#phoenix sees someone in need of help and he physically cannot stop himself from needing to help them and in some cases that is his downfall

[bittersnsweetz]

ohhh my god i just realised why i love narumitsu so much, despite the obvious (mutual pining, slow burn, one-sided enemies, to friends, to distant friends, to close friends, to lovers all that good stuff)

its BECAUSE they have a shared emotional journey that is so narratively satisfying to me that as im typing this im barely able to contain my stimming

phoenix defends miles, so convinced he can save him and is almost blinded by that fact because he knows edgeworth as so good and so pure and he totally definitely absolutely would never willingly hurt anybody and then he ghosts him for a year which phoenix obviously interprets as yet another person abandoning him, leaving phoenix to pick up the pieces, and that whole time phoenix is beating himself up because wow this is just like when he put all his love on the line for dahlia and it turns out she was just using him this whole time and the absolute mess of emotions that arises when edgeworth comes back, alive, with no apology whatsoever.

and then two years later phoenix loses his job and edegworth is trying so hard to help and be there for him while also juggling his prosecutor job and the challenges that arise from adjusting to a new justice-driven mindset, but phoenix is already closing himself off and refusing to talk about it because hes stingy and secretive and edgeworth has seen the stingy in passing but never to this extent, where he can tell that phoenix NEEDS someone but apparently that someone isnt going to be him. and he's on call with him one night and he hears trucy for the first time and hes mortified because so many complicated emotions and questions arise from that alone: "wright are you sane" "wright are you seeing someone" "wright why didnt you tell me about this so i could help you" and i do think edgeworth gets overwhelmed by all this at once, the secrecy, the daughter, the friend who visits phoenix every now and again, the lack of healthy communication. and suddenly everything that he thought theyve worked so hard to build together has come crashing down and theres nothing phoenix will let him do to help

and its the shared parallel of the initial proposal to help "let me defend you"/"let me be there for you" being completely rejected and the repeated efforts to do so being met with a sudden shift (prosecutor miles edgeworth chooses death/i have a daughter and a new friend who helps me now) and how its so difficult for the both of them to realise at the time that its for their sake that they're doing it, that neither of them are doing this to hurt the other intentionally (although for phoenix i definitely think theres spite involved, but not to the degree to which edgeworth ends up experiencing what he does emotionally), and the idealisation that gets completely shattered by reality

just. UGH. the full circle that is them, after everything is said and done, finding closure in each other again, however non-linear that journey is, and, this is important, CHOOSING to still stay with the other through anything and everything that comes to pass, and truly SEEING the other behind their professional masks. Seeing them entirely and not just the attractive parts. im rabid.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

[guesst]

some of the best fantasy au fics for bnha that i've read

i decided to make a fic rec list of one of my favourite aus/fusions. mostly midoriya-centric, there are some crossovers (with hp), and a lot of different ways in which the authors have taken them - so it could be Quirks, ghosts, outright fantasy aus, spirits, witches etc etc. there isn't a specific order and there aren't a tonne (these are the ones i could find buried in my bookmarks lol), but the ones on the list are all really well written i love them.

i've tried adding relevant information, the summary (shortened if it's pretty long) and just. adding some random tags that may be important. not all of them though. obviously this is not a complete list and there will most definitely be more fics out there, if there are some really good fics that you know that aren't on this list, feel free to tell me, i'd love to read them!!!

i hope someone enjoys these!

Faith Becomes You by SugaSuga

oneshot | gen dfo, quirkless midoriya summary 'There's a tiny shrine in Musutafu that's overgrown with kudzu vines between Izuku's apartment and his middle-school. There may very well still be a god inside it. There may be nothing but the myth of a man from when Quirks were first emerging. Izuku hides in its walls for a while and ends up tending to the forgotten shrine. All good deeds have their impact, don't they?'

Of Mythos and Men by Oceanbreeze7

oneshot | gen spirit animal au, kinda summary (shortened) 'When he was young, Midoriya always wondered what his mythos would be. The matching half to his quirk, the ancestry of its power. Mythos were strange things, not linked genetically like quirks seemed to be. [...] Midoriya hadn't met his mythos. Even in UA. (In his dreams, something called to him, 'Chase me!')'

what a lion cannot manage by LadyLiterature

multichapter | ongoing | f/m, m/m kitsune au, female izuku, future bakudeku summary (shortened) 'She wants to be a hero. Wants to save everyone she meets and even the people she hasn’t. [...] A smart fox avoids fights. A smart fox does not seek them out. A smart fox does not fight for everyone. A smart fox, when they absolutely must, only fights for themselves and what is theirs and nothing else. Izumi, for all that she tries to be, is not a good fox.'

My Magic Academia by Kiterou

series | oneshots and multichapter | ongoing | gen HP crossover, wizard midoriya, platonic bkdk, some ocs summary (shortened) ' [...] In which Midoriya Inko is a witch and Izuku a wizard and even after 150 years of quirks taking over the world, Izuku still couldn't tell Kacchan that he isn't worthless and that he still could become a hero all on his own.'

A Lonely Windchime Makes No Sound by Musecookie

multichapter | ongoing | multi reader/shinso, total fantasy au, very wholesome summary (shortened) ' [...] You enjoy visiting your slightly creepy local library. When you accidentally befriend the elusive owner's familiar, he begins to appear more and more when you visit. You don't really mind, and he doesn't seem to hate you, even when the two of you become tied up in each other's fate as you pursue the secret to reviving a magical species of flower. Soft Strangers to Friends to Lovers type beat with lots of fluff and naps! Sleepy cuddles included.'

The grapes of friendship by Gentrychild

oneshot | gen crack, dfo, vampire izuku summary 'Izuku, a dhampir hiding his real identity as he goes to UA, the best wizard school in the country, spends the day with his friends. None of them are aware of it.'

Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperofDoom

multichapter | complete | gen less supernatural, izu's quirk lets him see ghosts, he still has ofa summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it. But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless [...] Not that anyone would believe it if he told them.'

sum of all (and by them driven) by Elemental

series | multichapter | ongoing | gen dadzawa, spirits give quirks, izu sees these spirits series summary 'Quirks aren't what you think they are.' first part summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku is medically quirkless, not technically homeless, perpetually exhausted and doing his damned best despite it all. He also sees spirits, which might be cool if not for the fact that a) no one else does, b) they really don't like him very much, and c) he's pretty sure the heroes now think he's a villain working for the League [...]'

The Struggles of a Modern-Day Vampire by miraculousemily47

oneshot | gen crack, 1-a shenanigans, vampire midoriya summary 'After Midoriya Izuku is turned into a vampire towards the end of his first year at U.A., he decides he wants to tell his classmates about his condition. The only problem is that he can't physically say the words, and his classmates are fucking idiots.'

Lights in the Dark by FrostKitten

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen supernatural au, izuku can see demons etc, quirkless/magic au summary (of first part) 'Midoriya Izuku, like most young kids, knows there are monsters. They live in closets, under beds, and occasionally in the park. As he grows older, his friends stop seeing them...but he still does.'

Hand in Unlovable Hand by jumbletea

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen vampire midoriya (and aizawa), dadzawa, toga n dabi n mido being siblings summary 'A collection of stories surrounding a not-quite-human Izuku and everyone he meets along the way.'

Simply Superstitious by CryCaladrius

multichapter | ongoing | gen lots of folklore and yokai and stuff, 'quirkless' magic user izuku, decent dad hisashi too summary (shortened) 'Izuku Midoriya’s father is a Hou-ou — a Japanese phoenix. For some reason, this means yokai have a standing invitation to pester Izuku with their existence. Birds assemble choirs for his birthday. If there’s no cedar leaf under the welcome mat, the amazake babaa that lives two apartments over will be knocking on their door by evening. His yokai-purifying excursions get mistaken for vigilantism far too often. [...]'

Cuckoo Bird (anonymous author)

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen it may be discontinued but theres lots of fae folklore, deku is a changeling, deals etc, plus some platonic shindeku building up?? summary 'There's something off about Midoriya Izuku. (change·ling /ˈCHānjliNG/ noun a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy.)'

tread softly as you go by IceEckos12

oneshot | gen if you read any fae au please let it be this! has faeries but mido is not one summary 'Humans used to be good at the old ways. They used to know how to bait the trap, to spin a web of words and lies that would ensnare even the most wily. Humans used to be able to twist deceptions around knots of iron and turn them into weapons of power. They forgot a long, long time ago. A boy unwittingly makes a deal with one of the fae, severing his ties to humanity. However, he finds that the fae world is far more strange and complex than he ever could have imagined.'

Hell is just a shoujo manga by supercrunch

multichapter | complete | f/m fantasy au, bakudeku, fem!izuku, isekai, dekusquad stuff, also some iidachako summary (shortened) 'Izuku wakes up crushed under a statue, trapped in the body of a princess who doesn't exist. Turns out she's a demon, which is weird. What's even weirder is the déjà vu that surrounds Kamino palace, reminding her of the events of this one manga she used to love. [...] But that's probably just a coincidence. [...] The problem here, obviously, is that Izuku's the demon princess. Ergo, she's a villain. And that means she's going to die at the end of this manga. Again.'

hold your breath as you cross by cassiopeia721

oneshot | gen dadzawa, another 'quirks are from spirits au' (expect more of those actually), mido is sad :( summary 'As the bridge between the world of guardian spirits and the quirk users who are blessed by them, Izuku's duty is to clean up the mess his predecessor left. It's taken what feels like an eternity worth of work, but Izuku's finally finished, and he's ready to rest at last. Unfortunately, the pro heroes who just watched him take down the Scourge of Kamino have no intention of letting him just wander off, and he finds himself stuck in an interrogation room with a bunch of humans who he's sure will never believe a word he says.'

To See with Eyes Unclouded by CrazySatan

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen witch au, witch midoriya, quirkless mido, bkg is not a good friend series summary 'Midoriya Izuku is a witch. A powerful witch. And even though he doesn't have a quirk, and magic doesn't Work Like That, Izuku ends up a hero. Somehow.'

Demons and Darkness by wolfsrainrules

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen dadzawa, shinso and mido and bkg are becoming friends, they can see monsters/spirits/bad things summary of first part 'Izuku has believed in the things that go bump in the night since he was small. That means he can see them, and almost everyone he knows....can't. So he decides he's going to be the shield humanity needs, no matter what. Eventually, he finds others that See too.'

know what i've made by the marks on my hands by simkjrs

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen dadzawa, quirk spirit au (this inspired most of the others on this list), also eri summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku just wants to lead a quiet, peaceful life. This is foiled by the fact that a) he can see spirits, b) his good nature demands that he help anyone he sees in trouble, and c) he, by all rights, should not exist. [...]'

Izuku haunts class 1-A by Artistic-Gamer

series or multichapter whichever floats your boat | incomplete (hiatus) | other there are some triggering themes! such as suicide, blood, body disfigurement! please take care of yourself and avoid reading if this will hurt you! in other news: so much dadzawa, so much friendship, hurt mido summary (of first part) 'Class 1-A is rumored to be haunted, only the residents are aware it’s more than just a rumor..'

U.A's Resident Ghost by BeyondTheClouds777

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen ghost midoriya, dadzawa, friendships!!!! summary 'There is a ghost at U.A. Not haunting U.A. Not even hanging out at U.A. There is a ghost. Enrolled. As a student of U.A. And it's just Shouta's luck that he has everything to do with it.'

and now, the weather by xylophones

oneshot | gen CRACK, paranormal/ghost hunters au, dekusquad stuff summary 'Izuku runs a fictional horror radio show. Because ghosts aren’t real. Right? (“Holy shit, ghosts are real,” Izuku whispers. Then, with the smugness of a sixteen-year-old who just won a decade long bet, “I knew it! Kacchan owes me five hundred yen!” “Midoriya,” Todoroki sighs, “this ghost is trying to kill us.”)'

U.A Unsolved by handcrusher(ameliafromafairytale)

oneshot | gen (it's a fic of a fic, so if you've read yesterday upon the stair then you'll understand better) izuku can see ghosts thats his quirk summary ' "Hey there, ghosts," Midoriya says, "it's me, ya boy." The dorms are haunted. Shenanigans ensue.'

The Haunting of Class 1-A by BritishRobutt

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | n/a ghost midoriya, vigilante au, crack, the ghost bit is izu's quirk summary 'Everyone always told Izuku he couldn't be a hero, so when he dies and discovers his quirk, he becomes a vigilante out of spite. Whoops. After becoming Spectre, Japan's most wanted vigilante, Izuku realizes he can just fulfill his dreams of going to the top heroic school- after all, who can physically stop him from attending UA when he's a literal ghost?'

Caged by SternStunde

oneshot | gen tododeku, fantasy au (todo is a dragon, mido is a princess), genderbent deku (fem deku) summary 'Then she held up one of the books and smiled. "Want to learn an ancient language with me?" She was kind of a nerd, and she really hoped the dragon was too.'

Magic Runs Deep by draconicschinx

multichapter | ongoing/probably discontinued | gen mido has a quirk and he can see mythical creatures. summary '"Midoriya Izuku has always been good at making friends. Not human ones, really, but they are good friends nonetheless. " Izuku can see and talk to and interact with mythical creatures. It's not exactly the quirk he was hoping for, but he's going to use it to help humans and his non-human friends all the same.'

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

[souvcniir]

*   bopping  along  to  forever  by  drake  is  𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑  ,  the  twenty  two  year  old  cis  man  thrown  back  to  their  business  days  with  none  of  his   memories  .  voted  most  likely  to  move  out  the  country  ,  alis  was  known  for  being   resilient &   facetious ,  go  figures  you'd  always  find  them  being  threatened  to  be  kicked  off  of  the  football  team  ,  but  grew  up  to  be   audacious &  untrusting  .

what’s  happening  cuties  !   listen  ,  i  cannot  join  a  group  without  giving  the  fattest  and  biggest  warning  that  despite  being  in  the  rpc  for  a  minute  now  ,   i  still  suck  at  introductions  .  embarrassing  luv  ,  i  know  asdj  .  i’m  gi(anna)  ,  i’m  nineteen  years  old  ( a  big  old  baby   )  ,  i  go  by  she  and  her  pronouns  and  i  currently  live  on  the  east  coast  which  throws  me  in  the  est  timezone  !!!  this  is  one  out  of  two  of  my  children  that  i’ll  be  bringing  you  ,   and  um  can  i  just  say  im  obsessed  with  the  fc  pairing  i  got  going  on  for  alistair  .  aron  piper  and   giuseppe  maggio  ?   this  is  what  heaven  is   asdfgh  .    down  below  you’ll  find  a  little  about  alistair  !  and  if  you  want  to  plot  you  can  either  smash  the  heart  button  ,  send  me  a  message  ,  or  message  me  on  discord  at  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲#1776  .

*   𝐎𝐍𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

a   black   eye   in   response   of   words   of   provokement   ,   lonely   nights   concealed   by   random   bodies   ,   gold   rings   sitting   on   bruised   knuckles   ,   calloused   digits   shielding   a   bright   sun   from   bloodshot   eyes   ,   distant   chatter   drowned   out   by   loud   thoughts   ,    salty  drops   gleaming   on   tan   skin   ,   enchanting   pearly   whites   ,   thunderstorms   singing   pretty   hues   to   sleep     .

*   𝐓𝐖𝐎                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full   name.   alistair  aurelius  salazar  .   nickname(s).    alis  ,  ali  .   preferred   name.   alistair  .   past  age.   twenty  two  .   present  age.   thirty  two  .   date  of  birth.   november  first  .  zodiac.  scorpio  . gender.    cis  man .   pronouns.   he  and  him  .   sexuality.  pansexual  .   younger  faceclaim.   aron  piper  .   older  faceclaim.   giuseppe  maggio   .   character  inspiration.    hardin  scott  ,   niccolo  govender  rossi  ,  lip  gallagher  ,  and   bellamy  blake  .

*   𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  .

(   physical  abuse  ,  slightly  detailed     )

    sorrows  and  raindrops     ,   remnants  of  a  first  breath  that  established  the  tone  of  the  upbringing  of  curly  locks  and  pearly  whites  that  never  flashed  for  too  long  .      he  was  a  prisoner  in  a  punishment  meant  for  another  .   he  was  a  prisoner  to  rage  .

   he’s  made  up  of  pleads  ,   and  sobs  that  still  haunt  his  childhood   .   neglected  of  forehead  kisses  and  bedtime  stories   ,  gifted  fists  against  previously  bruised  flesh  in  substitution  .    black  and  blue  decorating  his  body  so  frequency  that  for  a  while  he  forgot  what  he  looked  like  without  them  .   

   one  night  ,  he   held  his  broken  arm  in  his  lap  and  begged  her  to  tell  him  why  ,  why  did  she  hate  him  so  much  ?    she  never  answered  ,   didn’t  even  move  a  muscle  .   left  her  seven  year  old  child  to  pull  himself  off  of  the  floor  and  out  the  door  .  that  was  his  last  memory  of  her  .

    left  in  the  care  of  the  foster  system    and  a  year  later  was  put  into  the  custody of  a  man  who  was  suppose  to  be  his  father  .   a  politician  who  had  cared  more  about  his  image  then  his  own  blood  eight  years  earlier  .   not  an  excuse  ,  his  father  would  learn  that  with  the  help  of  guilt  eating  him  from  the  inside  out  .  did  everything  he  could  think  of  to  make  it  up  ,    not  an  easy  challenge  .  

*   𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 .

walked  hand  in  hand  with  being  difficult  .      labeled  the  broken  bird  .  the  dirt  bag  .   found  traces  of  himself  in  chaos  and  so  he  became  it  .    a  smart  boy  drowning  in  a  hurt  he  had  not  fully  recovered  from  .    got  better  as  the  years  went  ,   and  twenty  two  was  his  golden  years  of  doing  his  very  best  to  not  self  destruction  .  

kept  himself  busy  ,  but  that  does  not  mean  he  kept  himself  out  of  trouble  .  a  smart  boy  who  had  the  ability  to  stumble  into  class  with  black  rims  covering  regrets  from  the  previous  night  .   cannabis  was  the  best  form  of  therapy  and  getting  blacked  out  on  weekdays  was  his  favorite  sin  .   

careless  and  impulsive  ,  everyone’s  favorite  partner  in  crime  .  bruised  knuckles  and  a  fat  lip  were  the  consequence  of  a  insolent  mouth  that  never  knew  when  to  stop  .   smiled  with  blood  dripping  from  his  mouth  and  returned  to  his  dorm  with  bruised  knuckles  ,  now  he  remembered  what  he  looked  like  .    

charming  words  and  wandering  hands  might’ve  fooled  you  ,  but  commitment  for  him  was  unreachable  .   he  was  stuck  in  the  mindset  that  he  was  too  fucked  up  for  someone  to  love  him  and  it  showed  in  every  relationship  he  had  ever  had  .   he  was  the  heartbreaker  ,  or  more  so  the  cold  hearted  .  used  others  to  silence  the  demons  in  his  head  and  left  before  the  sun  crept  through  curtains  .  

