#i might try to finish 2020 first before continuing flame or i might just watch both alongside each other

[starrycyberse]

I started watching shadowverse the other day and I’m enjoying it so far. Light and Hiro are such fun protags :(

[eternally-drifting]

Eclipsed (Jungkook FF) - Ch.1

Discovering the kings biggest secret leads you into understanding the way he is, and how perhaps you have been just a bit too prejudice. After all, who are you to judge anyone.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, inspired by the anime Inuyasha, slight e2l, the f2l, and some angst cuz why not, future smut.

warnings: TW - description / mentions of blood loss

word count: 1779

parts: 1 / next>?

a/n: I tried to get this out by Halloween last year but it was 2020 and life got in the way. A lot of stuff happened in my personal life so I just needed to cope with that first before I did anything. Also, since this is inspired somewhat by the anime Inuyasha, I wanted to give a moment and respect the passing of Kirby Morrow who is the english voice actor of Mirkou in the series as well as many other great characters. It felt like a piece of my childhood just left and while I know we can all still see and hear his work, it definitely did leave an impact on me as well as many other. Rest well Kirby. Aug. 28, 1973 - Nov. 18, 2020

Without further notice, hope you enjoy this.

“Come now darling, we need to hurry and head home before the sun sets.” A woman gently tugged on her child’s hand as she finished putting the last bit of herbs in her basket. The child’s eyes gleaming at every trinket that glistened in the rays of the setting sun. A certain fascination was held in the child’s eyes. Though, upon hearing what her mother said, she quickly drew her attention from the trinkets. Looking at her mother now as she was pulled through the crowd, a question laid heavy on her tongue.

“Mama, why do we always need to hurry home before the sun sets?” With a furrow of her brow the little girl couldn’t hide her disappointment. Despite being only eight, the little girl knew that it was an odd thing. Never really understanding the reasoning as to why one could not stay out past the sunset. “___ sweetheart, it’s a law that the king has set in place.” This answer did not seem to quell her curiosity.

“But why?” Her mother chuckles as she halts all her movements. She looks at her daughter before kneeling to her height and lifting her up. She scans around to ensure no one is paying attention before whispering in her daughters’ ear. “It’s to keep everyone safe.” You blink at her, owlishly so, that she lets a small giggle leave her lips. Squishing your cheek next to her, she places a kiss on it. “Safe? But doesn’t the king-”

Your mother simply smiles, “don’t believe everything people say ___.” Whispering ever so gently, she places you back onto the ground before taking your hand and leading you home. Where later into the night you lay up and think over your mother’s words.

Later that evening – once you are tucked into bed and in a deep sleep. Your mother looks out the window of the cabin, watching the glow of the barrier surround the entire kingdom. Just beyond that, she gazes up at the moon as it turns a striking blood red. It brings back a distant memory.

Entering the castle, she takes note at how dark it is inside, the curtains have been drawn and there are barely any candles lighting the corridors up. ‘Strange, the moon is full and bright tonight’ She isn’t allowed to think much of it any longer

“Your highness.” The man that sought her out for weeks – one of the kings’ advisors he informed – leads her into one of the many rooms in the enormous castle. She turns her gaze back to the front, where a man stood with his back faced towards them. There has been a demonic energy present since she passed the forest into the capital. And despite the darkness within the castle, she was able to distinct the horns that protruded through his head as he slightly turned it. ‘No doubt, he’s where all this demonic energy is coming from.’

“We have brought the priestess just as requested.” Surprisingly, his voice was soft, tone gentle. “You may leave us.” He remained facing the large window.

Nothing was said as they stayed in their spots. She didn’t know what to say or do, but by heavens is this a deafening silence. Just as she was gathering up all the courage to finally speak, he beat her to it.

“You were the high priestess of Faemma, were you not?” The mention of her past stuns her so much, that it takes her a full moment to compose herself. “Yes, your majesty.” She holds her head high, never allowing the blight to hinder her dignity. Another bout of silence engulfs them. A sudden shift in the air sends chills down her spine. Glancing at the king she is stunned in silence, lilac eyes shining in the dark room as they stare her down.

“If the rumors that proceed you are to be true, then I need you, to achieve something for me. In return, I will grant you asylum in Aurelia.” As though it never existed, his demonic aura disappeared along with the glow of his eyes.

That was over nine years ago. Just as the king promised, she was granted asylum and lived her life as much as she could. Starting her family of two in peace, no matter the consequences. One final look at the barrier, and she heads to bed.

‘I’ve done my part, the rest is up to you, my darling ___.’

 “You will regret ever crossing paths with us priestess!” Another attack was thrown your way, all too quickly that you barely managed to escape it – the ray of lighting hitting your arm. Blood seeped out from the open gash at an alarmingly rapid pace. The effects after the blow caused shock waves through your entire body.

‘If I don’t get away soon, I’ll surely be killed. If not by them, then certainly by all the blood that I’m losing.’ Casting a look over the horizon you see that the sun is nearly set. ‘The sunset!’

If you lead them close enough to the village - the sun should have set by then, activating the barrier! They won’t be able to penetrate through! With your plan set, you act and try to run without tumbling over everything in your way. Holding on tightly to your arm, hand over the wound, you feel blood pour out as your heart raced and pumped the blood through your veins. Your hand and arm completely drenched that it dripped down and caused a trail on the foliage.

“Running is futile! We can hear your heart beating, smell the very life pouring out of you!” One of the demons growled out at you as you looked back. Eye narrowing as you could see that your blood has lured other demons out. You hasten your pace as you see the last ray of light go out.

‘Yes! Just a little further!’ You ran desperately, that you had closed your eyes thinking that it would somehow aid you in running faster – only this led you into running and tripping on an uprooted tree root.

“Die priestess!” Just as the demons lunged at your fallen body, you felt a shift in the air – a pulse – almost. Within a moment, the barrier had activated. The light flashing across the sky as it shielded the entire kingdom. Looking back, you see as the demons are stopped, those touching the barrier bursting into flames.

‘I made it in time… but barely.’ You watch as the demons retreat into the forest, but not without sending a vicious glare your way before leaving. Once there were none left in sight, you let a sigh out and lay back down against the grass, eyes closed as you regained your breath. Thoughts consuming you.

‘They’ll be back after tonight, and with more demons seeking revenge. I miscalculated, didn’t take the threat seriously and ended up with more than I could handle…’ You grab hold of your arm again and feel where the blood had started to dry and crust, but also how wet it continues to be. ‘I’ve lost so much blood… I’m surprised I haven’t – no, I won’t think about that, not now.’

Deciding it best, you let your mind go blank for the remainder of the time. Still, you lay there in the grass as the cool breeze sways around you. Carrying the scent of the river down (along with your blood, no doubt). However, there is another sudden shift in the air, another ‘pulse’ is felt. It’s the same strong pulse you feel every other time the barrier goes up. On instinct you sit up as best at you can with your injured arm and look up.

Blood.

The once silver moon, is now a vibrant blood red. How befitting, your blanched sleeve has also become vibrant with the shade of blood.

‘Wait, there was a second ‘pulse’.’ Staring intently at the moon as though it would give you the answers. In some way it did.

The barrier had formed before the blood moon emerged… could it be due to your injury? Did the rapid beating of your heart force the barrier to appear before it should have? Are you starting to lose control of that too now?

‘Great, if his majesty noticed, then he’s sure to send his advisor to interrogate me again.’ It’d be the fifth time this month alone if he does. Certain things have gotten out of your control, and his majesty has been a thorn in your side. You shudder at the mere thought of the royal advisor to come and question you.

“My, my, that certainly is a gruesome wound you’ve acquired yourself this time.” On second thought, perhaps you prefer the royal advisor as appose to the current pest.

Merely side glancing, you can see the fiend look of concern on his face. How he irritates you with his underlying derisive attitude.

“Oh now, don’t look at me like that. If someone were to see they might think I’m nothing but a nuisance to you.” His tone is patronizing, and to hide the smirk gracing his lips, he spreads the fan out and brings it close to him.

“Then they’d think right.” Your brow twitches with annoyance as you brace yourself to stand. It’s a tough feat, but you manage it. “Why are you here?” Though it was grumbled you know he heard you. He however, doesn’t answer right away. You give it a moment but when he still hasn’t answered you, you decide to not waste anymore time on him and leave.

Until he does speak, and with such conviction, that it leads you to shudder for a moment. “You are using too much power. At a rather hasty pace at that. Tonight’s incident is one of many within the past few weeks where you have lost your abilities within moments of engaging battle.” His usual carefree aura is replaced with sternness you only witnessed once.

The breeze gently flows around you two, trapping you in tense silence. “___,”

You don’t look at him, instead you opt to look at the moon and take in how red it is. “You are losing control.” He’s figured it out, chances are, he knew before even you.

Inhaling the cool air, you whisper, letting the wind carry your voice over to him. “I don’t know… but I’m frightened.” With no more energy left in you, you make way to your cabin, walking past him without so much as even sharing a glance at one another.

‘Seokjin, I know my mother asked you to help me, but I’m afraid that even this maybe out of your control…’

[rwby-diaries]

Bumbleby Week 2020!

Day 6: Sun/Moon

Art Piece and Ficlet (under the cut) by @bosiphas and edited by @altheminotaur

Yang groaned as she laid atop her bed in her team’s dorm room. “I don’t wanna go anywhere today…” she whined. When her partner didn’t respond she continued to complain. “I know Ruby wanted to play Remnant, but I’m not really up for it,” She rolled over onto her stomach grumbling into her pillow.

Blake sighed. “We did say we’d meet her and Weiss in the library,” She said, her tone flat. She wasn’t really up for any games today either. She wanted to stay in the room reading her book. Though she knew if they stayed she wouldn’t be able to read either. Yang would likely rope her into doing something that took her away from her reading. Not that she would mind.

Yang sat up and folded her arms, pouting. She quickly changed her expression to a beaming smile though and swung herself forward over the edge of her bed gripping the frame to not fall. As Yang’s head came down to peek at Blake who sat in her bed beneath her, her messy curls all flowing down from her face, Blake giggled at her upside-down partner. “What if we did something… like, uhm…” Yang trailed off, not thinking far enough ahead. “…like… uhmmm…” She curled her lips to the side and shut her eyes to think.

Blake watched her intently, forgetting to read the  book in her hands almost instantly. Her partner had a talent of doing that, making her forget what she was doing. A small smile crept upon her lips when Yang’s eyes shot open and exclaimed.

“I know!” Yang shouted suddenly. She did not elaborate as she jumped down from the top bunk, grabbed a face towel from her drawer, and ran out of the room.

Blake was left by herself in the room, not sure what to expect. Yang was always surprising her. And always in a good way. She was predictable in that she was unpredictable, but despite that Blake knew Yang was reliable. She could always count on Yang to make her laugh.

After only a few moments, Yang returned to the room, carrying the same face towel but wet.

“Uhm…” Blake paused. “What’s the wet towel for?” She asked, watching Yang run around the room looking for something.

After grabbing some scissors, Yang opened her backpack with a jerk and dug her hand in, rustling around to find the item she wanted. After another second of digging around, she found it and yanked it out of her backpack dramatically. “Ah HA!” She yelled and lifted the item above her head triumphantly.

Blake only stared at the item, unsure of what the small sheets wrapped in clear plastic were. “What is that?”

Yang smiled smugly and hummed. “Temporary tattoos,” She declared, bringing down the clear package to her face to examine. “Scoosh your boosh,” Yang commanded, walking over to Blake’s bed and crawling over to the inside corner with the wet towel, scissors, and temporary tattoos in hand.

Blake obeyed and moved over slightly to make room for Yang. It was only a twin size bed, and even moved over to give her space to sit next to her, Yang was right next to her. “U-uhm, temporary tattoos?” Blake asked for confirmation as she set her book aside and tried to settle next to Yang who was already tearing open the package.

“Yeah!” Yang smiled, and pulled out the few sheets of options. “It’s fun!” She handed over a couple of the sheets for Blake to look at. “You pick first.”

Blake took the sheets from Yang’s hand, their fingers brushing slightly and neither noticing the small blush creeping on the other’s cheeks. Blake peered at the tattoos, there were a lot of bird silhouettes. The card suits were also present, a few flowers, one rose in particular that reminded Blake of Ruby’s emblem, and some pretty butterflies that had a rainbow of colours in their designs. “I’ve never done this before, what should I choose?” Blake asked looking back over to Yang.

Yang’s smile froze, surprised by what Blake had said. “You’ve never done temp tattoos? Ruby and I used to do them all the time, sometimes all over our faces! One time our Uncle Qrow was asleep on the couch and we put a bunch of flowers on his face,” Yang paused to laugh. “We just kept adding them thinking the next one would wake him up! Our Uncle Clover wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for days!”

As Yang continued to laugh, Blake only watched her and smiled. The sound of Yang’s robust, hearty laugh spreading a tightening warmth in her chest.

“You can choose whatever you like,” Yang sighed happily, finally stopping her giggles. “Or whatever you’re, like, drawn too.”

Blake looked back at the sheets of temporary tattoos and found one. “I like this one,” She stated, pointing out a yellow sun tattoo. It reminded her of Yang, warm and strong, burning brightly with an unwavering shine.

Yang beamed a smile. “Then I choose,” Yang looked at the couple of sheets she had in her hand, instantly finding one. “This one!” She pointed at the purple crescent moon tattoo. That way she’d match Blake, and Yang found it reminding her of Blake as well, gentle and calm, glowing beautifully in the dark night.

Yang started to cut around the two tattoos they’d picked out. “So, you take off the plastic stuff, then you put it where you want,” She then took off the thin plastic cover on them and placed her moon tattoo on her right wrist as she explained to Blake. “Then you hold it there with the wet towel on top of it for one minute, try not to let it slide around though,” Yang instructed. “It might ruin the tattoo.”

Blake brought her knees up to her chest and leaned over slightly to watch Yang, too curious about this new thing she was trying to realize their shoulders were touching.

Yang stiffened at Blake’s touch, she didn’t dislike it, but it was surprising. Blake was normally very reserved and distant. Yang tried to not let it show on her face, how aware she was that their skin was touching. She stared intently at the towel she had pressed over her wrist, feeling the minute drag on. Finally, when the minute was up, Yang removed the towel and took off the wet paper from her wrist, revealing the purple moon now painted on her skin. “Then you blow on it, drying it before anything, otherwise it might smudge,” She said before starting to blow.

“My turn?” Blake held out her left wrist to Yang, her head resting on her other arm propped up on her knees.

Yang smiled outwardly, but inside she was nervous as she took hold of Blake’s wrist and placed her tattoo choice on her wrist and pressed the wet towel onto it.

Blake pressed her lips together slightly, her cheeks warming from Yang’s touch. She’d finally snapped back to attention when Yang grabbed her wrist. She once again became very aware of how close they were. Blake’s eyes darted around the room, she could feel her ears twitching under her bow and her tail itching to unwrap around her waist. She tried her best not to look at Yang, shifting slightly in her spot on the bed, but her eyes always fell back onto the blonde. Blake watched Yang’s hand, her eyes travelling up her tanned arms and to her face wrapped in her messy curls. Blake never noticed how long Yang’s eyelashes were.

“Done,” Yang announced, taking the wet towel off and setting it aside. She removed the wet paper and the sun tattoo came to view.

Blake gazed at it, glossy from the wet towel still, the yellow flames of the sun curling out. She loved it. She smiled from ear to ear.

Yang chuckled to herself and started to blow on the tattoo. She startled under Yang’s breath but she didn’t say anything. As she finished drying the tattoo, Yang sat back and lifted her right arm and held it next to Blake’s left, their tattoos finished. “We match!” Yang beamed as she leaned ever so lightly into Blake.

Blake stayed quiet, running her fingers over both their tattoos. “Yeah…”

~~~

Blake bit her lip, anxiety washing over her. She wasn’t sure how ready she was for this, going back home. Waiting to be able to board the boat she booked passage on, she stood there at the dock, fidgeting and flinching at any small sounds. She just needed to get home, then she would be safe.

Home…

Blake frowned, pressing her lips together. She lifted up her left arm and looked down at it. Pulling her white coat down from her wrist, she was met with a faded and rubbed off sun tattoo. You wouldn’t know it was a sun just by looking at it, but Blake remembered every detail of the simple temporary tattoo, every part that had been rubbed off or faded away. As much as she yearned to be around the person who this reminded her of, she couldn’t. It was her fault, everything, all of it.

Tears pooled in Blake’s eyes as she tugged her sleeve back up to cover the tattoo. She had to leave it all behind, but she still couldn’t bring herself to remove the tattoo from her wrist.

~~~

Yang’s brows furrowed and she clenched her jaw in frustration. Ruby didn’t understand. Blake ran. After everything, Blake ran away.

As she laid in her bed at home, Yang’s mind was a storm of doubt and negativity. Her arm ached, she could almost feel the parts that were no longer there. She bit her lip at the thought. It was missing and she could still feel it. Just like how Blake was gone and Yang could feel the empty space she would occupy. It stung too.

Yang didn’t want to look to her right, but she did anyway. She always did, she had to. It was a reminder, a terrible one. A piece of her cut away and gone forever. Along with Blake and the last thing she would have had of Blake after she ran. The moon tattoo that was on her wrist. Gone. He had cut away more than a piece of herself. Yang’s lip trembled and tears stung her eyes. A piece of herself and of Blake she’d never get back. Yang snapped her head away as she started to sob.

Why did she run?

