it's not dark and black and without character

Kapetria from the book Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis by Anne Rice. I love Anne Rice’s books, she is my favorite author. I love how she depicts the dark worlds (vampires, werewolves, witches) without cliches and without cheesy characters and with dark charm and misery, and finding happiness in the misery. I can go on forever. 
Although I haven’t finished the book yet but its characters are so interesting in every way I cannot resist to visualize them. So here she is, Kapetria.

Soul Mate Au

It started with the lines.

Little lines that twisted and turned over his forearms and around his thighs, spreading in every direction across his skin, almost in idle in pattern; no rhyme or reason really. The lines weren’t even pretty or creative, just lines that were too shaky and more like children’s squiggles, the blunt nail of his fingertips leaving nothing much to any artistic eye. Honestly, he simply liked the after effects that occurred when the lines faded, slowly from the beginning to the very end.

But he didn’t care about his lines. He cared about the lines that weren’t his.

The lines that branched off smoothly from his own. There was nothing special about them, not really. It was just regular swirls, but he loved those simple little swirls because he knew somewhere out there, a woman was making those swirls, just like those appearing unaided on his skin, and the design are hers.

He doesn’t know her or anything about her, but in his mind, he knew she was his soulmate.

Then the lines weren’t lines anymore. It started to steadily become beautiful things, things he was certain she must see every day in her life. But she had a talent that he could never recreate, a talent that never stopped, that made him wonder what sort of story must have been behind each drawing that she wished to share to him alone. He never asked though. He was too much in awe of all the things he’d find on his skin. Sometimes at night, he couldn’t help but stand bare in his room, as naked as the day he had been born, twisting in front of the mirror to see all the designs and drawings she flooded into his body. His fingers would trace them lightly, smiling softly when it all came together, all those unexpected turns and twists and curves turning his body into a beautiful canvas and he wondered if she were proud.

She must be to share such a talent with him. But what could he share with her? He held no talent in drawing and he didn’t want to stop the magic she created by drivel words. But what could he give back? What could he share with her that would make them both happy? He thought for a long time after that. He thought about it when he saw the crimson color of a woman’s scarf. He thought about it when he passed a bakery, a father carrying a cake with the number eleven plastered on the surface. He thought about it when he heard the delight of a woman’s laughter, turning to see a couple celebrating their marriage in the courtyard of a church. He thought about it when he looked out from the balcony of his home, smelling the scent of dust after rain.

Then it occurred –  color. He could give her colors. He once recalled a coworker saying that her soulmate was a painter and that when paint splattered on his skin, it would appear on her own. It was perfect! And that’s what he did. He went out to a local crafts shop and bought a small collection of wash off pen, dropping and scattering them all of his bed and preparing himself for whatever new thing would appear on his skin.

It began around his calf, a deer that was hopping in place, blank eyes looking over its shoulder. He waited until she was complete with the deer and picked up a simple brown as she began on the forest next. The cool tip pressed into his skin and he slowly inked in the deer. It wasn’t anything perfect, just a simple one shade, but it brought the drawing more alive. Then he noticed, as the pen was capped shut, that the forest was half complete… she had stopped drawing.

He frowned and glanced back at the deer, wondering if perhaps she had been upset he had added to the drawing? Did she prefer doing things alone? Or was she simply shocked? Appalled that he had pushed his way into her designs? Did he… did he upset her? Chase her off?

Then slowly he saw the leaves of the trees continuing on, being drawn cautiously and then steadily freer as time passed on. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath until he exhaled, relief spreading throughout his chest as he grabbed the green pen. He hesitated for only a moment before coloring a small corner and then just as quickly paused to make sure she hadn’t stopped again. She hadn’t, and he smiled brightly, delighted to find that at the very end, everything had been colored. They had created this — together.

After that she seemed to have gotten the same idea and started using her own colors. And he didn’t think it could be more beautiful. She made the world that she saw more beautiful. She didn’t see the night skies with its dark and black and without character of color, instead she saw the deep blues that encompassed the night. And blue in through the blueness, and the blackness, the winds swirling through the air… and then shining. All the reds he didn’t know existed, nor the orange or browns that were burning, bursting through with color! Everywhere she looked was a complex magic of nature that blazed before her eyes. And she showed him alone, all the things she saw, the magic she gifted back to him… it was wonderful.

He never wanted her to stop.

Then something changed.