*   𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓  .

ten  years  formed  a  new  label  ,  the  phoenix  .   the  businessman  .    moved  around  until  he  settled  in   san  francisco  where  he  soon  opened  up  a  bar  with  his  business  partner  .   successful  ,  finally  funded  his  own  life  with  money  that  he  earned  .  but  there  was  more  to  him  then  just  expensive  cars  and  days  being  referred  to  as  boss  . 

healed  in  more  ways  then  he  had  been  ten  years  ago  ,  thanks  to  the  help  of  actual  therapy  (  though  cannabis   was  still  a  friend  )   .   greatest  achievement  was  finding  forgiveness  in  his  heart  for  his  father  and  building  a  normal  son  -  father  relationship  .    

decided  early  he  didn’t  want  kids  and  instead  adopted  a  pitbull  named  kyson  .   his  best  friend  and  as  those  around  him  joke  ,  his  son  .   is  his  background  a  picture  of  him  and  his  dog  ,  yes  .  mind  your  business  .

now  a  known  playboy  ,  though  most  aren’t  surprised  .  says  he’s  too  busy  for  relationships  but  it’s  just  the  fact  that  some  things  never  change  and  commitment  was  still  a  scary  thing  .  

recently  ,  as  in  the  last  three  years  ,  moved  to  riccione  ,  where  he  opened  up  his  fourth  bar  .   lives  in  a  house  on  the  beach  and  only  returns  home  every  few  months  (  plus  the  holidays  )  .  has  become  a  big  beach  bum  ,  but  he  likes  the  environment  .  does  the  whole  beach  life  activities  too  ,  the  hiking  and  the  surfing  (  though  he’s  not  very  good  )   .  

no  longer  a  fighter  ,  and  instead  is  the  one  breaking  them  up  .   realized  there  was  one  thing  he  never  wanted  to  be  ,  his  mother  ,  and  so  he’d  never  resort  to  using  his  fist  unless  in  the  act  of  defense  and  even  then  he’s  had  a  good  job  of  walking  away  .  

*   𝐒𝐈𝐗                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

back  to  square  one  .  no  memories  of  who  he  grew  up  to  be  ,  just  the  old  feeling  of  anger  and  hurt  .   sad  to  see  his  process  thrown  out  the  window  ,  his  healing  cracked  open  .  the  biggest  question  ,  is  will  he  get  to  his  end  point  once  again  or  will  a  second  chance  be  his  downfall  ?

*   𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒  .

has  always  taken  very  good  care  of  himself  in  the  sense  of   what  he  puts  into  his  body  ,  even  in  college  he  paid  important  attention  to  diet  and  exercise  .  

doesn’t  speak  of  his  mother  ,  or  at  least  he  didn’t  .  you  asked  a  question  and  got  silence  in  return  .  most  never  actually  knew  what  the  first  seven  years  of  his  life  was  ,  which  left  many  in  shock  when  he  finally  decided  to  open  up  about  it  .

he  doesn’t  like  nicknames  and  prefers  to  be  called  just  alistair  ,  though  some  people  do  get  a  pass  ,  even  if  that  pass  comes  with  a  hard  look  .

his  drink  of  choice  is  bourbon  but  he  hasn’t  been  a  bigger  drinker  since  his  college  days  ...  his  friends  would  joke  it’s  because  he  overdid  it  too  many  times  in  his  younger  years  . 

*  𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

*   these  are  simply  just  ideas  to  give  us  something  to  start  with  ,  i  am  open  to  anything  that  is  not  mentioned  as  well  am  completely  and  totally  okay  with  switching  things  around  and  adding  things  to  these  ideas !!!  i  love  plotting  and  bouncing ideas  off  of  each  other  so  don’t  be  afraid  to  stray !

                    YOU’RE  BAD  FOR  MY  HEALTH  ,  YEAH  YOU  SHOULD  HURT  SOMEBODY  ELSE  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN    )  .    he  was  bad  for  their  health    ,   a  rollercoaster  that  consisted  of  too  many  downs  .  toxic  ?  yes  .  in  love  ?  in  denial  .  but  whatever  was  between  these  two  ,  it  kept  them  at  each  others  throats  and  in  each  other  bed  .   this  was  not  the  one  who  got  away  ,  it  was  the  one  he  needed  to  stay  away  from  . 

                   WILL  HE  ALWAYS  BE  MINE  ?   ( PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  first  adult  relationship  ,  and  like  alistair  himself  it  was  not  always  easy  .  long  nights  ,  busy  days  ,  sometimes  this  relationship  felt  like  it  was  set  up  to  fail  ..  and  then  they  got  their  moments  where  butterflies  flapped  their  wings  and  rose  spreaded  to  cheeks  and  it  really  seemed  like  it  would  work  ...  but   good  moments  ,  they  come  and  go  and  this  relationship  leaves  the  other  thinking  how  long  they  might  have  alistair  . 

                  I  GOT  A  BAD  IDEA  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    he  looked  to  his  left  and  saw  them  ,  and  when  he   looked  in  front  of  him  he  saw  the  bars  and  regrets  forming  .   these  two  were  a  duo  that  wreaked  havoc   ,  being  around  them  meant  cop  sirens  and  bad  decisions  .  these  two  were  ,  what  do  they  say  ?  young  and  dumb  .

                  WHOLE  SQUAD  MOBBIN  EVEN  THOUGH  WE  ONLY  SIX  DEEP  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  best  buddies  (  that  i  manage  are  still  apart  of  his  life  in  present  time  )  made  up  of  two  to  three  others  .  they  are  his  people  ,  his  picked  family  .   

                I  SWEAR  IF  I  EVER  LEFT  YOU  IN  THE  COLD  ,  IT’S  CAUSE  IT  WAS  COLDER  INSIDE   (  PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .   a  old  friend  who’s  no  longer  that  ,  a  friend  .  i  picture  this  to  be  more  complicated  then  what  it  seems  ,  but  picture  these  two  going  from  being  attached  at  the  hip  to  not  speaking  to  one  another  .

                  CAN  YOU  IMAGINE  ?   ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    that  one  person  who  badly  wanted  something  more  from  alistair  and  got  exactly  the  opposite  .   lovers  in  the  way  of  intimacy  but  one  sided  emotionally  .  

[elencelebrindal]

Who's the strongest and the weakest Bronze Saint in your opinion? I saw your post about the Golds and was wondering if you ever did something similar for them.

The strongest?

Short answer:

Long answer:

Shun is, in my opinion, the strongest of them all. Yes, even stronger than Ikki.  I see countless people saying that Shun is weak and/or useless just because he doesn’t want to fight or because he calls Ikki for help, and I have one thing to say about that: kindness does not equal weakness. Shun is not weak, he refuses to fight unless he has to.  The most blatant example I can give you of his strength is the fight against Aphrodite, the only battle Shun actively wanted to fight. You can see how dangerous he can be, when he’s willing to put aside his non-belligerent attitude. Shun is merciful, he doesn’t want to resolve everything with violence. This doesn’t mean he’s not one of the deadliest fighters out there, if not the deadliest, given his ability. 

Let’s NOT forget Shun was able to hold his ground against Saga, who is said to be one of the most powerful Saints of his generation. He went as far as striking Saga in the Pope’s chamber, he managed to reach him with not that much effort. This is something people often gloss over, but it’s one of the greatest examples out there of Shun’s incredible power.  To fight him, Seiya needed all the help he could get from his companions. Shun, instead, fought by himself, didn’t die or get lost in the Another Dimension, and was able to get his chains near Saga without him being unable to stop the boy.

Most importantly, Shun is depicted as “weak” only in works not written by Kurumada. Non-canon episodes are the only ones in which Shun is not capable of keeping up with the other Saints. This is obviously proof of him being weakened by outside people, and not of him being weak by default. 

Another point in his favor it’s the Seventh Sense: he awakened it during the Sanctuary batte, right? Well, wrong. According to his teacher, Shun reached the Seventh Sense way before that. Or at least, the potential of the Seventh Sense.  Shun cannot be considered weak, and shouldn’t be considered weak, because he’s definitely not. Now, as for why I think he’s more powerful than Ikki, to me it’s obvious that he’s stronger than him. Maybe not physically, in fact I don’t think there’s anyone in the Bronzes that physically stronger than Ikki (no, not even Shiryu), but as far as his cosmo goes...  Ikki has the advantage of not dying, Phoenix and whatnot, but Shun has a more powerful cosmo. You can easily see this by taking into consideration the Nebula Storm, a technique so powerful that, if not controlled, reaches a point when it’s impossible to be stopped. This is incredibly destructive, extremely lethal, and Shun uses it without his Cloth.  This is something similar to what Shiryu does, because they both can access their full cosmo without wearing a Cloth, but Shun has a clear advantage: he doesn’t have a weak spot. Where Shiryu could be easily killed if hit in the right place, Shun doesn’t have that weakness. Which, at least in my opinion, makes him better than Shiryu. 

The last example I want to give you is the immense plot twist of him being Hades’ host.  Not necessarily the fact that he can withstand the soul of a god binding with his own, but the fact that he was able to get the upper hand against Hades.  If Shun was really as weak as a lot of people want to believe, than explain to me how in the everloving Hell did Shun managed to take back control over his body, keep a hold of Hades to give his brother an opportunity, and accept that he needed to die in order to get rid of the deity.  He didn’t last long, sure, but he was fighting Hades.  Not only that, but not long after being freed from Hades, Shun took back his Cloth, donned it, and fought again like he wasn’t just possessed by a deity. He managed to burn his cosmo enough to “unlock” the Divine Cloth despite having endured Hades’ control over his body and soul. To this day, I’m still annoyed at how easily Hypnos defeated him, taking into account what happened just a few moment before. 

This might not be enough to convince other people of Shun’s true potential, but it’s enough for me to believe he’s absolutely the strongest Bronze Saint, and maybe even one of the strongest Saints in general.  Don’t forget that this young man right here can wear the Virgo Cloth. He is the next Virgo Saint, and that’s a given for me. And you know how unbelievably powerful a Saint with that constellation normally is. 

The weakest?

Short answer:

Long answer:

Seiya is... not as powerful as his protagonist status wants us to believe. I’m not doubting his abilities, because he is a Saint after all and he is skilled, but he’s by far the weakest as far as cosmo and physical strength go.  Most of his exploits are made because of his “immense determination” and “good heart”. It’s almost never a believable (believable in Saint Seiya) reason that leads him to victory.  He’s not necessarily weak, because he’s not, but he’s the least powerful of all the main Bronze Saints. Obviously he’s better than the secondary ones, because plot and everything, but he’s not on the same level as his companions.  Most of his victories were attained because he had help, either from Athena or from his fellow Bronzes.  Like I said before, Seiya couldn’t face Saga on his own. He needed the help of four other Saints in order to be on his level. I will be fair, and say that he was able to endure a lot on his own, but what he by himself still wasn’t enough to win.  

He had his fair share of deserved victories, of course, but some of those were so heavily helped by other people’s intervention it doesn’t even feel like Seiya actually did something on his own.  I’m not counting in this the fights he won fair and square, like the one against Aldebaran (sure, he had his annoying moment of “let’s daydream”, but he did win by himself), or the one against Thor. Hell, I’m perfectly okay with him winning against Thanatos.  But there’s countless other moments in which he needed someone’s help or something to his advantage.  For example, the first fight against Shiryu: Seiya won because he was able to spot and hit Shiryu’s weak spot, but he was being devastated before that. Even after tricking Shiryu in shattering his own shield (brilliant move, Marin taught him well), Seiya didn’t have the upper hand.  Against Ikki, Seiya needed the help from all his companions to actually defeat him.  When he reached the stairs leading to the Pope’s chamber, Seiya got easily overwhelmed by Aphrodite’s roses, while Marin (who gave him her mask) didn’t suffer as much from that poison. Against Saga, Seiya was able to use his protagonist bullshit to win because “a Saint fight with his heart!”, but when being faced with the real fight he needed some help. I’m not saying Seiya didn’t have the potential to resist Saga’s technique, like Ikki did when facing Shaka, but it was used in such a way it didn’t look like something coming from his own strength. 

This happens way more in the series, from classic to Hades, and in the movies as well. Seiya is celebrated as this powerful Saint capable of defeating even the gods, but in reality he mostly relied on someone else’s help to achieve victory. 

Physically, it’s painfully obvious that he’s not strong. He is as strong as a normal Saint would be, but not more than the average warrior. He easily prevails only on opponents that are visibly weaker than him, like Cassios (who didn’t have the slightest trace of cosmo), and has a hard time against opponents that are on his level.  It also took a long time for him to understand how to fight Aiolia, but he only managed a couple good hits before being overwhelmed again. He has it even worse in the CGI movie, where Aiolia literally brushes off his attacks like they’re nothing. 

Some might argue that his cosmo his not that weak, because he’s able to wear not only a Gold Cloth, but a Divine Cloth as well. And I say to you: I’m not saying he’s that weak. What I’m saying is: Seiya has potential, but not as much as we’re led to believe.  Seiya heavily relies on the Gold Cloth when he wears it, instead of relying more on his own cosmo. He does the same with the Divine Cloth. 

Compared to his companions, Seiya is relatively weak. Where Hyoga managed to become more powerful than his own teacher (a Gold Saint) and learned both of his techniques, Seiya relied on the Cloth itself to help him with his cosmo. Where Shiryu is able to fight effortlessly without wearing his Cloth, Seiya seems to be unable to do anything if he’s not wearing it. Where Ikki seems to have mastered his cosmo, Seiya still doesn’t know how to fully use it.

He always needs protection, he needs Athena to use her cosmo for him or to reassure him, he always ends up being the only one last standing because other people put their lives on the line for him.  The Hades arc is what described him best: a kid that doesn’t know how to face people bigger than him. Even the fight against Valentine wasn’t his own victory, because Athena helped him from afar. It’s so easy to defeat him, like we saw when Rhadamanthys effortlessly got rid of Seiya. Which, in retrospect, completely erased what Seiya managed to do when fighting him for the first time. 

I’m aware I’m known for my... well, not hate but strong dislike for Seiya. I won’t blame you if you think I put him so low because I’m biased.  But this is my opinion for that, and I’m keeping it. 

[thedarklightphoenix]

What's the vampire lore for your muses?

I have some side characters that I introduced in the thread with @hitandrunduorp​ we get a little more lore than my usual 4 today uhu.

I’m also going to draw them at some point so we have a visual of them! 

It’s pretty long so I’m going to put it under cut 

Main Muses

Crys - Human Hunter

Crys and her sister are born half fae with their father a member of the Seelie court. Though the Seelie court are usually peaceful, they often don’t see half bloods highly and so after her mother passed away, she and Kat were essentially stolen by traders and the court barely did anything about it, thinking that she was better under human authority than the courts. Both of them were sold to an old vampire lord as a duo and spent a large amount of their teen years serving him. Having fae blood, they have almost an addicting effect when vampires feed off of them. The old lord seemed to have preferred her as she often put up less of a fight than Kat but only because she was weakened more from the previous feeding. Both she and Kat were able to escape and find safety in a hunter’s guild when they were 19 where both of them learned to protect themselves and how to hunt various monsters and other races. Though the secret of their heritage was revealed to the humans, they were disliked though not cast out - humans aren’t that cruel. 

When they were 24, their bas was discovered by vampires and they were caught and separated. She then got put in an auction where she then was bought by a certain Vampire Lord.

Kat - Human Hunter turned Vampire

Kat was the stronger willed of the two. She often fought back against anyone who treated her badly but it also led her to have the belief to never take the path of least resistance. And so she had a lot more injuries from punishments when she was under the Old Lord’s servitude and more injuries. In the guild she was more of an aggressive fighter than Crys’s quick and precise fighter. Kat often provoked fights when someone said something about their heritage. 

After their separation after being caught by vampires, she was sold to a crueller lord who forced her to turn and serve him - this way he had easier control over her rebellious nature through means of blood magic, lies and hypnosis which broke her spirit. Her natural strength and fae blood would create a stronger vampire. Since she’s been put through this, she has since lost most of her personality and is obedient to her master (though who know if a shock of seeing Crys alive and well might do)

Tom - Pureblood Vampire Noble

Tom is the pureblood heir of the title of Lord once his father Blake retires. Their district is one of the recreational districts with a large amount of Casinos, gambling dens, clubs and such. The Lord himself and Tom own Casinos in their district which leads to them being a very rich center of information. Tom himself is an intelligent and peaceful noble who likes to solve things diplomatically rather avoiding conflict if he can. However, should things get violent, he shows why he earned the respect he has through his superior control over Blood and Blood Magic. Picture Bloodbending in Avatar: The Last Airbender and you get the image of him holding back. If you seriously piss him off, his magic is strong enough to complete destroy a body from the inside out. 

His district is facing a possible war with a neighbouring one and he is often in charge with peace negotiations with other generals along side Xavier while also being  n charge with the defence of the border which leads to him being extremely busy with preventing the conflict from escalating.

Kaze - the Bloody Phoenix Vampire Lord

Kaze was a human warrior turned vampire 825 years ago from before the time of the eternal night. He was a well respected general who was kind and fair to his subordinates while also pushing them to do better. He fought in many wars with both wins and losses. At this point in time, Vampires were mainly a legend or a scary story told at night but one day, one of the oldest Vampire lords in existence had an eye on him. Kaze was captured and forced to be turned into a vampire by the vampire lord who worked along side an enchantress called Monica. Forced to be obedient , he fought in many wars against the humans that he once fought along side with Monica granting him strength and power to quash his enemies. But Monica was slowly poisoning his mind and planting a curse on him which leads to him entering a blood thirsty rage that slaughters everyone in front of him regardless of friend or foe. Only Monica could stop his bloodrages with her magic and she essentially took over control over both him and the Vampire Lord. But eventually after a century, the curse got the better of him during a slaughter of humans and he wasn’t able to compose himself before returning to the Lord’s home. The Vampire Lord was slain by his own creation. He then set his eyes on Monica who at this point had spread the curse to many other vampires in the area.

Out of everyone who was affected by the curse, Kaze was the only one who was able to get control of himself and return to normal. soon enough he found himself earning the title of Bloody Phoenix - given to him as no matter how much he had been beaten, he would not die and return with a fiery vengeance. As the slayer of a former lord, he took up the position and earned the respect of the district not only through his power but also through his diplomacy and wit. Though, those who have faced him in combat see the shifting of ink under his skin. Runic tattoos over his chest and back often help keep him under control as well as enhance his strength. However, these are known to burn a lot of blood, giving him the greater risk of going into a blood rage should he maintain prolonged battle. He’s known to be calm and rarely angered. Though should you infuriate him, your days will be numbered.

Other Characters

Xavier - The Hypnotic Vampire Noble

Xavier is Blake’s husband and Tom’s stepfather. Calm and collected, he is often a messenger for Blake and Tom often going to many meeting in their stead. His past a mystery, he is known for his incredible ability to win wars and conflicts with nothing but his voice, wit and charisma. He is talented in his power over the mind - often seen as the best in Blake’s district. His hypnotic ability is often impossible to resist or break through and he often uses subtle influences to maintain a calm atmosphere without letting the other know of his influence. His physical strength is not all too high but his speed makes up for it should he ever need to fight but even the most mindless creatures or vampires lost to the craze of a bloodrage cannot resist the soothing words of Xavier.

Draven - The Tyrant Lord

Tom’s neighbouring district is nothing but trouble - especially in the recent century. Draven rules the district with an iron fist were everyone has a place and everyone must stay in their place unless they have his explicit permission. His craving for power only grows each day as he pushes to invade Blakes district and eventually the other vampire districts. However, he is smart and sees to play this in the long term, hatching a scheme where he is sure to rise on top whent he time comes. But only when the time comes.

Maybe more characters to come? Who knows at this point I have so many.

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

I’m posting two today. Abuse warning. I don’t know how to do this, so i’m jsut tagging every chapter

Chapter Six: Fireflies by Owl City. It’s my story so it counts.

Roman walked back into the living room with a large cardboard box.

“They sent me a place to live.” Virgil chirped at him from the floor.

“These are from Dodie.” Roman set the box down. “She gave us some very nice linens.”

“Aww, how sweet.” Patton cooed. “I love Dodie.”

“Right and if anyone asks,” Roman stated. “Virgil is too ill for any introductions yet.”

“We knew that,” Logan said, annoyed. “He’s still getting settled and still has strep throat. It’s not even a lie, it’s just us keeping a contagion under control.”

