochromatic outfit that looks almost like a guard’s uniform.

Both of them have mismatched eyes, but the one in black and white clothing runs a little closer to the both of them, taking them in and murmuring softly to his friend “You… You see them too, right? I… I haven’t finally snapped…”

“If you see a winged golden skeleton and his purple companion, then no, you’re not crazy. At least no crazier than I am, because that’s who I see before me.” The other responds.. He has a bandolier of vials on his chest, each a different color.

Dream takes a step forwards, smiling kindly at both of the skeletons “Greetings, my name is Dream Von Licht, and this is my mate, Nightmare… What are your names?”

Both of them light up visibly at that, before they both sigh. The skeleton with one determination red eye light spoke up “My name is Cross, his is Ink… My… This was my world before it… Before I….” He hunched his shoulders as a wave of pain, sorrow and guilt floods the other’s emotional aura “Something terrible happened, and I was… I was alone for a long time. Then Ink came here, although he doesn’t remember how he’d gotten here in the first place, so neither of us know how to make a portal to leave.”

Nightmare’s eye lights glow brightly and, after sending a brief glance to Dream, walks towards the monochromatic skeleton, his voice warm and gentle - or his best approximation of that “Hey… No matter what happened here, I’m sure you did all you could to protect those who you loved… You’re not the only one whose made mistakes. Stars above only how much crap I’ve messed up in the past… But that doesn’t mean that you give up. Learn from the mistakes of the past and continue moving forwards. Dream and I run an organization that tries to bring peace and stability to the multiverse. I don’t know if we’ll ever truly succeed, but we’ve made some good progress in the worlds that we’ve reached out to. We can take you from this place and bring you to one of the worlds that - and don’t laugh at me, I didn’t name the organization - Justice Reigns, has helped. A post-pacifist Outertale. It’s a beautiful AU, filled with so many stars and worlds to explore…”

Cross’s eye lights turn into stars briefly, and the negative feelings within the other lower - in part because Nightmare is using his magic to gently draw off the other’s bad emotions,  while his mate is subtly increasing the positive emotions around the both of them “I… I like stars… But I… I want to help other people. I was trained to be a royal guard… I… I ended up failing my charges, but please… Your cause sounds like a noble one, and I want to help if I can. In any way that I can/”

Ink is watching the both of them - focused rather intensely on Dream for a couple of moments before he glances at Cross, and smiles with a tender warmth- and the other moves forwards slowly, gently grabbing one of Cross’s hands, squeezing it gently “Where you’re going, I’ll follow, Cross. I can’t say that I believe in much… But I do believe in your happiness,  mon ami.”

Cross blushes a little, smiling a bit wider at that, squeezing his friend? Mate’s? Hand back and nods “We… We’ll go with you. I’m not sure how much use either of us is going to be, but we’ll do all we can to help you.”

“Once we get the two of you back to our headquarters, we’ll see what sorts of abilities the two of you have, and then we’ll discuss options. There are many ways that you can help.” Dream reassured the both of them, smiling warmly as he spoke, creating a portal out of the world “Through this, and you’ll leave this world.”

Cross ran through it as fast as he could, Ink a half-step behind him, both of them genuinely excited to leave that dreary, blank space. Both of the emotive guardians chuckle a little as they follow the pair at a more sedate pace.

“So… So colorful…” Cross murmurs, staring around him at the forest meadow that Dream had opened the portal, kneeling down as he stared at the wildflowers that grew amongst the grass, his fingers trembling as he lightly touched the vibrant petals. “Ink… Ink have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No… My world was almost as empty as yours… I was… I was barely able to leave it and stagger into yours…” Ink answered earnestly, his eye lights swirling shapes and colors, seemingly unable to settle on one pattern or color, kneeling down next to cross and lightly touching the flowers as well.

The earnest wonder and joy in their emotional auras was a delight to see, though it spoke to just how long they’d been in that dreary void. Dream had been completely correct in starting them off away from other people - which were likely going to be incredibly overwhelming to the both of them for some time to come, Nightmare notes silently, grinning a little and leaning into his mate as he watched the pair of them stare and ever so gently touch the flowers.

“Take as much time exploring this place as you like. We are not pressed for time.” Dream encourages gently, wrapping an arm around Nighmare’s waist and nuzzling the top of his head a little, clearly content to stay put.

#my writing #dreamswap #ds dream #ds nightmare #ds cross #ds ink #ds dreammare #ds crink #sweammare

[caravanslost]

25 - Equal

Verse: Priesthood AU, Part 2. (Part 1 is here).

Characters: Damen/Laurent.

Tags: Priesthood AU; Damen, the hot trainee priest; Laurent, the hot unsuspecting congregant; confession; misuse of sacraments. Written for @capri-month​.

