Any chance we can get some Anabasis or DAV in celebration of Triduum/Holy Week?
Late reply is super late, but better than never I hope.
I’m working on the next DAV fic which would actually be a perfect fit for the Passover / Easter season, with its focus on themes of liberation, but it is, alas, not finished yet.
So in lieu of that (and by way of apology for being gone so long), here’s a snippet of Anabasis.
This one is pretty spoilery, tbh. But Holy Week for me is all about liberation and new life, and this part of the story is definitely that. So when I finally publish the whole of Anabasis, you all can pretend to be surprised…
[In which Anakin finds Palpatine’s collection of Sith holocrons…]
The place was dim and musty, and it clanged with the distant
echoes of crumbling old machinery. Padmé’s hand drifted uneasily and came to
rest on the blaster at her hip. Just in case.
The door Dinsa had stopped before was the seventeenth in a
line of identical doors, each unmarked and wholly unremarkable, the sort that
might be found in any number of abandoned factories or warehouses in the Works.
But Padmé didn’t fail to notice the way Dinsa stood well
back from the door, or the way she and Sabé watched Anakin closely, alert and
ready for any sudden directive. Anakin himself was focused intently, seemingly
unaware of anyone else around him. Padmé shifted from foot to foot, watching
him stand perfectly still, watching the light of memory burn in his eyes.
“Anakin?” she whispered, hesitating only a moment before
placing a hand on his shoulder. Warmth bled through his clothing and into her
He blinked slowly, just once, then turned from the door to
face her. His mouth curled, far too vicious to be called a smile.
Okay, so, imagine Les Amis playing board games! They’d all be so competitive!
Monopoly is a death match but also don’t let Enjolras play because it becomes a rant about capitalism
Cluedo is a battle of wits, Courfeyrac is the god of it despite Jehan’s insistence that they are better… Bossuet always gets 2/3 but can never get the final thing (it’s always the location)
They have game nights which end up lasting for days at a time because none of them are willing to give up!
But the ultimate game is Trivial Pursuit, they work in teams and it becomes violently competitive and that’s only PICKING the teams!
Team one is Combeferre (nature/science), Courfeyrac (entertainment), Enjolras (history), Cosette (sport) and Marius (partly history, partly because you can’t have Cosette without Marius… and they NEED Cosette)
Team two is Joly (his science nature rivals Ferre’s), Bossuet (one board game that he’s actually incredibly good at), Musichetta (entertainment and sport), Jehan (art and literature), Feuilly (history) and Eponine (everything but science)
But then Grantaire turns up to one of their game nights (read: gets dragged there by Joly and Bossuet) and whilst Joly and Bossuet try to claim him for their team, Ferre points out that the teams are already uneven and that Team two also having Grantaire would be completely unfair.
So Taire joins Team one… and not only have they finally filled art and literature (this guy is a freaking genius!) his entertainment knowledge is almost as good as Courf’s and he also knows loads about sport AND about science AND his history knowledge is as good as Enj’s AND he’s quicker
Basically Grantaire is the board game god and I want all of his friends clamouring to have him on their team because he’s incredible!
Just Les Amis being massive nerds and playing board games
1) That is very good to know that the usage of “cali” is not common. And Seattle is awesome, one of my favourite cities for sure. You’ll have to introduce them to california burritos.
2) Yeah I definitely understand what you’re saying, it’s less about the heat and more about the acclimation. Like, could I get used to 110 degree weather? Yes, probably. But do I want to? No, can’t really say that I do.
3) Yes, for sure. The area definitely does have a lot to offer. I will make the argument though that it’s actually (comparatively to other places in CA) one of the less laid-back places I’ve experienced. Or at least LA, long beach is probably different. Once you start getting away from the major cities into the central coast area then things really start getting slow and laid-back.