“Let’s just act like I’ve been here the whole time and they just didn’t notice.” Virgil gave them a crooked smile.

“That would be hilarious!” Roman declared. “Let’s do it!”

“No, we are not going to deceive our neighbors.” Logan forbade. “They have all seen the news by now and will know it’s a prank.”

“How much of this is on the news?” Virgil’s demeanor dropped and his guard went back up.

“Just the fire.” Roman stated.

“And… the…” Patton looked at the floor.

“It was on the news that your father has been arrested for child abuse.” Logan said bluntly. “They kept your name out of it and spared any details. All they did was report the arrest.”

“So, all of Florida knows now.” Virgil mumbled, receding further into his hoodie. “It doesn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who the victim is in the case of the dude with one kid getting arrested for abuse.”

Logan knelt in front of Virgil.

“Virgil.” He said softly. “I know how you feel, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong. Your father is the one who should be humiliated, not you. What he did is irredeemable, and you had no part in that. This is not your fault. What he did reflects him, not you. And what he did is not your fault. All you did was endure a horrific situation. And I cannot stress enough that your situation was not your fault. You have not decreased in value; you are not weak, and you are not destroyed. You can get better from this. And whatever is on the news is going to be forgotten in a month. And most importantly anyone who can actually think knows that this isn’t your fault, and anyone who can’t recognize that doesn’t matter anyway. Do you understand?”

Virgil blinked quickly and tears leaked out. He inhaled and exhaled rapidly and whimpered a little bit. Then, trembling he hugged Logan.

Logan looked up at Patton for help, only to see his husband grinning from ear to ear with tears in his own eyes. Logan mouthed out ‘what do I do?’ and Patton slowly started taking pictures on his phone. That was not helping!

Logan awkwardly rubbed the younger man’s back.

“There, there.” He said tensely. “I’ve got you.”

“Do you mean all that?” Virgil mumbled into Logan’s chest. “Is that really true?”

“Abuse is never the victim’s fault. Especially if they’re just a kid.”

“I thought…”

“I know what you thought.”

“He-he said…”

“I know what he said, it’s what they all say.”

“He told me that they’d all...”

“That they’d all side with him, because everyone always believes the adult. And I take it he found a way to prove that to you?”

Virgil nodded. Patton knelt beside the them and Roman watched in a stunned silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Logan asked, running his hand through Virgil’s hair.

“No.”

“That’s ok, too.”

“Has he always been this way? My dad I mean?”

“We never realized he would stoop this low, but yes, he’s always been a functioning sociopath.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

Logan sighed heavily.

“Oh.” Virgil whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Neither of us have anything to apologize for.”

Virgil pulled away quickly.

“Sorry about that,” He stuttered. “I should have asked if you were comfortable with… ya know…contact. Some people aren’t. Which is ok. I’m sorry if I imposed.”  

“I married Patton; physical contact is fine with me.”

                                                               #             #             #

Logan dropped to his knees on the asphalt. Everything was still reeling through his head. He shouldn’t have come. Prom was a mistake. He should have known better; he should have known.

“Are you ok?” Patton’s voice soothed him. “Did they hurt you at all?”

“I’m not hurt.” He forced a smile. “That was quite a speech you made back there.”

“I blacked out in there.” Patton mumbled. “I was really mad.”

“Well thank you. Not many people would have done that for me.”

“I would every time. You didn’t deserve that.”

Logan said nothing. Patton stooped beside him.

“If you wanna go home, I can call my brother to get us.”

“I’m alright, I just need a minute.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to talk to Payton either.” Patton looked up. “Logan, I’m really sorry I brought you here. I just wanted you to have a good time. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault.” Logan sighed and felt himself blush. “I’m sorry for getting all out of sorts back there. I probably embarrassed you, I certainly embarrassed myself.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Patton put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have anything to apologize for or anyone to apologize to.”

Logan desperately wanted to tell Patton how he felt at that moment. He felt like he belonged, like he was whole. Like he didn’t need to be fixed, he wanted to tell Patton how amazing it felt to meet someone who didn’t consider him to be broken. But there weren’t any words that could describe this euphoria.

“Patton,” Logan said, shaking and flustered. “Kiss me.”

“Are you sure?” Patton asked hurriedly, “This’ll be our first time and you’re not out yet and someone might…”

Logan cut him off by grabbing his jacket and pulling them together. Their first kiss. It was nice.

That one moment stayed with the two of them forever and came back to haunt them the next week. Logan showed up on the Foster’s doorstep in the middle of the night with looking like he had just been mugged by a pro wrestler. He had dragged himself through the streets with broken glasses, torn clothes and blood covering his face. Patton pulled him inside with unnatural speed and laid him down on the couch.

“What happened?” Patton asked frantically. “Who did this? Do we need to call the police?”

“Somehow my parents found out we kissed last week.” Logan mumbled. “Don’t bother with the police, I don’t think they’ll help.”

“Your parents did this?!” Patton yelped, horrified. “Why?”

“I think it has something to do with the shape of my brain. They never did like how I functioned.”

“Have they done this before?” Patton stared at him intensely.

“I don’t operate like normal people; my parents can’t handle that. And apparently they’re homophobic as well.”

“Why are you so calm?” Patton screamed. “This isn’t normal! This isn’t right! You have to realize that this isn’t fair!”

“I was told this is the only way to control me. They had to make me understand.”

“No! That isn’t how this works! It’s not! Do you understand me? This is not right! They are wrong! And what they did is wrong! This is abuse! This is assault! This is inhuman!”

“But I can’t…” Logan stuttered. “I don’t… work like everyone else. I can’t feel like them. I can’t feel at all.”

“That is the biggest load and you know it!”

Payton came down the stairs to yell at Patton for making a racket, and Patton sent him right back.

“If your parents think attacking you is a good strategy then they’re the ones who can’t feel! You are not the one acting like a caveman! You! Do not beat people to get a point across! You! Do not treat other people like garbage because of the way they think! And you! Did not just send your son off into the night looking like he owed Godzilla money! Have I made myself clear!?”

“Yes.” It came out as a whisper as Logan went over Patton’s speech, stunned.

“Good,” Patton sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can sleep in my room. You’re not going back there tonight.”

“I’m here because they told me not to come back at all.” Logan confessed. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Logan swears that Patton’s eyes, normally blue in color, turned green like the hulk. His entire being contorted in rage. It was that night that Logan learned that empathic men can have an unholy amount of anger stored up. And boy was he grateful that Patton wasn’t mad at him.

Patton did call the police and reported the assault. Nothing came of it because Logan wasn’t willing to press charges, but he was able to get his stuff back from his parents’ house. Logan never spoke to them again, but Patton would always send them passive aggressive gifts around Christmas. And that is the story of how they moved in together.

                                                               #             #             #

“Patton,” Logan began as they were getting ready for bed. “We did say we would talk about it later.”

“We did.” Patton sighed. “Go ahead.”

“What happened is no more your fault than it is mine.”

“It’s my fault you got outted!” Patton objected.

“No.”

“But…”

“No, it’s not. I kissed you.”

“But I took you to prom.”

“And it was the most important night of my life.”

“But your parents…”

“Are independent operators.” Logan cut him off. “Who were just looking for an excuse to be rid of me, and apparently couldn’t wait until I went to college. I’m better off without them.”

Patton sighed.

“I just feel responsible.” He mumbled.

“You’re not. In any way.” Logan smiled gently. “And even if you were, it’s the best thing that happened to me.”

“You mean that?” Patton looked back at him.

“Yes.” Logan paused. “And while on the subject of my parents, I would like you to stop sending them hideous lamps with a card that says, ‘I saw it and thought of you.’ It’s getting creepy.”

“Fine.” Patton sighed. “It’s not worth the time anyway.”

“And stop sending carolers for domestic abuse foundations to their house.”

“I can’t control the carolers!”

Logan stared at him.

“I’ll stop.” Patton looked at the floor. “But if an abuse charity that I’m not a part of shows up for them, it’s not my fault.”

“And stop sending them subscriptions to gay porn.”

“That one was Roman.” Patton interrupted.

“Ok.” Logan frowned. “I’ll talk to him about that in the morning.”

“Fine, no more gifts.” Patton sighed.

“And that goes for Payton too.” Logan pointed. “We’re parents now, and we need to set a good example. No more petty passive aggression.”

“Fine,” Patton pouted. “But I’m doing everything in my power to see my brother sent to prison.”

“So am I.” Logan nodded. “We just won’t be petty about it.”

                                               #             #             #

Virgil stared up at the ceiling and counted the tiles. He wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon. He rolled over and stared at the dresser by the bed and the desk across the room. It certainly wasn’t the small room with a cot he was expecting. Patton had lingered around for a minute to make sure he was settled; he might not have gotten the memo on thirteen-year olds. Usually they don’t need to be tucked in.

Virgil sat up and took the cup off the dresser. Patton had left him the straw cup from the other day. In case he got thirsty in the middle of the night. He fiddled with it for a while, looking at all the different cats and put it back.

The bed was made with pale blue sheets. Must have been what they had handy. But it was a really inconvenient color. And not just for his reasons, just in general. It stained easily and showed dirt. He kicked his blanket off and admired his cast in the lamp light. Could this really be happening?

“What the hell is the catch?” He whispered. “This can’t just be it.”

“What’s gonna happen if Logan finds out I lied about grade I’m supposed to be in? I don’t want them to know I was held back. Maybe I should set the record straight, Patton was held back, no one makes a big deal out of that.”

He chewed his bandage, wishing he could get at his nails. Or pick at the blisters that he could feel forming. Stupid human nature, that was disgusting, why’d he want to do it so bad? He knocked on his cast. Cool sound.

“I don’t want them to know I lied though,” He reasoned. “Then they would think I’m a liar. And if they think I’m a liar then they’ll definitely think I’m lying about my dad. Which he will undoubtedly tell people.”

A chill ran through him, like death itself had just dropped an ice cube down his shirt. He could see his dad in court.

“Why, I would never lay a hand on my son.” He’d feign hurt. “And I have no clue why he would say such things. Teenage rebellion I suppose, but how anyone could lie about such a thing and go so far as to hurt themselves is beyond me.”

Virgil gagged. He’d do it too. That’s exactly what he’d say.

And they’ll believe him too. They’ll believe a prominent lawyer over a teenager any day. They always side with the adult, and they side with the dude who hasn’t been diagnosed with anxiety.

“Shut up.” Virgil whispered weakly to his thoughts.

But he believed that. And with every emergency room visit when his dad really lost his temper; and the doctors one hundred percent believed that he had just fallen down the stairs or something he believed it more. Last year when he got held back was the worst.

He wrapped his arms around himself to pull things together. No, he’s not going to think about last year.

Held back! Even with summer school! You need to be held back! That voice shook him to the core.

               “No.” He hissed, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

               Are you lazy, or just slow!? Because next year when you show up to class you’ll be taking it with all the kids who didn’t get held back. The ones who didn’t fail to do something basic. This is seventh grade, what don’t you get? You passed sixth grade, so I guess you’re not hopeless! But what’s so different between the two grades!

               Virgil slid out of bed and hopped on one foot over to the desk. He switched on the computer that he and Logan had set up earlier. These guys had really thought of everything. They acted like they expected to keep him. Tumblr would probably drown his thoughts, and now he had new thing to look into.

               He hobbled back to the bed and set the computer on his lap. Time to kill a few brain cells.

                                                                               #             #             #

               Patton knocked gently on Virgil’s door.

               “what?” The kiddo mumbled a half-asleep response.

               “It’s me, Patton. Can I come in?”

               “Sure, it’s not locked.”

               Patton walked in and saw Virgil curled up in a ball at the head of his bead. He pulled himself up stiffly and slowly shut his computer.

               “Well that explains it.” Patton teased.

               “What?”

               “You slept till noon.” Patton felt his forehead. “I was gonna leave you be, but I didn’t want you to dehydrate.”

               Patton pulled his hand back and wiped it onto his own pant leg. Kiddo needed a shower.

               “Is it that late already?” Virgil looked shocked. “What’s everyone up to?”

               “Well, Logan and Roman both teach summer classes, so they’re at work.” Patton explained. “I usually work at the library over the summer, but I took the week off to get everything settled.”

               Virgil shifted his eyes again, as if he were suspicious of something. He also seemed to brace himself.

               “Anyhoo, it’s time for your medicine, then I’ll leave you be.”

               “What are you gonna do?”

               “I’m not sure, I have some thank you cards to write, but that’s about it,”

               Virgil looked up at the ceiling for a good long time,

               “If you want… I could keep you company.” He said, finally looking down.

               “That’d be great! I did say I’d like to get to know you better.”

               “Sure.”

               Virgil mostly just sat there and quietly watched him. But he had in intense interest in doing so.

               Did Payton ever love you? Patton telepathically asked the kiddo for the hundredth time.

               “You looking forward to high school?” Patton asked instead.

               Virgil looked around and bit his lip before nodding slowly.

               “I met Logan in school.” Patton smiled at him, “But I guess you knew that already.”

               “How long have you been married?” Curiosity glimmered in his eyes.

               “Ten years in September.” Patton sighed gleefully. “On the twentieth.”

               “Ten years?” He leaned back in surprise.

               “Yeah, we got married in college. He just asked me, and we got married the next day.”

               “It sounds like you eloped.” Virgil smiled coyly. “Do you have a shady past?”

               “We didn’t really elope.” Patton looked up as he recalled things. “Mom had already passed away, and Logan hates his parents. So, it was just us, Roman and Roman’s brother.”

               “Roman has a brother?”

               “Yeah a twin, he’s off in grad school right now.”

               “Cool.”

Virgil gave pause and looked pensive. He rapped his hands together and bit his lip.

“Something on your mind buddy?” Patton tipped his head.

“Do you…” He looked around. “Do you know what happened to… my mother?”

“She moved to Italy.” Patton said flatly. “I never did know what to make of that.”

Virgil looked down at the table and sighed. Patton reached over and stroked his hair. The poor baby probably felt unwanted.

Well, I want him. Patton stated internally.

“I’m sure she loves you very much,” Patton soothed, falsely, but still. “And she’ll probably want to see you when CPS finds her.”

Virgil gave him a knowing look. Comfortable lies didn’t work on him. At least not anymore.

“I’m ok.” He smiled weakly. “I kind of figured.”

“That makes it worse.”

“I mean, I can’t make her feel anything, or him. I get it.”

“You have people who care about you now.” Patton said firmly. “And we love you.”

“We only just met.” Virgil laughed.

“But we’re family. And I fed you cake on your first birthday. That means something.”

Virgil smiled at him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Patton asked after a moment.

“Uhh, sure?” He shrunk into himself a bit.

“When was the last time you had a shower?”

“Friday…” Virgil looked confused.

“Are you comfortable?”

“No, I feel like I have bugs crawling on my skin. Why? What are you gonna do to me?”

“Ok, one more weird question,” Patton folded his hands together in front of his face. “Will you let me wash your hair? Nothing below the neck unless absolutely necessary. But will you let me do this, it looks like you combed your hair with a porkchop. And it feels like your hair is a porkchop.”

“Nothing weird? This isn’t like your kink or something?”

“What’s a kink?”

Virgil looked at him, his mouth slightly open showing just the tip of his bottom teeth.

“What did you say you did?”

“Well I work at the library during the summer, but I normally teach special ed in elementary school.”

“There a strict vetting process for that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Swear to God that you won’t do anything weird to me.”

“Of course. I’m not some pervert.”

“ok.” Virgil held up his hands. “Go ahead.”

#             #             #

               Virgil sat quietly as Patton ruffled his hair with a towel, true to his word Patton hadn’t done anything weird. Though, he had used baby shampoo. And that was an odd thing to have.

               “There, that should feel better.” Patton smiled and patted him on the head. “It certainly does from where I’m standing.”

               Virgil nodded; he wasn’t sure how to process what had happened. Maybe Patton was an obsessive neat freak, that made sense. But he didn’t really impose, he was very polite about it. Nothing made any sense anymore.

               “It feels fine.” He sighed and forced a smile in his uncle’s direction.

               “So, is that your natural color or do you dye it?”

               “I’ve had black hair for as long as I can remember. It’s just what color it is.”

               “Must come from your mother, her family is European.”

               “That why they moved to Italy?”

               Patton looked as something had just clicked.

               “Probably.” He nodded, pointing in Virgil’s direction. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

               “It’s not a problem that I have black hair is it?” Virgil said quickly. The ax was about to fall.

               “No.” Patton said, very confused. “Why would it be a problem? I was just asking because you were blond when you were little. I guess you grew out of it.”

               Virgil stared at him. The ax stayed where it was. When was this thing going to fall and get it over with?! Why was Patton so casual? What was he hiding? He has half of the DNA of his father; he can’t be this nice. He can’t be. Did he get the good half? Was that possible? Was it possible that he was just naturally warm and inviting? Could he just be a good guy?

               No! It wasn’t possible. He’s just an angler fish. He has the only light in the entire hell scape that is the ocean, and when you get close enough to the light, he unhinges his jaw and sucks you into a vortex of over lapping fangs. There is no refuge. Just stay in the dark, you’re in danger either way.

               Vigil snapped out of his debate when he felt something cool against his forehead. He looked up to see Patton standing over him.

               “Your fever is still pretty high.” Patton said gently. “I think you should take some aspirin and lie down.”

               Virgil looked at his feet, up until Friday he had just been downing cold medicine to combat the symptoms. He found out in the hospital that all he had actually been doing was putting himself to sleep and not treating the strep throat at all. Evidently, strep is an infection and the flu, which he thought he had, was a virus. And the medicine is not transferable. So, now he was on antibiotics and felt like a moron.

               Patton returned with aspirin and the cat cup. This guy had a thing about water.

               “Ok, go ahead and take this.” Patton dropped it into his hand. “And you can take the antibiotic after dinner.”

               Virgil examined the pill in his hand. It looked like generic store brand aspirin. But then again, it might be the nighttime stuff and knock him out. Then what?

               “A cookie for your thoughts, kiddo.” Patton tiled his head.

               Virgil laughed softly.

               “It’s supposed to be a penny.” He fought a smile.

               “No one wants a penny.” Patton smile. “But everyone loves cookies.”

               Nighttime stuff is blue, this one’s red. It’s probably ok.      

               Virgil dropped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it. Patton handed him the water regardless.

               “It’s ok, I already got it down.” He leaned away from the cup.

               “I know, but you need to stay hydrated. You have a lot of healing to do.”

               The drugs are in the cup. Wait, what drugs? Why would he drug me? There’s no way he’s that kind of pervert. He teaches school, he’d have snapped and been caught by now. That’s one of those things that you can’t just secretly be.

               You sure?

               Chill out man, I just don’t wanna pee the bed anymore. Now you’re going on about pedophiles and slave traders. Wait, is that why he wanted me to be clean?

               Patton set the cup down and walked over to the fridge. He returned with an unopened bottle of water.

               “Would you rather have this buddy?” Patton offered.

               Virgil stared at the water. His mouth felt like he had been eating sand for a week and his throat burned. Just a little sip couldn’t hurt. He reached out for the bottle, fully expecting Patton to jerk it back and mock him.

               Instead, Patton gently fit it in his hands and took off the lid for him. Ok, just a little. Just enough to get the sand taste out. He put the bottle up to his lips and tilted his head back. A drop hit his tongue, and before he knew it, he was inhaling the entire bottle. Water was spilling down the sides of his face and dripping onto his shirt. He nearly choked from trying to swallow too quickly. Finally, some of it went down the wrong way and he was thrown into a coughing fit.

               While he fought for air; Patton patted him on the back a bit. Virgil inhaled properly. The fit was over.

               “You ok?” Patton asked, wiping stray water off Virgil’s face.