[captain-s-rogers]

Come Back...Be Here

(gif credit to the creator)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Word Count: 1,710 Warnings: none? Song: Come Back...Be Here - Taylor Swift Square Filled: Old Flame AU  A/N: Another square for @marvelfluffbingo​​​​​​​​​ 2020! It’s also the first fic in mine and Nicole’s (@arrowsandmixtapes​) Taylor Swift collab! The first song was Come Back...Be Here. Be sure to read her fic here (the link to her fic will be added once she posts)! You can check out all of our fics for the collab on the master list: here! I’m kind of in love with this one. As always a HUGE thank you to the best bestie around @arrowsandmixtapes​​​​​ for looking over my stuff and making sure it isn’t terrible. Feedback is cool! :)

The headlights from the cars in the New York City traffic cascaded across the walls of your dark bedroom -- illuminating the room in short, quick, bursts -- as you stared at the spinning blades on the fan mounted to your ceiling. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The flame wasn’t supposed to fizzle out and die so quickly when it had ignited instantaneously and burned incredibly bright for weeks. Yet, there you were staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything had ended so wrong for what felt like the thousandth time that week, playing over the last time you saw him over and over again in your mind. 

You were at the airport, your car idling next to you as you leaned against it, his bags on the ground between you. He shifted from foot to foot trying to find the right words to say. The goodbye was long and hard, both of you unsure of what to say. The last few weeks had been so amazing you both hated to leave things so up in the air but there was no certainty in anything with how hectic his life was. He closed the gap between you, kissing you one last time, and promised to call. 

All you could do was nod and hold back the tears as you watched him walk into the airport to catch his flight. You stood there for a few minutes, eyes unmoving from the doors -- hoping against all hope that he would come back through them and back to you, only taken from your reverie by another car honking and a man shouting that you were crowding the drop off line. With a sigh you got back in your car and made your way back to your apartment.

That was the last time you’d heard from him. You tried not to dwell on it but you couldn’t understand why there had been radio silence. Everything had been so good between you that you couldn’t comprehend the complete lack of communication. Not for the first time you grabbed your phone and debated calling him, unlocking the screen. The screen illuminated your face as you stared at the picture of the two of you on your lock screen. With a sigh, knowing it would be useless, you turned your phone off and dropped it back on the bed beside you. 

Dwelling on the ending was fruitless and you knew that but you couldn’t help it. He was all you could think about. You loved him, something you had only realized recently -- you didn’t think it was possible because of the current circumstances -- and try as you might you couldn’t get rid of the feelings, and you almost hated yourself for it. Knowing that sleep wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon you picked up your phone again, this time opening Instagram.

You got comfortable in your bed as you scrolled through your feed. You absentmindedly liked a few of your friend’s photos before stopping and staring at the screen. There he was, standing with some of his co-stars in front of Big Ben. Your finger hovered over the picture as you debated liking it. You stopped yourself and shut the phone off again, tossing it to the side, as you ran your fingers through your hair and rolled back over to your back -- staring at the spinning ceiling fan once again. 

If you had known then what you knew now you would have fought so much harder that last day. You would have protested the end, taken time off work and gone with him -- anything to keep him with you. You hated feeling this way and you hated not being able to do anything about it even more. It was clear, however, that there was nothing that could be done. It was over and even though your heart ached for him you would have to find a way to move past it. 

Chris laid on the comfortable hotel bed, the room completely dark except for the lights from the cars in the city flitting across the walls, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since he walked into the airport that day. Sure, the press tour and being in London had given him a bit of a reprieve during the day, but once he was back in his hotel room -- alone -- his mind was flooded with images of you. He still couldn’t figure out why he had decided to end it with you when he had to leave. He knew his anxiety had played a part in it -- that and the uncertainty that came with his schedule -- but he knew that was a cop-out. He even debated walking back out of the airport that day and going back to you and now he was regretting his decision not to. 

He tried to focus on anything other than you and your time together but he couldn’t. There was nothing he could think about that would take his mind off of you. He thought about going to sleep but he knew that the second he closed his eyes he would be flooded with images of you and memories of your relationship. He sighed, sitting up on the bed, and grabbed the remote for the TV. He turned it on, hoping that he could get lost in whatever movie was on at this time of the night, but once he was greeted with your favorite movie he knew that there was no way he would be able to think of anything but you. Deciding not to turn it off he got himself comfortable and hoped that he could find sleep -- even if his dreams would be nothing but memories of you. 

Chris had never been so nervous in his life. He didn’t know why but from the minute he met you he had butterflies. That hadn’t happened to him with any other woman before and he took that as a good sign -- a sign that maybe he’d finally found the one. When he knocked on your apartment door his hands were shaking so much he was afraid the petals on the flowers he’d bought you would start falling off. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he waited for you to answer the door. Once you finally did, and he saw you standing there -- dressed in a flowing sundress and sandals -- any semblance of nerves was gone, he couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his lips. 

He handed you the flowers and waited patiently as you placed them in a vase. When you were ready to go you followed him out of your building onto the busy New York street. He hailed a cab surprisingly quickly and gave the driver the address to the restaurant. It was one of the ones he frequented any time he was in the city and he was pleasantly surprised when you said it was one of your favorites as well. Dinner went by with pleasant conversation and he wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that he was right on the cusp of falling for you by the time he paid the check. 

After getting some ice cream and taking a walk through Central Park, he brought you home and walked you back up to your apartment. Knowing the night had to end, and not wanting it to, had him leaning toward you to place a sweet kiss on your lips. It was the perfect first kiss as far as he was concerned and after he said goodnight to you and headed back to his hotel he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

The next few nights were filled with much of the same. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get your mind off of Chris. You’d gone to call him more times than you cared to admit and stopped yourself every time. Finally you decided that enough was enough and you were going to find a way to move on. Your best friend had convinced you to go out and you’d taken her up on the offer. As you got ready you double checked with her that she would be meeting you at your apartment before you headed to the bar. Once she confirmed your plans you continued to get ready, working on your makeup.

You were putting the finishing touches on your hair when there was a knock on your door. Figuring it was your friend and thinking nothing of it you went to answer the door. Your jaw dropped when you saw him standing there, his bags at his feet, looking completely disheveled. 

“Chris --” you said, barely able to catch your breath. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said. “I should have walked right out of that airport and back to you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that day and -- and I know I messed up. I’ve been going over it again and again and I made the wrong decision leaving you that day and I can only hope that you can forgive me. I love you, Y/N, I have since the moment I met you and I should have told you that day. I should have just laid everything out on the line --” 

You could barely comprehend what was happening. Him standing there in front of you, pouring his heart out, was almost too much for you to handle. The only thing running through your mind was that he felt the same way. Without a second thought you closed the gap between you, pushed yourself up on tiptoe to make up for the height difference, and kissed him -- hard -- hoping to pour all of your emotions into the kiss. 

He relaxed against you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, as your arms went around his neck. When you finally broke apart you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I love you too, Chris,” you finally said.

He returned your smile and kissed you once again. All of your worries, doubts and sadness -- along with your plans for the evening -- completely forgotten. All that mattered was that he’d come back and he was there with you.

@arrowsandmixtapes​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​ @growningupgeek​​​​ @phoenixfyre374​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​ @patzammit​​​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​​​ @kitkatd7​​​​

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes.  Written for @cssns​ 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972​  @ultraluckycatnd​  @donteattheappleshook​) and Art by @kmomof4​

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter 3 :  The Beautiful Synchronicity of the Heavenly Trio

Belle's book store was in a quiet part of the city, just before downtown started. It was all dark colors and paneled wood, her fortune well spent on classical decor and furnishings. Vampire regulars read old favorites or exchanged valuable collections knowing that in Belle's care, nothing would ever harm them. 

Belle herself seemed slightly perturbed when Emma, Snow, and David visited. It was raining, adding gloom to the shadowed storefront. Belle, who was usually dressed in the highest of couture with no hair out of place, looked frazzled to say the least. The rich velvet curtains were drawn at the windows, and Emma winced as she stepped onto the alcove just off the stairs. A sudden pain inched up her belly, discomfort making her hiss out a quiet curse. Looking down at her feet, she kicked salt aside, surprised at the cramping pain it had caused. It eased as suddenly as it came, Belle quickly replacing the salt with a disgruntled fierceness. 

Belle ushered them indoors hastily, looking over their shoulder as they moved inside. "He didn't follow you, did he?" she hissed. Her fangs were still bright in the dim light. 

Emma shook her head, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about; we're just here because I thought you might help me summon -" 

Belle growled low in her throat, and Emma took a step back with wide eyes. David stepped in front of her protectively. 

"She's looking for a particular Demon. A Killian, I believe the name was," David stated, and Belle's hostility melted away. 

"I'm sorry, I just - it's complicated but I don't want to lose this round with him," Belle mumbled with a light laugh that had an edge to it. She began to move, picking up books and putting them in David's arms. "Not that you even know what I'm talking about, or who, so just forget about all that shall we? Yes? Alright -" 

"Belle, are you alright -" Snow tried to ask, but Belle whirled to look at her and they all froze. 

"I'm fine. Just dandy. I just - I hate losing, especially to that smug asshole," Belle gritted out. "And if it's not him, it's the other smug bastard, which seems to be my type."

"Um," David gulped, holding the stack. "I thought you liked type O." 

Belle blinked, before breaking into a sincere grin and laughing. "I'm sorry. I am truly - I can't tell you how apologetic I am. When you live as long as I have, things just get… they get complicated. You make deals with people or play stupid games -" 

"And win stupid prizes," Emma finished, looking at her feet. 

"Yeah," Belle sighed. "Let's move this to the back; we can work from there."

Belle nodded to a door, David following them carefully with the stack of books, as they entered a study. Belle waved her hand, conjuring a flame in the fireplace. 

"I never tire of being a Witch and Vampire. This little group of ours is everything I have ever wanted, or needed," Belle murmured, spreading out the books she took from David's arms. "I really don't want that to change, so if anyone asks you about me…" Belle paused and mumbled something, a bag of powder gently floating to the table. "Don't let them know that you know me. Es[ecially if they seem eager, or are a Demon. I'm not losing this time."

"Ohhhh Kay?" David said weakly, looking confused. 

"I wouldn't do that," Emma shrugged, "But for real, are you alright?" 

Snow looked in Belle's direction with the same concern Emma felt. Belle stiffened, then let out a long hiss of air. 

"Let's just say that everyone has their Demons." 

(Emma needed no superpower to hear the truth in her words, or how it applied to all of them) 

They prepared in silence for the most part after that, questions here and there about where to place or pour what or the amount. The circle glowed a slight blue when it was completed, the wood gleaming in its light. 

"Alright. Get ready," Belle whispered. 

Emma, Snow, and David stepped back as Belle stepped forward with her book in hand. 

Her voice rang out in foreign tongue, but not at the same time, a curved slur of words that felt like rain pouring on them inside. Emma could feel the ground pulse, feel the pull of something, more than expectation and more than any sort of connection she had felt before. Falling backwards, David caught her and held her up right, just as Belle's words reached crescendo. 

The room went pitch black, and Emma felt something staring at her, felt it so acutely she could almost make it out in the dark. 

 ( Tall, with raven hair, and she can see him reach forward as if he's trying to grab her hand, his mouth is saying something but she can only see how long his nails are, the flash of dark horn and blue tinted skin that shimmers - ) 

 As if she had blinked, the lights were back and the circle had faded, its light gone. 

Emma looked around, and then to Belle expectantly. 

"What -" Emma squawked out, her mouth suddenly very dry. 

"Did you give me the right name?" Belle asked, her brows furrowed. 

"Yes, I'm sure it was Killian or Florian, or maybe Caspian -" 

"So, you don't actually know then," Belle sighed, her look of annoyance half amused. "Because this should have worked. There's no way to just dismiss a summons. I mean, there is, but it's not something pleasant or that is common. So, we can keep trying with Caspian or Florian, but -" 

"No. No," Emma rubbed her stomach, looking at just how much she had grown. "If he - if it doesn't want the baby, then this is enough."

Belle nodded. "Alright. If you're sure?" 

"I am. I can't - I can't keep doing this."

David pulled her into a hug, Snow and Belle following behind. 

Belle let them out, carefully pouring more salt along the entrance of the door as they left. They took a taxi home, Emma dropped off first at her porch as the taxi bumped down the gravel towards the farm. 

Once inside, Emma took off her shoes and immediately went to the special door she had placed in the hall on the upper level, closing it firmly behind her. Her door. 

(I am enough. I have always had to be enough. This time isn't any different.)

 ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

 The station provided a safe haven for Emma on days she worked, the work menial and repetitive. Her coworkers were nice, Ruby worked nearby and joined her and Elsa for a weekly lunch, and Emma found enough time to put her feet up if she needed to. The baby made her feel sluggish, exhausted even. Her once daily cup of coffee had switched to a decaf with a splash of regular, and she could feel it. 

It was odd to think that Liam worked in the massive complex, but Emma was thankful for small favors as they came. He either wasn't aware of where she worked, or Graham was keeping him on a short leash as to not alert her coworkers. She could see how the news of the new secretary not only being associated with Demons, but pregnant by one, could put a damper on their current kind behavior. Liam could continue flooding her mailbox with demands to register herself and child on some bizarre list, or his belligerence regarding his insistence she give the child up if she didn't terminate - as long as he stayed the fuck away from them in person. 

When the crackling page system had come through her intercom, Emma had almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise. 

"Miss Swan, to examining room F. Miss Swan, you have pick up in examining room F." 

This was rare, but occasionally she had to walk to pick up files somewhere in the building. Usually it was meeting rooms or HR, but Emma knew where the questioning and examining rooms were - all the way toward the back of the building. 

The hallway was bright, the lights buzzing loudly overhead. Emma's stomach lurched slightly, the feeling of being watched following her to a bathroom where she lost the contents of her stomach. After touching up, the pit in her stomach remained despite its emptiness. Chalking it down to the unease of being watched by something, Emma hurried to pick up her files. Opening the door labeled 'F' and rushing in to examine the table where the files sat, she jumped at the sound of the door closing behind her. 

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do these files another time, Miss Swan." Liam's wings were flexed, blocking the door completely and corralling her toward the table. She stumbled back to sit on the metal chair there, Liam pulling another over to sit across from her, his eyes all cold fire. "I have some questions for you I'd like answered."

"You can't do this to me, I'm working-" 

"I can, unless you want this to become an arrest." Liam shrugged, crossing his leg. "Do you like jewelry, Miss Swan? My girlfriend, she loves necklaces, but not bracelets. Do you have the desire to make me wait, so you can show up back here in some, let's say, silver cuffs?" 

"I don't know what your problem is with me, Detective, but I am the victim here. I am the one who was pretty much raped, I'm the one dealing with this pregnancy, I'm the one getting yelled at by pre-fall, toga wearing women through someone's dead mom to get a name -" 

"Were you successful? If the father is pre-fall, we're dealing with a very powerful Witch and an ancient Celestial. There are numbered few left, especially amongst High Demons - it narrows the list to handfuls. It's all the more proof that you are lying." He stood, turning to examine something on the evidence board. 

"No. Yes. I don't know. It was a mess, a woman named Milah answered Cora -" 

Liam's head snapped around, his bloodshot eyes bulging as he stalked back toward the table. 

"Milah? Did you say Milah?" 

"Yes, and Cora gave me random information, worse than usual, but -" 

"Sod whoever Cora is - What did Milah say? Tell me!" 

"I am, um -" Emma bit her lip, trying to remember. "She said something about a tower and a mirror, but she was more upset about the father. He had been her lover before she died -" 

"Bloody hell, what - did she say a name? I need a -" 

"Yes. Um, it was unique. I remember that I thought it sounded strong, but beautiful. Florian? No, it started with a hard C, Caspian maybe. Colin?" 

"Killian," Liam breathed out, as if all the air had left his body. 

Emma snapped her fingers, looking at him with surprise. "That's it, Killian. Do you know him? Is it possible that he could be the father? I really did try summoning him, and there are witnesses that will confirm it failed if you need their testimony… " 

Liam didn't answer, his jaw setting as his fists balled. His wings ruffled, spreading wide and his gaze narrowed to stare angrily at her, face transforming into one of pure rage as he threw the table aside, the floor pulling up with it where it had been bolted down. Emma shrieked, shielding herself as Liam moved closer, the heat in the room rising rapidly. 

"You are under arrest, Emma Swan. Know this: if you have harmed my brother, nothing in Heaven or Hell will stop me from tearing you limb from bloody limb."

There was a blinding flash and the sound of a thunderclap that felt like it rattled the earth itself. When Emma's eyes adjusted, she found herself in a windowless concrete cell that was all too familiar. Her whimpers echoed on the walls as she curled up on the uncomfortable plastic cot, gently rubbing her bump, glad only that this time she wasn't alone. 

 ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

 Emma woke to a door appearing, muffled yelling on the other side of it causing her to cower in alarm on the thin bunk of her cell. When it flung open to reveal Elsa, Graham, and Liam, Emma breathed out a sob of relief as her friend wrapped her in her arms. 

"Shhh, it's okay Emma, it's alright," Elsa whispered, holding tight. She shifted her head slightly, and her voice fell into a low growl. "How dare you. I swear Liam, you are lucky I don't make an inquiry to take your job. I - I can't -" 

"Elsa, she knows where Killian is. If she hurt him, if either of you hurt him I'll…" Liam trailed off, and Elsa let out a disgusted scoff. 

"Emma would never," Graham interjected, his own voice cold with rage. "You are way out of line here, Jones. I've let you work this even with your personal connection, and that's on me, but for you to imprison an innocent, pregnant Witch without any proof?" He ran his hand through his hair shakily, Elsa nodding along with his points. 