2/3/20xx @3 TT

The ever first words she could write, and he couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was. An appointment she had to recall? A meeting to come? A birthday of someone’s? What was it? And what was ‘TT’ honestly, some sort of abbreviation? Initials?

On and off it went like this. Always on the arms too, easy enough to reach, to roll up the sleeves and peer at. But he could never decipher what she wrote down – lists, names, dates, even locations – just like her art was something unbottled, so was her mind. It somewhat resembled short hand, he noticed, but somehow wackier, twisting like riddles, and strange circles he could never decipher. And he did, try that is. He really tried but sometimes there were too many things missing, or they were meshing together with the art. It was honestly just a jumbled mess.

But he liked the little game he made out of it, because if he could find out what one thing meant, even just one, maybe he would find her. If he deduced all the things she left behind, maybe he would one day track her down and surprise her, finally meet in person, face to face. He couldn’t wait until that day, and so continued to try and understand the writings she left behind.

¤ Ω ¤

He saw her on a Saturday.

She was walking down the sidewalk, towards the café he often frequented, looking lost and uncoordinated. She tripped on her feet more than once, and he had to chortle under his breathe because she didn’t look real. She was fantastical and bright and outlandish, like some sort of fairytale character. And sort of cute, he thought. The odd splotch of ink across her nose had its charm.

When she entered, she sat at a small table near the windows, just across from him, twisting her fingers through her hair nervously, trying to look presentable. It looked fairly obvious she was waiting for someone – a date? Her soul mate perhaps? It seemed plausible from the way she kept looking out of the window eagerly, seemingly ready to bounce in her seat every time she caught something before deflating and biting her lip. As her eyes briefly scanned the café and then back to the window, it occurred to him that maybe she was trying to leave a good impression for her plausible soulmate.

He’d heard rumors, nothing definite but rumors, of a soulmate that would reject the other. This, he thinks, seemed to completely defy the point of a soulmate, but he’s not stupid enough to completely discount the chance of it. He looked away the moment that thought settled into his mind, his hand resting on his forearm where he knew the image of a butterfly had been drawn in by his soulmate the night before. He didn’t like to think about it, the idea that his own soulmate might reject him. That she might not like something about him and turn her back, leaving him before they even had a chance.

“Why do you always do that?”

The bitter thought immediately flies out of his head like a startled bird as he looks up, noticing that the woman is no longer alone, but now with a dark haired man, her arm presented to him sheepishly as he ran his fingers over the bared skin. He looked a bit amused, from what he could tell.

“I can’t really help it, besides, I think he likes when I do things like that!”

“You know, a normal person would actually use a canvas, not their own body where it can appear everytime on their soulmate.” mused the man, “Especially if they need to be in public and then have things like this they’ll need to cover. It’s nice, but honestly, it looks like a tattoo.”

Curious at the indignant cry from the woman, he tried to peer closer and immediately spotted the flash of a wing. His heart raced suddenly and he rolled up his sleeve to peer at the butterfly, contemplating what he might have seen. It was the same location, he thought, staring intently at the drawing, roughly around the same length from what he saw of the woman’s arm. And while it had been a bit too quick he was certain it had been the design of a butterflies wing…

He searched immediately through his pocket and bit down on the triumphant cry on his tongue when he pulled out a black pen. Heart beating fast, he thinks for only a moment that it could be a coincidence, that it might not have actually been a butterfly but something else – a dragonfly, a pixie or something – and for a single beat he hesitated with the black tip hovering underneath the butterfly. And then he licked his dry lips before throwing caution to the wind: I found you.

He doesn’t look up as he waits, ears roaring and heart beating frantically in his chest.

One minute….


He inhaled slowly and –


He jerked in his chair as he looked sharply to the woman whom was standing, her chair thrown back and her eyes searching the sea of people in the café (some looking curiously at her). The man with her is startled by her actions, even more so when she looked between her arm and then back to the crowd, snapping something too low to hear, but the man does, and he looks surprised and – and he knows. He knows this must be her, this must be his soulmate, and as if hearing his thoughts her gaze snaps to his and he freezes because now she’s looking at him, taking everything in. From the color of his hair, to the structure of his face and then down to the pen in his hand.

He almost bolts sideways when her eyes widened and for a moment he even believes that she didn’t like him – she didn’t like what she saw – that she knew what sort of person he was – that she would reject him and he would never again see all those beautiful things inside her mind and eyes but then she stepped forward. He swallowed and stood, her footsteps echoing his own as they meet halfway.