               “I’m fine.” He looked down again. Where were the insults? He had just chocked on water and spat it all over himself. He was walking into it at this point.

               “Let’s get you to the couch,” Patton said, holding up his bandaged hands. “And then I’ll see about changing these.”

               Virgil felt lightheaded as Patton helped him limp to the couch.

               Do something you non sequitur! Don’t leave me in suspense like this! Just do it and get it over with! Why are you dragging this out!    

               Patton left him alone in the living room for a moment. He felt his eyes start to burn with saline.

               I will not cry. I will. Not cry. I will not. I. Will. Not. Cry.

               Patton returned with a wet washcloth and fresh gauze. He gently placed the cloth onto Virgil’s forehead and started removing the old bandages.

               “Did any of your friends visit you while you were in the hospital?” He asked brightly.

               WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!!!????? Virgil’s internal monologue shrieked in a demonic tone.  

               “Nah.” Virgil shrugged, struggling to be nonchalant.

               Patton looked a little sad at this revelation. Damn it, what was he thinking?

               “They probably just didn’t know what hospital I was in.” Virgil laughed tensely. “Or, ya know, they were busy. A lot of the guys at my school are already studying for the SATs.”

               “Well maybe some of them’ll come by later, or you could invite some.”

               Should I tell him I’m a friendless loser? Will he laugh?

               “Sure.” Virgil looked away. He didn’t want to lie to Patton, the dude had been nothing but wonderful to him.

               “Well, it might get boring if you just have to stay here by yourself.”

               Maybe he won’t laugh….

               Patton pulled the bandage off and his disposition dropped. His face went pale as if someone was draining his blood and the light went out of his eyes. He looked like a cadaver. His lip trembled a little and he bit it roughly. Inhaling deeply, he went back to his task with a forced smile.

               Shit! What did I do?! I pissed him off! How?! What’s he gonna do!?

               “Were you good at wrestling?” Patton asked stoically.

               He’s trying to gage how well I can defend myself!

               “No. Not really.”

               “How about debate?” Patton tilted his head.

               “I was ok at it.”

               Physically and verbally. He’s sizing me up all the way.

               “Did you like it?” Patton kept up the small talk, yet to make his move.

               “I liked it ok.”

               “You also said you played chess, right?”

               Now he’s after my planning abilities!

               “Yeah.” Virgil looked around, there were no witnesses. Isn’t that always the way?

               “Logan plays chess, maybe you two could play together some time.” Patton perked up a little. “He hates to play me and Roman.”

               Why won’t you let the ax fall you maniac!!!??

               “Ok.” He barely whispered.

               They sat in a soul crushing silence for a solid minute while Patton finished rewrapping his hand. Patton then kissed the freshly sealed appendage and moved on to the next one. He tilted his head pensively.

               “Virgil,” Patton said gently. “Let me know if I’m imposing, but.” He sighed. “Well, Roman told me you were trying to break your window to get out, and he didn’t say anything about there being a screen in it. And it’s summer in Florida. But the thing is, why were you trying to break out? Couldn’t you open the window?”

               Virgil didn’t know what to do with this question. He knew the answer, sure. No, he couldn’t open the window, it was nailed shut. The problem was that this would seem to be abnormal everywhere else. And Patton might get upset with the answer.

               “Uh,” Virgil answered. “My dad kind of… nailed it shut. So I couldn’t sneak out.”

               “I was afraid of that.” Patton sighed and looked down. The fury in his eyes not concealed at all.

               I pissed him off again! What’s he gonna do to me!?

               Patton finished replacing the wrappings on Virgil’s other hand, sealed that one with a kiss as well and stood up.

               “You should get some rest.” Patton smiled and ruffled his hair. “Strep can be a doozey.”

                                                                               #             #             #

               Virgil was still wondering what he had done to annoy Patton when Logan came home. The two discussed something in the kitchen that Virgil couldn’t make out, so he was left in suspense again. Why couldn’t they just let the ax fall? Roman came home, grabbed some food and left shortly after. As he walked by, he explained that he had an interview with a news station.

               “How ya feeling now kiddo?” Patton chirped, strolling back into the room. He seemed to have calmed down.

               “Better.” Virgil said, quickly dropping the washcloth, which he had been sucking on for the water.

               “Do you want some water?” Patton asked, staring at the cloth.

               “No, I’m good.” Virgil slid the cloth further away.

               Patton bit his lip and cocked his head.

               “You should drink something. You gotta try to flush all the germs out.” He finally said.

               Ok, it’s still early in the day. Nothing should come of it if I drink some water right now. Besides I was just sucking the moisture out of a rag. I am kind of thirsty.

               “Ok.” Virgil pushed himself up. “I guess I’ll get some water. You know, just to be doing it.”

               Patton darted over to make sure he got up ok.

               “You know I would have brought you the water.” Patton said helping him to the other room.

               “I’d like to get it myself though. Besides you’ve already like, everything. And then some.”

               Of course, it was what Patton and Logan hadn’t done that confused him the most. He was even starting to think that there wasn’t going to be an ax falling. But it wouldn’t do to think like that. He probably just hadn’t triggered it yet. Or they were those people who let stuff build up.

               He got a bottle of water out of the fridge and Patton helped him back into the living room.

               “I’m gonna go heat some things up for dinner.” Patton chirped at him. “Do you want me to reheat the soup again?”

               “If there’s any left, I guess we’d ought to get rid of it.” Virgil tapped on the arm of the couch.

               Patton smiled and left. Shortly after that Logan turned up and sat down in a recliner across from Virgil.

               “Are you feeling any better today?” Logan asked him.

               “Yeah, my throat doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

               “How long did you have this before going to a doctor?”

               “A week, maybe ten days.”

               Logan’s jaw slackened a bit as if he were surprised.

               “I am absolutely floored by that.” He said in his usual tone. “Your father didn’t take you to a doctor?”

               “No, we just thought I had the flu.” Virgil leaned back and tried to absorb himself into the couch.

               “Which is fine, but if you were still sick after ten days….” He paused. “Anyone else would have rushed you to the emergency room in a state of panic. Even strep throat should go away after that long.”

               “I mean…” Virgil stopped. Why was he making excuses?

               “This could cause complications.” Logan mumbled to himself. He looked back to Virgil. “Have you had all your shots?”

               “Yes. Why?”

               “I was worried that you were immunocompromised. But it seems that your immune system has just been weakened by stress.”

               “Do you like Sherlock Holmes?” Virgil wondered out loud.

               “I do hold a special fondness for him.” Logan smiled at him. “Cold, analytical, brilliant. And driven to distraction by these very gifts. I could always relate to that for some reason.”

               Virgil was surprised by this. His dad had always said that people like Logan couldn’t relate to things. That they couldn’t feel. They couldn’t love. What else had he lied about?

               “Do you have a favorite story?” Virgil leaned in closer.

               “I’m not sure I do. It’s been a while since I ranked them.” He looked up like he was thinking. “I always appreciated the introduction of Irene Addler. Before it became overly romanticized.”

               “Really, the one where Sherls gets emotionally attached to someone?”

               “It wasn’t emotional, he was thrilled to have someone on his level. He admired her as a worthy opponent.”

               They were interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

               “I wonder who that could be.” Logan stood up.

               “Wait, I’ll get it.” Virgil fought gravity. “Whoever it is is gonna be so confused.”

               “Most of our neighbors realize we took you in,” Logan argued. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

               Virgil crutched to the door with Logan in tow.

               “I’m gonna pretend that I’ve been here the whole time.” He grinned.

               “That won’t work.” Logan said flatly.

               Well, it was Thomas outside. The one person he couldn’t mess with.

               “Hi Thomas.” Virgil said trying not to sound deflated.

               “Hey Virgil.” He seemed surprised to see him. “Hey Logan.”

               “Hello Thomas.” Logan said, taking control of the door. “I assume you’re here to check up on us.”

               “I gotta do my job.” Thomas shrugged with a smile.

               “Well, in that case come right in.”

               The three of them went back into the living room.

               “I see you’re making a pretty good recovery, huh Virge?” Thomas smiled brightly.

               “Yeah.” Virgil hovered awkwardly over the couch, waiting for one of them to say he could sit down.

               “Virgil you can sit.” Logan said abruptly. “You don’t have to wait for permission.”

               “What?” Virgil said trying to mask embarrassment. “I’m not. I just…”

               He sat down quietly. Thomas and Logan exchanged looks. What were they thinking?

               “Logan,” Thomas said, his demeanor dropping. “I’d like to talk to you and Patton alone if I could. It’s about,” He looked at Virgil. “Well, it’s about what your next move should be in order to get custody.”

               “Alright.” Logan looked faintly timid. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

               The two disappeared into the other room. As soon as they were gone Virgil limped over to the door and eavesdropped.

               “I know this is early on,” Thomas began. “But I’d like to know if your gonna sue Payton for custody of Virgil. And the sooner the better.”

               “We’ve already talked about.” Patton said softly, there was guilt in his voice. “We’re suing for custody.”

               “You’re certain?” Thomas asked.

               “If we get custody of Virgil legally then Payton can’t get him back even if he gets out of the charges against him.” Logan explained. “It is the best possible option.”

               Thomas sighed.

               “I have to ask,” He said heavily. “Do you two want Virgil? This is a long-term thing, he’s not just here on vacation. If you do this, he’s yours, forever. Are you sure you two are down for that?”

               “I mean, we’ve been wanting to adopt for a while now.” Patton added. “We understand what it takes to raise a kid, or teenager.”

               “I believe we’re ready for the responsibility.” Logan chimed in. “Besides, Patton is very attached to him by now.”

               “Well, in that case.” Thomas continued. “I can line you up with a lawyer and I think we have a pretty solid case.”

               “Virgil isn’t gonna have to testify, is he?” Patton asked quickly.

               “He can if he wants to. And it would certainly help the case against Payton. But if he doesn’t think he can do it, no one’s gonna force him.”

               Virgil slid to the floor. They wanted him. Why did they want him? A tear traced down his cheek. Could they really want him?

               Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He yelled internally.

               “Why did you come down here to ask us that?” Logan questioned. “Did something else come up?”

               “Virgil has records in a hospital out of state, from last fall. Around the end of summer. Before your brother moved back here.” Thomas sighed. “Official cause of the injuries is that he fell down the basement stairs, but…”

               “I see.” Logan audibly grimaced somehow.

               “Was he very badly hurt?” Patton asked in a half whisper half growl.

               “The so-called fall ruptured his appendix. They had to cut it out. He almost bled to death.” Thomas spat out the words as if they tasted vile. “Aside from that he had a collapsed lung. And then…”

               “The usual ‘I’m gonna beat a child half to death and say he fell down the stairs’ type injuries.” Patton said hotly. “Never mind suing him, I’m gonna kill him.”

               “Patton, it’s alright. Virgil’s safe now.”

               “That kills people!”

               “I know.”

               “People die!”

               “Patton, breathe. Count to ten.”

               “Did he say why he beat an innocent kid half to death?! Fun?! Sport?!”

               “Ok, how about you walk this off?”

               Virgil heard the back door open and close. It was probably best to get out of dodge at this point, so he crawled back to the couch. He had much to ponder.

               Patton and Logan both seemed like they wanted him. And Patton was indignant at the idea of beating him, so there may not be any of that. Cool. But was it for the benefit of the social worker? Surely no one can get that angry on command. Right?

               Logan and Thomas left the kitchen. Thomas looked impressed.

               “Patton doesn’t normally lose his temper like that.” Logan awkwardly explained. “He just gets defensive of kids and animals. He teaches second grade.”

               “I’m concerned about the rage thing,” Thomas said, “But not as much as you think I am. Based on that I can probably assume he won’t hit a kid. But I can’t really assume things in this job.”

               “So, what is going to come of that?” Logan asked.

               “Nothing, for now.” Thomas shrugged. “I can’t really do much. As long as he doesn’t prove himself to be an unfit parent, we can’t do anything.”

               “I understand.” Logan nodded. “And I promise that Patton would never do anything to hurt anyone.”

               “I didn’t think he could. I mean, just look at him.” Thomas laughed, breaking the tension.

               “Do you have a calling card for any good lawyers?”

               Thomas handed Logan eight different cards.

               “Three of those are psychiatrists slash family therapists.” He said pointing at the stack. “I think you actually met one of them already, Dr. Emile Picani?”

               “Yes, he was very thorough.”

               “Yeah, he mostly does family counseling, but he’s pretty good. Very approachable.”

               “That is useful when dealing with children.”

               “Especially kids who…” Thomas sighed. “Yeah.”

               “Would you care to talk to Virgil?” Logan gestured towards the couch where he was sitting.

               “Do you mind if I talk to him alone?”

               “Not at all.” Logan walked back into the kitchen.

               Thomas walked over and sat down besides Virgil.

               “Sup kid?” He asked casually.

               “Nothing really.” Virgil tried to size him up. He could probably take this dude, if he hadn’t of lost all that weight last year. “It’s nice here.”

               “How are you adjusting?”

               “Ok, I guess. I don’t really have anything to go off of. How does everyone else adjust?”

               “Differently.” Thomas smiled at him. So, he was funny. “Are the guys treating you ok?”

               “It’s a low bar. And they’re way above it, like they can’t even see the bar anymore. The bar is a dot to them.”

               “I’m not sure I understand.”

               “They’ve all been really great.” Virgil looked at the floor. “I… I like it here.”

               “That’s good.” Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “Are you healing up ok?”

               “Yeah, Logan has been helping me with the bandages. And Patton’s been fussing over me nonstop. He won’t let me go thirty minutes without getting water.”

               “How terrible.” Thomas joked sarcastically.

               “So, I guess I’m ok. Can I ask you something?”

               “You just did.” Thomas pointed at him and beamed. “But you can ask me something else.”

               “What’s gonna happen to my dad? Is he gonna come back?”

               “Your dad is being charged with a lot of things.” Thomas lapsed into talking to a little kid mode. “And if he’s found guilty, he’s going to prison for a long time.”

               “Is there a chance he won’t be found guilty?”

               “I don’t know. But I think he’d have to bend reality for that to happen.”

               “Do I need to testify in court?” The idea of it made him itch.

               “You can, and it would help the case. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Nobody’s going to make you face him unless you’re sure you’re ready to.”

               Afraid, who’s afraid? I’m not scared of him. Virgil defended internally.  

               “I can face him.” Virgil scoffed.

               “We don’t have to worry about that right now.” Thomas didn’t buy it. Stupid human lie detector. He changed the subject. “I see you tricked out your cast.”

               “Yeah,” Virgil perked up. “Roman painted it for me. It’s awesome. He did his too.”

               “You are a kid.” Thomas said enthusiastically. “I was worried you lost that.”

               “Did you think I was a giraffe?” Virgil held up his hands in question.  

               “I thought you were a badger.” Thomas patted him on the head. “I’m happy for you kid.”

               “Thanks.”

               “And I think everything’s going to work out.”

               “Do you?” Virgil looked up at his seriously.

               “I do.” Thomas stood up. “We’ll make sure of it.”

               Why though?

               “Cool.” Virgil said to the floor. “I’ll see ya around.”

               “Not if I see you first.” Thomas retorted. “Peace out.”

               War in. Warren.

               With that Thomas left. Not long after he was gone Patton came in through the front door. He still looked a bit peeved. He moved over to the couch and sat down blankly.

               “Virgil,” He asked. “Can I give you a hug?”

               Hell yeah, I want a hug! A voice that was all but forgotten rang through his mind.

               “Sure.” He played it off.

               Patton enveloped him like a cocoon. It was amazing. That warm and safe feeling wafted over him. He felt himself relax and sighed contentedly. Maybe he could just stay here.

               You’ve got something nice going, don’t blow it. His thoughts intruded on the moment.

               Leave me alone.

               Don’t blow this.

               I won’t. shut up.

               You already blew it.

               I haven’t done anything!

               You lied to Logan about being held back, and you lied to Patton about having friends.

               Maybe I’ll just come clean.

               So, maybe they like being lied to. So, maybe they don’t think of you as that monster’s son. So, maybe they won’t mind that you got held back.

               Patton got held back, he’s not making a big deal out of it. And he was upset about what dad did.

               Remember what dad said though.

               SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME HAVE THIS!!!

               Fine, if you think you can keep this.

               “It’s ok, I’ve got you.” Patton broke in. Soothing him as he pet his hair.

               OH MY GOD HE CAN READ MINDS!!!!!!!!!  

               “I…I know.” He stuttered. “Why would you say such a thing?”

               “You were whimpering.” Patton looked confused. “I thought you were upset.”

               It’s worse than I thought, he can’t read minds. I’m just shit at hiding my emotions.

               “I was probably just breathing funny.” He felt his face redden.

               “Ok.” Patton smoothed his hair a few more times. “I’m gonna check on dinner. Do you wanna eat out here or in the kitchen?”

               “I’ll eat with you guys. Unless you think that’ll get you sick.”

               “We both work with kids.” Patton laughed. “I’ve got antibodies to things you’ve never heard of.”

               Both of them walked back across the room to the kitchen. Patton contentedly chattering about teaching school and whatever else he was thinking about. It was a very homey feel, not Virgil’s home. Somewhere nice.

               Remember what he said.

               “Patton,” Virgil asked, pulling himself smaller. “Did you really get held back a year?”

               “Yeah. The only classes I had good grades in were history and home ec. But the next year I went to tutoring for just about everything. That’s how I met Logan. And Roman.”

               “Did any of your friends think less of you?”

               “Not the ones who mattered.”

               “How do you know who matters?”

               “Everyone who abandoned me or judged me didn’t matter.” He sighed. “Sure. I found that out the hard way. But it was a good lesson to learn.”

               “What’d your parents think?”

               “Mom was disappointed, but fair about the whole thing. And I hadn’t actually seen my dad since I was nine. So, he was fine with it.”

               Remember what he told you. Remember what he said.

               “What about my dad?” Virgil cringed.

               “He made fun of me a lot.” Patton stared intensely at the wall. “But as time went on he got a girl pregnant and then cheated on her with another guy. So, he really wasn’t all that either.”

               “My mom? Or do I have half siblings?”

               “It was your mom. The guy was Roman’s brother weirdly enough.”

               “Yeah, you mentioned him.”

               “Yeah, he’s kinda the black sheep of the family though.”

               “You guys don’t have good luck with brothers.”

               “I never thought of it like that.” Patton tilted his head.

               Virgil smiled down at the floor. Patton’s head tilt was adorable. He looked like a giant puppy.

               “Cookie for your thoughts kiddo?” Patton asked, sitting him down at the table.

               “It’s nothing.” Virgil smiled at him.

               You’re thinking about what he said!

               “Alright then.” Patton teased. “No cookie for you.”

               Virgil laughed.

[captnswilson]

Please could you do “Frankly, my dear, I do give a damn" for Charles/Erik! Thank you!

To be honest, that quote is just an excuse for me to post a fix-it fic that I really wanted to write. It’s longer than my one shots usually are and I’m kinda satisfied with the result. I hope you’ll like it as well!

Summary: Dark Phoenix fix-it. The blood on Jean’s shirt belongs to Charles and that revelation leads to a heated confrontation between Erik and Jean. However, when it turns out Charles is still alive but badly injured, Erik rushes to see him. Will he be able to leave him once again or maybe this time he’ll choose to stay?

You can also read it on AO3.

———————————————————————————————————–

There’s Still Hope

“Whose blood is that?”

Erik tried to restrain himself from thinking about the worst possible scenario. Keeping his nerves in check was difficult when he had no control over the situation. The blood on Jean’s shirt made him want to destroy everything that surrounded him. Including her.

“I didn’t want to hurt him.” Jean shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Charles… He shouldn’t have lied to me.”

She raised her head to look at him, and what she saw warned her of the impending danger. The whole tent began to shake. Erik raised his hands; every metal thing rose up. He hurled them towards Jean, but she stood up and stopped them without any effort.