"Come on, Emma. It's alright, let's get you home," Elsa murmured, helping her to her feet. Liam made a noise of protest, but Elsa glared at him with such vehemence that it was quickly swallowed. "Graham, take Emma. I'll be along shortly; I just need to tie up some loose ends here."

Graham pulled Emma into his arms, hugging her to him with a firm nod, helping her through the door. They appeared back in her apartment, Emma breaking into tears the moment she felt the cool, non-sterile air hit her face. Her magic roared back to life outside of the cell's confines, the baby immediately pulling it in to itself greedily as Emma fell back onto her couch. 

"Shit, Emma, you don't look so good," Graham said, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. 

"I think I need to eat something," she rasped, pointing to the cupboard. Graham pulled out a lone box of Pop Tarts, wrinkling his nose. 

"You should actually eat something. Not just -" he tried, but she held up a hand without a word as he opened her cupboards. The deep feeling of unease washed over her, the Ghost back again to stare. 

"Uggggh," Emma groaned. "Please, get out and go away, I can't deal with you too!" Graham looked at her quizzically, looking around while he brought them over.

Savoring the fruit filling and frosting of the snack, Emma almost missed Elsa's return from the holding cell. Elsa was always just as guarded as Emma was, a fortress with thick walls that were built from sheer disappointment. It surprised her to see her icy friend smudging her eye makeup in quick swipes, before regaining composure. 

"Elsa?" Emma whispered, watching her friend jolt and rush to her side. "Are you alright?" 

At Elsa's approach, the laser focused ghost burning a hole through her disappeared. 

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about me, are you okay?" Her dark blue eyes were glassy, lips pressed thinly together. "Liam had no right to do that, Emma. I'm so sorry for ever thinking he was a good or just soul. I never meant to put you at risk."

"I'm just happy to be out of there. I think… I think he thinks that I hurt his, um, brother?" 

"Yes." Elsa hesitated. "His brother is missing. He's been missing for a few weeks now."

"That's awful. I just don't understand why that involves me, unless….?" 

"Liam believes that his brother is in danger, and was taken against his will. With you suddenly pregnant in these bizarre circumstances, he sees you as a common enemy."

"I didn't do anything! The ghost probably has something to do with it or -" Emma protested, before Graham interrupted. 

"Ghost?" He asked, confused. "Emma, there's no Ghost here, I would have felt it or seen it. You're definitely not being haunted." He chuckled quietly as if the notion was ridiculous, stopping to cough when the two women glared at him. 

"Something wrote on my mirror, and keeps watching me, okay? I can feel it watching, it gives me goosebumps!" Emma hissed. 

Elsa's brow knitted in concern. "Emma, you've been under so much stress lately, just - more than anyone deserves. It's alright to not be okay. Everyone knows we Witches got the scraps of the gift barrel with just magic. If Graham didn't see or smell any ecto-" 

"I swear, I'm not imagining things!" Emma gritted out, anger rushing back. 

"No one said you were, OK?" Elsa soothed. "Just, get some rest…?" 

"Fine, just go." Emma mumbled, sitting down into a slump with her head in her hands. 

"Emma, please," Elsa sat next to her, trying to settle her shaking hands. "I'm not trying to make this into an argument, I'm simply worried about you, your baby, is… It's different, and we just don't know so much about it. Liam needs to be stuffed but he's scared, and that in turn scares me. He told me about this bonding, and how much it can change a person - "

"My child is not your concern either, Elsa." Emma hissed, glaring at her friend. "How about all of you stop showing so much concern, especially when it's like this. I mean, who needs enemies! Am I right?" 

Elsa's face fell, her expression cold. Emma knew that her point had hit home, the woman's eyes going glassy. 

"I think I'll just get Miss Frost here home," Graham said after a moment of tense silence. Elsa nodded with a sniff, Graham helping to lead her out of Emma's home. "Call Ruby tomorrow please, she'll probably even come over with bear claws if you do. Not that you need incentive."

Emma smiled thinly, Graham and Elsa stepping outside only to disappear seconds later. If she had the clearance to poof everywhere, would it still seem so obnoxious? Rubbing her stomach, she decided not to dwell on that question or any of her feelings surrounding her friend trying to preach.

(Titania's left tit, drinking sounded nice.) 

(But then again, so did a foot rub, Chinese food, onion rings, and not having to drink ginger potion to hold down her lunches) 

The knock on her door in the later evening should have been enough to dispel any reason to answer, but Emma was spoiling for a fight, ready for Elsa or Snow; or even Regina, Ariel, and Anna to be behind the wood. 

Her breath would not come when Liam's glare was on the other side, waiting for her. 

"I need your expertise." Liam said coldly. 

"And I need you to leave," Emma spat, her knees shaking. "Immediately."

"The father of your child - I believe he is my brother, and I also believe that you are the only one who can help me find him. I need your help -" 

"Do you not have the word leave in your language?" Shouting, Emma felt as if she might snap in two. Her heartbeat physically hurt as it hammered on, as if it was trying to escape her chest. "Get off my porch, and get lost!" 

"This is his. It's his spyglass, and I need you to locate him with it."

"Yeah, about that. I don't feel you're really getting what I'm saying , buddy , so let's go over this again," Emma hissed lowly, advancing on the Angel. "One, I tried to locate the father and summon him, but it failed. If by some miracle your brother knocked me up, this shouldn't work if a summoning didn't. Two, I don't want anything to do with you or your brother. So leave."

"The funny thing is, I have a good friend of the family, a Demon friend of Killian's. He goes by the name Scarlett, and he's well embedded into the courts. He owed me a favor that I have cashed in recently."

"That's nice, but has nothing to do with me. So yet again, please leave immediately - "

"The search warrant for your property will be ready tomorrow, and I would absolutely loathe it if a reformed criminal such as you was found with illegal paraphernalia and contraband. It would be so disappointing for the Storybrooke Coven, don't you think?" 

Emma sputtered, incredulous. "Are you blackmailing me?" 

"I like to think of this as looking out for your best interests."

"I don't even have anything illegal!" Emma squeaked. 

"Sure you don't, but I do ." He smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. "An entire evidence warehouse of it, actually." 

"You bastard!"

"So, Ms. Swan, a location spell if you will."

Emma took the bronze telescope in her hands, the cool smoothness of it tingling in her palms. She sucked in air as it warmed against her fingers, a strange sense of desperation falling over her. Framing magic and molding it around the cylinder, it glowed a gentle blue before floating slowly towards her window where it bumped against the glass. 

Liam nodded. "Alright, let's go." 

"Let's go?" Emma asked, incredulous. She scoffed when he nodded again, gesturing towards the door. 

"After you."

"You must be out of your mind if you think I am going anywhere with you after you arrest me, wrongfully imprisoned me, and now are blackmailing me -" 

"The funny thing about blackmail," Liam interrupted, towering over her, "Is that it still applies to further tasks I ask of you. Are we clear, Ms. Swan?"

Emma glared, brushing past him with her head bowed. Stepping outside into the cool air, she took a steadying breath. 

"You can drive." Liam motioned to her yellow bug, sitting in the dirt patch she called a driveway. "Let's go."

She opened the doors, Liam cramming himself and his wings inside the small car with her. Despite everything, Emma snorted, his scowl and discomfort giving her a small bit of vindictive pleasure. The spyglass sent them through the city's glimmering night scene, winding them towards the segregated neighborhoods, then veered to send them out of the heights and along the thickly wooded coastline. 

Liam became more tense every minute that ticked by, his jaw set as he ground his teeth. He startled when Emma spoke, sending her veering into the next lane before she corrected on the empty stretch of road. 

"Merlin in slippers, what is wrong with you?" Emma panted, gripping the wheel tightly. "I just wanted to tell you that I need to stop and get gas!" 

"Fine, then do it, but bloody well don't kill us!" Liam hissed, mumbling under his breath about how he should have flown. They stopped at a gas station where Emma filled the tank, Liam stretching as she used the restroom and bought herself a candy bar. They were back on the road shortly, veering off onto a dark road. 

Emma chewed her lip nervously, the bug's headlights doing little to cut through the pitch blackness that the canopy of towering trees created. It wound and curved downward until they were in a valley, a rocky wall on one side that curved to reveal a solitary structure bathed in shadow. Nearby, a waterfall roared. A tall tower made of stone jutted up into the night. In the briefest slip of starlight, Emma could see the red shingles at its spire's top, and the moss that grew on them. A light was lit in the only window far above the ground as they pulled up, and Emma's headlights illuminated the base of the pillar. 

Cutting the engine, the spyglass bathed the car in bright blue, desperately bumping against her windshield. 

"I'd safely assume that we're here," Emma whispered, casting a sideways glance at where Liam was prying himself out of her car. He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed, yanking off her seat belt in irritation. The night had gotten colder, her breath standing out against the sky in puffs of vapor. 

"There's no door," Liam grunted, spreading his wings out. "So, shall we?" 

Emma looked at him, realizing what he expected. "No, no, I am nauseous as a default, don't you dare -" 

Liam's arm snaked around her waist as she protested, then they were lifting into the air with one powerful flap of his wings. Emma shrieked, tightly shutting her eyes until her feet found purchase on a smooth floor. She stumbled forward clutching her stomach and heaving. 

"What is wrong with you?" Emma screeched, Liam ducking into the tower behind her. "How dare you -" 

"I would do anything for my brother," Liam hissed. "That's something you will never understand."

A new voice broke into their argument, the shaky exclamation drawing both her attention and Liam's immediately. 

"Thank the bloody stars, Liam is it really you?" 

A Demon stood before her, pushing out of a strung hammock. Emma felt something shift, the air in her lungs leaving in one great whoosh of exhale. 

"Killian," Liam breathed out. 

[girlofmanyfandoms]

A/n: Next chapter is out! This one has a lot of setting up of the future plot points, it’ll be fun if y’all can pinpoint it. If the next chapter takes too long, I’ll post more of “The Plot out of context,” if it’s wanted!

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,740

Warnings: Nothing makes sense.

“Lynn, can you have the next shipment of the Gatorade sent to my address in Peru?”

“Farris, what did you do now?”

“Nothing!” They grinned nervously.

“I swear if you moved to Peru just so you could buy an alpaca, I will-”

“It’s not that, I swear! Well, not just that. Boss called and said I have to be at the excavation site by tomorrow, that it might be a big break.” Farris scoffed. “As if. Last time, the only thing I found with my metal detector was someone’s Betty Boop keychain.”

“Yeah, I can ship them there,” Lynn sighed, exhausted from a night of getting a deal with the investor and setting prices for the products. “And that’s crazy.”

“I know right?” Farris answered. “Betty Boop? When was this person born, the 1950s?”

“That’s not- yeah, you’re right, Farris.” Lynn changed her sentence halfway through. “Any word back from Panda?”

“Yeah, Panda got back to me. Said that her sign is a Scorpio.”

“What?”

“Exactly, who would’ve thought Panda was-”

“Farris, you were supposed to ask about the chain restaurant idea!” Lynn massaged her forehead. “Why did we agree to be partners?”

“Because I threatened to blackmail you,” they responded, taking a bite out of an apple. “And I did ask about that. The zodiac sign was probably the question I wrote on my arm so I wouldn’t forget.”

“And?”

“She said the chain restaurant idea is a good thing to look into, as soon as we can make a good menu, hire some staff, good prices, nice locations, accessibility, y’know, all that jazz.”

“Because that’s so simple.” Lynn sighed, shuffling through the paperwork that had accumulated within the past week. “Alright, tell you what, I’ll get an artist to make an ad, maybe a social networker, I’ll set up a blog and we get the word out. As soon as you get back from the gig, you call me, alright?”

“Yup,” they agreed. “Oh, and Connor just texted saying he needs your help. I told him to wait ‘til I got back so I could teach him how to properly rollerblade, but the kid’s a madlad.”

“Anything broken?”

“His sanity.”

“Farris.”

“And a lot of furniture.”

“Guess I’ll have to find out for myself, huh?”

“You sure will.”

“Alright, I’m checking in with the supplier. Talk later?”

“Cheerio, mate,” Farris grinned, saluting her before ending the call.

Lynn opened her laptop and emailed her supplier, who had requested to remain anonymous. This was fine though, identities shouldn’t be known when dealing with the black market and pyramid schemes. Lynn was fine with using her real name because of her position as co-founder of Forbidden Incorporated. If she was going to go deviant, she’ll be damned if she didn’t do it with style.

_________

Cadence’s phone buzzed, as an email from a client had just arrived.

“Forks do not work with ice cream,” Tater yelled for the umpteenth time.

Holes clutched their head in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance. “Why would you use a spoon? It’s not soup, you can’t just spoon it out!”

“Then pop it in the microwave for a few seconds, for fu-”

“Crank it down 12 notches,” Molly suggested.

“-for Pete’s sake,” Tater acknowledged Molly. “And didn’t you just eat an entire bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos in one sitting?”

“They were good! And I’m fine,” Molly insisted. “Sure, we’re out of milk, and I have strep throat, but I just took a shower and I don’t think I’m gonna pass out just yet.”

Tater and Holes pulled out a Lysol can, masks, gloves, and a plexiglass barricade within seconds, clearly getting flashbacks from 2020. Cadence wasn’t paying attention, as usual, and kept writing her response to the email.

“Relax,” Molly laughed, clearly not finding it strange that they had those on hand at least a decade later. “I got my antibiotics, it’s not contagious anymore. And hey, good news: I made a questionable decision, and that’s also not contagious.”

They threw the equipment behind them, seemingly into the abyss, and relaxed a bit.

“Ok, now to address the real problem,” Holes started. “Who is Pete and why are we doing everything for his sake?”

“Oh my gods, it’s an expression, Holes,” Tater sighed.

“No, no, Holes, is onto something,” Molly said, grabbing the detective hat Lynn had designed for her and putting it on. “And I intend to find out.”

“Cadence, please make it two against two,” Tater pleaded.

Cadence glanced up from her phone. “What’s happening?”

“Oh my- you know what, I should’ve expected that, considering the Paint Water incident.”

“Ok, the Paint Water Incident was ONE TIME!”

“The what?” Holes looked interested.

“We don’t talk about it,” Cadence chimed in. “Think of it as the Great Gulon Incident of our group.”

“Great,” Holes sighed. “Another mystery. You’re all high.”

“I was fully aware of what I was doing in that incident.”

“Even better,” Holes commented dryly. “Nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Besides, there are great puzzles to be solved,” Molly continued enthusiastically. “Onward! We must scavenge for our first clue of Pete’s identity.”

Tater closed her eyes, telling her conscience to shove it for a moment. “Where do we start, Detective?”

Holes raised their eyebrows.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Tater shrugged.

Molly looked at Holes in expectation. “Alright, fine,” Holes caved. “But I’m taking Cadence with us, I’m not going crazy alone.”

“That ship has sailed for both of us,” Cadence commented, not looking up from her phone.

“Yeah, haha, very funny. Let’s check out the corner opposite of the one they’re searching.” Holes paused, waiting for them to be out of earshot. “We don’t have to do anything, just pretend to search, I’ll be watching to make sure they don’t get killed.”

Cadence looked down at the email from her client. A shipping of 500 bottles, and 3,000 containers of newer products. And to Peru? Why had they changed the shipping address? She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

________

Connor’s house was on fire. Connor’s house was on fire. Why was Connor’s house on fire, you ask? Well, if you need to ask, you clearly haven’t met him. Lynn gazed at the sight in front of her tiredly, not knowing how she hadn’t expected this to happen.

Speens was calmly watering the bushes surrounding the house, not giving a second thought about putting out the fire with the water they had.

Lilah appeared beside Lynn, startling her. “Oh, good, you came. Gray has been trying to help Connor stand up for the past 30 minutes, but he’s way too drunk and he keeps refusing to ditch the rollerblades. Oh yeah, and his house is on fire.”

“About that, how’d it happen?”

“He was rollerblading on the stair railings when he fell onto their lamp, which tilted over and fell onto the seance that he was holding earlier in the day so the candles fell onto the hardwood floor, and then he spilled vodka everywhere, and then the flames turned blue, so here we are,” Lilah recounted all in one breath. “It’s kinda beautiful to be honest.”

“Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe it,” Speens called. “It’s interfering with the plants. Well, except for Suzy, she’s a stubborn one. She wouldn’t burn, and believe me, I tried to make her.”

“I believe you,” Lynn said, quite understandingly. She had seen Speens around on the Deep Web, but had respected their secret. They all had secrets, after all.

Lynn walked inside where the hose was already uncoiled and ready to be used. Connor, however, was clinging to Gray’s leg. “NO, DON’T USE A HOSE, THE HOUSE DOESN’T LIKE SHOWERS.”

“Connor, the house is an inanimate object, it does not care,” Gray told him, trying to get control of the fire in the kitchen.

Connor gasped. “How DARE you talk to Cynthia like that?! She deserves better!” He crawled over to a wall that was, inevitably, about to burn down, and he stroked it. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. Don’t listen to the mean person, they’re just a hater.”

Gray shook their head and sighed. “Hey, Lynn. Can you increase the water pressure?”

Lynn did so, much to Connor’s dismay. To make up for it, Lynn handed Connor a piece of a floorboard that had undoubtedly been broken into pieces when they fell off of the stairs. He hugged the floorboard close to his face, crying happy tears, not thinking about the possibility of splinters. Lynn was confused, but had a feeling she would need him as an ally soon, and this was the best way to start.