She hesitated before glancing down at her arm and showing it to him. He does the same. And it’s exactly the same. The butterfly etched in their forearms and the words written vertically in their skin, identical to the very dot at the end. She turned her gaze to him and he watched as her wide eyes are tearing up a bit, the odd ink stain on her nose (and he wonders if he has the same stain too) looking more pronounced and a dark blue instead of black, and — she’s kissing him right on the mouth. It’s not perfect. It’s actually a bit watery and frantic and all bouts of relief, as if though she dared to let go he would vanish, but it’s the most heartfelt thing he could have ever imagined.

When they finally separate, he has his forehead against her own, looking right into each other eyes, lips brushing against each other and hot breath running across skin as he says, “Hello my beautiful soulmate. I’m Luciano.” In return she grinned broadly and laughed in delight.

Look at the sky. Its not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue. And over there: lighter blue and blowing through the blues and blackness the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through: the stars!
And you see how they roar their light. Everywhere we look, the complex magic of Nature blazes before our eyes.
—  Vincent Van Gogh

anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on Spock/Uhura in the reboot movies?

Oddly enough, my opinion on their relationship drastically changes depending on which movie it is. Likely because my opinions on each movie are drastically different from each other.

In 2009, I thought their relationship was sweet and endearing, but I didn’t like that Uhura wasn’t given very much to do that didn’t revolve around men, whether it be her relationship with Spock or constantly butting heads with Kirk. I also didn’t like that they didn’t explicitly spell out that they started dating AFTER she was no longer his student, because I’ve seen some people interpret it as them dating while she still was (and write fics about it), and the implications of those power dynamics are just……really messy. I know that they spell this out in the comics, which are absolutely canon, but it would’ve been much more helpful to say this in the movie because not everyone reads those. 

In Into Darkness, I hated their relationship, as well as their individual characterizations. They reduced Uhura down to the “needy girlfriend” and “angry/demanding black girl” tropes, which is disgusting enough in its own right without adding in the problems with Spock and her relationship with him. They reduced Spock’s complex existential turmoil down to sheer, unfiltered man-pain, which is absolutely missing the entire point of his character. I thought their relationship was dysfunctional at best, and outright harmful to both of them at worst. Yes, people have relationship problems so there’s no reason to make them be “perfect” all the time, but it would’ve been better to show them working through their issues together rather than Uhura silently dropping the whole thing without her emotional needs ever being met. Their relationship in Into Darkness was just a storm of horribly cliche hetero relationship tropes, such as miscommunication, the woman compromising significantly more than the man ever has to, the woman being displayed as “irrational” for wanting basic emotional support, the man having a “legitimate reason” for not providing her with emotional labor (and never working to fix or change that about himself because the woman just quietly tolerates it), and the man putting his work ahead of his relationship while the woman puts the relationship ahead of her work. 0/10 do not recommend. 

Beyond finally gave us the Spock/Uhura relationship we all deserved, because Beyond also finally gave us the individual Spock and Uhura we all deserved. All those problems I mentioned in Into Darkness were essentially gone. It would’ve been SO EASY to revert back to the Obnoxious Hetero Drama™ being the catalyst for their breakup, but instead, we got something much more interesting and fulfilling. Their breakup was prompted by a legitimate concern of what Spock was going to do about repopulating his endangered species (something they completely ignored in Into Darkness despite an entire PLANET being missing), and what Uhura was going to do about staying on the Enterprise after he would be gone. You can tell that they deeply love and care for each other, but they understand that they both have individual needs that sometimes end up being incompatible with each other, so they handled it very maturely and ended their relationship without any hard feelings. As for their individual characterization, Uhura was finally given the badass federation idealism leader moments that she deserved, and Spock was finally shown as having his “emotional side” be soft and gentle rather than angry and aggressive. 