Everything fell to the ground and before Erik could react, a powerful force threw him out of the tent. He lost his breath for a moment, but the pain he felt deep inside was much stronger. She could not hurt him more than she already had.

“I came here because I thought you would help me. Turns out you’re no better than him.”

The other mutants moved to his rescue, but Erik raised his hand, ordering them not to step up. It was personal. He stood up slowly, ready to risk his life in the fight for justice. He had nothing more to lose.

“Did you really expect me to praise you?” Erik spat out words with so much hatred that it was surprising even for him. “You took Charles away from me! You killed him and now I’m going to kill you.”

A metal balk tightened around Jean’s neck. Erik felt incredible satisfaction when he saw her fighting for another breath. However, it lasted only a moment. A sudden headache knocked Erik to his knees. He grabbed his hair, shouted and bent in pain. Then he involuntary levitated in the air, his eyes getting redder by the second. Having dealt with Erik’s attack, Jean stayed on the ground and focused on keeping her opponent as high as possible. Her face was distorted with rage.

“If you don’t want to help me then don’t. Just stay out of my way.” She threw him at a building. Erik hit it with his back and fell hard to the ground. Jean leaned over him and confessed, “I hurt Charles, but I didn’t kill him. You still have a reason to live, Erik. Don’t waste it.”

She looked at him one last time and flew away. Erik rolled over with a hysterical laugh. Tears flowed from his eyes, and blood trickled from his nose, but it barely caught his attention. Not all hope was lost, as Charles would say.

***

Fresh, cold air rushed into the room through the open window. Charles barely felt it. He was lying in his bed and staring blindly at the ceiling. There was nothing better to do. His whole body ached, at least those parts that still worked. He knew that Raven was right outside the door, ready to help him if he wanted to leave the room. At that moment, however, interacting with people was the last thing he wanted.

The physical damage was not so important. His chest wouldn’t hurt too long. The wound under his eye would heal as well. He was more worried about the mental damage. Jean had got into his head and made sure Charles would not find her. In fact, not only did Charles struggle with locating his former student. He couldn’t hear Raven’s thoughts even though she was approximately close. He had problems concentrating, and with every effort, his head ached. Eventually, he stopped trying. He became so emotionally numb that all he seemed capable of feeling was guilt.

And he was guilty without any doubt. Everyone blamed him for what had happened but attempted at not making it that oblivious when he was recovering. He’d been guilty many years ago, lying to Jean. He’d been guilty recently, risking the lives of his team. Now everyone doubted him and he began to doubt himself too. Maybe it would be best if he left. It was not his school anymore if he couldn’t provide his students with a sense of security. If they no longer believed in him.

The door opened abruptly, interrupting Charles’ train of thoughts. Raven peeked at him and hesitated for a fraction of a second before she announced, “There’s someone who would like to see you.”

His first thought was Jean. He pulled himself up on the pillows, wondering about the right words. If she changed her mind, if she decided to come back, he had to be persuasive enough to convince her to stay. But before he could think of anything worth saying, the last person he had expected to see came into the room.

It was as if his presence breathed life into Charles again.

“Erik?”

His old friend looked as if someone had thrown him against the wall several times. Despite this small detail, he had not really changed much in recent years. Charles hadn’t seen him for so long that he was clearly touched by his visit.

Meanwhile, Erik let out a sigh of relief at his sight. After the unpleasant encounter with Jean, he just had to make sure that Charles was truly alright. Slightly battered and exhausted, his friend seemed pretty much alive and that was all that mattered. The way in which he spoke his name made Erik feel as if they had split up just yesterday. Coming back to Charles was simple and difficult at the same time.

He wanted to say something brilliant, but he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he only managed to notice, “Charles. You look like shit.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Raven laughed.

When the door closed behind her, Erik put his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them. Meanwhile, Charles brightened up and forgot about his dark thoughts for a moment.

“You’re as charming as usual, Erik,” he joked. “I suggest you take a sit and enlighten me about the very reason for your astonishing visit.”

“Do I need a reason to visit my old friend?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m also afraid that this has something to do with one of my students. Unfortunately, she has weakened me so much that I cannot read the truth from your mind, but your eyes say enough. She came to you, didn’t she?”

Erik sighed. It was cold in the room, so he closed the window and then sat down in a chair next to Charles’ bed. There was still a shadow of rage in his heart that he had felt when he had found out whose blood had been on Jean’s shirt. He was partly grateful that Charles could not see his memories. Erik would appear too exposed, too vulnerable.

“I thought she had killed you, Charles.” Erik raised his head and looked at the only person who he would not bear to lose. He was sure of that now. “She came to me for help with blood on her shirt…”

“My blood.” Charles guessed in what direction his speech was heading. “So you attacked her. Bloody hell, Erik, she could’ve killed you! You have no idea how strong she has become.”

“I experienced a foretaste of what she is capable of. She speared your life, and then she speared mine, but she won’t do it again. I may not be able to defeat her alone, but with you…”

Charles laughed, yet it was not a happy laugh that reminded Erik of training and playing chess together. Charles’ voice was devoid of joy. He didn’t seem angry or surprised, but rather disappointed.

“And to think that for a split second, I let myself hope that you came here because you were worried about me.” Charles shook his head, and Erik felt as if someone had hit him in the stomach. He’d rather face Jean again than get misunderstood by his best friend. “I won’t help you kill my student, Erik. It may be difficult for you to comprehend, but some of us give a damn about others and, despite everything, see a chance for them to return to the right path.”

Erik got up and went to the window just so that Charles could not see the expression on his face. Though his thoughts were safe, his entire attitude tried to get the truth to the surface. Erik took a deep breath, clenching his hands on the windowsill until his knuckles turned white.

“Frankly, my dear, I do give a damn,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to kill her because she kicked my ass or because she is a threat to us all, which you seem to blindly ignore. I want to kill her because she almost took away the only person I still care about.”

He couldn’t express it in a more obvious way. It left Charles speechless. His lips parted slightly, but they didn’t utter any word. None was appropriate. He stealthily wiped his watery eyes. It turned out there was someone who still cared for him, and it was the person he least expected but valued the most. Erik had a tendency to leave him, but now that Charles needed him like never before, he came.

“If what you say is true, then help me find her and bring her home. It’s my fault, Erik, not hers. Each of us goes astray sometimes. I will never stop believing in Jean, just like I’ve never stopped believing in you. I’m only asking you for a bit of faith. If not in her, then have some faith in me.”

Charles was too indulgent, but, after all, it was his goodness that attracted Erik so much to him. He was the only source of light in his world filled with suffering and tragic memories. Erik turned away from the window, looked at his friend, who was actually much more than that, deciding once and for all that he wouldn’t let them part ways again.

“Let us assume that we will succeed,” he said. “We bring her back, everyone is happy, no one dies. And then what? I have no intention of leaving you.”

This time Charles’s smile was more sincere and even overawed. Once he would have called himself a master in flirting, but now with Erik, things were a bit different. They were walking on thin ice and Charles didn’t want to fall into the icy water.

“Oh, Erik. It only took you almost losing me to realize we should be together. Well, better late than never. So what do you suggest? My guess is that you do not wish to stay here.”

“Not really. I mean, if it was just Raven, that quick kid Peter, Hank, you and me, then maybe I’d handle it, but all those kids?” Erik sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “I was thinking about something calmer. There is such a place in Genosha. A beautiful, old house, away from the city. A lot of greenery suitable for picnics. Blue sky. No fights with people or mutants. Just the two of us.”

It was so easy to believe him. Charles did not answer. Instead, led by a force that was above him, he gently touched Erik’s temple with his fingers. His power returned as if it had never left. He saw it with his own eyes - a place which awaited him, tempted him with its beauty and the promise of peace.

Maybe he was tired. Maybe this constant struggle was beyond his strength. Maybe the only thing he needed was Erik. Maybe they fought with each other and with their own feelings for so many years just to cut themselves off from everything else and limit their worlds to one another. Was it selfish - to crave for this beautiful, peaceful life?

Charles dropped onto the pillows. Although the power returned, he was still very weak. Erik reached out and ran his hand over Charles’ cheek.

“You need a rest,” he concluded. “I’ll see you later and we’ll try to come up with a plan.”

Unable to resist, Erik leaned over and left a kiss on Charles’ forehead. That brief gesture was so intimate that it seemed more significant than if they kissed on the lips. Erik walked around the bed and headed for the door, but Charles managed to stop him by grabbing his hand.

“What was it?” He asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“A promise that when you wake up, I’ll be here. Now that there’s hope for us, you won’t get rid of me too easily, Charles.”

Erik gave him a mysterious smile and gently let go of his hand. Charles felt his touch long after the door closed. He fell asleep wrapped in the comforting thought that Erik remained somewhere there, closer than ever before, and their happy ending was just around the corner.

[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Chapter 24: Occlumency

“Harry did not mention his vague suspicions to Sirius, whose cheerfulness was evaporating fast now that Christmas was over. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called ‘fits of the sullens’, in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time. His gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of them became infected by it. Harry didn’t want to leave Sirius again with only Kreacher for company; in fact, for the first time in his life, he was not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts.” – “Fits of the sullen” is a very nice way to describe that Sirius is going through a depressive episode. Something Harry can’t quite understand because he is too young or because mental health isn’t something that is talked about in the Wizarding World it seems, or perhaps both. But his instant reaction is that he does not want to leave Sirius alone in his state, because he sees Sirius as his responsibility. This is something that often occurs when a parent or parent figure becomes ill (mentally or physically), that the roles are reversed and the child instantly starts to take care of their parents.

Also, this is the first time that Harry acts like a normal child, who doesn’t like the idea of returning to school. Hogwarts has been in the last years his safe place, the place where he felt accepted, where his friends are, his home. However Umbridge has destroyed Harry’s home. He gets isolated (no contact to anyone outside Hogwarts), his privileges are taken away from him (Quidditch) and he got physically abused in a place he considers to be safe.

“Harry had an unpleasant constricted sensation in his chest; he did not want to say goodbye to Sirius. He had a bad feeling about this parting; he didn’t know when they would next see each other and he felt it was incumbent upon him to say something to Sirius to stop him doing anything stupid – Harry was worried that Snape’s accusation of cowardice had stung Sirius so badly he might even now be planning some foolhardy trip beyond Grimmauld Place.” – Reading this and knowing exactly where this story ends makes you realize how cruel J.K. Rowling is (it’s like Cedric’s father talking about his future grandchildren again).

“‘OK,’ said Harry, stowing the package away in the inside pocket of his jacket, but he knew he would never use whatever it was. It would not be he, Harry, who lured Sirius from his place of safety, no matter how foully Snape treated him in their forthcoming Occlumency classes.” – REALLY J.K.?

That whole exchange between Harry and Cho, with him finally realizing she wanted him to ask her out, was super awkward and left me mortified with second-hand-embarrassment. It is also totally how I would ask someone out.

I’ve already talked in my previous chapter note about the Wizarding World’s huge issue with consent and Legilimency is obviously part of it, as one’s mind is intruded without giving consent, even to the point where you can manipulate what the other one sees. In order to successfully protect yourself from such an act of violence Snape informs Harry to control his emotions, to get rid of them.  Harry is unable to do so, and it is always portrayed as a weakness – if he had learned to control his emotions Voldemort could have never manipulated him, resulting in Sirius’s death. And yet his emotions are also his biggest strength because it makes it impossible for Voldemort to possess him. But I think that this general advice to show no emotions, to always be tough, to man up is not very healthy at all. Harry never had anyone to share his feelings with until he entered Hogwarts and it is still hard for him. Cho’s constant crying annoys him because he doesn’t know how to react. Hermione had to actually explain to Harry how she feels. And I think that anger, unlike crying or sadness, is considered to be an acceptable emotion for young men or men in general. It is okay if they are angry, if they are violent, and for many it is the only way to deal with their negative emotions. Harry still suffers from PTSD (and he possibly will long after the war is over) and never gets the help he needs. He never learned to deal with his emotions in a healthy way, and Snape’s advice to shut them down doesn’t help either.

“Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily – weak people, in other words – they stand no chance against his powers!” – Funny but to me Snape is exactly the kind of guy who wallows in sad memories and gets easily provoked. I mean we talk about an adult man who lets the anger directed at Harry’s father out on Harry himself, an innocent child after all. Despite being good at Occlumency, Snape is exactly the kind of weak he describes here, and I think he knows and hates himself for it.

“As he opened it, he glanced back at Snape, who had his back to Harry and was scooping his own thoughts out of the Pensieve with the tip of his wand and replacing them carefully inside his own head.” – Interesting. I always assumed you can only take your thoughts out your mind, not back in. And of course the thought would not be lost, but rather be in a visible form so you can look at it from a distance. Does that mean that Dumbledore eventually put all of his thoughts back in his mind again? Do you have to or else you forget them?

[inked-foundry]

Not finished but I’m still super proud of myself that I managed to write 1600 words today! I don’t know how!

Just a short excerpt from a bit on Apollo and Danae dragging Minerva into an agreement she isn’t exactly happy to accept.

Minerva turned the envelope over in her hands, running her thumb across the royal seal of the phoenix, dusted with gold and violet paint. She’d never expected to earn an invitation to the palace. But of course, she’d have to keep it on her if she had any hopes of getting in. It may have been lunch they were asking her to attend, but she was still a known crime boss.

It was an enigma at all that she would be the presence of royalty.

They’d request she wear the beast she owned. She supposed they’d have to take her boots and slacks, as scuffed and patched as they were, strung up by suspenders. She covered it all up with her father’s old jacket.

As she was pulling it on (the outerwear nearly taut across her broad shoulders), there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she muttered, rolling down the sleeves. Her tattoos were a pride, but perhaps not something to flaunt today.

The door squeaked open on its hinges. Minerva knew from the voice alone it was Adonis in the threshold. “I think you ought to need a sort of escort on your way to the palace?” He mused. Minerva cast a glance over her shoulder to catch him playing with an end of his hair, dyed silver. “I might be impressive enough.”

“Stop playing pretty boy, bub.” Minerva snorted. She fixed her collar and smoothed down her short tuft of hair as final touches. Brushing him aside as she walked through the door, she noted, “If you really want to be helpful that damn bad, sit at my desk and let any grunts that bother coming in know that I’m out.”

Adonis pouted, hanging onto Minerva’s arm as he left. “C’mon, can’t you just entertain me for this once?”

“Buddy, there’s no way in hell I’m entertaining you,” Minerva huffed. She fought herself free with a simple nudge, brushing off her sleeve, like he’d left some sort of grime on it. “Shut up and find someone else to fawn over. Now get your ass in that desk or leave, or some poor soul is going to be on the wrong end of my knuckles.”

With a bristle and an annoyed noise, Adonis shuffled into her office, dusting off his vest as he went along. His legs seemed to long for his body as he dropped himself into the upholstered leather seat, a foot dangling over the arm.

“Don’t get cocky,” Minerva muttered.

And she left for the streets.

* * *

There was a member of the royal guard at opposite corners of the room. Both of them had some fancy pins decking their pristine white jackets, but Minerva couldn’t help but smirk at how pompous and presumptuous the nobles could be. Neither of them had fantastic figures beneath the layers. Her brawn could snap them like carrots when it came down to it.

At least she could say she had the experience to prove it.

Then across the circular table from her were Lord Apollo Crane and her Highness, Princess Danae. Sitting before them, it was as if a political cartoonist had designed them to be as physically different as possible.

Danae was a stout thing with a mane of dark hair, sapphire and emerald eyes keen and infinitely judging. Her floor-sweeping dress seemed like a joke. It was doubtlessly impractical and unimpressive to Minerva alongside her tiara and dainty little gloves. It was cute to see the heiress try to intimidate her, though.

Apollo, meanwhile, was an immense man, to the point that he hardly fit in his chair. He was certainly more casual, gold hair lazily pulled back and bronze eyes warm, if worried. His stubble was growing a bit out of control, admittedly. His outfit wasn’t much more formal than Minerva’s, lacking any flourishes between his sweater vest and tie.

She’d met authorities who had played like this before, one acting kinder and the other being more brutal. Except Danae was a mere child. There wasn’t much to worry about.

She just had to get the upper hand.

At least the spread of food on the table made things a tad less formal. Some of it was fancier things Minerva had never even considered in the Gutters. Just to be safe, she helped herself to a lobster.

“Thank you for joining us here today, Miss Arc,” Apollo began. He folded his hands together on the table, carefully watching Minerva’s every move. He seemed particularly tense when she picked up a knife. “We do apologize for such short notice.”

“I know the formalities, bub,” Minerva noted. She cut off a piece of lobster meat and ate it at her leisure, making the nobles wait for her to swallow before continuing, “Let’s get past this and to what’s more important, alright?”

The corners of Danae’s mouth twitched. “May I remind you that you are no longer within your own territory, Miss Arc? We could arrest you in contempt of nobility at the very least, and on several thousand charges for both direct and indirect crimes, including—”

“And what can you do about that, princess?” Minerva raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have any actual power, do you?”

Danae kept her face calm, but her eyes filled with a sort of rage that you only saw from Hylos when he was plotting war for the gods. She turned to Apollo stiffly. “Apollo, can you please assist me here?”

“There are royal guards in the room if you need to be restrained, but I am quite sure you are not as intense as the rumors say,” Apollo offered, ever content. But by the look of anguish on Danae’s face, it wasn’t as harsh as a response as she was hoping for.

“Apollo,” Danae mused.

Apollo’s face first showed signs of sterness as he briefly turned to the princess, chiding, “Let’s be civil.” He lowered his voice and leaned over, but years of back-room eavesdropping let Minerva hear him mutter, “I can take care of this. Please take this as practice for future diplomacy.”

He reached over and plucked a deviled egg from a platter, offering it to Danae. She just sank deeper into her chair and sulked. Apollo shrugged and popped it into his own mouth.

“I didn’t know court members doubled as babysitters,” Minerva mused. She cut off another piece of lobster and filled her mouth before either of the nobles could demand an apology.

“Civility, please, Miss Arc,” Apollo was on the verge of begging. Good.

“Then that’s just boring, bub.” Minerva finally let herself smirk. They couldn’t touch her. All their threats were idle attempts to get her into submission. It was cute, almost. But if they needed her enough to call her here, they couldn’t just arrest her. “So enlighten me. Why did you decide to bother me today?”

Apollo drew in a deep breath. “We have a request to make.”

Minerva pushed her plate out of the way and leaned in, elbows on the table. “How many tallions are we talking?”

“We won’t be paying you anything,” Danae added with a bit of smugness. At least she had enough arrogance to be a decent figurehead—Minerva could give her that. “It’s more a favor for the crown, with the return benefit that we don’t send in the guard and halt your little operation in its stride.”

The gears in Minerva’s head came to a halt. What the hell was going on?

“There’s quite a bit going on in the palace at the moment, and we won’t bore you with the details, as you so bluntly put it,” Apollo sighed. He sat straighter, and though he was a behemoth to begin with, Minerva finally began to realize just how tall he was. “As much as it would be best for everyone involved to shut down the crime you organize, it… provides a few sparks of business here and there. Money is money, I’m afraid, wherever it comes from. And we will admit that you give some chance for those in the Gutters to rise to a great socioeconomic status.”

“Are you just here to butter me up?” Minerva snorted. “If so, do continue.”

“The gist of it is, Miss Arc, we cannot force you to stop your organization without causing an entire subsect of the city’s economy from toppling.” Danae mimicked Apollo’s straightening of the spine, hardly looking any bigger. “We ask that you momentarily halt operations until the palace gets itself in order.”

Halt operations.

