#(Even if it said possibility is just equipping the spirit on the stage)

[big-man-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

Big Man should not be in the Smash Bros Temple stage

This is now possible in theory with the recent Deep Cut x Smash Bros Ultimate crossover event!

[ingravinoveritas]

What do you make of David sayin he’s an ally, not an active participant (in queer subcultures)?

Did he come out as straight? I’m not sure anyone has ever asked him directly, not that he needs to give any explanations, I’m just curious because he gives off such a queer vibe even when he’s been married forever.

https://www.attitude.co.uk/culture/david-tennant-on-the-spice-girls-spiceworld-movie-was-being-developed-before-they-even-released-a-single-459815/

Oh, my Asks/DMs have been blowing up over this one. I did have a chance to read this interview with David (is it me, or is he doing nonstop press lately?) and...wow. Definitely enjoyable, and noticeably more unhinged/queer than most of his other interviews (which makes sense, given that Attitude is an LGBTQ-focused publication). But let's get a screenshot up of the most talked about bit, so we can discuss:

Obviously there is a lot going on here, so I'm just going to go with what stood out to me most. I don't think there is anything in the world less surprising than David naming bears first, given certain preferences of his (which I've discussed several times previously on my blog).

What's really interesting though is that the question was asking about queer subcultures, but all of the ones David listed are used primarily (AFAIK, though someone please do correct me if I am wrong) in mlm/gay male relationships. "Queer" can be many things, after all--gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, ace--and yet when David heard "queer subcultures" he specifically went for the mlm/gay ones, and that definitely feels like an interesting choice.

The second thing that I felt was worth discussing is that a lot of the reactions I've seen to this is people saying how adorably clueless David is, or how "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit." And I'm sort of perplexed by this because we are talking about an almost 53-year-old man here, and I believe he knows damn well what all of those terms/subcultures are.

It's been brought to my attention (from what I would consider a very trustworthy source) that David is not at all as technologically illiterate as he pretends to be. Instead, it's actually part of a persona that he puts on to avoid dealing with issues that would arise from people knowing he is online. I had an inkling of this just from Georgia saying David was the one who set up all the equipment for when they filmed Staged at home (because why would such a task be put in the hands of someone who is hopeless with technology?). But having this confirmed also aligns with David creating a fake personal assistant in the early days of his career so he wouldn't have to fulfill certain social obligations, and to put a barrier between his real self and the world.

So why, then, wouldn't the same pattern possibly apply here?

I know there also tends to be this image of David as a "bumbling, goofy dad" type, and that's definitely part of him and what makes him so charming. But I don't think he is a fool, either--especially not after listening to him talk about Shakespeare or politics or anything else at length--and I think he certainly knows how to answer these types of questions. I think David is more than clever enough to give answers that are cheeky but not revealing, because he knows the purpose of all this is to promote the BAFTAs, not to be a deep, probing exposé on the life and times of David Tennant.

Which then brings me to the big, gay elephant standing in the middle of the room--a.k.a., "I'm an ally rather than an active participant." (Again...so many interesting word choices going on here, and none of it feels like an accident.)

Going back to what I mentioned about the focus of these interviews, I'd like to point out one notable thing that David himself said in the Radio Times interview earlier this week:

This, I think, sums up what we are seeing in all of these interviews: The version of David that he feels is safe to present to the world. He makes it clear as well that he is not going to reveal areas of his personal life while up on stage, and I would say that the same thing applies to these interviews. (It also speaks volumes that in the year 2024, the version of himself he feels safe presenting in these interviews is one who fully knows what bears and twinks--sorry, twinkies--are.)

So no, I don't think David is coming out as straight. I don't think he's coming out as anything, in fact, because he knows these interviews are not the place for that to happen. And I think that saying he is an ally but not an active participant makes the most sense as an answer for a public interview, but neither that nor being in a straight-passing relationship necessarily makes him any less potentially queer.

To reiterate what I said above, there is no one way to be queer. For some people, being queer absolutely can mean going to leather bars and participating in subcultures. But for other people, "queer" can mean something very different. It can mean being a Kinsey 2 just floating along doing your thing until you meet that one person who changes everything. The person who makes you go, "I've usually been more into this and not as much into this...but I'm definitely into you." It can mean being attracted to/falling for someone--a co-star, maybe?--that you never expected to feel that way about. And if David is queer, maybe that also means not shying away from anything, but at the same time not wanting to take the spotlight off the awards and the nominees celebrating one of the most important nights of their lives.