Lynn babysat Connor as Gray put out the fire. When they had finished, none of the house had fallen down. It was weaker, and very charred, but somehow it hadn’t fallen.

Gray reached behind them and pulled out a ladder and a blueprint covering the new design of Connor’s structurally damaged home. Everyone had become acquainted with such things being summoned when needed. “Alright, I got the materials in the car, but we need to fix this house, er, Cynthia, up.”

“Renovating a house, huh,” Lynn muttered. “Better than spending all day dealing with paperwork. But if I’m going to help you and Connor, I’m going to need both of your help. So, how about an offer?”

Gray narrowed their eyes. “What would that offer entail?”

“Well, for you, Gray, I’d need help renovating a certain building. We’re talking about new elevators, knocking down walls, putting up new ones, new furniture, everything businessy. As for you, Connor,” Lynn paused, waiting for him to look at her. “I need a spy. You don’t have to be sober, but you have to keep them talking alright?”

“I’m feelin’ woozy,” Connor giggled.

“Can you overhear what people say and report back to me when you hear something important despite the wooziness?”

“Yup, and I can be a skater dude, too,” he grinned goofily. “We can all live our dReAmS.”

“Well, I’m in,” Gray said, helping Connor lay down. “I’ll certainly need a team for that building of yours, but I’m in. I can’t repair a house on my own anyway.”

Lynn nodded. A team, huh? For that she needed customers, crazy, loyal, and determined enough to support her products. She had a few people in mind who might be able to deliver.

______

“Meg, you got the snacks?” Ivy called over her shoulder, setting up the gaming consoles. They had finally stopped procrastinating and organized a group hangout between Speens, Ivy, and Meg, making it a game night. Ivy brought the video games, Speens brought the hands-on games, and Meg was in charge of snacks.

“Yup,” she smiled, wheeling in a wagon of junk food. “Anything you could want, it’s here. What games you got?”

“Rocket League, Mario Kart, only the best of the best. How about you, Speens?”

“Uno, Jenga, Connect Four, Scrabble, Twister, Monopoly, you name it, I got it. Where do you want to start? Virtual or hands on?”

“Virtual, I guess,” Meg decided. “Haven’t played in a while, ever since a pigeon yeeted my controller out of a window.”

Ivy tilted her head, asking for an explanation.

“T’was like a message from an angry god,” Meg said wistfully, resting her head in her hands. “A god who preached ‘live, laugh, yeehaw, and stop playing The Last of Us 2 because it’s a trash game.’”

“Are you on drugs?” Ivy looked sincere.

“I mean, I wrote ‘gay’ and ‘yeehaw’ all over my dad’s truck, and later that night I had a dream about falling in love with the sister of this prince that I had to stop from destroying everything at exactly 12 AM, but I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, that answered my question,” Ivy said, setting up the board out while the sunset shined brightly onto their faces in the cool evening light.

Meg chose the monster truck token. “Refresh my memory, how do you play again?”

“It’s literally just capitalism for kids, and I am above you mere mortals,” Speens helped, choosing the rubber duck token, and taking a Snickers and KitKat from Meg’s snack wagon. What happened next was ungodly. Speens opened the KitKat bar and ate it. Without. Separating. The Bars.

Ivy reeled back in horror, and Meg hid behind her, terrified of the scene going on before their eyes.

“What?” Speens finished the chocolate and wiped their hands with a tissue. “Are we going to play this game or not?”

“Oh no,” Ivy said, pulling her hair slightly. “You don’t get to gloss over that. The Forbidden Spicy Gatorade is for all of us to share and enjoy once we get our hands on it, but you never, never, disrespect the KitKat bar.”

Speens scoffed. “You’re really going to dwell on that?”

“Going to dwell- I can’t even-“ Ivy took a deep breath to steady herself.  “I will not allow this in my house. So you know what? Let’s raise the stakes. We need this Monopoly game to be a game-changer.”

Speens narrowed their eyes. “What are you saying? You’re betting something?”

“Yup. If I win, you have to wear a hoodie that says “I love Holes” and you have to help me with a plan of mine. If you win, I’ll help you get revenge on someone.”

“And if I win,” Meg continued. “Y’all owe me a lifetime’s supply of fro-yo and you both have to agree to each other’s bet deals.”

“Deal from my end,” Ivy pitched in, selecting the top hat token. The other two agreed, and the game commenced.

By 3 o’clock in the morning, Ivy had been in jail 17 times, and Speens had one hotel left. With a few lucky turns, Speens was bankrupt.

Ivy smirked, having a good feeling about this. “I call upon the power of the almighty Top Hat!”

“Oh, don’t look so smug, Ives,” Speens scowled, opening their suitcase of vodka and pouring their version of two shots. “You can still lose to Meg, and she bet a lot.”

“True, but in reality, would you rather lose to Meg or me?” Ivy flashed a grin. “The hoodie’s in my room, by the way. Don’t worry- it’s washed!”

Sighing, Speens went to retrieve the hoodie. A deal’s a deal, after all. When they returned, they looked ready to kill someone. They wore a baggy bright pink hoodie with “I Love Holes!” spelled in purple glitter. “You better win this, Meg.”

Meg stuffed a hand in her bag of snacks and nodded. Ivy’s turn was next, and it brought Meg down to $100. Speens muttered something under her breath and waved her hand in an elaborate motion. Seconds later, a loud crash was heard, followed by the breaking of glass and the sound of spraying water.

Ivy frowned. “What was that?”

“Go check,” Speens suggested.

Ivy looked out of the kitchen window to see… no window. The top of a fire hydrant had come bursting off of its mounted position and had crashed through her window. “No!” She frantically ran to the street to assess the damage from outside.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Speens stirred their beverage casually. “She’s not looking, you can win this.”

“Even if it means you always have to pay for my fro-yo?”

Speens shrugged. “Beats having her win. Besides, I’ll eat just as much fro-yo as you do if I’m paying for it.”

Meg went through the cards quickly, ignored whatever magic just went on. With a lifetime supply of such an other-worldly snack, who wouldn’t? Meg found her card just in time, as Ivy came back in, looking surprisingly calm.

“I boarded up the window, insurance will cover it,” she explained. “Your turn, Meg.”

Meg pulled the card she had placed on top of the pile and made her move. She had done it. Ivy was bankrupt. Not only that, but she was going insane. She flipped the board, sending everything tumbling into the depths of her house.

“How did you- you had no chance-”

“Breath, princess,” Speens joked. “I know what’ll take your mind off of this: some good old fashioned revenge on an old rival of mine. Whaddaya say, pal?”

“This day could not get any worse,” Ivy whined.

Except it could. And it did.

The electricity cut out and Ivy let out an ear-piercing screech.

__________

A/n: Not my favorite chapter, but I have some freaking PLANS for the next ones. Stay tuned! And if I made any errors, let me know because I can’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, so I only corrected a few things.

[mdelpin]

Take it on the Run

Gratsu Week 2020 Prompt: “That idiot! Running off on his own again” Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3

They stood in the wreckage of their guildhall, still not able to believe that the Master had disbanded the guild. The silence was overwhelming as they all stared at the remains. It had been their home for so long none of them had any idea of what to do or where to go. Or even who they might be without it.

“He’s gone!”

Gray turned his head sharply at Lucy’s cries, his fists clenching at his sides as their meaning sunk in. It didn’t take much to figure out who she was talking about. Gray had already noticed that the Flame Brain wasn’t there, and while strange, he’d thought that he was still holed away in his house, caught up in his grief over Igneel’s death.

That idiot! Running off on his own again.

It’s not like Gray could blame him, he’d thought about doing the same thing, but in the end, he’d decided he’d rather find a distraction to keep him from thoughts of his late father and what had been done to him. Not to mention the strange magic that he had bequeathed him. Gray had only used it a few times, but he had developed a healthy fear of it. The way it made him feel, it wasn’t something he was willing to play with even though he understood that he needed to learn to control it before it had the chance to control him.

While everyone asked Lucy who she was talking about, he peered at Erza, waiting for her reaction. When he received a nod, he immediately took off for his apartment, rushing to get a bag together and go after his idiotic whatever the hell he was to him these days.

That was another source of confusion that he’d been avoiding thinking about for quite a while. Something had changed between them. Gray wasn’t sure when it had happened, or even if it was something the other wanted, but none of that was important now.

Gray couldn’t deny that he felt hurt that Natsu had left Lucy a note instead of him, and maybe it was for that reason that he’d chosen not to stick around to hear the message. Although he supposed it made a sort of sense, Lucy had become very attached to Natsu, and the dragon slayer wouldn’t have wanted to worry her.

Natsu was hurting, and for the first time in his life, the grief was so profound that he couldn’t hide it behind one of his smiles like he always did. It didn’t necessarily surprise him that the dragon slayer had taken off, it was more the fact that he had done so as quickly as he did. That’s the part that worried Gray.

He knew he had to find him before he did something stupid, like try to avenge Igneel by going after Acnologia by himself. Gray refused to lose anyone else that was important to him. But where the hell would he have gone?

The only thing he was sure of was Natsu wouldn’t take transportation, but with Happy being able to fly him and his ability to use fire to speed himself up, he already had a pretty big head start.

Gray finished packing, grabbed the last of his jewels, and left before Juvia could attempt to follow him.

0-0

He had roamed around Fiore for weeks, his worry bubbling inside him with every passing day. Memories of Natsu’s sobs over Igneel’s remains urging him on even though he had no clear trail to follow.

He trained as he walked, at first using only his regular ice magic. Gray molded object after object refamiliarizing himself with his magic as he worked on his focus and his precision. Then he began adding small amounts of his new magic, being careful not to draw too much power just in case he lost control. The combination made his ice more robust, but even using that small amount, Gray could feel that strange darkness probing him, and it scared him.

In his determination to find Natsu, he came up with something he’d never tried before. After much trial and error, he was able to create a pair of wings strong enough to bear his weight. Using everything he remembered from Ur's lessons and the little dynamic Ice-Make Lyon had managed to teach him, he was able to make them fly.

His first flight had been as terrifying as it had been exhilarating. He’d almost crashed countless times as he attempted to learn how to maneuver through air currents, but Gray was no stranger to hard work, and within a day or two, he’d gotten the hang of it.

Don’t do anything stupid, Flame Brain, at least not til I get there.

Flying sped up his efforts considerably, and it was especially helpful around mountainous areas. Gray was now able to travel long distances in one day. Even so, when he finally found Natsu, it was due more to luck than any action on his part.

He’d been flying around at night when he felt an overwhelming source of heat. His wings began to melt, and he had to reinforce them swiftly before he plummeted into the darkness.

Gray swooped down excitedly, determined to find the source when he heard what sounded like a loud explosion followed by inconsolable wails, communicating a sorrow that tugged at his heartstrings.

Searching for a safe spot to land, he discovered a clearing, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, he ran, knowing he’d found the dragon slayer at last. He followed the sound of the cries only to stop in his tracks when he caught his first glimpse of Natsu.

“Gray!” Happy greeted, and the ice mage could hear the relief hiding in that greeting, which could only mean the Exceed was worried, and given what he’d just seen, Gray wasn’t all that surprised.

He muttered a greeting in response, his eyes never leaving Natsu, appraising the changes the last few weeks had wrought. The dragonslayer was filthy, which was to be expected from being on the road for so long, Gray was sure he didn’t look much better.

But it was much more than that. Natsu appeared too thin, making Gray wonder if he’d been eating regularly. His olive eyes, which had always been imbued with the spirit of his determination, now appeared dull and empty.

It was disconcerting and much worse than Gray had anticipated.

“Easy, it’s just me,” Gray kept his voice soft when he noticed that Natsu looked like he was about to bolt. He sat down where he stood, keeping some distance between them.

“What are you doing here? ” Natsu groaned, hiding his head in his hands, but he seemed to be calming down, and Gray took that as a good sign. “I specifically asked to be left alone.”

“Did you? I didn’t exactly stick around to hear your little note,” Gray shrugged, making a valiant effort to sound like it hadn’t bothered him.

Natsu peered up at whatever he heard in Gray’s voice before quickly looking down at his hands, “Gray, I-,” he sighed, “I was going to write you one, but I couldn’t come up with the words I wanted, Lucy was... easier.”

“You didn’t have to leave at all, you dumbass,” Gray pointed out, “We would all have been there for you. ”

“I didn’t want anyone to see me like this,” Natsu revealed, and after a moment, admitted, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Natsu -,” words escaped him. Gray wanted to tell him that he’d been almost sick with worry since the moment he’d realized that Natsu had left, but he understood that wasn’t what the dragon slayer needed from him right then. And in the absence of words, there was only one thing he could think to do. He stood up, approaching Natsu slowly.

“Come here, you big idiot,” Gray grabbed Natsu in a rough embrace, smiling when he felt the dragon slayer relax into him, his arms slowly coming up to return the gesture. “I’m just glad I found you.”

“How did you?” Natsu sounded puzzled, but he didn’t let go of Gray, and the ice mage took that as a win.

“Luck mostly,” Gray answered honestly, gently rubbing circles on Natsu’s back, “and a healthy dose of wanting to kick your ass for leaving in the first place.”

Natsu stiffened at that, and Gray was quick to let go of him. He walked over to his pack and searched for some food he could share with the dragon slayer. Finding some apples, he grabbed a handful along with the last of his jerky and shared them with Natsu and Happy.

Happy didn’t even complain about it not being fish, devouring his apple in one bite, and looking hopefully at Gray for another. Natsu studied his apple for a few minutes before taking a tentative bite and sitting down.

Gray sat next to him, placing the rest of the food on the ground atop Happy’s green kerchief. Natsu needed to eat something more substantial, but this would have to do for now. He’d hunt them down some food once he was sure that Natsu wouldn’t try to take off in his absence. Maybe he could even convince him to do it together like they sometimes did on team jobs.

Natsu continued to eat slowly, something Gray never thought he’d see in his lifetime, taking occasional peeks at Gray.

“I’m not going back,” Natsu said defensively, “at least not yet,” he amended when he saw Gray getting ready to protest.

“I have to get stronger so I can take him out,” Natsu roared, ” I won’t lose to him again!”

“I know, I’m not here to take you back,” Gray assured him, “I’m here for you, and, “ he paused, wondering if it was too soon, “because I need your help.”

“My help?” Natsu watched him warily, trying to catch the lie in his words, “What could you possibly want my help with?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Gray insisted, recognizing the disgust in Natsu’s voice. He knew Natsu would never stop blaming himself for what had happened to Igneel, just like Gray would never forgive himself for not being able to give his father the peace he’d asked for, “there was nothing you could have done, nothing any of us could have done.”

“It’s not fair!” Natsu lamented, punching the ground for emphasis, even as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “He was right there, Gray, and then he was taken from me before I even had a chance to talk to him. And then to find out he’d been inside me all along - I searched all those years! What kind of rotten trick was that?!”

“I don’t know,” Gray answered honestly, “ but even I could see he loved you. I have to imagine it wasn’t an easy decision for him to make.”

He took a chance and reached out for Natsu’s hand, squeezing it firmly and pulling him closer until their knees touched.

“Gray?” Natsu glanced at him in surprise, and Gray had to admit it was unusual for him to be so tactile.

Outside of the occasional fistbump, the only time they ever really touched was during their neverending brawls, but maybe it was time to change that as well, to give a name to whatever it was that was happening between them. If this experience had taught him anything, it was that life was full of curveballs, and you had to hold on to the things that were important to you before they too were taken away.

“I know you think you failed, but we’re going to get stronger, and we’re going to take down that sonofabitch, and E.N.D, and Zeref, and anyone else who gets in our way,” Gray vowed, “but we’re only going to be able to manage that if we work together.”

Gray had made a promise to his father, and he intended to keep it, to put an end to all the suffering his family and others like them had suffered at the hands of Zeref’s demons. But he had also made many promises to himself in regards to his Fairy Tail family, and Acnologia had come after them twice now. They couldn’t afford to give him a third chance.

Natsu didn’t respond to his words right away, weighing them carefully against whatever he’d been planning to do. His gaze shifted from Gray’s face to their joined hands until he managed a smile for the first time since Gray had arrived.

“Together then,” he agreed, and for a brief moment, Gray caught a glimpse of the usual spark in Natsu’s eyes, and it gave him hope that everything would turn out alright.

A/N: Thanks to @oryu404​ for their help with the edit. This was somewhat unplanned but I wanted to contribute something! Might turn into a multi later, might not...

[nomolosk]

Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/62283055

Day 10- Reverse Crush

Mayura jumped and flipped over rooftops which were entirely unfamiliar. Not for the first time, she wished she could borrow Chat Noir’s endlessly telescoping baton. She had a suspicion that Paris was now one enormous University campus, with all the buildings morphed into classrooms, cafeterias, dormitories, and parking garages. There would also be maintenance buildings and administrative offices, and the police force had probably simply morphed into campus security. The point was, she wondered how different it would look from above. 

She could still see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, so at least one famous landmark was still present- after all, everyone currently thought they were either going to school in Paris, or working for a university in Paris, and no doubt that idea needed reinforcing the longer this went on. She wasn’t sure how long Universal could keep up a single alternate reality. Did it depend on her stamina, like it had with Animan? Or did it depend on how well people accepted the new reality? Surely there would be a few each time for whom the shift was too stark, too different from their normal life. Perhaps if enough people began to question it, it would shatter again.

Or perhaps it simply depended on when Universal herself got bored. She’d shifted between several different universes by now, and hadn’t seemed to spend much time with any of them. Perhaps they were not so compelling once she made it reality. Mayura frankly found it all annoying. Hawkmoth didn’t usually create akumas with powers to affect reality itself, and now that she was experiencing it first hand, she was beginning to have doubts about using the Wish, even if it would save Emilie.