She had people that needed money. These people only had one way to make money to bring home, some having younger siblings to support or simply needed to keep themselves afloat. These people had loans to pay off and couldn’t afford to be late. Apollo and Danae were going to crush far more than an small source of business. Asking her to stop was putting people’s lives on the line.

“Excuse me, bub?” Minerva immediately reached into the center of the table and ripped a crab’s leg off the shell, waving it in the air. She burst out of her seat and asked, “You see this?” She snapped it in half, then halved the half. Tossing it haphazardly across the table, she spat at Apollo, “This is going to be your gods-damned arm unless you stop joking!”

The guards immediately reached for their swords.

Apollo held up a hand to hold them back as he rose out of his seat. “Please compose yourself, Miss Arc.”

“It’s not something I can just stop, asshole,” Minerva explained.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter Six: Flashback, one of two, and also Maya’s in it

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist]

“Hey, Chief, question: so murder’s murder even if it’s one of the Fair F -- the fae, who’s murdered.”

“Murder is murder when a person is killed, accounting for manslaughter, accidental death, and the like -- honestly, Phoenix, you just think a person doesn’t count?”

“No! I mean, like… It just surprises me, is all, that you would let a human court arbitrate it and not just…”

“Revenge ourselves on the suspected killer with our magics in our home realm?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s always a possibility -- but it’s far too messy. That sort of thing tends to drag others who are far outside of the disagreement into the fighting, by way of networks of alliances, and before you know it there’s a full war that began because of a stupid crime of passion in a human bar. Some time before me, our Courts decided that humans and your courts and laws are the closest to fair, neutral judgment available, and that we would abide by their verdicts. Oh, certainly humanity was not consulted, but it is to your benefit to investigate the killings of fae, so as the allies of the deceased will not strike a curse down on all who were in the vicinity. And besides, you don’t think that, if humanity agreed that fae deaths won’t be tried, that rule wouldn’t be abused? That any man might claim his neighbor was one of the Fair Folk and killing him does not ‘count’ -- that any mother might throw her child in a fire because it acted just the slightest bit strange and claim that its life was forfeit on her suspicion?”

“You say that humans are fair and then list out all that. Neutral, with our lying and biases and stupid foolhardy impulsive actions--”

“Other than lies, we have the same faults, but so often magnified. We are impulsive and petty and cruel, with bias bred into our bloodlines -- it is an imperfect decision, as we are imperfect, as you are imperfect, as I have found even your laws to be. We make do with our best. It is all we have, in the end.”

-

A cold iron stake through the heart will kill anyone, not just one of the fae.

The same, Phoenix thinks, would go for an iron bullet through the forehead.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what Magnifi was -- Zak told him that from the beginning, and Pearl’s gift confirms for him that he wasn’t lying. And even without it, he could still see the lingering traces that Zak was a witch -- once. Their powers fade quickly when their patron is gone. He knows that without asking.

If it should matter, though, there is no way to prove to anyone else what Magnifi was.

Fae corpses don’t leave evidence. If they leave a corpse at all -- most do, but not all, and those deaths by their nature are never judged but in the Courts of Kurain, if the dead has the allies to bring the matter forth -- it is indistinguishable from a human’s, a last residual enchantment to make sure they cannot be ignored or dismissed.

Or to fuck with those left behind, as Phoenix comes to understand of Magnifi.

The evidence of the trial made that much obvious: one shot to the forehead; you cannot refuse, and we both know the reason why. A final cruelty to impart on those whom he bargained with -- and why wouldn’t he? If he knew he was dying -- of age, a curse from another, whatever it was -- the Gramarye witches would outlast him. And even if his death would take their powers away, the fae never like to feel that they’ve been cheated. One last indignity: don’t forget what you lost forever to make a bargain with me.

There is a lot Phoenix does not know, answers he is still seeking, but this, he understands. The nature of the fae, he understands.

The Bar Association suspends his badge pending inquiry, the hearing scheduled for one short week after the trial. News travels fast about Phoenix, ever since von Karma, ever since Gant, two pillars of the legal system he brought crumbling down, and the prosecution already had done half of their inquiry for them, placing Drew Misham in the courtroom with a speed that made Phoenix’s head spin. His memories of the trial are patchy, direly so, when it comes to the diary page -- how he got it, why he didn’t find it too suspicious to present -- and that will be his own inquiry: who fooled him, and how. It probably wasn’t Zak; it very likely could have been Gavin, a prodigy looking to make a name for himself, with enough enchantments and glamours to make it happen. He is human at the core and nowhere else, but the old adage, foot in each world, doesn’t seem so true, not when he drapes himself in iron jewelry like he thinks it can ground him firmly on this side of the veil.

Phoenix doesn’t trust him -- Phoenix has five people whom he personally trusts -- but he can’t condemn him, not yet. Not without more evidence.

The first lead he chases down is the forger himself, Drew Misham. (No, not himself.) The forger is his daughter, Vera, a shy, sickly little girl, and a changeling besides. Drew seems to know, but he won’t say it outright -- Vera is “exceptionally talented”, “a genius”, and he never makes eye contact with Phoenix. She was the only one to see the client’s face, and whoever it was has done a good job of convincing her to clam up. A gentle smile, she says. Like an angel, but for the briefest of moments -- a slip in the upkeep of a glamour? -- Vera saw the devil.

Not exactly helpful, and definitely worrying when compounded with the secret charm that she won’t show, but she does tell him that she lays an enchantment on all of her forgeries -- not in those exact words. Phoenix isn’t even sure that she realizes what she is, that her powers are not human.

Valant is the second he speaks with, at the detention center where he has been interred for trying to pin the murder on Zak. Talking to him -- or maybe it’s that Phoenix retrieved the magatama to keep with him on this investigation -- brings one memory into sharper focus -- the girl, the little girl, Zak’s daughter, as human as her father but draped in magic even when it was fading from Magnifi’s two pupils. And that is definitely worrying, too; Phoenix has stumbled sightlessly into the dark, and something monstrous is lurking in it.

He nearly misses his hearing -- an unnecessary formality because there wasn’t one among them, except apparently Kristoph Gavin, who hadn’t decided that Phoenix’s badge would be gone at the end of it -- trying to track down Trucy. The Gramaryes were an elusive coven -- Valant tried to make a cursory protest on the terminology, “Troupe! We were not…”, and Phoenix broke the single lock by just staring him down until he rescinded his words -- who were never found by those desperate enough to seek them out, but instead would appear to them in the midst of their search. If they had a home base, Valant won’t say, and no one else in the world knows. Zak’s daughter, Trucy is her name, could be anywhere in the city, anywhere beyond the city, out to the mountains of Kurain, and Phoenix might never find her.

Getting an answer from her about who she received the diary page from would be a bonus; Phoenix is more concerned for her sake. He was only able to briefly See her, but he didn’t like the glimpse.

This is going to take some assistance.

The first thing he can unearth in his apartment that can make a circular shape is an extension cord; he drags it out to the kitchen and sets a cold half of a ground beef patty on a plate in the center. The fake candles are back at the office, but that is an unneeded trifle -- funny, but unnecessary. “Maya,” he says, stepping back from the circle and closing his eyes, “there is someone I need your help to find.”

A cold gust of wind batters against his face. When he opens his eyes, the room has filled with a slowly-dispersing purple mist, twisting in strands around the fae standing in the circle. She has gained an extra pair of eyes since he last saw her, smaller slits right along the browbone, all four glowing red. The remaining mist settles about her head like hair or the headdress of royalty, not quite blending with the void-black tendrils that frame her face. One of them extends, almost like an extra arm made of shadow, down to the floor, snatching up the burger and tossing it into her mouth. She grins, the truest cheshire smile Phoenix has ever seen, stretching literally from pointed ear to ear, displaying dozens of huge sharp fangs. “Hey Nick!”

Immediately she turns to face the refrigerator right behind her. “Are you holding out on me? That was a lame burger just now.”

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my badge. I’m trying not to burn my savings on food too quickly.”

She cocks her head, still staring at the fridge. The mist doesn’t move with her like something part of her should. “Where’d you have it last?” she asks. “If you lost it at the office, Sis will probably have it on your desk in the next couple days.”

Ah. Literalism. The main weapon and weakness both of the fae. “No, I mean -- I was disbarred. I am no longer allowed to work as a lawyer--”

He stops when he sees Maya’s face. She has finally looked at him and her expression, however hard to parse it can be, shifts rapidly, the briefest flash of something like horror that twists into fury, a contorted, monstrous rage. “Who did this to you?” she snarls, and he didn’t know he looked, physically, that bad, or that she knew how to read the depths of his exhaustion and despair from his aura. “You want my help to hunt them down and eat their hearts?”

“No! No, that’s not what I want!”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I would throw it in for free.”

“No!” He bends down to break the circle and stops. “On the condition of not eating any part of a person, I let you leave.”

“For the duration of this summoning, you have my word,” she replies. He could -- should -- argue that, try and make it a blanket deal for eternity, but he decides they can negotiate that some other time. For now, he has what he needs, and he unwinds the extension cord.

When Maya steps forth, the glamour settles over her in a wave, the mist hanging over her settling into glossy black hair, her two smallest eyes vanishing and the others whitening and gaining dark irises, her mouth shrinking, and the four small glowing orbs that drift lazily about her face sink down to become four large beads of a necklace. And then she looks like an ordinary girl, late teens or early twenties, her hair done up in a topknot and her smile small but still toothy and just a little too sharp. “So who is it that you want to find?” she asks. She frowns, but it seems like such a minute motion compared to moments ago. “Is your prosecutor in trouble again, too?”

“No; that was last month.”

And he leaves her hanging on that one and they sit at the kitchen table while he instead begins to explain his own case, his own worst situation, and the Gramaryes. She repeats Magnifi’s name to herself after he says it, again and again until her voice loses its human quality, sounding instead like the clatter of bells or a windchime, until suddenly she snaps back. “This fae you call Magnifi -- he was banished, many years ago, stripped of his power with his name and cursed to never return.”

“Why?”

“He strove for power and made those who had that power very mad,” she answers. “And so -- ouch.” She picks at some stain on the table and Phoenix winces, anticipating her leaving claw marks gouged into the wood. “He had a daughter. No other allies besides her -- she left with him, naturally.”

“Thalassa,” Phoenix says. Maya nods. “It was a far fall for him, huh, to end up where he did. Probably all he had left was the power trip over Zak and Valant, and all they had was pretending that they weren’t witches sworn to some bastard.”

“That’s the funny part of it, kinda,” Maya says. “They didn’t even credit him, when they were saying they can perform spells for whatever sorry suckers show up hoping for a miracle -- they were just like ‘yeah, no fae involved, ignore that guy, we won’t screw you out of a deal’. And they by being like that probably screwed him out of dozens more deals with sad desperate humans. No wonder he decided his death should be one last one-over on them.”

Sitting cross-legged in her chair, her hands in her lap, she leans it back to balance impossibly on two legs. She likes to cause the double-take, to force Edgeworth or Franziska or whoever else to look twice at the way she twists the world around her. “And you’re looking for his granddaughter?” she asks. “Not his daughter?”

“Thalassa is dead,” Phoenix says. “And Trucy isn’t, yet, so yes, I’m looking for Trucy.”

“I’m vaguely flattered that you think I’m powerful enough that I can just find her, just like that,” Maya says. She doesn’t wobble. “It’s not so easy, not here in this realm, not without knowing her true name.” “Trucy Enigmar,” Phoenix says. “Or Trucy Gramarye.” Maya rolls her eyes. “I need to know which, Nick.” Names have more power in the Twilight Realm. It’s why Mia, even trying to be human, stumbled on names that weren’t Phoenix, the human whose life she owned, and Dahlia, the fae she defeated. It’s why Iris only ever called him Feenie. It was the kindest gesture she could make. In the same fashion, Maya calls him Nick. They don’t own him, not entirely, though they could. “It’s only two choices. You can’t guess?” “No. I need to know.” Half of magic is certainty, Maya and Dahlia so certain they have the world at their fingertips, Iris so much meeker and weaker than her sister, Vera knowing little about herself but knowing that once instructed she can create anything and that is all she needs to know. And Valant, weaker, because he was so sure he was second-best, a self-fulfilling prophecy, the only kind of prophecy that Phoenix ever sees. A spell can’t be cast on a guess. “Is there anything you can do if you go back to the Twilight Realm?” Phoenix asks. “Hm.” Maya holds her hands up, palms facing each other, and a purple glow begins to form around them. Then she claps them together and the light vanishes, her eyes glinting red for a moment in the sterile light of his kitchen. “I’ll ask Sis for help, first.” It has started to rain when they leave Phoenix’s apartment. Biking in this weather is unfortunate enough, but Maya insists on balancing herself on the handlebars, right in Phoenix’s line of sight, and this would be the most embarrassing way for Phoenix to die after everything he has been through. They are both soaked through to the skin but only fell once by the time they arrive at the office. The lights are already on and the heat is blasting a literal warm welcome. “Hey, Sis!” Maya calls into the silence. No answer comes forth, of course, but the smile on Maya’s face is one that shows her to be more at ease than in a long time. “I could use some help! Nick’s trying to steal a kid.” “I’m trying to help her,” Phoenix objects. “Honestly, Maya.” “Yeah, yeah.” Maya twirls through the office and her hair doesn’t move like it is heavy with water, or even like it has the weight of that much hair. She stops at the shelves of law books that Phoenix has meant to read for two and a half years and never did, running her fingers down the spines but not stopping at any of them and proceeding on to the binders and file folders full of Mia’s case references and research materials that Phoenix hasn’t known how to sort and get rid of. “Somewhere here,” she mutters, “maybe there’s something.” Phoenix gives her a moment to offer one before he asks for an explanation. “After our mother left,” she says, “Sis at some point moved some of the royal records out of the Twilight Realm. I think she was worried about our aunt getting her hands on them.” The pages turn without Maya touching them. Her bangs and the hair framing her face sway as though there is a gentle wind to tousle them. “But… nope.” She stops on a page and squints down at it, only to resume flipping a few seconds later. “This Magnifi of yours, his true name – it wasn’t just taken, but erased. There’s not even an echo for me to work from.” The binder slams shut and is tossed over her shoulder without her moving her hand. “If these witches were well-enough known, how did people usually find them?” “They didn’t,” Phoenix says. “Anyone who went looking for them, they would eventually appear to.” “Huh,” Maya says. “Well, we’ve got two options, now!” Phoenix is already bracing himself to hear them. “We can go out and wander until I find us a likely trail, or you can put up some – uh, wanted posters.” “Wanted? For the Old West, maybe, but—” “Then, a ‘lost kid’ kinda thing. You do that, right? With the description, and the phone number, and the reward money.” “That’s for pets.” “It could be for kids. Don’t let your narrow-minded cultural assumptions box you in.” “Ah.” Sometimes, Phoenix has no idea what the hell she is talking about. “If we’ve got to make a grid search of the city, we’d better get started.” Maya hops up onto the couch and pushes the curtains aside to look out at the rain. “Maya, do you know how big Los Angeles is?” She looks back at him with her head cocked. “No,” she says. “How big?” Again they set out, on foot this time. “We’re helping her by stealing her,” Maya says, jumping squarely into a puddle and splashing muddy streetwater up Phoenix’s jeans. “It’s not either-or.” She tilts her head back, face to the clouds that are darkening from gray to black as night falls. “I bet Sis can save her, like she did you.”

Streetlamps flicker as they pass, and in those brief spurts of shadow, Maya’s shape flickers too.

She leads him down streets he didn’t know existed, past storefronts that look long-abandoned, with neon signs still glowing in the windows but not the puddles they should be reflected in. “You definitely were enchanted, by the way,” she adds. “I can still see the residue.”

“It’s been a week,” Phoenix says.

“Well, double-layered enchantments are harder to shake off and take longer to fade.” She shakes her head. “You were doomed as soon as you took that paper, without anyone to help you. You’re only human, after all.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” A cheap, sad ball bounced back and forth between players of a game whose rules he doesn’t understand, then as in now, a pawn dragged to the other side of the board to be crowned a knight and turned back again.

“What did you say this coven called themselves, again?” Maya asks, when they’ve been out for a little more than an hour, Phoenix soaked through to the bone, Maya having given up the illusion that weather affects her the way it does mere mortals. Her skin does not shine wet in the light. Her hair still flutters like a ribbon with the breeze of passing cars.

“Gramarye.”

“The name itself might be an invocation,” she says.

“What, like ‘Bloody Mary’ three times in the mirror and she’ll--”

Maya squints at him. “I don’t know anyone who uses that moniker,” she says, very seriously. “Is that a meme?”

Phoenix regrets teaching her about memes, for many more reasons than this, but also specifically for this. “The -- the belief is that you say her name three times and she’ll appear behind you in the mirror.” He turns to his reflection, staring back at him out of the dark window of a closed-down ramen shop. “Gramarye,” he says firmly, despite feeling a little silly, and doubting that the reflection is even necessary. “Gramarye, Gramarye.”

“That’s not a mirror,” Maya says.

“I don’t wear makeup so I’m not going to just have one in my pocket--” Something flashes in the storefront window and Phoenix glances back. Something is glowing, a small pink light, and he figures that some neon sign in the shop has sputtered back to life until it moves, flitting about like a moth thumping up against a lamp. He looks back over his shoulder. There, down at the end of the block, the light is dancing up above the street. “Maya, look,” he says, nudging her, not even sure why he’s pointing it out but compelled to. “What’s that? We should go look—”

“Nope!” She grabs his arm and yanks him back. He hadn’t realized he ha started walking, toward it, until she stopped him. “What’d we just talk about, Nick?”

“Bloody Mary? Or that I’m only human?” The light pulses, brighter and softer, but never too bright that the glare is jarring in the dark and the rain.

“Yes! That without me you walk right into enchantments!”

“An enchantment?” He looks again at the light, really looks, but nothing about its shape or color changes and he takes another step forward. The edges of his vision are blurry, like he is staring through a sheet of falling water, and he should be able to see something—

He didn’t see anything suspicious about the diary page, either. Glancing over at Maya, his stomach momentarily turns over at the sight of the pale claws on his arm. “It’s trying to lead you astray,” she says, and even when she isn’t grinning, her full shark’s mouth of several rows of teeth is made visible, and she tugs at his arm again. “Back this way.”

The light bobs back and forth, sashaying forward as Phoenix moves away from it. “A will o’ the wisp?” he asks.

Maya nods. “A distraction,” she says, very seriously. “This is all very clever, actually.” One hand still closed around his upper arm -- he blinks and wills her claws to look like stubby nails and blunt fingertips again -- she pulls him back toward the storefront. “The doorway appears where there is a need, then the wisp distracts for the witch to step forth and seem to have just appeared from nowhere.” She reaches forward, touching a finger to the glass, and it wobbles and ripples like water, opening wider and wider a circle big enough to step through. “Because you can’t just teleport like that. There always has to be a door, but it adds to the illusion if it doesn’t look like there’s one.” Stepping to the side, she waves to usher Phoenix in first. He can see a stained wooden stairs descending, before they are swallowed up entirely by darkness. “Age before beauty!”

Even in the most human of her grins, he is reminded what she is.

Beneath his feet, the steps creak at every movement, the walls closing tighter and tighter as he descends, brushing against both of his shoulders at the same time. He fumbles forward, one hand stretched out groping blindly for an exit or a wall. Maya is prodding him in the back as they go -- “C’mon, Nick, you’re so slow!”

“I can’t see,” he protests, right as he walks straight into something solid, the impact of his hand against it jarring his entire body. “Ah.”

Maya’s hand brushes past his ear to reach over and tap the wall. With a loud scraping sound, a thin crack of light slowly spreads wider and wider, shifting aside to reveal the interior of a gaudy gilded room. It isn’t the decrepit shack he expected, no rats or exposed wires or broken furniture, but it still disgusts what slight aesthetic sense he has. Everything is gold, or red, or black, a collection of clashing decorative styles, Victorian-looking couches with abstract modernist tables and shelves, and a few implements that look like something from a circus, strange boxes and colorful flags and hula hoops.