Those are my thoughts on the Attitude interview and David's answers, at any rate. Happy as always to hear from my followers with your takes. Thank you for writing in! x

[lifeofkaze]

Before the Spark

CHAPTER 5: SHOOTING FOR THE STARS

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

General Warning: This story is part of the HPHM Rockstar AU. As such, there is a general warning of the possible occurrence of NSFW / mature topics. These can include sexual depictions or references, inappropriate language, (ab)use of alcohol, drug abuse, and smoking. Specific warnings for each particular chapter will be given in advance.

Warning: Alcohol, mentions of drug consumption. Reid van de Lune (in mention) belongs to @kc-and-co

Had to have high, high hopes for a living

Shooting for the stars when I couldn’t make a killing

Didn’t have a dime but I always had a vision

Always had high, high hopes

~ Panic! At The Disco - High Hopes ~

On the evening of the MMU open-stage night, the club the committee had selected was crowded, much more so than Orion had expected. Keeping to the side of the packed dance floor, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes wandering to the small stage at the far side of the room. It was average in size, but the equipment provided for the attending artists looked surprisingly decent. A fresh set had just started; after that, it would be his and Merula’s turn. 

A flutter of nerves rose in his chest, much stronger than usual before a gig. Maybe it was the low level of oxygen, or the faint smell of weed in the air, or something else entirely, but Orion felt different. There was a restlessness in him that made it hard for him to stay still. He breathed in the stuffy air, holding it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling again; it didn’t help. 

“Here,” said Merula, who had been pushing through the crowd with two small glasses in hand, one of which she now held out to him. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

Orion’s eyebrows rose, but he took the shot anyway. “Your choice of words is distinguished as always.”

“Can’t say it’s not true.” Her face softened. “Relax. It’s just a stupid little gig in a stupid little club. We’ve done about a million of these.” 

Thoughtfully, Orion turned the glass in his hands, watching the colourful lights reflecting in the alcohol inside as it moved. “I am aware. Yet is it wise to fight what’s rising to the surface from the depths of our hearts? Shouldn’t we embrace whichever state our spirits are in to reach a balanced state of mind?” 

Merula snorted. “Stop waffling. Drink.”

Shrugging to himself, Orion brought the shot glass to his lips and drank. The tequila inside was sharp, burning down his mouth and throat. He fought the urge to grimace at the feeling of it, but it had the intended effect; the flutter in his stomach had ceased. 

“They’re shit, aren’t they?” Merula said after she had drank as well, her violet-coloured eyes watching the band currently on stage.

“They’re not,” Orion shook his head, nodding at the dancing crowd. “Their music has channelled the exuberance of so many into a shared notion of joy. What more could you want as an artist?” 

“How about some quality?”

The corners of Orion’s mouth twitched, but his smile flickered out again quickly. He watched the singer moving about the stage and firing up the crowd, his stage fright flaring up again, stronger than before. All the artists had been well received, which was precisely what concerned him. The songs he had selected to play tonight were different from the rest, and very much so. Looking at the ecstatic crowd, Orion worried that he had misjudged his hand; suddenly, he wished Merula had brought a second shot. 

When it was time for them to enter the stage, Orion’s heartbeat increased with every step he took towards it, but once he picked up his guitar, the trembling of his hands suddenly stopped. Calm descended on him as he stepped towards the microphone at the stage’s edge.

“Good evening, friends,” he said, his amplified voice carrying through the room. “What better than music and good company to celebrate the end of the year, another step completed on our journeys toward the future.” 

From down below, Orion’s friend Reid van de Lune looked up at him, raising his drink in an encouraging gesture. Orion took a deep breath and forced the last remnants of stage fright from his mind. 

“From what I can see, good company we have in abundance. Now, let us see if our music will help your spirits soar tonight.” 

As Orion stepped back to let Merula take the microphone, he caught her somewhat bewildered glance. He sighed inwardly; that hadn’t been one of his better stage announcements. 

When the first notes of Merula’s electric piano began to sound, however, all his self-doubt was forgotten. The crowd had become quiet, and few people were dancing anymore; they were listening. From what Orion could see through the stage lights, people were nodding their heads, smiling, clapping, and cheering them on. He was acting on instinct now, engaging with them without really thinking about it. As always when he was on stage, he was in a world of his own, the one place where he felt truly and entirely in tune with all of himself.

After their set was done and they had taken their bows, there was a broad smile on Orion’s face as they left the stage. A couple of people - some of whom he knew and more of whom he didn’t - came to congratulate them or give them an appreciative clap on the back. Orion soaked it up, feeling as if walking on clouds, and even on Merula’s face, the barest hint of a smile was to be found. 