But currently she was trying to keep herself oriented, while also visible enough to draw out the heroes. She would obviously need to find her way back to the administrative office where she currently worked after the battle.

----

Adrien Agreste beamed at the pretty design student who had actually succeeded in sending Lila off without a scene for once.

“What’s your name?” he asked earnestly. She blinked in surprise. 

“Uh, M-Marinette,” she stuttered slightly. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, watching her flush adorably. 

“Thank you,” he continued. “It’s nice to know the name of the woman I’m going to marry.”

She laughed and he caught the nervous note to it. “Well, thank you for the compliment, but it’s really not that big of a deal. I knew someone like her back in college and lycee, so I’ve got some experience in dealing with it.”

Adrien’s interest was genuinely piqued. “Oh yeah? I actually had to go to school with Lila, and that was an experience I really wish had ended with graduation. Not only do I still have to model with her sometimes, now she’s followed me to University.”

“That sucks,” Marinette said. Then her face flamed again. “I’m so sorry, by the way! You must get girls doing this all the time, and I didn’t- I mean, I kind of implied that you and I are together, but it was just to get her to back off, you know? I didn’t- I don’t want to force you into a relationship,” she finished with a soft, sweet smile. “You should be able to make your own choices.”

Adrien could have sworn his heart literally melted at that moment. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, there was a little voice reminding him of the existence of Ladybug, but she’d suddenly become a lot less important to his personal happiness. She was a great partner, but… well, perhaps that was all she’d ever be. And he was… okay with that. More than okay! After all, without the guilt of harboring feelings for his unattainable partner, he could pursue sweet, feisty, wonderful Marinette instead.

“About that… actually, would you mind having lunch with me? I’d really like to get to know you better,” he said, trying for a balance between his usual Chat Noir flair and his model reserve. When he saw her hesitate, he quickly added, “Anyone who can handle Lila like that would be a great friend to have!”

----

Marinette hesitated. She didn’t really know why, but as hot as this boy was, he was still freakin’ Adrien Agreste! She couldn’t go around dating the son of the Dean, not when she was a design student herself! Besides, she couldn’t get that kiss between her future self and future Chat Noir out of her mind. It had been so simple, so loving… so full of trust and tenderness, even for as quick as it had been. And she wanted that. Something had changed, and she could admit that to herself now- perhaps for the first time.

It had been so long since Chat Blanc… perhaps the danger was over, the peculiar circumstances that had allowed or caused that future no longer existed, surely. She could finally stop fighting herself and allow herself to fall for her partner. Right?

“Um, well, I guess,” she finally said. “Sure! That’d be nice.”

She saw the look of adoration on Adrien’s face and convinced herself that he was a model and used to looking adoringly at women. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, like that over the top exclamation about marrying her a few moments ago. He couldn’t really mean it, they hardly knew each other! And besides, it was probably just an exaggerated way of showing his appreciation.

----

Adrien could have danced on air. “Great! So, how about that new place that just opened up-”

The akuma alert suddenly went off on both their phones and his heart sank like a stone. Here he was, finally getting somewhere with the girl of his dreams, and stupid Hawkmoth had to interfere.

He cursed, already scanning the area for the best route to a place where he could transform. “I’m really sorry, Marinette. I… have to go.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” she reassured him, “I, um, I get really nervous during these things, so… I’m just gonna go this way. See you!”

She was already hurrying off, and Adrien was halfway to his own exit before he remembered that, like an idiot, he forgot to get her phone number. Well, at least now he knew her name.

----

Marinette checked the LadyBlog on her way to a place where she could transform. Alya had posted a video someone had taken of Mayura jumping from rooftop to rooftop, with the disclaimer that no one had yet seen an akuma, but the presence of the villainess could indicate that there was one out there somewhere, or would be soon.

“Alright Tikki,” Marinette said, stopping in a secluded area of campus and opening her purse. “Any more hints as to what’s going on? First you were sure something was up last night, and now Mayura is hopping around rooftops all by herself. Any ideas?”

Lately, Marinette had taken to consulting with Tikki before transforming, unless the akuma in question seemed really straightforward. Ever since she and Chat had cleared the threshold of maturity needed to use their powers more than once a battle, the akumas had gotten more devious and harder to beat.

“I’m beginning to get an inkling, Marinette,” Tikki said encouragingly. “You know how I’m the kwami of creation?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well, there’s something in the air that reminds me of what creation feels like.”

“Something in the air? Like, the physical air, or are you using a metaphor for the feel of a place, like a vibe?”

“I don’t know what a vibe is-”

“It’s like a feeling you get sometimes, from people or places. You have an instinct about them, and it can be either bad or good. I remember feeling really good about Alya when I first met her- she gave off good vibes. And we’ve been best friends ever since! Does that makes sense?”

“Yes it does! Thank you, Marinette! And yes, a ‘vibe’ is exactly what I’m talking about. Although,” Tikki paused, putting a nub up to her chin, “I supposed it could also be in the physical air. Creation can leave things behind, you know. And if this is coming from an akuma, it might well be connected to the physical air.”

“That would be a new direction for Hawkmoth,” Marinette mused. “His akumas have been getting a lot harder to beat lately, but the only time I can remember him going so subtle was with Sabrina that one time, and then the time he was Scarlet Moth and had that whole secondary attack planned that took us by surprise.”

Tikki shrugged. “Well, this definitely feels like creation magic to me, Marinette. You should be careful! And try to make sure you don’t forget anything important. You know akumas can affect memories sometimes.”

Marinette sighed at that rather useless bit of advice. How she was supposed to guard against forgetting things when they were dealing with an akuma that shared Tikki’s power and could possibly affect memory? 

“Alright, Tikki. I’ll try to be careful and not forget anything, and I’ll make sure to warn Chat as well. Are you ready to transform?”

“Go for it!”

Marinette spoke the words, and shortly thereafter Ladybug was swinging away over the familiar rooftops of the great University of Paris.

----

Chat Noir was annoyed. He’d rushed away from Marinette for no reason apparently- there was no sign of an akuma anywhere, and while Mayura had triggered the alert, she was nowhere to be found either. He moved swiftly and quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself, but he couldn’t find her. A few minutes after he decided it had been nothing more than a feint or a distraction, Ladybug showed up, swinging up to his current rooftop.

“H-hey Chat,” she said, her tone oddly breathless. She started to walk over to his vantage point and tripped over thin air, recovering quickly, but still blushing in embarrassment. A few years ago this greeting would have had Chat over the moon with the possibility she was finally falling for him, but now…

“You okay there, Bug?” he asked. “Getting enough sleep? I know you said your schedule was pretty packed this semester.”

Ladybug smiled widely. “Sure! I’m slapping- sleeping! Fine. Just fine.”

Chat raised both eyebrows, but looked back out at the campus. Then he noticed it- it was slow, but inexorable.

“Ladybug,” he breathed. “Look!”

Ladybug joined him at the edge of the roof and together they watched as a circle of change spread slowly across the campus, leaving other buildings and streets in it’s wake.

“Chat, take us up,” Ladybug said, and this time there was nothing in her tone but command. 

Without hesitation, Chat grabbed her around the waist and extended his baton with them at the top until they were in danger of being hit by low flying aircraft. They watched as the change engulfed the city and… there was something familiar about it.

“This has happened before, hasn’t it?” Ladybug murmured.

“I think so,” Chat said.

Ladybug let out a shaky breath. “Do you remember it?”

“No,” Chat admitted. “But I think… I think I’ve noticed it before. And then forgot.”

“Me, too. Tikki says she can feel something like the power of Creation in the air,” Ladybug said. Her arm around his shoulder tightened, as she got her yo-yo out again. She opened it to map-mode and Chat could see the spreading change on it as well, the magic of their miraculous somehow picking up that of another. She quickly tapped a few commands, and the screen zoomed out until there was a flashing dot in what could be the center of the circle. “That’s where it started,” Ladybug said. 

“I don’t think we can get there before we forget again,” Chat said, feeling hollow.

“Maybe,” Ladybug replied, and he took heart at the strength of her voice. “But I’ve got the location saved in the yo-yo now, so even if we forget what we’re doing right now, we’ll have a clue. I frankly doubt the akuma will stick around to be found like that, but it will at least give us a starting point, right?”

“Right.” 

The circle of change had reached where they would be if they were still on the roofs now, and Chat braced himself for… something. Ladybug tensed, too. When nothing happened for a few seconds, he started to relax… only to feel the change wash over him a breath later.

@auyeahaugust

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 175

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 27 - “Rin-chan’s Date with a Handsome Ghost!?” Date watched: 24 March 2020 Original air date: 12 August 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/7vdwVuj Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

not pictured: a handsome ghost

Are you ready for more summer vacation antics? How about some ghost stories! No, not the gag dub kind, I mean actual ghost stories. Yes, tonight the girls decide to poke around an abandoned wing of their school and wind up in the middle of something bigger than themselves. Let’s dive in!

The Plot

All the girls are gathered around a table in the dark as Komachi tells them the story of Count Rosett, who used to live in a mansion behind the school with his girlfriend, until she died in a tragic accident. The count lived out the rest of his days in sadness and now his spirit returns to the school on the anniversary of her death. Nozomi, Urara, Milk, and Coco are all a little scared by the story, Karen and Nuts seem indifferent or even bored, but Rin is scared out of her mind. So naturally they go check it out.

Over in Nightmare, Kawarino himself summons Arachnea to the office and tells her that while her work is good, if she instills fear into her opponents, then they’ll expend all their energy. Sound advice honestly. With that in mind, she sets off, and begins to haunt the girls on their ghost hunt. How timely! Arachnea plays her card very quickly by bringing a skeleton to life, which makes itself known to Rin and only Rin, so she bolts off down the hallway away from the other girls. Suddenly she runs into another shadowy figure.... who reveals herself as Masuko Mika, who is inexplicably here at the same time with the same objective of finding the ghost and reporting on it.

or they’re doing the fusion dance

Nozomi, Urara, Komachi, Karen, and the fairies continue exploring the school building, trying to find Rin, and end up in a pitch-black classroom. Karen bumps into something, and when they shine the light on it revealing it to be a large statue of a man, she finally gets scared and screams. After Karen calms down, Komachi deduces that this must be Count Rosett, and then they see a large portrait on the wall of a woman who looks a lot like Rin.

or more accurately the animators drew Rin’s head on this random portrait

Rin and Mika continue wandering around until the skeleton reappears and starts chasing both of them. Rin trips and falls but Mika doesn’t stop, so Rin scrambles into a nearby classroom to hide and the skeleton passes her by. This time, though, she comes face to face with yet another specter, as a large shadowy figure reaches for her, and this one isn’t a student.

She freaks right the fuck out and loses consciousness. When she comes to, the other girls are surrounding her and asking what happened. When she explains, Komachi puts the pieces of the puzzle together and deduces that this was Count Rosett, the portrait was of his deceased girlfriend, and he was trying to give Rin a gift for his girlfriend. They convince her to try to meet him again and resolve his centuries-old suffering by accepting the gift. She really does not want to but they beg and plead her and she begrudgingly agrees to try it. Once again she enters the room and lo and behold the shadowy figure reaches for her. However the girls suddenly finds themselves in broad daylight in the courtyard of the school building and adjacent mansion, with a handsome man standing in front of her. He greets her and presents her with a rose-shaped hairpin, but before Rin can explain that she’s not his lover, the sky turns purple and Arachnea makes her appearance. She gloats about this excellent terrain and turns the wandering skeleton into a Kowaina, which is just a giant skeleton with a Kowaina mask on its forehead. Rin and the other girls quickly transform. 

The monster wreaks havoc on the mansion, which Rouge takes special exception to on behalf of the Count, and Arachnea retorts that it doesn’t matter anyway since this is a false world, before reminding Rouge that she had just been deathly afraid of the Count’s ghost mere moments ago. Rouge exclaims that her fear went away when he communicated his feelings and the girls all go on the attack. Mint and Aqua and then Dream and Lemonade perform a nice one-two combo on the monster as Rouge declares that she won’t forgive Nightmare for wrecking the Count’s house, even in an illusion world, and then her brooch glows and she summons her new weapon, the Rouge Tact. She uses it to perform a powered-up version of her finisher: Rouge Burning

The items should have been called Rouge Torch and Dream Tact but what do I know

This attack utterly destroys the Kowaina, and the mansion returns to its former beauty. The girls detransform and Count Rosett once again tries to give Rin the hairpin. She tells him she isn’t the girl he was waiting on, but he responds that she fought so hard for his sake and he just wants her to have it. She smiles the biggest smile and then the Count and the scenery fade away, leaving the girls back in the school building, with Rin still holding the hairpin. As they leave the building, Nozomi teases Rin about possible latent feelings for the Count, and then Mika reappears screaming about how she was chased by a skeleton. Komachi suggests they go back inside and get pictures, but Mika is too afraid to see any more ghosts. However, Rin states that ghosts are just like people, they experience normal feelings and once those feelings are communicated there’s no cause for fear, a marked change from her earlier behavior.

The Analysis

It’s shameless summer filler and it is EXCELLENT. This is how you do low-stakes. It’s fun! It’s a great character spotlight! It takes us new places! It ties into typical summer activities! This plays out like an episode of Scooby-Doo, with a shoujo bent. It’s comedy gold from the very beginning, when Komachi tells a ghost story and the others are varying degrees of afraid and all the way through the episode when Rin is the only one being haunted, either by Arachnea’s interference, classmates, or actual ghosts. The poor girl can’t get a break. But the comedy is done excellently, and the episode is positively filled with wonderful facial expressions (which is why my gallery ballooned to 132 images, a record for a non-movie or finale episode, so check that out).

I love how Karen and Nuts are just so over it all, while Komachi is too excited about the mystery to be scared. It makes sense given her affinity for literature, she’s heard it all before and she just wants to see if there’s any weight to the rumors. Nuts, being well-read and also generally apathetic, is probably just not spooked by ghost stories period. But back to Rin: Nozomi explains how she’s positively terrified by ghosts, and so of course she’s the one that ends up seeing them all, and ultimately meeting Count Rosett in the flesh (sorta) teaches her a valuable lesson that hey, they’re not so bad if you can reach an understanding. I don’t believe this has any lasting impact on her character but I might be wrong. I hope we see some hint of this going forward.

As I said, while Rin is scared out of her wits, the other girls are far from unshakeable. Even Karen, who spends about half of the episode acting bored, finally flips when she bumps into what she thinks is a person in the dark.

Nuts is still unimpressed though

Nozomi and Urara are scared when they start but everyone’s animosities fade away once they find the portrait of Count Rosett’s presumed girlfriend, and all they can think of is trying to get him to meet Rin and put him to final rest.

This and the next episode have really made me realize a problem to the show at this point, however. Since they got rid of Girinma, Nightmare’s only grunt is Arachnea, while Gamao is still wandering around as a free agent, and the two basically alternate episodes. Bunbee is going to dip his toes in the water again in episode 29 but it’s kind of a slog on the villain side until episode 31 when Hadenya and Bloody show up. Gamao is completely unlikeable and Arachnea has all the personality of a loaf of stale bread. Her attempt at being scary here consists of chasing Rin with a skeleton in an already haunted setting. That’s all she can muster. I’m very reticent to give Smile Precure credit for anything but they definitely had a better haunted school episode.

During the battle, Rouge accesses her portion of the Symphony Set for the first time, which is called the Rouge Tact. “Tact” is of course a name that will be reused for various Precure baton weapons in the coming seasons. The wiki says that it’s derived from the German word “taktstock”, which refers to a music conductor’s baton. As for its design, it is a large leaf shape with a handle on one end and an extension on the other which lights on fire. As I quipped above, I think it should have been called “Rouge Torch” while Dream’s baton should have another name, but oh well. The way she uses it is interesting, as you’d expect her to use it to launch a fireball directly at the enemy but she doesn’t. During her normal Rouge Fire attack, she creates a burning butterfly from the back of her hand and then palmstrikes it into the monster. Here, instead, she ignites the tact, then in a single motion she swoops the flame in front of her as the butterfly separates from her hand, she releases the tact and grabs it with her right hand as she pulls back with her left for a palmstrike and the burning butterfly shoots towards her enemy. A lot happens in a short time but the effect isn’t dramatically different from her normal attack, and rather than shooting a stream of fire directly from the tact she just uses it like a lighter. Once again, it suggests the staff weren’t sure how to incorporate the Symphony Set into the show.

I appreciate them remembering that Masuko Mika exists but it’s a really big coincidence that she’s here on this night. The script didn’t make it clear whether the ghost was spotted on one night every year, or every month, or just randomly. If they had clarified that, it may have made more sense for her to appear. I’m glad they’re trying to incorporate her but all she really does is scare Rin, sneak around, and then run off at the first sign of actual spookiness. Bring her into the group dang it! Make her a friend of the precures. Minor complaint.

From a cinematorgraphy standpoint this episode has some really cool camera shots. My absolute favorite is this zoom back from the abandoned wing of the school:

And later on the inverse: a zoom in and tilt upwards to look at the portrait of the lady that resembles Rin:

These scenes help to breathe some energy into the episode and provide atmosphere, enhancing the creepy and mysterious mood of the place.

Then there’s this sequence where the girls are trying to convince Rin to go find Count Rosett again, where the camera dollies back in stages and then shifts right to look at Karen.

I don’t remember seeing complex camerawork like this in previous episodes so to have so many of these unique shots in one episode is really cool and it makes me want to see more of it.