“Going to New York and like Philly and LA, like I thought, my whole life that, everywhere was like that. Like every part of America was like, a city like that. And then I started touring. And I’d go to like, I’m not gonna drop any names of any cities, don’t wanna make anyone feel bad but like…”
Tony wakes to a tiny finger in his
left ear and a barely suppressed giggle.
Well two giggles actually.
One is the very familiar deep rumble
of his husband, who as a matter of fact is catastrophically bad at suppressing
giggles. Especially when it is this special brand of mischievous giggle. The
other is a way higher tone, almost as familiar by now and even more mischievous.
It obviously belongs to the same
person as the finger in his ear.
Even without opening his eyes he
knows that Sarah’s whole face is probably lit up with glee right now - ever
since she’s gotten big enough to climb onto their bed all on her own, waking
like this has become kind of a fixture. And she doesn’t seem to be getting
tired of it at all.
If it didn’t make her this
exceptionally happy, it’d probably be a lot easier to tell her to stop doing it.
As it is, Tony hasn’t even managed to say one word against it in all of almost
“Steve, I think the
ear-infiltrating aliens from last week are back!” Tony says, keeping his
voice as grave as possible, even though the giggling intensifies. “I think
we’ll have to tape our ears shut every night from now on the get this situation
under control. Especially Miss Sarah’s ears, because I don’t want the aliens to
His words are accompanied by a little
shriek, when he cracks open one eye while talking and clamps his hands over his
daughters ears. “Noooo Daddy, no tape, no tape, no tape!” She is
still giggling - she very well knows that Tony is not being serious. After all
she’s almost as good at reading him as Steve and there is no denying who her
Steve is trying really hard to sound
stern when he answers.
“Yes, I think that is a very
good idea. I’m sure Clint has some purple tape lying around and it is after all
your favorite color, Sarahbee so we can start the taping right after dinner.”
He is leaning forward and placing a smacking kiss on her forehead to try and
hide that he is now full out laughing.
As expected Sarah is not fooled and easily
wriggles free of Tony’s hands to poke Steve’s cheek with one of her fingers.
“You hate tape! No tape,
Papa!” She demands and of course Steve nods seriously and his face looks
actually really funny when he is trying so hard not to laugh again.
“Alright,” he says
“but then you have to help us fend off the aliens with” - he wrinkles
his forehead as if he is thinking very hard and Sarah is already hanging onto
every word he is saying and Tony is so in love with this ridiculous dork -
“lemon scent candles and hot cocoa in the evening, because aliens don’t
like that, promise?”
promise!” Sarah singsongs with a bright, sunny smile on her face. Without
warning she flops back against Tony, laying her hand flat against the arc
reactor - an unconscious thing she almost always does - and smiles up at him.
“Yeah I guess now that we’ve
averted the alien crisis, we all deserve some pancakes with blueberries and
syrup.” Tony says, and her whole face lights up at that and he’ll probably
never get over the little flutter his heart still makes when he sees her this
happy. “Alright, why don’t you go on ahead down to the communal floor and
take a look if anyone else is already up and wants breakfast too? I bet Aunt
Tasha will make you her special milk with honey if you ask her real nice.”
There’s literally always one or the
other of the Avengers already awake at this time, who’ll happily entertain
their little girl - after all none of them are immune to her big brown puppy
eyes and her infectious smile.
“Honey milk!” She nods
happily and starts climbing down the bed without hesitation and almost topples
over in her hurry. In the doorframe she stops for a second looking back at
them, contemplating. “You too?”
“Yeah, bee, we’ll be down in a
minute, okay?” Steve says, already leaning over to pull Tony into his
Sarah just nods satisfied, blows
them both a smacking kiss and hurries on to the elevator.
“Jarvis, you have an eye on
Tony watches her go, before he tilts
his head up to accept Steve’s good morning kiss, thinking that he probably couldn’t
be more happy than he is right now. He loves them so much, he sometimes thinks
he is just going to burst from how happy they make him and how grateful he is
to have them.