Having gotten themselves a celebratory round of drinks, Orion looked around the club.

“Do you know where Reid has gone?”

Merula rolled her eyes. “Bet you a fiver he’s lying in some corner high as fuck.”

Nonetheless, she scanned the crowd until nodding in the direction of the bathrooms. Following her gaze, Orion could spot Reid as well, closely intertwined with a girl with flaming red hair.

“Looks like your mate’s luckier than you tonight,” Merula sneered. Suddenly she tensed, her features turning from amused to a mixture of annoyed and wary. “Fuck that. Cheered too soon, I guess.”

Two people had broken from the mass of the crowd and were now headed directly towards Orion’s and Merula’s table. Orion was surprised to recognise the girl with the blue hair who had invited them. Her friend - the girl with the ponytail - was walking closely behind her. 

“The fates seem to be kind after all,” Orion greeted them with a smile as they approached them. 

“Sure mate, if you say so,” the blue-haired girl shrugged, exchanging a glance with her friend Orion couldn’t quite read. “You sure were smashing up there.” 

“Your praise is received with humble gratitude.”

There it was again, the quick glance between the two women. The blue-haired one drew her brows together in a frown. “Do you always waffle like that?”

“No, only on Saturdays,” Merula suddenly butted in. Her eyes flicked between the two newcomers. “What do you want?” 

“Just a chat, mate. Relax.”

“You’ve had one. Now buzz off.” 

Visibly bristling, the blue-haired girl opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by a warning look from her friend. 

“How about we all take a breather and calm down,” the girl with the ponytail suggested. “Hi, I’m Lizzie.” 

She extended her hand, and Orion shook it. He was surprised at how calloused it felt, especially around the heels. He didn’t fight the smile forming on his face.

“I’m Orion. And this here is my sister, Merula.” 

“Your sister?” Lizzie asked, a surprised look crossing her face. She looked like she wanted to say more but thought better of it upon seeing the dark look on Merula’s face. Trying to steer Lizzie’s attention elsewhere, Orion nodded at the blue-haired girl. 

“And who is your friend?”

Lizzie blinked, as if broken from her thoughts. “Oh, sorry. This is Skye. Skye Parkin.”

“Parkin?” Merula frowned. “As in, Ethan Parkin? Ex-member of The Wanderers and now manager and producer Ethan Parkin?” 

Skye nodded, looking somewhat satisfied. “That’s me dad.” 

Orion looked at Skye, suddenly intrigued. He had heard that the youngest daughter of rock legend Ethan Parkin was attending MMU but hadn’t thought the universe would be gracious enough to make her cross paths with him. 

“What are names but smoke and mirrors?” he said regardless, offering Skye his hand as well. “No matter who you are, it is nice to meet you, Skye.” 

Skye grunted in agreement, shaking his hand more forcefully than Lizzie had. “You really do like talking, don’t you? Anyway,” she went on without waiting for Orion to reply, “what you’re doing there - on stage, that is - that’s some impressive shit. You’re composing yourself, right?” 

Orion nodded. “Every note is a piece of me, and I’m glad to share it with whoever cares to listen.”

“That’s smashing because I like listening. A lot, actually. And that’s why there’s something we need to talk about.”

Orion listened to Skye Parkin telling them of her plan of forming a band with them, his eyebrows rising at the rate Merula’s were drawing together. Clearly, she wasn’t fond of the idea, and Orion could see why. Skye - however big her name - was a stranger to them, and there already was a bristling tension between her and Merula that could turn out to be trouble. It was crazy to even consider accepting Skye’s proposition - crazy and thoroughly tempting. There was a feeling in the back of Orion’s mind that this was exactly where the universe had wanted him to be, a feeling that increased with every one of Skye’s words.

Sometimes, it took courage to explore what lay beyond the beaten path. To those who had no trust, courage always looked like foolishness.

“What instruments do you even play?” Merula snorted, not half as enticed by the prospect of working with Skye as Orion was. “You say you need us, but I don’t see us needing you.” 

“I play the drums,” Lizzie tentatively answered, prompting Merula to snort. 

“Sure you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you look more like a groupie than a drummer to me.”

“Funny, you look more like a bitch than a nice person to me,” Lizzie snapped back, receiving an elbow to the side from Skye a moment later. 

“Shut up, Jameson. She doesn’t mean that,” she added, directed at Merula, but judging by Lizzie’s pressed-together lips, Orion had the notion that she very much had.