Finally, while this isn’t a very complicated shot, I like this bit from the fight where Dream and Lemonade perform a double kick in perfect sync.

I’m a sucker for cool fight choreorgraphy and this fits the bill. Sure, we’ve seen other more complex fights in this season alone but I like to call them all out when I find them.

(reminder: you can find higher resolution copies of these gifs in my gallery, I have to keep them under 2 MB for Tumblr)

All told, this episode is a fantastic summer ghost story. It balances comedy with an interesting mystery and provides Rin with just enough character growth to justify her unlocking her new finisher. It’s got some wonderful facial expressions that you can find in my gallery and it’s only brought down a little by its unerwhelming villain.

Next time, another summer staple: it’s time for a festival! Look forward to it!

Pink Precure catchphrase count: 0 kettei!

[popwasabi]

“Rogue One” finds victory in hopeless rebellion

2020 has been…relentless to say the least.

You might not remember it at this point, given the how turbulent this latest period has been, but this year started with Australia catching on fire, and our jack-ass of a president nearly starting World War III. Then shit really began to hit the fan in March, COVID-19 came like a black light in a sleazy motel room and exposed the gigantic chasms we have in our country’s social and economic infrastructure. With 38.6 million people filing for unemployment since March, likely without healthcare, and with a growing number of COVID cases spiking around the country and deaths crossing the 120,000 mark things don’t look to be getting better anytime soon.

(You’re missing the point, Luis...)

To say there’s a grim outlook not just on the country but the world would be an understatement and it’s hard not feel a little hopeless right now.

But then George Floyd happened and the anger that had been boiling up in this country for decades, no doubt exacerbated by the effects of the virus and the lack of distractions such as live sports and movies, finally erupted like a volcano and perhaps the greatest challenge to the status quo since the 60s began.

I won’t spend too much time explaining my thoughts on the past month-plus of current events, you can read about that in my last two write-ups, but what this period has shown me is just how powerful people can be when they finally stop being apathetic and hopeless about the state of the world and together in unison fight back.

So, why do I want to talk about a Star Wars film that came out four years ago in the middle of all this? Well, this message is central to the theme of the movie and it’s why it remains my favorite of the franchise to date because it too reminds me, in moments like these, that there is victory in simply standing up when the world is telling you to stay down.

I trust that if you clicked on this article you’re already familiar with the plot and story of Disney’s second foray into the Star Wars universe and more than likely you have some strong opinion on it as the film was somewhat divisive among fans when it came out in 2016. There are plenty of reasons not to like this movie, and trust me I’ve heard and understand every grievance about the film, from it’s slow opening half, lack of a proactive hero, underdeveloped side characters, fan service-y bits, and muddled writing in parts no doubt affected by re-shoots. I’m not going to try to explain away all of them, but I’ll just say I hear you and this write up really isn’t about whether Rogue One is objectively a good movie or not.

(Though, objectively speaking, this bit of fan service was fun as hell.)

My resonance for a film like “Rogue One” began as early as my teenage years when I began getting introduced to stories about samurai. These movies from the Land of the Rising Sun are the equivalent of Westerns for Japan, typically following a lone swordsman or group of warriors coming to save a village from marauders or looking to become the best version of themselves possible.

A recurring theme through a lot of them though is how they often end in tragic ways. A film like “Seven Samurai” ends with most of the ronin killed in their desperate struggle against pillaging raiders, the “Tale of the 47 Ronin” (no, not that one) ends also with most of them committing hari-kiri after successfully avenging their former master, and NHK’s early 2000s drama on The Shinsengumi ends with the group disbanded, their leader executed, and the remainder fighting a war they know they’ll lose against the Meiji government.

(Simply iconic.)

I know this all sounds moribund and sad as hell to watch, and it is, but my main takeaway growing up wasn’t how sad it was that most of the characters I grew to love and connect with while watching and reading these stories died; it’s that there was victory even in simply fighting to the very end.

For the swordsmen and samurai in these stories it wasn’t about whether these characters would live to see their victory or even live to benefit from it but rather that their willingness to stand up and fight anyways because it’s what they believed in. They could’ve stayed down, they could’ve ignored their growing plight, they could’ve let the more domineering forces rule over them while they kept their heads down into their final days but they didn’t because real defeat was simply ignoring all of that and doing nothing even it meant survival.

“Rogue One” deals with this early on in its two leads, Jyn and Cassian. Jyn is jaded because the Empire took her family away from her and the only remaining father figure she had abandoned her not long after, leading her to accept a life of simply surviving. Though Cassian finds himself a part of the Rebellion, the work he does on their behalf has turned him away from being an idealist to one who deals in a “whatever means necessary” approach to achieve their needs as he has largely abandoned his morals in the process.

(“It’s not a problem if you don’t look up...”)

As the story progresses from its first half Jyn begins to see the necessity of rebellion, that the alternative of simply living to see the next day is not enough and certainly not a real victory. Through Jyn, Cassian rediscovers his humanity and joins her in her own inhouse rebellion to attack Scarif with a band of other soldiers looking to do the right thing, not content to just simply outlast the Empire.

The supporting, albeit unpolished, characters show microcosms of this theme of apathy turning into defiance. Chirrut’s optimistic demeanor and relentless faith in The Force eventually snaps Baz out of his own cynicism even if it comes in their final moments. Bohdi’s own small but willing act of rebellion is the catalyst for the entire story and even K-2SO for all his cynical behavior through the story commits a selfless act of sacrifice to buy Jyn and Cassian time to retrieve the Death Star’s plans.

They all perish at the end, and though I understood that was probably coming before I saw the movie, I was deeply moved by it. Even if you pretend the original trilogy never happened, there was something quite beautiful about seeing this band of ronin, if you will, sacrificing themselves for a cause they knew they would never get to see finished.

(Not afraid to admit this scene moved me to tears last time I watched this movie a couple months ago.)

I’ve been a sucker for stories about victory even in death since I was a kid. Besides Samurai films, movies and TV shows like “Glory,” “Saving Private Ryan,” “Black Sails,” or “Spartacus” (STARZ) all tell similar stories of a willingness to stand up and fight for what’s right and sacrifice for the greater good.

It’s not just film that tells this story though; history does too. Whether it was black liberation and Selma beginning in 1965, interned Japanese Americans fighting until the 90s to earn redress from the government, or the Chicano movement headed by Cesar Chavez in the 60s and 70s still felt today, these fights for justice are often fought with blood and not everyone gets to see the fruit of their resistance. But it starts somewhere. The seeds of victory are planted and often fertilized by the bodies of people willing to lay down their own for others and this moment in time we are experiencing is not unlike those of the past.

(Their pain, their suffering made progress and our continued movement forward today possible.)

It is easy to want to give in. I don’t blame you, this whole year has been grim and brutal from the start, but whether you liked “Rogue One” or not, it’s biggest takeaway is an important one; fight even if you might not see the end. Jyn, Cassian, and the crew of Rogue One may not have lived to see their rebellion triumph over the Empire but they undeniably ignited a flame that made its revolution and victory possible.

There is a flame burning bright right now and no matter how exhausted you may feel by what’s going on I say keep going. There is a long road ahead to fixing this country’s many issues but it has to start somewhere and if we are willing to go the distance even if we don’t all get to see the finish line ourselves, together there is no limit to what we can achieve.

Rebellions are built on hope, so don’t give up. Not now, not ever.

Solidarity and may the Force be with you all, my friends.

[shipaholic]

Good Omens/SU crossover - The Prologue!

Day 19, 2020: already behind on my writing schedule, lol.

It’s angels and demons with gem powers y’all! I’ve decided to post scenes from the fic on tumblr as I go, and then do a big edit at the end before putting it on AO3.

Prologue: three days after Adam and Eve leave the garden, Crowley reforms for the first time.

Link to next part at the end.

---

Prologue

4004 BC

There was an angel in the garden of Eden.

The others had left already after the business with the apple, muttering about cock-ups (but more politely, being angels). Strictly speaking, there was no reason for any angel to still be skulking around the garden. A cloud of embarrassment hung over the place. In a few hours management was due to turn up and sweep it, before returning to head office and drafting an official statement. The garden couldn’t remain on Earth, obviously. There had been talk of archiving it.

A twisted black sigil, the size of a rook’s feather, lay on a flat rock. It looked as though it should have only had two dimensions, but had been press-ganged by physics into manifesting an extra one. It was wrapped in a little nest of white cloth and placed in a sunbeam. The angel hovered nearby, trying not to break into out-and-out looming.

The black object on the rock finally did something. It glowed pure white and rose out of its nest to float in the air two feet above eye level. It made a noise that would be identifiable, many, many years from now, as a laser beam charging up [1].

The light became blinding, and a shape grew out of it - more shapeless than shape, its borders wobbling like a giant soap bubble. Then it compressed and became human-shaped. Limbs sprouted in every direction. The blob at the top decided to be a head. It was like watching dough being rolled out and reformed into an unsettlingly realistic gingerbread man.

Long curls unspooled from the head. Swathes of cloth burst into existence and draped around the figure, similar to that worn by the angel. It then changed its mind, and the loose toga pinned over one shoulder morphed into a cowl and hood, wrapping around the head and leaving only a few loose strands of hair.

Features popped out of the smooth face. Colour suffused it down to the fingertips. There was a final burst of wind and light, like a celestial flourish, and a pair of gleaming white wings unfolded from its back. Immediately, they turned black, like a forest scorched to ash. They fluttered once, and the figure gently touched down on the grass of Eden.

It opened its eyes. They were still golden.

Then it squawked and fell over.

“Ack,” it said.

It kicked a few times at its robe, which was not especially tangled around its feet, but that seemed less embarrassing than acting as though it had fallen over because it still hadn’t got the hang of having legs.

Then it caught sight of the angel hiding behind a rock.

“Gnn!” it said, and grabbed for something to throw at him. [2]

“Um!” The angel held up his hands. He tried to stand up without looking intimidating, and ended up in a kind of hunch. “I come in peace. Erm.”

The figure pulled a face, as if remembering the distant present. “Peace? You killed me!”

The angel grimaced. “Well. I suppose I did, technically. Sorry about that.”

“You whacked me over the head!”

“I know how that must look -”

“I thought we were having a nice moment up there, with the sheltering from the rain and so on, and two seconds later you karate-chop me with your blessed wing!”

The angel’s face was two notches guiltier than his gave-away-my-flaming-sword face. “It really was an ac -” He paused. “Well. Not quite an accident, to be quite honest. Not in the sense of not meaning to do it. But I really didn’t mean to k- discorporate you. I feel terrible about the whole thing.”

“Oh, you feel terrible! I’ve got a ding in my skull. Brand new skull and everything.” The demon tapped its own head, but found it undamaged. It frowned. “Huh. That’s useful.”

“You seem fine now,” said the angel. He already sounded far less sympathetic.

“Yeah, ssssuperb.”

“You’ve even redecorated yourself a bit. I like the, erm.” The angel gestured vaguely. “Belt.”

“Yeah. Well. Why not.” The demon preened a little. It was quite a nifty trick. The angel was a fan of his new, cinched-in waist look, but thought it a bit of a shame the demon had covered his long red hair. His gem - the winding black sigil just under his ear - was also half-hidden under his hood. The angel had a few further thoughts, but it seemed impolite to comment.

“What are you hanging around for, anyway?” said the demon. He was still sprawled on the ground with a clump of grass in his hand. “Planning to stand over me and just… finish me off whenever I reform?” He blanched. He’d just said it off the top of his head, but it was actually a disturbing thought. “Because that sounds, uh. Boring.”

“Of course not!” said the angel. It did sound boring. Also, horrible. He’d got through the entire War in Heaven without engaging in what might technically be called combat. Given the option, he’d prefer to keep his kill-count at zero. Who knew their human forms would… explode into smoke clouds from one tiddly knock on the head? Someone upstairs might have told him. “I wanted to see you were all right, that was all. You gave me quite a shock, you know.” He gave an embarrassed cough. “Look, I really wasn’t trying to trick you - back on the wall.”

“Oh, ‘course not. You were just doing me a favour, keeping me dry, nice and neighbourly, only by sheer misfortune an overwhelming blood-lust came over you, and there was nothing for it but to smite me off a sixty-foot wall. That’s a comfort. I feel much safer now.”

   The angel, unlike most of the others, understood sarcasm. [3] He kept what had really happened up on the wall to himself. It had been a loud clap of thunder - the first ever produced on Earth - and it had been startling and unpleasant. Usually a sound like that heralded the appearance of Upper Management, who would have had Questions about him chatting to a demon, of the kind that ended in Meetings with Clipboards. Getting the demon out of sight chop-chop had been the word of the day, and - well. Turned out these new, corporeal bodies were less resilient than one might hope. Bit of a rush-job, the angel regrettably suspected.

“How long was I out, anyway?” The demon peered around the sun-drenched garden. “I see this place has had time to dry out.”

“It’s been three days. I’m not really supposed to be here anymore. I’m going to be terribly late to the staff meeting.” The angel looked at him sidelong. Politeness lost a skirmish with curiosity. “What… exactly was it like?”

“What, getting my head stoved in? Or just the general feeling of betrayal?”

The angel was a being of heavenly love and he did not roll his eyes. “What were you doing in there? While you were, er, recharging?”

The demon’s yellow eyes went blank. “Hnn.” He scratched his cheek. “Just. Hanging about, you know. Think I was in contact with one of my people. Sort of felt like someone was talking to me. And like I was filling in forms. And having a nap.”

The angel frowned. “A nap? Never heard of it.”

“Oh, it’s going to be big.” The demon smiled. He had high hopes for sloth. At the very least, he suspected he was going to like it.

The angel gave a tentative smile. “So it wasn’t too unpleasant?”

The demon huffed. “Fine, no, it wasn’t torture. It was just weird. No harm done, and I got a new look out of it, so don’t be too hard on yourself. Not that you were being all that hard on yourself. Scratch that, be harder on yourself, softer on me.” He clambered to his feet. He definitely hadn’t got the legs down yet. Rebooting his body had set him back, he was sure of it. “I’ve got turned around. Where’s the exit?”

The angel pointed. There hadn’t used to be an exit [4], but now that Adam and Eve had departed, there was. “I’d move quickly if I were you. Head office is sending some of my lot down to check the place over. Could be any minute now.”

“Thanks for the warning,” the demon said gloomily. He spread his wings for balance and started to wobble away on newborn legs.

“Sorry again!” the angel called out.

“Not like anyone died. See you, angel.”

The angel waved, then felt foolish since the demon was facing away. “Aziraphale. Don’t think I said.”

“Goodbye, Aziraphale.”

“Goodbye, Crawly.”

The angel watched him stumble towards the exit of the garden, until he started to feel peculiar and unsafe and guilty about something he couldn’t put his finger on. Time to leave and avoid running into management.

Aziraphale the angel turned and strode eastwards, and Crawly the demon continued west, and they wouldn’t meet again for six hundred years.

---

[1] But only in certain B-movies.

[2] There were no deadly weapons in Eden, even if you improvise. The figure grabbed a handful of grass. He inconvenienced himself more pulling it out of the ground than he would have done to the angel by throwing it.

[3] After a fashion. At least, when it came draped in a neon flag with ‘I am being facetious and mean to you’ scrawled across it.

[4] An exit for humans, that was. The four Gates at the North, South, East and West were guarded by angels and they led to less Earthly destinations.

---

(Chapter 1, Part 1)

[whitehotharlots]

Handicapping the 2020 Dem primary

Tier Four

The Tom Vilsack Memorial “No Chance in Hell” Tier

These are the candidates whose family members won’t even vote for them. They will drop out either before or immediately after Iowa. Some of them will be working specifically to plant the seeds of a 2024 run, while others are auditioning for an MSNBC gig.

Joe Kennedy

Any person who is simultaneously old enough and illiterate enough to have any fondness for the Kennedys is 100% in the Trump camp. Joe has zero appeal outside of this voting bloc, which literally does not exist. He won’t even win Massachusetts--won’t even be in the top five in Massachusetts.

Michael Avenatti

My man ain’t even announced his run and he’s already facing domestic assault charges. A potential Avenatti run had a mystical WWF vibe to it. I will admit, I was excited, the same as I’d be excited to finally pull alongside the accident that caused the pile up. No one has any idea what his policies are, because neither does he. He might honestly beat Trump in the general, as he is far and away the most likely candidate to physically assault Trump if the two ever share a stage (any Dem who punches Trump will be automatically 100% guaranteed to win the election). But he probably won’t even run.

Mitch Landrieu

Mitch will appeal to that small demographic of erstwhile independent voters who were drawn to Trump solely because he is an openly corrupt grifter. By May he will be a panel participant on a new MSNBC show that’s like Shark Tank but but all the contestants are trying to get the panel to fund their medical gofundme’s.

Eric Holder

Like every other member of the Obama administration, his faults are glaring and the relatively good stuff he did takes way too much context for most voters to understand. Under his leadership, the DoJ began began to litigate hate crimes, which had been almost completely neglected under Bush. That’s good. Also, under his leadership, the DoJ stalwartly refused to prosecute the war criminals who lied us into Iraq or the bankers who tanked the world economy. That’s bad. Politically, he has the platform of a Republican circa 1992. Personally, he has the charisma of a very dry snail.