“Aliens, huh?” Steve
murmurs against his mouth, and Tony can feel his wide grin against his lips.
“Well, you’re not the one
always woken by a sticky finger in their ear so you don’t get to talk!”
Not that he is complaining.
He actually loves the sticky finger
and everything else that comes as a package deal with it.
Rosalie Hale imagine requested by anon. “Could you do a imagine. Where the reader is a shapeshifter who imprints on Rosalie. They try to stay away from the cullens because they are scared of what Rosalie’s and the pack’s reaction would be. Eventually somebody confronts the reader about it.” Hope you like it!
This was one of the many reasons why sharing a collective mind with a bunch of biased teenage boys made your blood boil. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t understand (though that was about as likely as rain in northern Washington), it was more so out of protective instinct that the intermingling of thought must be prevented. Swearing-off phasing was easier said than done; your anger had to be controlled on an almost obscene level; driving, of course, was an impossibility. You were suddenly very gung-ho and namaste about every minor infraction that would usually drive the fur through your flesh and the fangs from your jaw. Of course, it didn’t help that Paul fuckin’ Lahote was taking advantage of your newfound inner peace; if he so much as crunched another chip in your vicinity, no amount of unconditional love for the object of your affection would be able to contain the pent-up rage that man elicited. On the bright side, the nature-bent force that drew you into this situation did help in your quest to remain unconnected to the pack’s mind: your heartstrings strummed only for her, only for her… the tune, the very melody she stroked from your soul made the ordeal simpler, somehow. You had someone to protect. This was not a new scenario for you.
You would cope as long as Sam allowed; no amount of resolve could counter an Alpha’s thundering command, regardless of foundation. Well, there was one instance you believe you’d be able to resist, but luckily for you, the events you feared would never come to be: Sam’s absolute control could not battle absolute tribal law. He would have to shove his God-complex for the time being, and you would remain human until you were forced to change. Even if Sam drew the line in the sand, you’d always have Jacob’s pack to fall back on. At least they were determined to defend the… the… God, why’d it have to be her? Anyone else would have been less complicated. They could have been an infant, they could have been halfway across the world. Hell, it could have been a member of the pack and your world would flow somewhat seamlessly. Now that your mind was tied to theirs, and your heart to hers, you felt as though you were plucking at strings, unraveling the natural order of your world. If it had been Claire, that much was understandable. Quil had it easy. All he had to do was wait a few years and waltz along his merry way, half-mad in love with his imprint. Sam was on cloud nine. The love of his life was set to become his wife. Paul and Rachel, Jared and Kim, they were all walking through parks, blissed-out entirely. No, but you couldn’t have it easy. You had to imprint on the enemy. You had to defy nature more than you already did (because exploding into an enormous, fever-blooded wolf was about as far from natural as you dared to explore) and imprint on, out of every bloodsucker in the area, the woman who likely loathed us the most.
It had to be Rosalie Hale.
Not only was she rumoured to be the single most heart-wrenchingly beautiful creature to ever grace the wretched town of Forks with her presence, she happened to guzzle elk blood every week or so to sustain her festering immortality. It was about as unnatural as it could get, but lo and behold, here you were to complicate things even further. It wasn’t supposed to happen. You were on your side of the line, she was on hers. All it took was a split second, and she had you molded to the diamond-hard inside of her palm. You could only be thankful that you were the only one phased at that moment; every once and a while, you took advantage of your frozen female body and claimed menstruation was rendering education pointless. If you hadn’t been faking agonizing cramps, you would have never been so far from La Push… at the same time, if you had remained in school with Embry, Jake, and Quil, you would have likely stumbled upon Rosalie while connected to the pack’s mind. You weren’t ready for that firestorm. You were hardly ready to imprint, and yet fate threw you to the sharks, just as it had with your first violent shift from bipedal member of society to lumbering shadow in the forest. You couldn’t phase, couldn’t venture too far from the reservation without fearing her striking face popping into view, either through your mind’s eye or from her proximity, the mere thought of which sent ghostly shivers down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw in the woods. The blood covered her lips like gloss, her eyes were blown with vibrant butterscotch and thirst, her teeth were gleaming with crimson… and yet she was beautiful. It wasn’t in her claw-like fingers, nor was it in her defensive stance. It was in her soul, glowing like a dying ember within her chest, projecting an uncharacteristic warmth in your direction. It was in the glimmer her eyes held, it was in the sunlight adorning her golden hair. Your world froze in that moment. You disregarded the carcass at her feet, the blood coating her mouth. You saw only her. Thank God your facial features differed when you were a wolf; she would’ve seen right through you.