“What about you, Skye?” he quickly asked to dissolve the tension. “What sets your heart aflame?” 

“Oh, what I play, you mean,” Skye said after blankly staring at him for a moment. “Loads of things, actually. Mostly bass, though.” 

“An interesting choice. Not many people favour the bass over the guitar.”

“Well, I do.”

“And I’m certain you excel. The bass is an admirable instrument, I think. To the ignorant eye, it often falls short compared to its sister, but without the sturdy foundation of the bass, every song is bound to ring hollow in the end.”

“Yeah,” Skye said slowly. “My brothers play the guitar, and me dad did, too. Gotta stick out somewhat, right?”

“Would you look at that?” Merula muttered. “Daddy’s girl, trying to be a rebel.”

“You need a bass, don’t you?” Skye replied with flashing eyes. “Pressing some keys and sighing into a mic all the while? Screams ‘come and look at me’ if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Maybe we should go and get new drinks,” Lizzie chimed in, moving slightly to stand in the line of sight between the two glowering women. Giving Merula a dark look, Skye shrugged and turned away.

“Sure thing, Jameson. You pay.”

“Whatever.” Lizzie looked at Orion and Merula questioningly. “What do you want?”

“I’d be fine with whatever you decide is adequate for the moment,” Orion said, then added, “You really don’t need to do this, though.” 

A captivating smile showed on Lizzie’s face. “But I want to.”

“What did you have?” Merula wanted to know, eyeing the remnants of bright red liquid in Lizzie’s glass.

“Cherry margarita.”

“Fancy shit. Didn’t know they had it here.” 

“They don’t. I just happened to know the barkeep. What?” Lizzie asked, frowning at Orion, whose face had split into a smile, with a frown.

“Your choice of drink is not surprising,” he explained, chuckling to himself. “If anything, it’s steadiness that makes for the reliable.” When Lizzie’s frown deepened, he clarified, “You do like your cherry-flavoured drinks, don’t you?”

“Is there a problem with that? Cherries are the most… oh!” Lizzie’s eyes widened before she dipped her head back, laughing. “The cherry iced tea, of course! I did have a feeling my generous donor wasn’t your sister here. Tell you what, I think it’s only fair to pay you in kind - one round of super sneaky cherry margaritas coming your way!”

Skye made a face at that. “I hate that sweet stuff, and you know it.”

“Tough luck, Parkin. Take what’s offered or pay for it yourself.” 

Still arguing, Lizzie and Skye took off to the bar, leaving Orion and Merula to themselves. 

“Of course she knows the fucking barkeep,” Merula muttered as she turned to Orion. “What the fuck was that?”

“That,” Orion replied, “was the most unexpected of encounters, I’d wager. What do you think?”

Merula huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Don’t know, honestly. That Parkin has a big mouth, talks shit if I’ve ever seen it, but at least she doesn’t back down. The other, though…” She shook her head, short, curly hair flying. “Not sure about that one, not gonna lie.”

Orion had expected as much. Lizzie seemed like the type of person who was quick to make friends and comfortable with the attention she attracted - the epitome of everything Merula despised. 

His eyes wandered to the bar, where Lizzie was talking with a young barkeep dressed in an outrageously bright, patterned shirt. Wearing worn-looking sneakers instead of heels, she had to stand on her tiptoes to shout into the young man’s ear. There was something about her that seemed effortless and fun, and - contrary to Merula - Orion was sure that she wasn’t putting on an act. 

He was abruptly brought out of his musings by Merula snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. 

“Stop staring like a fucking creep,” she told him with a snort. “Trust me, girls like her bring nothing but trouble.” 

“Don’t burden yourself with pointless worry. What you deem staring was nothing but a coincidence. I was merely following a train of thought.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What trouble would there lie in connecting with a like-minded spirit like Lizzie anyway?” He laughed quietly. “You act like I want to go and marry her.”

“Sure, that is absolutely what I thought you wanted to do with her.”

Orion’s somewhat guilty reply was interrupted by Lizzie’s and Skye’s return, each carrying two glasses of a sweetly-smelling, bright red drink. Having taken her first sip and pulled a face at it, Skye turned to Orion and Merula. 

“How is it, now? Interested in teaming up?” 

“From what I can see, the prospects of your proposition are certainly alluring.” Orion turned to Lizzie, who had remained quietly focused on stirring her drink. So far, Skye had only been speaking for herself, and Orion wanted to know more. 

“What about you, Lizzie? Will you be part of this journey as well?”

Lizzie hesitated, sharing a brief glance with Skye before she nodded. “I guess so.”