Steve Bullock

He looks and sounds like the dumb guy sidekick of an old cartoon villain. He is therefore the Bebop/Rocksteady of the field. His policies are indistinguishable from any other civil moderate/fiscal conservative candidate, and his moistness will drive away both donors and media . (NOTE: With Bullock, the Avenatti Rule applies: if he threatens to physically assault Trump or any member of Trump’s family--especially including Baron--he will rocket to the top of the pack. If he actually assaults them, he will win the general election and usher in a glorious Centrist Utopia)

Kristen Gillibrand

She was once considered a front-runner for the same reason Corey Booker kinda sorta still is a frontrunner--because she looks similar to a previous Dem nominee, and many liberal strategists and commentators cannot conceive of a politics beyond identity markers. Trouble is, unlike Booker, Gillibrand pissed off her donor base by leading the the charge against Al Franken. I don’t for a second think that Gillibrand’s efforts had anything to do with principles. She just leaned into the wrong direction of the skid of cynicism: if there’s one thing Democrat donors hate, it’s a candidate who appears to adhere to any kind of moral framework. And Gillibrand is not the sort of candidate who stands a chance without full institutional support.

Tier Three

The “Gormless Dweebs” Tier

These people might stick around until late in the game for the same reason they’d stay at a house party until well after they were no longer welcome. Each also possesses a very particular strain of weirdness that might resonate with voters in New Hampshire enough that they’d finish in the top 3, but none has a realistic chance to live past Super Tuesday.

Martin O’Malley

O’Malley is the Democrat John Kasich. He’s mostly running because he wants to have people to talk to. Several New Hampshire people will nod at him and that will be it. 

Terry McAuliffe

Imagine if Joe Lieberman were a governor and slightly less physically repulsive. He is still a very moist man, and his only moments of attention will come when he criticizes one of the more left-leaning candidates after they point out that the Iraq war didn’t go so good. (Let me ask Senator Sanders a question. We he says that global warming is the biggest threat we face... has he ever heard of ISLAM?” *Tufts University crowd goes wild*)  Terry might come in top 3 in Virginia, and he also might stick around if a frontrunner is facing some kind of big scandal. But his main effect on this debate will be that of a zebra mussel on the side of a leaky rowboat, hoping it fills with just enough water that he’ll be able to slither aboard for the last few minutes before it sinks.

Elizabeth Warren

Warren is one of small handful of Dem candidates whose economic politics fall to the left of Margaret Thatcher. That doesn’t really work for her, though, because it’s hard for a quiet dweeb to project any sense of populism. She’d be a significantly less horrible president than most on this list, probably. But there’s no way she would beat Trump head to head. He can bait her with literally any claim and her response will always be “golly gee I will refute this man with logic and evidence and then those who repeated his taunts will surely see the error of their ways.” By August, it would get to the point where she’d be sending out topless pics to prove she really doesn’t have several teats and therefore is not a pregnant dog, as Trump suggested. But thankfully she will have flamed out long before that.

Tier 2

The “Viable Candidates Who Are Gonna Get Rat Fucked Really Hard” Tier

Sherrod Brown

Same general platform as Bernie, only without the voting record, name recognition, or widespread appeal. We are also living in an age where crudity is now taken for a sign of sincerity, and while he does kinda give off a “disheveled history teacher” vibe, that’s not enough to really combat Trump. Trump can only really be beaten by a platform, not a personality, so Brown might have a chance. But he’ll also almost certainly bow out before Super Tuesday. My guess he won’t be able to take the heat nearly as well as Bernie and he’s gone before Iowa.

Bernie

Bernie will win New Hampshire. He will win for the same reason he won it in 2016: he’s well-known there, he will be the only believable candidate running on a civil libertarian platform. He will win it by a bigger margin, because the Establishment field will be more split. He will win Iowa for the same reasons: much more name recognition now. Pledged delegates-wise, he will be far and away the frontrunner after the first two contests, although on-screen graphics will continue to present him as a longshot, due to superdelegates. He will then square off in a contest between 1-2 of the following candidates, whom the establishment will rally behind. He could win the nomination, but you and I literally cannot imagine the absurdity of the smears he will face. If he wins the nomination he wins the general Reagan vs. Mondale-style, and we might narrowly avoid civilization collapse. There’s only about a 25% of that happening, though.

Tier 1

The “If the Establishment Unites Behind Any One of These People They Will Beat Bernie for the Nom Then Get Stomped by Trump” Tier

None of these candidates would have a realistic chance against Trump, but each of them is well positioned to take advantage of the unique corruption of the Democratic Party. Our only real hope--as a society and a species--is that they manage to split the vote between themselves.

Kamela Harris

Did you watch HBO’s The Jinx? It’s about a weird, repulsive millionaire serial killer who keeps evading justice. She was the prosecutor who tried to convict him. To stress: she could not convict Robert Derst. She’s running in the right direction, though, (disingenuously) espousing some populist positions while hoovering up donor cash. She could very well wait this thing out and then see the donors line up behind her enough so that he "victory” is called by the AP right before the California primary.

Beto

Centrism couldn’t win in Texas, even with a candidate who was immensely more appealing than his opponent. That’s exactly what Centrism is designed to do, and it didn’t do it. It failed. It will always fail. Still, Beto is very handsome and very shameless and not Republican-level evil, which means he will make some money and also sway some idiots. But he’s not nearly connected enough, yet, to win the nom. He will come close however, and bow out at the right time so as to not burn any bridges. Beto will be the nominee in 2024, when he will narrowly win the popular vote but lose the electoral college to Immortum Joe.

Corey Booker

Laugh if you must, but Booker appeals strongly to the exact strain of idiocy that controls the strategy within the Democratic Party: He is a black male...  like Obama! That means he will win, since Obama did. Yes, anyone who spends a few minutes studying Booker will realize he lacks Obama’s intelligence, wit, and oratorical ability. But that’s not how the Democratic establishment understands politics: they believe, genuinely, that the way to win is to raise the most money while being in possession of the correct identity markers. Should a candidate do this and lose, as Hillary did, it was the inevitable result of machinations outside of their control. Ergo, we must appoint the anointed one and see if he pleases the gods. Plus, if you mute the TV and squint, Booker totally looks like Obama!

Hillary

The main benefits of wokeness--why it has so many adherents, so far as I can tell--is that it allows certain people to skirt all responsibility for everything they say and do, even as it forces others to attempt to adhere to literally impossible programmatics of speech and comportment. And so Hillary’s recent nativist turn will be forgiven (it will most likely go unmentioned), while Bernie’s wardrobe and posture will be used as evidence of his sexism. She can continue making jokes about Colored People Time, while any of her competitors will be crucified for not using the exact right terms in describing whatever happen to be the Woke Cause of the Day. This insulation from criticism is Hillary’s biggest strength with the Democrat electorate, while her fiscal conservatism will continue to help her with donors. She will get beaten horribly in the general, but still stands a strong chance in the primary.

Joe Biden

I have no idea how this man is leading in some polls other than name recognition. Which--don’t get me wrong, name recognition is huge, especially in early goings within a crowded primary field. But what does Biden bring to the table, policy-wise or personality-wise? I realize the people who bleat about how they don’t want any more OLD. WHITE. MALES. running for president are just trying to make their cruel centrist politics appear radical--but could they be shameless enough to actually throw their support to Biden? Biden, the dude who most certainly would have been MeToo’d were he still in a position of power? Biden, the pro-war economic conservative who repeatedly says that young people just need to stop whining? That’s the guy you’re gonna run against Trump? Probably. I would take a 50/50 bet on him winning the nomination.

Final odds:

Biden: 1:1

Hillary 1.5:1

Bernie 4:1

Booker 8:1

Beto 10:1

Harris 12:1

Field (including only aforementioned candidates): 30:1

[the-elemental-sides]

The Elemental Sides: Chapter 8

Urban fantasy AU: The Sides are four spirits trapped in an amulet. When Thomas finds it and puts it on, he gains the powers of the four elements…or that’s what should have happened, but mistakes were made. Now the Sides have to coach him in their respective elements while Thomas deals with both his new powers and his ability to see into the magical realm. Not only is magic real, but there’s some pretty intimidating stuff out there, and only Thomas and the Sides have the power to stop it.

A/N: It is here! Chapter 8, my favorite number! It’s been about a year since the creation of this blog + the very first chapter of TES. Thanks so much for sticking with me. May this story be finished by 2020!

Taglist: @shinylyni, @hissesssss, @vexation-virgil, @madd-catter, @rptheturk, @nienna14, @ryuity, @asofterfan, @robanilla, @k9cat, @ab-artist, @absoluteamethyst, @a-box-o-jills, @captain-loki-xavier, @lynisnotamused, @literally-just-for-fanfics, @alix-the-skeleton, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lunareclipse-524

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

*** Thomas and Roman, spirits, faced off in the middle of his living room.

“No hitting,” warned Patton. He paused. “Okay, that’s the only rule. Go wild, kids!”

They moved at the same time. Thomas’ hand burst into flame, but it was literally sucked out of his grasp by Roman and thrown back into his face. Since it was translucent, the fire passed through him harmlessly and splashed against the far wall.

“Point to Roman,” Logan said to the book in his hands. He marked a tally on Roman’s side of the chalkboard, but it ended up sideways because he wasn’t looking at what he was doing.

“Three weeks and I haven’t gotten a single point,” groaned Thomas. “Against any of you!”

“It’s about more than just who can fire the first shot, cowboy,” said Roman. “It’s about willpower! You have to really control your powers, not just summon them.”

“Okay.” Thomas swept his hair out of his face, vaguely wondering how Virgil could stand having bangs in his eyes all the time. “Can I try again?”

“More like you can try, again. Patton, count us off!”

“Three-two-one-fight!”

This time, Thomas was a little more prepared. He waited for Roman to pitch the first fireball before catching it from midair and chucking it back. The fire flew back and forth between them before Roman caught it and extinguished the flame.

“That’s cheating!” Thomas protested.

“I think not! I was just getting bored.”

“Boo, lame.”

“I agree, point to Thomas,” said Logan, marking the board.

Thomas fist-pumped while Roman protested. “I was just playing around. Look! More fire! I can keep going.”

“Actually, you should be done for the day,” Virgil interrupted. “I don’t want Thomas to run out of energy. He promised he’d practice water today, too.”

“Aw, but we’re on a roll!”

“No, he’s right,” Thomas agreed. “I’m kind of falling behind with water.”

“No such problems with earth, because I am the best teacher,” Logan muttered into his book.

Roman turned on him. “Are not!”

“Completely am.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but Thomas is pretty darn good with my air powers, considering he’s an Earthbender,” Patton remarked. (He’d finally caught up with Avatar and had completely bought into how they handled elemental powers in the series.) “So maybe he’s just natur-air-ly talented?”

“You’re impossible.”

In the weeks since he’d fought his first shadow monster, Thomas had had a lot of adjusting to do. While he was capable of destroying the smaller shadows when he came across them on busy streets, in buildings, and even in his own apartment, the Sides continued to coach him. They didn’t want another close call like they’d had with that big one in the grocery store.

It didn’t feel like he was making much of a difference, but the Sides applauded him every time he destroyed one of the little bad-vibe blobs. They were even thrilled every time he showed that he was improving with their powers. He couldn’t see any tangible difference in the world around him, but through their encouragement Thomas did start to feel a little like he was becoming a hero.

Meanwhile, besides the Sides, life continued as usual. Thomas was working just as hard on his videos. He was hard at work on his second episode of Cartoon Therapy–which was, of course, based off Avatar.

The first time he showed up to the space they’d rented, already in his Picani garb, Joan gave him a weird look when they met him at the door. “You’re still wearing that necklace?”

Thomas looked down at the crystal. Being huge and sparkly, it was difficult not to notice and impossible to hide under a shirt. “Oh, yeah, guess I am.”

“I mean, wear whatever, dude. But I don’t get what it has to do with Picani.”

“No, you’re right, I’ll take it off.” Thomas reached for the chain. Of course he had to take the crystal off sometimes, for showering and stuff, but the Sides always hated it when they were forced back in the crystal for a while. When he wasn’t in direct contact with it, they couldn’t keep up their mind palace and all the other cool amenities they’d built inside. They had to go back to the dreamless state that Logan explained they’d existed in for the last fifteen years.

He waited a beat just to make sure he had their permission. Roman, acting emissary, appeared. He simultaneously gave Thomas a thumbs down, shrugged, and stuck his tongue out: we don’t like it, but you do what you need. Thomas tugged the crystal off and felt a little lonely when their presences disappeared from the back of his head. After that, the filming session went fine.

Between managing his YouTube career, finding time for his friends, and practicing his steadily improving magic powers on unsuspecting shadow blobs, Thomas was busier than ever. So it surprised him when Patton started egging him to take a vacation.

“Now? Really?”

“Sure, kiddo! Don’t you deserve a mental health day?”

“I’m fine,” Thomas said with a frown. “I mean, I’m holding up okay…”

“He’s right, actually,” Logan said, popping into view in Thomas’ chair (Thomas and Patton were currently in the kitchen trying to cook up some Indian food, and it was going poorly). “We’ve been discussing this. While I agree it’s important to keep your mental state functioning properly, the purpose of this vacation would also be to allow your to exercise your powers in ways you might be less familiar wi–Patton, watch out!”

“Oops!” Patton had thrown a handful of curry leaves into a pan on the stove, which was filled with oil sizzling at max heat. It immediately burst into flames.

On instinct, Patton dodged in front of Thomas and shot a blast of air at the smoking pan. It did nothing but spatter oil droplets all over the table and Logan, who was unamused. Thomas put out the fire by scooping it up in his hands and extinguishing it.

“...Oops.”

“Patton, honestly. How did you ever feed yourself?”

“I get the feeling it involved a lot of ice cream for dinner!”

“Whew.” Thomas exhaled. Fire was actually a lot less scary when you could just kind of...erase it.

“As I was saying,” Logan said in a clipped voice, “by ‘vacation,’ we’re not telling you to hang around at home in your pajamas for three days. No, what we’re suggesting is that you go learn some history....about the origin of your powers.”

“Wow! I could do that?”

“Well, of course. Where do you think we got the crystal?”

“I have no idea! Where?”

Logan paused. “...We don’t know either. Our time in the crystal left our memories, ah, spotty. Some vital details such as this have been lost. However, Virgil, who tends to remember these things best, has an inkling of where exactly he obtained it.”

“That’s right,” Virgil said, appearing–and sitting on the table, but luckily his butt was a ghost at the moment anyway. He glared at Patton. “And jeez, Pat, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oi’l be more careful next time!”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that. Thomas, here’s what I remember. When we, uh. When we decided to test the whole crystal thing, we knew we needed a good one, obviously. We got our powers and then we started searching around for something, some kind of gem, that matched the parameters Logan laid out.”

“Robust. Undamaged. Prismatic. Sensitive to magic—by that, we mean whether it reacted when placed in certain stress simulations involving the shadows.”

“Uh, yeah. So I found a good one in this one super goth back-alley jewelry store–”

Thomas gasped. “Borgin and Burkes?!”

“No? I don’t know what that is? Look, anyway, I found a good one,  s–uhh, I stole it–”

“WHAT”

“–and brought it back to everyone else.”

“You STOLE it?” Patton cried. “But that’s totally against why we wanted it in the first place! Fighting evil! Remember?”

“I know. But the alternative worried me more.”

“Well, I’m not really happy about that, sport, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. Maybe they won the lottery in the last fifteen years and got their money back…?”

“Virgil, do you recall the name and location of this place?” Logan asked.

“Can’t say I do. Well–I think it was near Florida. I remember driving for a while during the night. There was a lot of fog….I could sort of tune into it with my powers, so I could sense the surrounding area. Something was near me, like a big, dark cold spot. It might’ve been a shadow, but bigger than one I’ve ever seen.” He shuddered. “I had to get away from it, so I turned off the highway, drove for a while, stopped at a gas station, and...there it was.”

“Well, that’s vague,” Thomas mused.

“Do you think that we’d be able to recreate your path if Thomas were to search for it?”

“Uh….maybe? It’s possible?”

“That’s sufficient enough for me,” Logan declared. “All right, Thomas, the parameters of your vacation are this. You are to find the location and source of this crystal and interrogate the owners of the establishment for information.”

“Information like….”

“Well, whether there’s a way to expedite your learning process. Whether we can get out of this crystal. Perhaps we can find a way for all four of us to assume solid form without damaging you.”

“And this involves a lot of driving…” Thomas said to himself. “So, if this is really important to you guys, it sounds like we’re going on a–”

“ROAD TRIP!” Patton hollered, throwing up his arms and upturning the pan on the stove, which had been steadily burning their dinner to a crisp the entire time. Oil, curry, chicken, and the whole mess slopped onto the stove and promptly exploded in a shower of hot oil.

“...road trip.”

“PATTON!”

***

[higuchimon]

[fanic] Secrets of Ears:  chapter 2

“Everyone here?” Daisuke glanced around as he asked, wanting to get this done as soon as possible. If some other evil Digimon thought they could wreck his ramen date with Ken, they were seriously mistaken.

But it didn’t seem to be that kind of a meeting. At least, he didn’t think anyone was upset or worried. Koushiro kept most of his attention on his laptop, glancing up now and then to interject something into whatever conversations were going on. Yamato lounged back against the wall, his eyes half-closed, and Daisuke wondered if he were taking a nap.

The others were sort of scattered around the room. Koushiro didn’t have a lot of space here – Daisuke wondered if they should start trying to meet up outside if this kind of thing became regular – but they all managed to make do. The fact all of their Digimon were there made it even more crowded. Those who could perched on the higher points of furniture, while others stayed with their partners, such as Wormmon on Ken’s lap.

“Yes,” Koushiro said, looking up again. “This is an important meeting. I’ve been doing research and I think it’s time that I informed you four of the situation.”