I found myself only seriously shipping them (as opposed to “shipping with caution” as I did in 2009) about halfway through Beyond, once I realized how WELL they were both written. I started to think, “hey, this could work! No more sidelining Uhura, no more emotional breakdowns resulting in murderous rampages from Spock…they’re both incredibly balanced, well-rounded, and stable. They can finally be a functional couple without worrying about whether Uhura is getting the emotional support she needs, or if Spock is finally understood by someone for once in his life.” Needless to say, I absolutely loved Spock going back for Uhura, and Uhura ending up being the one to save him. I loved that they got back together at the end of the movie, because they seem so much more receptive and understanding of each other’s needs now. I can almost entirely forgive the whole “tracking device necklace” thing, because I seriously don’t think Spock had given her the gift with the intention of ever using it that way—in fact, it probably never even occurred to him that he COULD up until that point. I thought it was more like “I gave Uhura this necklace, and I just realized that we can use its mineral content to find her location” rather than “I gave Uhura this necklace so in case I ever need to find her, I can use its mineral content to find her location.” But really, this is an iffy topic and a lot of people seem to have mixed opinions on it, so I probably shouldn’t say any more about this. 

For what it’s worth, Nichelle Nichols spoke on this topic saying that she had always seen Spock as being Uhura’s mentor, and they had a lovely relationship with one another in the original series—no one else could tease Spock the way Uhura did, Spock never seemed to needlessly compliment anyone else except Uhura, and no one else made such an incredible musician team than the two of them. There were more music scenes that got deleted, including one where Spock taught Uhura how to play the Vulcan lute, making her the only human to ever be able to learn that instrument (I believe she played it in a season 1 episode as well, but I guess this was just filling in how she learned). Of course in the 60s, they could never have a “canonical” interracial couple on television, so this all had to be very subtle. Also, the interracial kiss was apparently supposed to be between Spock and Uhura, but I read a story about how Shatner essentially stole the scene while it was still in draft form and had them change it to Kirk. I guess what I’m saying is, the Spock/Uhura relationship in the reboots didn’t “come out of nowhere” as so many original series fans insist it did. I’m just glad it finally got the justice it deserved in Beyond. 

For @deathberryprompts weekly prompt “anger.” 1000 words. This is the much-requested sequel to Between The Devil And…

…The Deep Blue Sea

Rukia burst through the doors of the 13th Division’s headquarters. The gaze of her subordinates automatically directed her attention.

Looming above the West 55th Block was a pillar of inky darkness that swarmed with diseased eyes.

For a split-second she stared. “Call for backup, now!” she commanded to no one in particular. Then she was gone, flash stepping toward the maelstrom. She was caught by Byakuya before she could reach it.

“Rukia, this is—” he began.

She immediately struggled, only peripherally noticing Mayuri and Suì-Fēng were present. “Nii-sama! Ichigo is in there!”

“Hmph, then he’s probably already done for. What could he hope to achieve now that he couldn't—” Mayuri was cut off as black tendrils shot forth. One of them simply obliterated him.

Byakuya’s grip on Rukia weakened in surprise.

Suì-Fēng promptly retreated.

Rukia broke out of his grasp, launching forward as she withdrew Sode no Shirayuki and flicked it. It took on its true form without a word. She immediately performed Tsugi no Mai: Hakuren on the wall of black tar. The darkness seemed to recoil from the ice and she advanced without hesitation through the tunnel she’d made.

Byakuya called out to her but the path between them immediately resealed.

She found herself in a world of shadows. The shade of Yhwach curled and writhed all about. Some distance beyond stood the man himself and another tenebrous figure. She stared. His darkness was of an entirely different character.

“Am I supposed to be impressed, Ichigo?” Yhwach taunted.

He said nothing.

“Ichigo!” Rukia called.

His head inclined.

Yhwach’s also turned slightly toward her. “Oh, it would seem your reunion has yet to end. I will see that it does presently.”

Rukia immediately called “Bankai! Hakka no Togame!”

Ichigo was already moving. As the umbra of the battlefield flashed white he shot forward, seizing Yhwach by his abruptly very corporeal throat. Somehow the cold merely felt refreshing.

“What—” Yhwach gurgled against his hand.

Ichigo’s eyes narrowed with a decade of aggression.

Rukia stared at the pair from her firing point. She was unable to move. Even if she could’ve, she wouldn’t have averted her eyes from the ribbon she suddenly saw. It plainly led from her to Ichigo, stark red on frozen white. Abruptly they were both gone, the ribbon instantly snapping to some other point she couldn’t see. All the former gloom began to calve down around her in sheets of ice.

Ichigo blinked back into existence with Yhwach on the far side of the Senzaikyū. They smashed into it at an impossible speed.

The sekkiseki walls held strong but the foundations did not. It toppled over as a unit onto Sōkyoku Hill.