Before you ran, you’d heard her murmur something to whoever was with her at the time, a face you never saw (so blinded by her glory as you had been), a scent overpowered by her own. Something about the way you smelled, actually. It wasn’t malicious, as you had expected, but her words reverberated around your skull as loudly as if she’d insulted you: “That one doesn’t smell quite so horrible, does it?” How simple, how unassuming it was. You didn’t reek to her, just as she didn’t reek to you. The burn was still there, of course, like sticking your face in a snowbank and pumping propane gas through what breathable air you found within. It was just… different. You’d smelled Edward, of course, but you hadn’t been around long enough to have caught sight of Rosalie. What little you knew of a vampire’s scent was potent enough to cause your face to wrinkle, your fingers to clamp your nostrils closed. Even then, you could taste it like the fumes of frozen vomit in the air. But Rosalie smelled… as much as you hated to admit it, she smelled good. Incredible, actually. Mouthwatering was an appropriate word. She was lilacs and honey and something like cherries but too nippy to fit the fruit. She was the slow burn of white wine and the exhilarating scent of wind through a well-tended garden, morphing the aromas of two distinctly different flowers until they were one. It was appalling to think that your genetic coding had let this one slip through without the same effect. You were designed to kill the likes of her, but now… now, that was out of the question. It wasn’t even spoken, wasn’t even thought of. Rosalie was everything. You would die for her. Damn your instincts. Damn your wolfy instincts straight to Hell.
“What about your instincts?” You head spun to face the intruder standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his cut denim, his bronze chest radiating heat even you could feel. Seth’s eyebrows perked, his lips poised in a humour-filled smirk. Damn it, Jacob must have sent him back. You had no idea he was running with Sam again. These are the kind of thing you pick up on when you phase regularly. You, on the oother hand, had effectively cut communication out of your life. You stumbled for ground, for words, for an explanation, but you came up dry. You had no idea you’d been so far immersed in your thoughts that you’d let slip a few key phrases into your speech. Seth propelled himself away from the wall, chuckling to himself. “Sam sent me to check on you. You missed last night’s border patrol. He’s pissed, Y/n.” You ducked your eyes, feeling the warmth of your blood in your cheeks slow-cook your skin.. Actually, given your temperature, that was a very real possibility. This whole imprinting ordeal was bad for your health. “He’s outside now, Y/n. Being pissed.” Seth, seeing you had no intention of moving from atop your bedspread, leaned closer to your face, his eyes wide. “Hello, Y/n? Sam’s literally outside your house, and he’s pissed. I haven’t seen him this irritated since Jake bolted. Hands shaking and everything. You’ve got to get out there, man.” You sighed, lowering your face into your hands, feeling your cheeks glow in the darkness your palms provided. When you spoke, your voice was muffled by your skin.
“I can’t go, Seth,” you admitted. The young wolf began to negotiate, the severity of his father figure’s command plain and clear in his eyes, but you weren’t going to let him raise enough Hell to bring Sam barging in. You tore your hands from your face, locking him in your sights. “God, Seth, I literally can’t go!” Seth raised his hands in warning, his eyes glued to your own. You hadn’t realized how much you were trembling, how your fingers had balled into fists. The poor kid thought you were going to tear him apart. You calmed your breathing, watching the seismic shaking of your hands slow to a minimal vibration your stress levels wouldn’t allow to fade. You inhaled slowly, preparing yourself for whatever mud-and-sticks explanation you could supply. “Look, Seth, I can’t phase right now. I’m dealing with… girl stuff.” Seth scoffed, rolling his eyes in frustration.