His eyes flicked from Daisuke to Ken to Iori to Miyako. Miyako blinked, head tilted.

“What’s the problem? And why us?”

“Because you’re the ones who don’t know,” Taichi said. He lounged next to Yamato, as comfortable with him as Daisuke was with Ken.

Daisuke wondered if he’d have the chance to talk to Yamato about Ken and his little issue about his ears. Maybe once Koushiro told them whatever it was he wanted to tell them.

“Exactly.” Koushiro cleared his throat. “We first learned of this ourselves during our own adventure. We wondered if the same thing would happen for you, but apparently it didn’t. We don’t know if that was because of the fact we spent months continuously in the Digital World or what. But regardless, I’ve done enough checking to be certain. You’ve probably already seen the signs yourself and just not known what it signified.”

Miyako twitched and Hawkmon peered down at her worriedly. Ken shifted lightly, one hand on Wormmon’s head.

“Could you get to the point?” Daisuke asked, sharing a quick glance with V-mon. He hadn’t had lunch yet and he wanted to get to his ramen.

Yamato sighed and straightened up. “Not all of us are human. Or not entirely human, anyway. Me, Sora, and Jou are all half-Digimon.”

Iori blinked, eyes widening a little. Miyako paled while Ken stared as if he’d never heard something like that before.

Daisuke shook his head. “Great joke, is that it? Cause there’s ramen calling my – what the-!”

Right in the middle of his question, Yamato held out one hand and twitched it a tiny fraction. At once a long, perfectly balanced sword appeared in it. The edge looked sharp enough to cut the wind and he handled it as if it were a part of himself.

“Not joking.” Yamato said calmly. Far too calmly for someone who’d just pulled a sword out of thin air. “I wish I was. But I am what I am – we all are.”

Koushiro coughed a bit delicately. “As for myself, I am actually a full-blooded Digimon. My father is Leomon and my mother is Chiemon – you’ve never met her. She has a tendency to remain out of sight for a great many reasons.”

He sighed, then continued. “All of us have some sort of – marker, one might say. An indication as to who and what we are. Sometimes it’s physical, sometimes it isn’t.”

“Never let Koushiro get anywhere near catnip,” Jou said, a faint grin flickering over his lips. “The last time that happened, it wasn’t pretty.”

Daisuke hadn’t ever known that someone could blush as much as Koushiro did just then. At the same time, a small twitch of curiosity shifted deep inside. He wanted to ask if V-mon had known, if any of them had known. What did they know that he didn’t?

Sora reached one hand up to remove her hat and flicked her hair aside. Daisuke and Miyako both leaned in more closely and Miyako gasped.

“Horns! You’ve got horns!” Miyako raised one hand, starting to reach for what she saw, then dropped it quickly. “Sorry.”

Sora shrugged, reaching up to rub the base of the tiny horns that protruded from her skull. Her hair was enough to cover them, especially with the hat there.

“Devimon was my father,” she said. “Yamato, Jou, and I – we’re half-Virus types.”

“I’m half Data and half Vaccine,” Koushiro added. “Our ancestry determines what attacks we have and other factors as well. But we can go into that later.”

He glanced at Jou, who shrugged and opened his mouth wide. His canines gleamed bright, lengthening and sharpening until there wasn’t any doubt at all what they were or who his sire could have been.

“You’re a vampire,” Iori breathed, looking somewhat torn between fear and awe. Armadimon pressed against him, watching carefully.

Daisuke remembered. He’d only ever seen one Digimon vampire before. “That guy – Vamdemon.”

“That’s right,” Jou agreed, his fangs going back to normal teeth. “And I do need blood, but I never take it from anyone unwilling.” He made a face. “I wish I didn’t but if I don’t, it can get very bad.”

“How bad?” Miyako wondered. Jou shook his head.

“Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.”

Daisuke counted to himself. Sora had horns. Jou had fangs. Koushiro had a weakness to catnip. He pressed his lips together for a second before he looked at Yamato.

“Did you get something besides a pretty sword?” If they were going to tell them, then Daisuke wanted to know everything.

Yamato flicked his blade away before he straightened up. “Yup.” He pulled his hair back from his ears and Daisuke held back squealing by sheer force of will.

I was right! He glanced over to Ken, who hadn’t said a word all this time, ready to point out in triumph that he wasn't the only one, that someone else had ears like his.

But Ken stared at Yamato’s ears and grew even paler. He swallowed briefly and managed to drag up words from somewhere, sounding as if he’d fought to form each one of them.

“Who is your – parent?”

Yamato regarded him thoughtfully before he answered. “Piemon. The leader of the Dark Masters.”

Ken sank back down, swallowing. He didn’t meet Daisuke’s eyes and looked ready to bolt out the door at a moment’s notice. Daisuke would follow him if he did. Whatever was going on, Ken would have to know that Daisuke was there for him.

But Koushiro wasn’t done yet. “The major reason that we decided to tell you this is because you deserve to know. We’ve kept it secret for reasons.”

“Me,” Ken murmured. No one had to ask what he meant by that.

“That was it, in the beginning,” Yamato agreed calmly. “Though if you really want to know, the Rings and Spirals wouldn’t have an effect on me. I’m an Ultimate – we’re always the same level as our Digimon parent.”

“I’m an Adult-level,” Sora added. “Jou and Koushiro are both Perfects.”

“And I can evolve, though I prefer not to,” Koushiro added. “But the most important reason for letting you know now – because you aren’t human either. At least, Iori is. But Ken, Daisuke, Miyako – you’re not.”

Ken grew even paler and Daisuke quickly rested one hand on his. Ken stared at him, and Daisuke smiled back, trying to put every ounce of his caring for Ken into the expression. For a moment, it seemed to work.

“If they’re part Digimon,” Iori wondered, “then who are their parents? What sort of tells do they have?”

“I think I know,” Miyako said, cheeks flaming for a second. “At least I know what the tell on me is.”

Everyone stared at her. She swallowed, then pulled her sleeves up. It wasn’t visible at first, but then Daisuke took a deeper look. His first thought was some kind of tattoos hidden by her clothing. Then slowly, bit by bit, what he saw rose up.

“You’ve got feathers!” He breathed, hardly believing his own eyes. Miyako nodded.

“I can’t fly or anything but they’re there. They started coming in a few months ago. I thought it was just something to do with the Digital World.”

“Well, it kind of is.” Daisuke pointed out. He jerked his head around to look at Koushiro. “Let me guess, some kind of a bird Digimon?”

“Yes,” Koushiro agreed. “In fact, Hououmon, the great phoenix. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I’ve scanned and done research on all of you and that’s what the Analyzer says.”

Daisuke wondered what his tell might be. He’d never noticed anything like that. Maybe it was on his back? Or maybe it was something else? He couldn’t wait to find out. Would he be able to attack? What did being part Digimon do for a person?

As those thoughts flew through Daisuke’s mind, Koushiro turned his attention towards Ken. “Would you like me to tell you?”

Ken pressed his lips together before he slowly shook his head. “I think I already know.” He tensed for a few seconds before he pushed his hair away from his ears. Daisuke knew that he never did that. He’d only found out by accident and in the first few seconds Ken knew he knew, Ken made him promise never to tell anyone. As if he ever would.

Everyone stared at his pale, pointed ears, the near-twin of Yamato’s. Yamato regarded them quietly before he nodded.

“Hello, brother.”

To Be Continued

Notes: Okay, here we go again! The next update will be on Wednesday, and every other day until this one is finished.

[junker-town]

7 things to know from NFL week 2

Photo by Tom Pennington/Getty Images

Luckily the Falcons have never experienced a collapse like this before.

Two weeks into the NFL season and this is already super dumb in the best possible way. See, that’s the thing about what we’ve seen so far. You read that first line and were like “Oh yeah, you’re talking about ... The Bears being 2-0. The Chargers almost beating the Chiefs. The Cardinals leading the NFC West.

But no, my friends, y’all know we gotta talk about Atlanta here. As a Panthers fan I’m supposed to take joy in the Falcons’ struggles. 28-3 alone sustained me for years. I can’t anymore though, it’s just too sad. Perhaps I’ve grown soft from knowing so many genuinely lovely Falcons fans, perhaps it’s just old age making me less crotchety. It might be that this year is so horrible I just want everyone to be happy at least for a few damn seconds.

Whatever the reason I cannot stand idly by, while this is happening in an NFL football game and be happy with what I’m seeing.

What. A. Kick. @dallascowboys pic.twitter.com/yK18EUGKH0

— The Checkdown (@thecheckdown) September 20, 2020

There are plays in the annals of football history that are special for their ineptitude. On Sunday, the Falcons perpetuated what might have been one of the worst plays in history. This onside kick wasn’t a wide right. A terrible interception. A game-shattering fumble. Those all require one person failing to do their job. No, the onside kick was special because it was an example of at least five players, all with human brains, simultaneously forgetting the basic rules of football.

In case you didn’t see it live lemme break this one down. So the Falcons were up 20-0 in the first quarter in a game that would give any fan base hope. Atlanta fans know better, so if there’s a saving grace they were prepped for this.

Anyway, so the Falcons collapsed — obviously. They’re up 39-37 with barely any time left on the clock so the onside kick is coming. The announcers remark that it’s weird Greg Zeurlein isn’t using a tee. He’s got the ball just laying on its side, as if the football itself quit.

Now, to call this an onside “kick” is generous. This was nothing more than a stylish leg putt. The ball slowly rolled across the field, seemingly wiping the brains of everyone who stared at the ball. Despite there being five players around, any one of whom could have jumped on the ball — it’s like they saw Dallas waiting for it to travel 10 yards and assumed they had to as well.

It was so weird. I know there’s a million ways to really break down the Falcons’ collapse and look at the whys it happened, but nah. We’re not even talking about this today without the onside kick.

Patriots vs. Seahawks was beyond incredible.

I didn’t have a ton of expectations for this game entering Sunday night. I mean, the Seahawks were coming off a decimation of Atlanta and the Patriots were still gelling. But when it was all said and done not only did we get a gem of a game, but a game I’d be glad to see as the Super Bowl a few months from now.

Russell Wilson was beyond incredible. Cam Newton proved he’s back. Everything clicked for both sides and damn ... that was all amazing.

Steve Belichick deserves his own movie.

It’s about the crushing weight of parental expectation and trying to excel in a field where your father has already reached the pinnacle. All while knowing your West Virginia dojo is constantly under attack from a rival gang of ninjas looking for a jade idol that’s buried UNDER the dojo, but Karate Dave, your sensei won’t tell you where.

Business in the front ... NINJA in the back! coming this fall to home streaming services.

I hope Kirk Cousins isn’t conducting a viking funeral ...

Because he’d miss the barge with a flaming arrow and burn down an orphanage. The Vikings are basically the Falcons, northern chapter. The team that every year should be way better on paper than they are on the field, but the Vikings have the odious honor of continuing to stick with Kirk Cousins for some ungodly reason.

On Sunday he finished 11/26, 113 yds, 3 interceptions. I’d like to share a screenshot of a conversation I had with my friend, a Vikings fan.

There’s a lot to unpack in his two statements here. The end result should be that wondering where Case Keenum is might be the saddest condemnation of any football team two weeks into a season. That is just a crushing level of disappointment to deal with.

FYI, he’s in Cleveland. Run to him Vikings fans. Run to him and never look back.

Tyrod Taylor has carved out the greatest NFL career in history.

Hear me out. I’m not talking about some wild statistical zenith that puts him among the league’s greats. I’m talking about his propensity to be signed as a starter, work a couple of weeks, let a rookie take over (and all the bumps in the process) then rinse, and repeat.

It might seem a little unfair. Like he’s not getting a fair shake — but I think it’s brilliant. Whether it was being in Cleveland until Baker Mayfield was ready, or now Los Angeles with Justin Herbert, he’s settled into the role of one of the players I idolize the most in NFL history: Bill Volek.

Volek was that dude who got paid millions of dollars for barely getting hit — which is a hell of a luxury in the NFL. Routinely regarded as “the best backup in the league,” Volek got paid again, and again, and again, and again, for not needing to do much. That’s the dream imo.

I feel like everyone is sleeping on Ryan Tannehill ... AGAIN.

People always forget about the Titans, probably because the AFC South is the most forgettable division in football. Last year I kept telling people to watch what Tannehill was doing, and nobody did until the playoffs.

Now he’s doing it again. Seriously. After two weeks this is where Tannehill stands:

488 yards (70.15% completion), 6 TD, 0 INT — 120.7 rating

Statistically that’s better than Tannehill last year. It put him on pace for almost 4,000 passing yards. Stop sleeping on this man.

Bill Belichick accidentally bought a child-sized mask.

Either that or he washed it on hot. I’m going with child mask though.

[crystalsexarch]

Nonagenarian - T

“I ask again,” Haurchefant said. “An Elezen with fangs. Have you ever met one?”

-

Teen. Specific male WoL. Bas'ir Bahani. Ishgardian vampires. Okay? That's it. That's the entry.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

The halls of Fortemps Manor were empty. Or so Bas’ir thought.

A wooden creak pulled his eyes from the page. A Rhapsody in Blood, the book’s name. Absolute garbage, which is why he normally only picked up pulp of its ilk in his private quarters. Sometimes he found himself trying to secret them away from even his roommate, though the other man knew full well that Bas’ir’s taste in reading materials was quite high when high, and very low when low.

Today, though, not even Edmont was in. And that lace-ladled couch was so cozy—the fireplace so inviting, and much kinder to his shivering bones than the brisk air that filtered from the window in his room. Blankets could only do so much. Besides, reading was even more uncomfortable without his left arm, so why not live like a lord this morning? Well, a lord with very specific taste.

The creak must have been his imagination. Back to the tawdry tale. Mathilde’s long lashes fluttered down with an alluring shamefulness as the priest stalked closer, chin held high. If the tales were true, he could hear her blood coursing through her veins and coloring her formidable breasts a pleasant pink. Would the flavor please him? Sustain his need? How many years had he spent watching her, tiny hands clasped in prayer, from the shadows? As many as she had spent lusting after him in private? Now want contorted his youthful face into something demonic. The moment she saw his fangs, glistening in candlelight, she knew she was destined for a fate most unholy…

Footsteps in the manor. Bas’ir threw the book and sat up straight. He whipped his head and tail side to side trying to place the sound. When a looming figure appeared in the doorway, he shrieked...and immediately tried to disguise the pitiful noise as a sneeze.

“Forgive me, Master Bahani,” the servant said, bowing. “I’ve come to tend the fire...unless…”

“By all means,” Bas’ir said, gesturing with his palm flat. That was all the direct contact he could deal with after his display, so he leaned over and set about rubbing his forehead like he was weighing something immense, or perhaps in great pain. Well, he was in great pain, for having embarrassed himself, but until the Elezen was done with his business there would be no relief. After a litany of cracks and pops and prodding, the servant finally finished and offered a bow (unseen, unnoticed) before receding once more into the hallway.

Bas’ir deflated. Right. Rich people. He retrieved his literature and leaned back onto the couch with his legs crossed.

“Have you ever encountered an Elezen with fangs?”

A voice in his ear. He spun around and jumped onto the coffee table. That put him roughly at eye level with Haurchefant, who had somehow materialized behind the sofa. “You!” Bas’ir said, pointing.

“Me?”

“Camp Dragonhead. You were there. Your briefing.”

Haurchefant was unphased. “Yes. And now I’ve returned.”

Bas’ir crumpled into a lopsided glare. It just had to be Haurchefant. “I suppose I will be making my way back to my quarters, in that case.”

“Oh?” He circled around the end table. “But there is aught we might discuss in private.”

Tail twisting, Bas’ir stepped down from the table and eyed the floor for his book. “Hmph. Aught we might discuss in private.”

“Certainly.” He sat himself down on the couch and crossed his long legs with a testy look of confidence.

“Some kind of ‘private’ with servants traipsing around the house, like…” A hunk of wood cracked in the fire. “How long were you standing there?”

The warmth of his chuckle mimicked the flames. “I’ll keep your secret. Perhaps offer one of my own in return, should it soothe you.”

At first, Bas’ir didn’t want to know, but for the first time ever he had sniffed out something less than sincere on the bastard’s breath. Curiosity killed the Miqo’te. Bookless, he fell back onto the couch. “I hope it’s pitiful.”

“Hmm...perhaps a pity. But not pitiful.” As though he’d always had it, he lifted A Rhapsody in Blood and waved it around. “You ought to begin with my initial question.”

“Your initial question.”

“Have you ever encountered an Elezen with fangs?”

His tail went limp. Next time, he would continue his self-imposed quarantine and double up on blankets instead of venturing out into the house. Fire be damned. “I do not appreciate being teased.”

“I’m not teasing.” He shifted closer to the smaller man. “‘Tis an honest question. Give me your hand.”

Between his eyebrows and his twisted lips, Bas’ir painted a portrait of disdain someone ought to capture and print in a dictionary. Regardless, he relented and offered his wrist.

“I ask again,” Haurchefant said. “An Elezen with fangs. Have you ever met one?”

“No. Of course I haven’t.”

This was, apparently, the answer he had been waiting for. He tightened his grip and erupted with laughter. The sound grated against Bas’ir’s ears, which shot back like bullets. Just when he was about to wrest his hand away and storm back upstairs, Haurchefant lowered his head with a hiss. There, where ordinary teeth had been just moments ago, was a pair of shiny fangs peeking out from a manic smile.

“That’s because,” Haurchefant whispered, “we’re very good at hiding them.”