Eventually, a measured voice speaks into the quiet. It says, “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been exactly a week since my last confession.”

Father Joseph asks Damen to cover the early confession shift—the one between 10.30 and 11 on Thursday morning. Father Joseph swears that it’s a one-off. He says that Mrs Elsie Smith is celebrating her 95th birthday at the rest home, and that she’s invited him to the birthday party. Alternatively, says Father Joseph, Damen is more than welcome to go to the party in his place.

Damen takes the extra shift.

He takes it, even though he’s never seen the point of a mid-week confession before lunchtime. No one ever comes, and if they do, their sins are rarely interesting. People who attend slots like Thursday morning come between errands, their mind on the last thing they’ve come from or the next thing they’re about to do. He hears them, blesses them, and sends them on their way with five to ten Our Fathers, and a Hail Mary if they’ve been extra bad.

He figures it’ll be quiet, so he takes a prayer book into the confessional with him. He might as well work on his own mortal soul.

Five minutes before he’s due to finish, he hears the telling creak of the church door. A set of deliberate footsteps come down the aisle. Damen’s spent so much time in this building that he can normally guess who’s coming, just by the sound of their steps on the redwood floor, but he can’t quite place this one.

The door to the other half of the confessional opens, and someone steps inside. Sits down. Most congregants usually launch into a rehearsed script of their sins. This congregant pauses and waits.

For what, exactly, Damen’s not sure. He’s tempted to look through the grille to see who it is, but doesn’t.

Eventually, a measured voice speaks into the quiet. It says, “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been exactly a week since my last confession.”

Damen’s stomach lunges into free-fall when he realizes: it’s Laurent.

His first response is a wild, inappropriate thrill at the prospect of taking Laurent, of all people, for confession.

God forgive him. He says, “Hello, Laurent.”

Laurent responds, “Oh.” And he’s not quick enough to keep the stagger out of his voice.

“You were expecting Father Joseph.”

“I—yes.”

“He’s at the rest home. At Elise’s birthday party. I took the shift.” Damen says. And then, even though it’s obvious, he adds. “You can still confess to me.”

He can’t see anything through the grille, but he hears a single disbelieving breath.

“To you.” Laurent says.

“I’m a good listener. Try me.”

And he knows as he says it—knows—that he’s asking for himself.

Damen’s spent so much time on his knees, head bowed before the altar, praying about his feelings for Laurent. He prays for clarity over them, to be released from them, but now Laurent’s sitting on the other side of the confessional, and Damen has a semi-ordained right to ask about his deepest and darkest corners.

Damen wonders whether God’s testing him, or laughing at him.

Laurent sighs deeply.

“Alright. Um—well. Alright.” He says. “I was—unkind to someone at work today. I lost my patience with my brother last week. And sometimes, I take an extra half hour for lunch.”

And then he stops. In the silence that follows, Damen has the distinct impression that he is being monitored for a reaction.

Laurent’s given him the stuff of textbooks—a bouquet of venial sins. The kind Damen hears day in, day out, in the same monotones, by people without imagination. And what they tell him is probably all true, but that’s not the same thing as the truth.

And at the very least, he suspects that Laurent’s keeping more interesting thoughts to himself.

He asks, “Does Father Joseph let you get away with that?”

“With what?”

“You only need to do this once or twice before you can sort the honest confessions from the junk. And that was junk,” he says. “And forgive me for saying so—but it wasn’t even particularly good junk.”

He hears Laurent take an unsteady breath through the grille, and then, miraculously: a quiet laugh. It’s a brief sound.

“I didn’t realize that confession was graded.” Laurent says, a familiar dryness seeping into his tone.

Damen smiles into the darkness. “It isn’t,” he says. “But if a heart’s not in it, I think it’s my duty to say so.”

Laurent seems to settle more easily into the opposite side of the booth. At the very least, the obvious tension sparking from the other end of the grille, from when he first arrived, has abated.

Damen likes this part of the job best. Not the ritual, nor the routine, nor the more arcane elements of theology, but this—encountering a wall and then finding a way through it, and the unfiltered connection that follows. It almost makes it worth his doubts about the job.

Laurent says, quietly, “It’s not in my nature, to speak openly about certain things.”

“I’ve heard every sin you can imagine a dozen times, and committed most of them myself,” says Damen. “But it’s natural to resist vulnerability. I get it.”

“How easy for you to say. One party bares their soul, and the confessor gets to listen. Nothing about the exchange is even.”

“It’s not meant to be transactional.” Damen says. “Faith isn’t a ledger you balance.”

“It would make more sense, if it was. It would make it easier to speak.”

“Then why come, if you don’t like it?”

“The same reasons anyone else comes to confession. Habit and guilt.”