Stage magic. Phoenix snorts.

Sitting on the couch, a blue plastic bowl in her hands, a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on its way to her mouth, is Zak’s daughter. “Oh!” she says brightly, through a mouthful of noodles. “Hi, Mr Lawyer! If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let Mr Hat lead you away.”

Mr Hat? Phoenix mouths it at Maya, even though reasonably there is no way she will know what that means. She shrugs. “Hi Trucy,” he says, looking around for a place to sit and deciding he doesn’t trust anything in this place. “Your daddy hasn’t come back, has he?”

Her face falls. “No,” she says. “He hasn’t. But he told me I could trust you, Mr Lawyer!”

Why, Phoenix so desperately wants to ask, but he is trying to keep that trust and that question will not do him any good. “I did some digging to find out if you have any other family,” he says, trying to keep eye contact with her while also watching where he puts his feet. “And it didn’t seem like it, so I wondered if you wanted to stay with me for a little while -- until your daddy comes back.”

She nearly overturns her bowl trying to set it down. “So if I stay with you,” she says, “does that mean we’ll be family?”

“I, uh… I guess so?”

Maya is laughing quietly as she circles the room, plucking up the decorations on the mantles and setting them back down. “Who is she?” Trucy asks. “Will she be my new mommy?”

“Er -- no. No, no.”

Trucy’s face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Since my mommy disappeared years ago, I thought I might get a new one now too.”

“No,” Phoenix says, “she’s just -- a friend.” Sort of. As much as human and fae can ever be friends, without the tangle of deals and magic and curses that always litter those relationships. He’s heard of romantic couplings of fae and human -- ones genuinely built on love, he means -- but that was not his experience and he has no intention of repeating anything close to that situation.

“I’m Maya,” she says. “Nick and I have known each other for a few years now. You can trust him.” She grins. Trucy hasn’t recoiled from horror from her; it doesn’t appear that she has the Sight, and another quick glance over her confirms that. Phoenix hadn’t paid attention to that last time, distracted as he was by everything else that was going on, with her, and in general. Now he can see that her eyes don’t change, but marked around them is a teal glow, in the shape of a diamond, over each of her eyes like a variation on a domino mask. He can’t quite tell what it means; curses are always easier to read, a red slash across the throat only really meaning one thing.

In the meantime, until he can ask Maya out-of-earshot, he decides he should stop staring and instead deal directly with the situation he has invited upon himself. “Oh, Trucy? You don’t have to call me ‘Mr Wright’ or ‘Mr Lawyer’ or anything. You can just call me Nick if you want.” He scratches his head, as the depth of this is beginning to weigh on him. “Or even ‘Daddy’ someday, but not now if you don’t want to--”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Oh. Okay.

“I have to get my stuff, if I’m going to be living with you,” Trucy says. “I’ll be right back!”

She springs to her feet and runs off into the next room. Phoenix moves to follow her, not sure if this place won’t swallow them both up, never to be spat back out into the world. “It’s truth, if you’re wondering,” Maya says, opening an ancient-looking wooden cupboard and rifling around in it. “The blessing on her,” she adds, emerging with a pack of microwave mac-and-cheese that for some reason was stashed there, and tearing open the pack of cheese powder and shaking it into her mouth. “It probably doesn’t look quite the same as Pearly gave you, but I wouldn’t recommend lying to her.”

“I see,” he says.

“No, you didn’t See. You were wondering.” She grins again, and she swallows the package of pasta, plastic and all. Once she told him that she can unhinge her jaw like a snake to swallow anything as big as her head; he wishes that she could lie. He wishes that her sense of humor could extend beyond literalism into exaggerated falseholds.

He steps into the hall that Trucy disappeared down, just far enough to see her running from room to room, with the clattering of objects upended and tossed aside. “Do you need help carrying things?” he calls.

Trucy sticks her head back into the hall, beaming. “Nope!” she says proudly. “I have this!” She waves at him a huge pair of frilly pink bloomers, and part of him -- most of him -- does not want to ask, but he also does not want to trek back into this hideout when he finds out she didn’t bring any of her clothes. “My magic panties are better than any suitcase!”

“Can you… elaborate?”

She reaches in through the top of the bloomers and pulls forth a pink cape. “Oh,” he says, but she drops the cape in a heap on the floor and reaches again to bring out a t-shirt. “Okay, I see. Thank you.”

Maya has wandered into the kitchen area and is continuing to devour everything she can find in the cabinets. Phoenix decides against asking her to leave him some of it to bring home for him and Trucy now. “This really isn’t a liminal space, is it?” Phoenix asks. He would be able to see if it were, the way magic hangs in the very air in his office, the way Mia herself and the last traces of her life linger.

Maya shakes her head and sinks her teeth into three donuts stacked together like a hamburger. “Hidden by magic, but no closer to the Twilight Realm than anywhere else. She’d have at least a bit of the Sight if it were.” She leans up against the wall, watching Phoenix with eyes that glamour doesn’t quite have a hold over, flickering as they do to red. “But even then, she might still be too young to know to be afraid.”

[runningwolf62]

This ended up much larger, more emotional, and gayer than expected so, win?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | AO3 | Buy me a Ko-fi

Larry spends an hour on the phone getting details out of Phoenix, which boils down to he’s been forced to prove a client not guilty because someone has taken Maya hostage, and Larry is utterly baffled but agrees to not call the cops and somehow they work themselves up and then back down, before Larry suggests Phoenix get on it, and he’ll be here if Nick needs anything.

“And I mean that, man, all hands on deck,” Larry is babbling but he hopes it helps and for Nick he’d do damn near anything.

“Thanks Larry,” Nick lets out a rough breath, and Larry feels it in his soul, they’ve lost too much, he can’t see Nick lose her too, “Pearls was smart, she suggested we told Detective Gumshoe, so he’s lending a hand, more than usual, so…”

Larry lets out a quiet laugh, “I’m glad someone here is smart,” ‘cause Maya’s not here to do the thinking for Nick, “take care of her, and yourself Nick, and get ‘em Turnabout King.”

He knows the only reason Phoenix called him is because he has no one else but he still hopes he helps.

He’s too anxious to keep applying for jobs so he goes for fanfiction instead. He’s glad he’d already written Gumshoe and Maggey Byrde in, as a pair of rogues left over from Demon’s rogue group, Timber and Bird, who had been helped during Firebirdstorm’s brief bout of amnesia.

-

“Cherrywing’s missing,” Firebirdstorm said, the two rogues blink in surprise, Orangestripe stepped up beside his friend.

“Look, we think a rogue took her to use against us, and we don’t know where to look,” Firebirdstorm’s fur stood on end, it gave him a wild look, not unlike he’d gone through a bush backwards.

Timber let out a low sigh and blinked at him, “I won’t lead you to where the rest of us are hidin’ pal, and Viper won’t be happy to see us talkin’ to you but we’ll keep our eyes open.” Orangestripe’s chest tightened and he flexed his claws against the ground.

Bird lifted her head, with a look at Timber, “we can ask around too, Viper can’t complain that we’re looking for Clan cats on our territory, and we can just say we smelled someone had crossed the border, which has to be true somewhere if she’s been kidnapped.”

Timber flattened his ears, but Firebirdstorm stepped forward again, “please.”

“Alright pal,” Timber’s shoulders slumped, “you keep your eyes out too and check back here, if we have anything to report, we’ll meet you here.”

“Thank you,” Firebirdstorm breathed out, some of his fur flattened, and Orangestripe felt a wave of relief through him. They hadn’t found her yet, but the pair of rogues would help them more than they could possibly know.

“Thank you so much,” he agreed, and gently nudged Firebirdstorm, “come on, let’s keep looking, and then we can get back to check on Splashkit.”

-

It doesn’t help. He tossed a message to XxWolfDragonxX, he doesn’t mention that Maya is missing, that would be more information than he’s ever given the guy, but hopefully he could distract himself by getting him talking.

He knows he won’t answer for some time so Larry spends most of it writing or researching details of the case online, not that he can find much that isn’t recent or gossip rags that probably won’t help Phoenix, but he now knows more about Matt Engarde than he ever wanted to.

XxWolfDragonxX has finally gotten back to him, and Larry is easily distracted with a conversation by goading XxWolfDragonxX into telling him everything wrong with the new book. It’s a good distraction. XxWolfDragonxX seems to realize that something is wrong but he doesn’t question it, other than to ask if there’s something he can do to help.

“You are,” Larry assures him, just having XxWolfDragonxX in his inbox is more than enough.

He sifts through all the news stories and writes up a summary of what he’s found, nothing particularly useful but he sends the document to Phoenix anyway, he hopes that something he found helps. He hopes Phoenix bothers to look at it.

He curls up and goes back to writing fanfiction, and checking his email and phone for both job interviews and news.

-

Orangestripe prowled along the border, tasting the air, his tail flicked back and forth behind him as he looked for any sign of Cherrywing.

A familiar scent caught his tongue as he breathed in, and he paused, raising his head to breathe in the air.

“Wolf?” he asked, staring into the darkness across the border. It couldn’t be.

But sure enough a familiar gray tom slipped out of the undergrowth, his ragged pelt almost silver in the moonlight, he lifted his tail in greeting, like it hadn’t been moons since Firebirdstorm and Orangestripe ran away from home looking for Sharppaw. He’d gotten bigger since Orangestripe had last seen him, like he wasn’t already huge before.

“Orangepaw!” He trotted forward, halting when he caught a whiff of the border, “I thought this was where you and Firebirdpaw headed, I’ve been looking for you two, how big is this forest?”

“Huge,” Orangestripe couldn’t help but let out a purr, “and it’s Orangestripe now, Orangestripe and Firebirdstorm.” He took a deep breath and sank his claws into the earth, “it’s great to see you.”

“But…” The tom tilted his head, “let me guess, I came at a terrible time?”

“Something like that,” Orangestripe let out a rough breath, “have you seen a cream she-cat with brown paws, tail and face?”

“I haven’t,” Wolf’s ears perk, the tom looked concerned and Orangestripe can’t blame him, “you’re rather good at losing friends.”

-

Larry has to take a minute to recover from the truth of that sentence, him more than Phoenix, he who clings to shadows of friendships while Phoenix builds his life into something lasting. He checks to see if XxWolfDragonxX has gotten back to him,

-

“More than you know,” Orangestripe mumbled before he met Wolf’s steady gaze, drawing some strength from the loner’s confidence, “but hey I found you didn’t I?”

“More like I found you,” Wolf teased back, his thick tail swung behind him, and he tilted his head, eyes gleaming as he studied Orangestripe, “do you want me to see if I can’t find her?”

“I-” Orangestripe shook his head, “just be careful, there’s rogues in the woods.” Wolf let out a scoff, and rolled his shoulders.

“I’ve been handling myself this long Orangestripe,” he crossed the border for a heartbeat to bump his head into Orangestripe’s shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye out for your friend.”

“Honestly, just getting to talk to you is enough,” Orangestripe replied, flicking his whiskers, “like I know you said you’d look for us but I honestly didn’t think we’d see you again.”

“Well I’ll be around if you need me,” Wolf assured him, and blinked at him, “you can let Firebirdstorm know too.”

“Thank you,” and Orangestripe means it, more than he can possible put into words, but judging by Wolf’s face he understands.

He watched the loner slip into the night, and sat down at the border, with the vain hope that maybe he would see Timber or Bird with news of Cherrywing.

-

He publishes the chapter like that, he felt that was a good stopping point, and now he has to wait. Will he have to spare Maya too, the way he’s spared Mia all this time? What would Phoenix do if he lost her? Larry can only imagine how he’d lose Phoenix to the grief. He cannot do this again, Maya and Edgeworth in just over a year will destroy Nick.

He jots a down a scene between Spiritstar and Firebirdstorm because no matter what, Nick will blame himself, and no matter what, he knows Mia would’ve never held it against him.

He refreshes fanfiction.net to check his reviews when he spots a message in his inbox. He clicks on that first, despite the fact his review count has gone up.

XxWolfDragonxX is concerned, and Larry feels an immediate wave of guilt as he reads the message.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but I’m glad I could help. Do you need to talk or was last chapter just fiction?”

Larry rereads it several times, and tries not to cry because fuck he’s known XxWolfDragonxX for years now. He’s never realized just how lucky he is to know the other fan.

“I’m going through some stuff right now, I’m kind of worried one of my oldest friendships is breaking down, they only called me yesterday because something went wrong and I was the only one he could talk to.”

“Sounds like a shitty friend.”

Larry feels an intense urge to defend Phoenix and starts typing before he thinks about it.

“No he’s just been really busy and like, I know he’s got a lot going on and I’m really happy for him ‘cause he’s really made something of himself it still kind of hurts to realize he’s leaving me behind.”

It’s then that Larry realizes that it is perhaps him that is the shitty friend. When’s the last time he talked to Phoenix about something other than girls? He shakes the thought off, it’s just that he’s already upset. He’s been helping Nick for the past year deal with Edgeworth. Why is he only happiest when he’s with Maya? Larry swallows against his own anxiety and gets up to get a drink.

He comes back to another message. He almost shoots water out his nose.

“Okay. He’s lucky to have someone like you in his pack.”

"Dude really? Still with the wolf thing?"

"It's my brand."

"*Vine voice* On every level but physical I am a wolf."

“That is Classified footage of me.”

“I’d believe it.”

Larry is laughing now though, he has to set his cup safely to the side so he can lean against the desk and laugh, he doesn’t think it’s that funny but honestly it’s a tension break, and it’s one he needs.

“Good, I am a trustworthy source.”

“You are. Known that since you said cats could be gay. Thanks by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Cats can be gay.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

Larry hesitates and then replies honestly.

“It is to me.”

The words sit on the screen for some time before he brings himself to refresh. There’s a few minutes before WolfDragon replies and Larry worries he’s gone too far and scared off one of his two remaining friends.

“I’m going to be honest with you. Consider it repayment for… a lot. Back when we were teenagers I was going through a lot, and your fanfiction, and talking to you, well, there was a lot going on then and you don’t know how much I looked forward to your fic, it was my life line in a lot of ways.”

And then about a year or two later Larry ditched him. But there’s more to the message.

“And sure it was Warriors but it was more than that, you were more than that, and I really looked forward to your updates and getting to talk to you. So don’t worry about it. I’ve owed you this much for a long time.”

Larry has to drink his water and figure out how to reply, because that was backstory he wasn’t prepared for, that he’s meant as much to WolfDragon as the guy’s meant to him.

“I had no idea. Fuck. I looked forward to talking to you to, it was nice to have a place to vent and gush about Warriors and just kind of forget everything, and I needed that too. Glad I could do that for you too. You don’t owe me anything though.”

“Well no, that’s what friends are for.”

“You’re trying to make me cry now.”

“Well now I’m gonna have to get a plane ticket and come over there.”

“Will they let your fursuit through security?”

“Oh that would be a sick burn if it didn’t come from a Warrior Cats Fanfiction Author.”

That sends Larry back into stitches, and they move to lighter things but there’s a hint of something deeper, a shift from old friends reconnecting to a newer deeper friendship. Something more adult, more supportive. Larry welcomes it.

It’s weird how blurry the days are, but he and WolfDragon spend long times talking, when WolfDragon has the time, just about banal stuff, favorite Warriors, what scenes they’d have rewritten, what they’d rewrite now, WolfDragon bitches about paperwork, Larry tells him to be glad he at least has a job, they keep it light, and it keeps Larry from worrying about Maya.

Until after WolfDragon’s gone to bed, and his phone buzzes once.

He about knocks the wind out of himself lunging for it, and finds a single message, from Nick. He takes a deep breath, and opens it, ready as he’ll ever be for yet another loss.

Maya safe. Going 2 dinner now. Lost the case.

What the fuck Nick? Larry is both relieved and furious, and calls him to demand he explain. The voice mail he ends up leaving is mostly relieved with a few, “hey dude, you can’t just say that, call me back and explain everything.” And not just for his fanfiction’s sake.

Nick doesn’t call him, but Larry doesn’t hold it against him, he’s probably still celebrating having gotten Maya back. He does head out at lunch time though, to Eldoon’s. It’s within his week’s budget if he misses a dinner somewhere, but with the amount of sodium he’s about to eat, probably for the best. With any luck he’ll run into Nick and Co celebrating their victory.

Maybe Maya and Nick decided Pearl couldn’t handle that much salt because there’s no sign of them. Or maybe they got it for breakfast. Nick is that much of a disaster after all.

He gets a cheap but filling order, and starts to walk away to eat it when he feels the heart attack hit. That or he chokes. One or the other, because someone says his name, someone that shouldn’t and he whips around, convinced that the grim reaper has come for him.

“I suppose Wright isn’t here,” the dead man says and Larry can’t even wonder why the reaper would take that form or look for Phoenix when he’s come for Larry’s immortal soul, all he manages to splutter out between partially chewed noodles is one word.

“Edgey?”

[linkspooky]

Linkspooky, how do you think Kaneki will be punished for eating the Oggai ?

I’ve mentioned this vaguely before but let’s compile this all together in one post for my favorite follower amon 15. Anyway let’s talk about Amon for a second instead of Kaneki. 

Amon’s arc is primarily about orphans, or specifically those who are orphaned by the current state of the world. Amon himself is an orphan even before ghouls came into contact with his life, he spent a great deal of time living at an orphanage, and even that small amount of peace came to an end because his caretaker turned out to be a ghoul who specifically victimized other orphans. (That’s Hajime up there for those who still don’t know, more under the cut). 

Amon has always had strong feelings about orphans, and he blames himself for allowing more orphans to die by Donato’s hands because his want for having a family made him believe and play along with Donato’s idea of playing house until it became patently obvious what was really happening to the children of Donato’s orphanage. Then, even after that time, Amon chose to continue participating in the lie and cooperated with Donato to some extent. Of course neither of these things are Amon’s fault, especially since he was a child who would have had to stand against an SS ranked ghoul at the time. However, what’s important is Amon’s perception of these things, he has a clear sense of survivor’s guilt and feels there must be a reason that he survived. The fact that Amon’s so desperate in looking for a reason to move so often as I elaborated on in a previous post can be traced back to this, that he feels he needs to repent for his sins that as a child he really was not responsible for at the time. 

Amon really can’t accept the reality that some part of him loved Donato, and Donato spared him most likely because he loved him in return, and because of that he’s instead constantly crafting narratives like this. That the cross is a symbol of repentance for ignorance, that Donato must have had some reason for letting him live that tied into him being a ghoul.  

Amon has strong feelings though, that’s undeniable. At least in Tokyo Ghoul he was driven strongly first by his own ignorance in the situation when he was young, but also by the idea of orphans, and a world that created so many lost and drifting orphans. This is why he empathized so much with the Yasuhisas upon recognizing them instantly as one eyed ghouls, because he knew from the academy days they were orphans just like him. The point I am leading up to is Amon describes himself as empty right now because he has lost a singular reason to motivate himself behind. As I established above, Amon likes to have reasons to justify his own continued survival. He needs to craft narratives around his experiences to handle them in a way that’s similar to Kaneki. Even when he felt empty, apparently he was still doing something by ‘feeling emptiness’ in his own words. 

The point is though that Amon cannot be empty, because before this point he’s always been extremely emotional. He thinks he is empty for the same reason that Akira does, because he represses his emotions. We know this because Amon has attempted to use his kagune twice in the series, something that ends up heavily tied to emotion in some ghouls, and both times he exploded into a screaming kakuja giant. Not only that but Amon has not really faced the thing which rendered him empty, he has not accepted himself as a ghoul in any way. If anything he’s surrounded himself by humans and returned to his old place of being.