“C’mon, Y/n, Leah tried pulling that on me months ago. Wolves don’t do… that sort of thing, anymore. Were you not in Leah’s head when she first phased? Were we not in yours? Cut the crap,” his tone wasn’t threatening, merely truthful. You’d hoped the thought of girl trouble would be enough to frighten him off. There would be no way out of this. You’d have to give him some botched rendition of the truth to send him on his way.
“Okay, that’s the thing. I can’t… have you in my head, not now. Something happened, and I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want you knowing, I don’t want Jared or Paul giving me shit, I don’t need Sam locking me down. I just want my thoughts to be mine. Can’t you tell Sam that I need my space? I’m sure he gets it. I mean, he let you run off with Jake. When the Hell did you get back?” Seth tilted his head, grinning.
“Yesterday. The Cullen’s have things under control with Nessie. She’s absolutely incredible. When Jacob isn’t with her, it’s Alice, or it’s Esme, or it’s Rosalie-” You flinched visibly at the sound of her name, wings fluttering against your rib cage. Seth paused, his eyes dissecting your every move. “Y/n, what happened? Why can’t you phase?”
God, you were really trapped now.
“Seth, I…” your throat closed up, worse than when Sam placed you under the gag order, worse than when you had to try to explain your absences to your mother, worse than when your friends confronted you about your lack of communication. Fortunately (and unfortunately), Seth was perceptive enough to understand your anguish, his eyes widening in shock.
“No way,” he breathed, backing up a few steps, his hands on the sides of his face, fingertips running through his shorn hair. “No way, no way! Holy… Y/n, did you imprint on someone?” You closed your eyes, your face sinking into your hands. Seth crowed, laughing noiselessly, more exhales than chuckles, really, his hands falling limply to his sides. “You imprinted, you totally imprinted! Who is it? Who’s the guy?” You clenched your jaw, staring up into his eager eyes with a tad more irritation than you intended. He backpedaled. “Or girl, you know, that’s cool with me. Well… come on, who is it?” You shook your head with slow, heavy acceptance. You’d have to face the pack sooner or later. It may even protect her in the future. They couldn’t touch her as long as they knew. Even the pro’s of imprinting sounded like cons when you were faced with imagining Sam’s reaction.
“It’s Rosalie Hale,” you sighed, wincing internally as you spoke her name. Like claws through your heart, it was. Seth guffawed, a sound more shocked than amused, his eyes popping out of his skull. His mouth remained open, wordless, his hands running once more through his hair. We flinched together when the the screen of my front door slammed shut, followed by Sam’s heavy footsteps. You cursed under your breath, wishing you hadn’t been graced with bionic hearing. Seth practically fell to the side as Sam stormed into the room, his lips a hardened, thin line. He jabbed a finger in your direction, cutting into you with his voice.
“You. Outside. Now.” You had to obey his command. You followed him onto your lawn, out of view of the rest of the town, so shrouded in wood as you were. You reluctantly phased, disregarding your clothing as you did so, your mind exploding with familiar, if unwanted, commentary, as scraps of cotton fluttered to the ground around you.
“Oh, she’s done it now,” came Jared’s voice, his paws padding against moss, his howling laughter echoing through the forest as he abandoned his prey.
“Way to go, Y/n!” Embry barked, his smirk visible even in his thoughts.
“Yeah, welcome to the club, kid.” Quil was always the team player.
“At least now we know it isn’t about producing offspring,” followed Colin’s quip, his smaller limbs pushing past his limits to find the rest of the pack. From Seth, only one phrase.
“I knew this would happen, I knew this would happen, I knew this would happen!”