Go figure, Damen thinks, that Laurent brings an argument about God to his own house. But this is the most he’s enjoyed taking rites in a long time.

“I have an idea.” He says.

“Well done. But it’s hardly an appropriate time.”

“Since you like reciprocity so much,” Damen says, ignoring him, “I’ll tell you something—anything you want to know. Afterwards, in return, you give me a confession worth something. Deal?”

“Does Father Joseph know you tamper with the sacraments?”

“I won’t tell him, if you won’t.” Damen says. “Do we have a deal, Vere?”

Laurent contemplates the offer for a moment. “Fine. Deal.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Something vulnerable.”

He knows what he’ll say, as soon as Laurent asks.

He takes a moment anyway, right before he speaks. It’ll be the first time he says the thought aloud, outside of his prayers. Damen knows that to speak it will bring it closer to a choice he can make, and make flesh of its intention. It should be a terrifying thought, but in the face of it, Damen finds himself strangely calm.

What bewilders him is that he’s telling Laurent. Laurent, who he had only recently come to know. Laurent, who had arguably triggered this chain of thoughts in the first place.

He says, “I’m thinking of leaving the priesthood,” and hears a sharp intake of breath through the grille.

Damen finds himself waiting a while for a response. Strange, he thinks, how he feels more nervous about what Laurent will say than the thought of actually leaving. A useless part of him wonders whether Laurent will see right through him and his motivations.

When Laurent eventually responds, all he says is, “Well. That’s certainly—”, and then he stops again.

“Drastic?”

“I was going to say brave, but that too.” He says. “How long have you had doubts?”

“A while.” Damen says. “Six months.”

Six months since Laurent walked into Our Lady of the Assumption and asked for a blessing from his hand. Six months since the Vere brothers became regulars at Sunday mass, and invited him over for dinner on Tuesday, and had such a good time that they extended the Tuesday night invitation indefinitely.

Six months since Laurent and his quiet, wicked intelligence had arrived at the village and dismantled the quiet order of Damen’s life, brick-by-brick, perhaps without even knowing what he had done.

When he leaves the priesthood – and Damen realizes with a startle that he’s no longer thinking in ifs – he doesn’t know whether he’ll tell Laurent how he feels. At some level, this has nothing to do with Laurent. It’s bigger than him. Laurent only catalyzed the realization that maybe, Damen wants something else out of life.

He’ll need to pray on that, too.

“If it’s been six months,” Laurent says carefully, “that’s more conviction than doubt. What did Father Joseph say?”

“I’ll let you know after I tell him.”

“Damen.”

“I know.” He says. “Give me a break. You’re the first person I’ve actually told,”

And he thinks that maybe it’s this revelation—not the other one—that offers his vulnerability to Laurent.

Sure, they’re friendly enough. They see each other at mass, and speak outside of it, and the village has a single supermarket and pub where they run into each other between days. Besides which, the median age in the village is so old that two young people in the same room will always find themselves in the same corner.

And they’ve had serious conversations before, too. There’s always a certain point on Tuesday night dinners, after dessert and before the coffee, when Auguste brings out the port and the conversation turns heavy. Sometimes Damen stays with the brothers till midnight, or one, or two. More than once, he’s overindulged and been forced to sleep it off in their spare room. They’ve talked deeply before.

But there’s talking, and then there’s this.

After a long pause, Laurent says, “Thank you. For trusting me, I mean.”

“You’re welcome.” Damen says. “Your turn, now.”

And, like clockwork, a shrill and mechanical beeping fills the silence between them.

It comes from Laurent’s phone. He pulls it out to stop it, and a dusky blue light comes through from the other side of the grille..

Damen normally makes a point of not looking through the grille, but hazards a quick look now. The precise lines of Laurent’s face are illuminated in the glow of his phone. A few strands of his hair have fallen from behind his ear, and Damen looks away before he can think of wanting to push them back.

He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. 

“That better not have been an alarm, Laurent, ” he warns.

“It wasn’t.” Laurent says, tapping his phone shut. The confessional goes dark again. “It was a message from work. I’ve been summoned back.”

“Are you going to tell them you’re in the middle of something?”

A lengthy pause follows. The longer it goes on, the more obvious the eventual answer.

“No,” Laurent says, although his is tone somewhere between an apology and a smile. “Listen, can I take a rain check?”

Damen fights back the urge to sigh, and the urge to say no, and the urge to tell him, stay. He even has the grace to look for a silver lining, and finds it, because one thing has become abundantly clear in the course of this conversation. it’s this:

God is definitely laughing at him.

A note: There’s another version of this story in the sewer of my drafts folder, which is likely to send us all to hell. I’ll post it sometime. 

#captive prince #caprimonth #captiveprincemonth #damen #laurent