My point being those emotions are still there, Amon is simply living in denial of them. It’s almost like he’s... ignorant. Which makes sense as he threw the cross that was the symbol of him recognizing that he lived in ignorance once to Seidou. Amazingly after the fact, Seidou who had been delusional almost the entirety of Tokyo Ghoul Re: instead became a much more self aware character cognizant of who he was, and Amon in his place began clinging to the past instead. Unlike Seidou though who was denied physically by the plot his ability to cling to the past (showing up to save Houji and Akira at last moment did nothing to help his hero fantasy), Amon’s so far has been tolerated.

Seidou was even denied his chance to give back the cross to Amon. Which might indicate that Seidou might never give the cross back (which could be a good thing as, as I established above the cross is also a sign of Amon’s survivor’s guilt for things that could not have possibly been is fault as a child, and stepping down and accepting this might help Amon more than continuing to live in guilt). Which means we have buildup of three significant factors, one Amon’s original feelings towards orphaned and lost children, two Amon’s current feelings of repression and emptiness, and three Amon’s ignorance of the situation. 

There’s an elpehant in the room that none of the aces seem to want to discuss at the moment. That the person they’re trying to save is someone who himself, made the choice to eat all those children. While it makes sense why Touka might not as she viewed them only as attackers trying to slaughter the defensless members of Goat, it’s important to remember that those children were too, defenseless and taken advantage of, and left to the wayside by adults in their life. Hajime was only 12 years old. If Amon is not responsible for being unable to stop the murders that Donato committed because he was a child, then Hajime should not be held responsible for himself either. 

There has to be a plot reason that it was Hajime, the exact same kid from 200 chapters ago that Amon saw right before the daughter arc, as the one who Kaneki first ate in order to become dragon. That connection would be completely superfluous unless it was meant to develop something later, as we’ve seen before Ishida has no problem introducing late game characters.

So we see Amon, right at this moment agreeing to help Kaneki without knowing the full picture. As everybody present seems to have forgotten conveniently the moral dilemna that the Oggai presented, and that nobody responsible tried to be accountable, or even to save them. However, the manga would not bring that up if it did not intend to resolve it. 

So we have Amon who knew Hajime Hazuki by name, wanted to become somebody who could change the world in order to protect orphans, and also is a walking kakuja ticking time bomb entering this fight. Specifically enterting because both Hide and Akira assume most likely that he would be a more stable person to fight than Seidou. However, there is a ton of foreshadowing that Amon could become a dragon in his own regard, and Hajime just might serve as the trigger to this. As somebody has to hold Kaneki accountable for what he decided was acceptable to do to 100 children. Just to clarify, it’s fine that characters do bad things in a narrative, but they have to be held accountable by that same narrative. I’m not talking moralistically this is just basic rules of fiction. 

Capsule marked :Re, three capsules Total. It’s now confirmed in manga that the one eyed king also became a dragon. If Amon turns dragon, that means three one eyes turning into three dragons. 

The rest will be borrowed from @floppyamon​‘s dragon and phoenix theory, which should show you how this dragon thing has been building up around Amon for a long time. Amon is pictured delbierately with a dragon in the calendar.

A japanese dragon is known specifically for having three claws (look at the dragon in the picture above).

The name Amon Koutarou  (亜門 鋼太朗) means “subdivision” or “gate” and  “clear thick steel”. Dragons in Japanese lore are meant to be the guardians of mountains (subdivisions and gates across the land) and are known for making intense, impenetrable, sudden flooding with their control over rivers (clear thick steel).

Remember, that this koi design on Furuta’s katana was early foreshadowing that Furuta himself was going to make a ritual to create a dragon. There’s a japanese legend that Koi swim upstream through a gate in order to become dragons. 

Amon wearing the Arata armor has been compared in the past to the image that accompanied the famous “magicians controlling dragons” line. The veteran detective thing also mentioned in the same panel can be read as a reference to one of Amon’s novel stories where he literally teams up with a detective to chase down a human serial killer who cooperates with ghouls.

(This detective actually).

Also narratively, Amon has always served as a device to come into conflict with Kaneki and through that remind Kaneki of his humanity. 

We were deliberately reminded of this pattern, but instead of resolving it given a situation where Kaneki chose not to conflict with Amon. Which makes the whole arc between them seem unresolved, or intentionally left as a loose end for an even greater resolution later.

There you have it, I believe it’s most likely Amon who will serve as karma to kagune, because once he realizes Hajime has been victimzed by Kaneki he’ll remember his original reason for fighting, and then make the situation between Kaneki and the CCG a whole lot more complicated. 

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                  Mark Tuan, who is known by no other name;                                                   a 25 year old son of Benzaiten.                               He is a general surgeon at Asclepius General Hospital.

FC NAME/GROUP: Mark Tuan / Got7 CHARACTER NAME: Mark Tuan AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 25 ; June 12, 1992 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, South Korea OCCUPATION: General Surgeon at Asclepius General Hospital HEIGHT: 6’0 (182 cm) WEIGHT: 165 lb (75 kg) DEFINING FEATURES: Has a scar running from the middle of his nape and shoulder blade, one tattoo on his left pectoral (x) and one behind his right ear (x)

PERSONALITY: Mark generally is a very open-minded person, he has his goals in life and knows what is possible and not possible for him to do, though he tries anyway. He keeps a very wide outlook on life in general, always searching to do more even if he might not be able to do it, while simultaneously keeping those he cares about close to his heart. Speaking of people he cares about, Mark is prone to easily making friends and can often be seen talking with at least someone, even if it is on the phone. He is very friendly and kind, and lots of people know him as the go-to advice giver and a good listener and shoulder to cry on if you need one. Although people would consider him “popular” in a sense, Mark only considers himself a good friend to those who need one, and would gladly use his luck to help others if they needed it. Skinship is almost subconscious to him, as he almost always has an arm around someone or holding hands with another. Hugs are his go-to greeting, and even for those who he isn’t even close with he tries to make them feel as included and welcomed as if they were best friends.

HISTORY: TW: Death, Parental Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Slight Gore

First and foremost, Mark was a joyous gift to his family. The youngest of 4 older siblings, his birth was the only non-painful one his mother, a retired seamstress, had conceived. His stepfather, a brute ex-military officer who had married his mother while she was pregnant with him, called his son a lucky bastard, seeing as for some unknown reason the hospital bill was way below anything the parents had expected and left more than enough money to provide Mark with materialistic happiness. Upon arriving home to the family’s beautiful villa, his family was ecstatic on how everything had seemed to flip right-side up with his birth, and he immediately became the star-child, Sibling rivalry was basically non-existent, with his elder brothers and sisters wanting to spend more than enough “quality” time with the boy. He grew up with a relatively easy childhood, filled with happiness, love, and a hell of a lot of fun times. In his school he was known as the popular kid, but acted far from it. He could be found socializing with almost everyone who wanted to be socialized with, and because of their tendency of things going right around him people stuck to Mark like a magnet.

Despite this, not everything was roses and kisses back home. Although not noticed when he was younger, his father had began to become extremely distant and aggressive to Mark and his mother, not to mention the general public. It was clear his father was hiding something from the family, especially when Mark used to ask his father why he looked so different from his mother and other siblings. What had started as shoves and starting fights had escalated to physically sending Mark and his mother to the hospital on multiple occasions, and even going so far as death threats. His mother was confused and rattled by the sudden change in the behavior of the man she thought she loved, but to others it was clear that Mark’s father was jealous above all things. He was jealous of the attention Mark was getting, jealous that his son was the topic of conversation almost all the time, and jealous that everyone glorified him rather than the father as the protector and man of the household.

So, he decided to do something about it.

Mark was 16 the day his family was slaughtered like animals in their own home, with him barely making it out alive. He was lucky enough to have been outside, climbing a tree, when he heard the screams of his mother and eldest brother echoing through the open windows, prompting him to bolt towards his house and investigate the sounds. Upon entering his parent’s bedroom he finds his mother laying flat across her bed, slash marks littering her backside in a bloody mess. His brother is stuffed in the corner of the room, a bloody blanket thrown over his body in a lazy attempt to hide him. Mark has little time to mourn, however, as he hears gunshots downstairs and more screams he pinpoints as his other siblings. Rushing after the sound, he finds himself in the living room where the bodies of his brothers and sisters lay one on top of the other in a heap, blood decorating the furniture and bullet holes embedded in the walls.

The only person missing was Mark’s father.

And then he heard running footsteps approaching behind him, his instincts taking control as he shoots out of the room, not even taking a look behind him as he sprints out of the house and down the road. He’s fast and quick, which is good, and although he can hear who he knows is his father running after him he knows the man won’t be able to catch up to the teenager.

And he keeps running, up until he manages to find and break into a car to take him away from the city. He doesn’t want to stay, doesn’t want to deal with the murder of his family, and for once in his life he doesn’t want to be the star boy. All he knows is he wants to disappear, and in the midst of doing so he comes across an unmarked bridge he has never seen before, leading far off into the distant fog which offers a promising shelter to the society he has known.

Mark is lucky and he knows it, but that didn’t stop his family from being killed.

PANTHEON: Japanese CHILD OF: Benten/Benzaiten POWERS: Mark’s abilities take on both a passive and forefront stance, although not entirely direct. For one, Mark has a naturally good tendency of luck running with him with whatever he does, good or bad. Things that may seem seemingly impossible may become the possible for Mark and he has a natural affinity for good things happening in his life. Things always seem to go right with Mark around, whether that directly affects people around him or not. His other power, a more direct type, is that he is able to “will” good luck on others for a short time for whatever usage they may have for it. This power is different from the latter, specifically because bestowing his own luck own another specifically changes their actions to the better, while his own personal luck changes the environment around them, although sometimes not directly affected..

STRENGTHS:

Mark, no matter what it is, has a high chance of succeeding in something due to his personal luck

Mark is able to affect other people too through his actions, for example due to his good surgeon skills that are influenced by his luck a patient may heal with no side effects or scarring

Mark’s luck can influence his words too, giving him a better chance in persuading and convincing others - this has gotten him out of sticky situations more than he can count

Although not directly altering his healing speed, if Mark is injured he has a better chance that there is no side effects, infections, scarring, etc

Mark, if in a dire circumstance, can consciously “will” all his luck to focus upon one action or such to conclude the best possible outcome

WEAKNESSES:

His luck does not completely alter his fate in any way, including death - in other words he has a better chance at surviving but he can still be killed if things “don’t go as planned” so to say

For those who use Mark’s luck, they experience a small period (usually 15-30 minutes) of bad luck that ranges randomly in extremity - Mark cannot control this whatsoever

Bestowing luck upon others takes up Mark’s energy, and although he can bestow luck on multiple people at at a time this can result in him becoming extremely fatigued.

While Mark’s luck never runs out, bestowed luck on other people only lasts for a maximum of 10 hours, during which Mark can at any time withdraw that luck

Whenever Mark uses all his luck for something (as explained in last point in ‘STRENGTHS’) he becomes extremely weak afterwards and if proper care is not given or if he pushes to far past his limit, he can possibly fall unconscious

By focusing all his luck into something Mark is voluntarily drawing back any given luck immediately

[buriedunderbones-blog]

EDGAR BONES APPLICATION

I realised that after the original main got hacked I didn’t re-post my application and I thought it would be helpful/interesting to have it somewhere that can be accessed by everyone. (It was a while ago now though so Ed now may differ a bit from my first idea of him. Also there may be some mistakes or spelling errors oops) Anyway, under the cut is my app for Ed!

DESIRED CHARACTER Edgar Bones

FACE CLAIM William Moseley 

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I find Hufflepuffs that really defy the house’s stereotype really interesting and in particular love the dark and brooding artist vibe of Edgar. I’m a huge fan of poetry and I can’t pretend that his name alone didn't interest me because of Edgar Allan Poe (& I can imagine he would be low-key pleased about sharing a name with one of the greats), but I was just so enthralled by the character, which is strange for me because I’m rarely drawn to characters I don't know at least a little bit about. The idea of a ‘loner’ Hufflepuff is super captivating because I can imagine how difficult it would be to be surrounded by people constantly asking how you are when you just want to be alone and stewing in angst. He obviously exhibits a lot of typically Hufflepuff traits; he is very good at giving solutions to problems and empathising with people, he’s hard working, loyal, and he has his head in the clouds a lot. However, he doesn’t appreciate empathy when it’s directed towards him, he is a ride or die friend to only a few people and doesn’t really fret over the rest, and he often prefers to be lost in thought than down on earth. His issues with commitment stem from his lack of communication skills; he can write down what he’s feeling, but it’s often hard for him to verbally open up to others. He isn’t particularly quick to anger, but he often jumps into fights just to feel the thrill of it; Edgar bottles up a lot of his emotions and, while he also lets them out through artistic means, he doesn't have a physical outlet. Part of him also just finds the feeling of bones cracking under his knuckles fascinating. He was definitely the type of child who killed ants with a magnifying glass, not out of cruelty, but morbid curiosity. The poem ‘Alone’ by Poe really resonates with how I see Edgar; he just doesn’t relate to a lot of the people around him and while they all focus on the blue skies, he cannot help but see the clouds. I usually find it really difficult to match characters to an Enneagram of personality number, but Edgar is definitely a strong 4. He is very much focused on being himself and idealises sadness and fantasising, but sometimes in trying to find and be himself, he loses sight of his core values. He has a lot of Ravenclaw in him, but ultimately he isn't calculated enough to be a Ravenclaw and he doesn’t value intelligence and learning above all. He has some Slytherin qualities, but he isn't ambitious or cunning enough; he doesn’t really lie (but he does withhold truth with silence) and he’s content to keep his dreams in his head. He can seem quite impulsive, but he doesn’t have that true Gryffindor recklessness (at least not for the same reason they have it: he isn't scared of death). He fights for the cause, not because he’s particularly passionate about it, but because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He may stray to the darker things in life and have trouble figuring out where he stands morally, but he’s loyal to his family and knows he will always stand with them. I’m not sure if these are reasons or me just explaining why I love him so much. He’s weird and he’s an outcast; he doesn’t fit in, but that’s what makes him all the more interesting. While a lot of people in his situation would reject the people who made him feel that way and join more radical groups (eg. death eaters, aversio) to feel like they belong, Edgar doesn’t do that. He knows that even if his opinions and experiences differ to that of his family, he'll stick by them no matter what. It’s that loyalty that makes him a Hufflepuff and stops him from floating away into his thoughts to the point of no return. (I could really go on forever, but I’ll stop)

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

He would work well with someone who balances him out and is willing to let him have alone time, but also doesn’t let him wallow in self-pity. He find it hard not to develop an emotional connection through sex, but he has a lot of commitment issues so casual sex can be a bit of a problem. (he does it anyway though) He’s mostly homosexual; although I wouldn’t completely rule out a m/f ship, I see him working better with guys.

♔ CREATE ONE (oops) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOCK BLOG ( buriedunderbones.tumblr.com ) where you can find the following: -A MOODBOARD ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438771802/edgar-bones-aesthetic-moodboard-no-one-remembers ) -AN AESTHETIC ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160440824792/edgar-bones-aesthetic-those-of-wit-and-learning ) -A PLAYLIST ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438809257/edgar-bones-playlist-listen-here ) -I also did a little past/present/future gif post  ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160446099697/and-all-i-loved-i-loved-alone-childhoods-hour )

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Edgar frowned thoughtfully, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if this counts really because its not an invention, as such, but it would be nice for invisibility cloaks to be more easily accessible.” He paused, unsure if he should continue. “I think- well, it’s, um, difficult sometimes to find a secluded place to think.” Edgar stuttered out, his mouth never had been quite on the same wavelength as his brain. Often people assumed he was shy, but he just struggled to get the right words on the tip of his tongue and by the time he finally managed most people stopped listening.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

An almost fond look overtook the wizard’s features as he remembered the Forbidden Forest. Nobody took Edgar Bones for a rule-breaker, but he often found the best places to be alone were the ones off-limits. He had actually spent a night there, in his sixth year, up in a tree observing the wilderness and pouring into his moleskine. It was nice to be completely immersed in human silence, listening only to the animals tearing each other apart in the night. It was as though he didn’t exist at all. “I would go myself; as much as I love my family they just don’t get it.” He explained truthfully. “And I’d take my journal and quill, or does that count as two objects? I’m not really familiar with the semantics of the hypotheticals…” He trailed off awkwardly.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

The hesitation on his face clearly indicated that the answer was ‘most of them’, but Edgar persevered with trying to come up with something more eloquent. “I feel a lot of emotions,” he struggled. “But I struggle to express them to other people, sometimes I don’t even want to. So, I suppose, I find it difficult to make the decisions that depend on showcasing my vulnerability.” Edgar shrugged slightly, as though to indicate he had nothing more to add.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“The spoken word is arbitrary; it’s what they don’t say that really counts.” His reply was more confident this time, but Edgar had always felt strongly towards the subject. Perhaps, it was because he was known to hide his own true feelings and knew exactly how cutthroat the human mind could be. Or perhaps he’d just heard whispers behind his back for too long to really worry about the sting of an insult that only reached his ears.

WRITING SAMPLE

The vast body of water rippled dangerously with life. Edgar sat alone at the edge of the Great Lake and gazed upon its magnificence. To some people, such depth and area may appear intimidating, but Edgar was no stranger to his insignificance on a universal level. He picked up a small flat stone from the damp sand and flicked his wrist, skipping it over the lake’s surface. The stars shone brightly, reflecting off of the black water, giving the illusion that the wizard was himself part of the night sky. Edgar had always been strangely calm, it was a sense of peace that others couldn’t begin to comprehend. He didn’t bother himself with questions of existence and life; he found a freedom in knowing that, in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t matter. He embraced the philosophy and sought comfort in the idea that if his actions had no large scale effect, then he need not bind himself to the morals of the many. This oncoming war, however, could serve to change Edgar’s whole being. 

The electricity in the air buzzed through him, wind whistling through his golden locks, and Edgar looked blankly at the grounds around him. Hogwarts castle was visible in the near distance, standing tall and regal as it had for many years. He envisioned the walls collapsing, turrets tumbling, silver bricks colliding with solid ground. Chaos wasn’t an unappealing idea to Edgar, but he would rather be contained by reasonable limits than let the world be overtaken in a blaze of fire. The Order of the Phoenix was supposedly a way he could stop that from happening. 

Amelia looked at him, eyes brimming with determination and hope. “We could really make a difference Eddy; this is our chance to do something.” She looked at him like he looked at the stars above, and he was powerless to resist. 

At first, Edgar was vehemently against the idea. He wanted to remain neutral. Not that he feared the danger that accompanied fighting the darkness; he had never been scared of death. Edgar spent his youth squashing insects and pulling the wings from butterflies, just to observe the consequences. His adolescent self channeled that feeling through his fists, acting out in violence to feel the emotions that escaped him. The sensation of his lip spitting and blood exploding from the gash was enough to make him grin. He wore black eyes like they were works of art speckled across his face.

The circle of people parted to let Edgar leave. He walked with a rare confidence, hands splattered purple and red. People started, open-mouthed, and he felt his anger balance out, tossing an easy ‘you should see the other guy’  over his shoulder. 

The other students sometimes laughed at him, but Edgar knew they’d all want him on their side in times of battle. He would protect his few friends with everything he had. No, he didn’t have the strongest morals, nor did he claim to, but of all the badgers his bite was the worst. 

However, for Edgar, a war, even one he wasn’t particularly tied to, could become quicksand. His embrace was wholehearted or non-existent. And, as he looked upon the place he had called home for so many years, Edgar whispered out into the open, empty air. “It’s not about the cause; it’s those standing by you that make the fighting worthwhile.”