They, however, kept going, crashing through the hill into the base of the rebuilt Sōkyoku. It was there that Ichigo at last released Yhwach, throwing him into the hillside like a doll.

Yhwach had only just extricated himself from the rock and dirt when he stopped at the sight that greeted him.

Shadows rolled off Ichigo, solid shifting shapes of amorphous something. They rippled and writhed as if to some unheard beat. “‘Ichigo, when are you going to do something with yourself?’” He started forward with menace. “'Ichigo, you can’t just stay stuck in the past.’ 'Ichigo, you’ve got to move on.’”

He stopped and a blade of night formed in his right hand. “Let me show you exactly what ten years of putting your life on hold to do jinzen meditation can do.” There was bottomless rage in his eyes as he snarled “Mugetsu.”

Rukia had finally thawed and was following the ribbon as fast as she could when the entirety of the Sōkyoku and its hill were consumed in a wall of iridescent shadow. She stopped mid-stride. She couldn’t feel anything coming off of it even as the execution stand evaporated. She doubled her pace.

It lifted just before she arrived to reveal a massive crater. The Sōkyoku, the hill, even the tower complex that had held the Senzaikyū… they were all gone. The core of the Seireitei was simply gone. Her eyes spotted a black dot in the middle of the devastation and she flickered toward it. She soon came to a halt behind Ichigo. His hair was orange again.

He didn’t move. “Nobody should have been in the blast area.” He’d displaced everyone he’d been able to sense before using his attack.

She started forward. “Ichigo?”

He visibly wavered and abruptly dropped to one knee.

She rushed forward, getting face to face with him and cradling his in both hands. Her eyes searched his and her voice was soft. “You fool. What have you done?”

“I had to be sure I… I really… wanted to see you again, but I had to be sure I was strong enough… like that man in your heart…” he smiled weakly and looked down at the ribbon between them.

Resonance, Urahara had said. Your reiatsu is linked. Her ability is really… something else… so if you strike together closely enough in time, then perhaps…

His look turned rueful. He really had needed her to land a blow after all. “After this I think it’ll be… a lot longer than ten years before the next time I come back…”

Rukia followed his gaze before looking in his eyes. “Whatever it takes… whatever it takes to bring you back again, we’ll do it. I’ll do it. I’ll wait for you, understand? So… wait for me.”

Ichigo looked up at her. Tears streamed down her face. He felt his own starting to run down onto her hands. “Rukia…”

“Just wait for me. Okay, Ichigo?”

He nodded slightly. The first spasm of pain flared through him before he could say anything. He gripped her haori. “Don’t let them rebuild it again…!” he managed.

She shut her eyes and drew him tightly to her, holding him against what she knew was yet to come. “I’ll be there when you wake up… Don’t let the rain bring you down…”

Klaus and Camille’s dynamic is, and has always been, one of my favourite elements of the Originals. Its definitely one of the most developed relationships, and in my opinion, is one of the foundations of the show. It’s incredible to me how far they have come in such a short time. They had a rocky beginning but Klaus/Camille have become such a support for one another and I couldnt imagine the show without them. What I enjoy most about them is that they genuinely love and respect each other as people. Cami gives Klaus what he has never had: someone to wholeheartedly believe in his humanity and someone that doesnt judge him for what he has done but sees him for who he is. And because of Cami we are able to see a side to Klaus we havent seen before. She is his mortal heart, she enables him to see the himself, and the world, in a different light. Cami constantly challenges him to see the beauty in the world. Klaus honestly wouldnt be who he is today without her. Klaus gives Cami a challenge; he has brought her into a world full of monsters and darkness but it enriches her understanding of the world. He enables her to see that the world is not white and black - its shades of grey. He has given her someone to believe in. Klaus and Cami are the dark and the light, the monster and the human. As viewers we wouldnt see as much of them as characters as we do without their interactions. Cami has made Klaus a better person and Klaus has taught Cami to embrace those darker parts of herself. From the start Cami has always believed in Klaus’ inherent goodness. He has tried to push her away but she wont let him. He has never had someone outside of his family who has fought for him so hard. No one, not even his siblings, stood up to Mikael the way Cami did. She fights and fights because she alone believes he is good. And he fights for her. Klaus almost died for good because he couldnt let this human die. He tried to cut her out of his life but she scratched her way back in. She tried to live her own life but his voice was too strong for her to resist. They are under each others skin. I have no idea where their dynamic is going to go, but I cant wait to find out.