“It is settled then,” Orion smiled and raised his glass. “Let us walk this new path together and see where it will take us.” 

Next to him, Merula rolled her eyes and mumbled something as they all touched glasses, but Orion didn’t care. Skye had leaned over to Lizzie, saying something into her ear, to which Lizzie only shrugged. A small smile appeared on her face as she locked eyes with him. After a moment, Orion looked away.

The prospect of having her - having both of them - on board with this new project was intriguing, but he had to call himself to order. Merula had a point about what she had said about Lizzie earlier; people like her had the habit of bringing trouble in their wake if he let them get too close. If Lizzie was to be a part of his future - for however long it may be - he knew better than to tamper with fate in favour of a moment of fancy. This was the chance he had been waiting for, and Orion was determined not to let himself be distracted by a sideshow. 

A commotion went through the club, excited murmurs rising around them as head after head turned toward the door. A man with a receding, dark brown hairline and a slightly grizzled beard had entered the room. He looked out of place with his fancy glasses, not-so-fancy jeans, and a faded The Who shirt, yet if he felt uncomfortable with so many people staring at him, he didn’t show it. Ethan Parkin had never been one to mind the spotlight.

Upon seeing her father, Skye took a deep breath and downed the rest of her still half-full drink. 

“Well, here goes nothing. Let’s get this party started.” 

She indicated for them to follow her and pushed through the crowd towards the exit. Giving Orion a reassuring smile, Lizzie turned and walked after her friend. Orion watched her go, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart beating in his ears. It took him what felt like an eternity to set his feet into motion, but a sense of determination overcame him as he finally did. 

This was it, he was sure of it - the first steps on his path toward the future. 

[musicarenagh]

Unleashing the Soundscape: A Conversation with Genre-Defying Musician Parham Gharavaisi Welcome, let us dive into the world of multitalented Parham Gharavaisi, a musician who makes sounds like he blends colors - strong, surprising and completely his own, this man mixes types of music just as a crazy scientist does in an audio workshop. Parham is not like most people in the music industry. He doesn't like trends or want to be well-known. He just creates music for himself, where he pours his heart and spirit into every note. He does this even if it means being alone in a world that likes to put things into boxes. He's like a rebel with guitar, finding his own way in the music world. This might come as a surpise, but when it comes to production, Praham producedand recorded “Mirror’s Gaze" with close to zero musical instruments, but not much equipment, making his own recording and trying to understand the puzzles of music world comes with some problems he meets. Parham Gharavaisi’s songs are puzzles waiting to be solved. It's a window into his thoughts, where video game sounds mix with metal shouts and everything in between. In a recent interview with Mister Styx of Musicarenagh, Parham made lots of disclosures and we'll talk about where he gets his ideas, how he makes music and the big hopes that come with every song. When asked about his plans this is what he said “Additionally, I have two upcoming metal albums scheduled for the next two years, both professionally produced by other studios for the first time. The first album, titled Ghosts of Nations, is set for release on October 14, 2024. It's a rather grim album that addresses sensitive subjects such as societal collapse, domestic abuse, suicide, and mass shootings, among others. I hope to approach these topics in a tasteful manner. The second album, Infect the Clouds, is a concept album featuring a villain protagonist who is a disgruntled misanthrope seeking revenge on humanity. This album is scheduled for release on October 14, 2025.” Mirror’s Gaze’ is expected to be released on 24th  January so stay closed to have an experience of this. Here is a link to the official YouTube video which will go live on release day. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulA2FMDRdw8 Follow Parham Gharavaisi on Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Telegram What is your stage name Parham Gharavaisi, same as my real name. Is there a story behind your stage name? I had to choose my full name because it was the only option still available. Every possible combination of letters from the dictionary has already been taken fifty times over by other bands. You wouldn't believe it, but even made-up words and misspelled words are already used as band names. So, the only reasonable option for me was to go with my own name, I guess. Where do you find inspiration? Mostly video games; I guess I'm a huge nerd since it's pretty much my only hobby. Growing up, I played games on the Sega Genesis, which made me fall in love with the sound of its 8-bit music. Even now, it's pretty much the same. In fact, some of my all-time favorite records are actually video game soundtracks. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? What was the role of music in the early years of your life? Well, my initial exposure to music was through video game soundtracks, which I grew up listening to. Later on, I was introduced to the metal genre, and it was an instant connection. I fell in love with the intensity, complexity, and emotional depth of metal music. This transition from the melodic and often atmospheric tunes of video games to the powerful and expressive world of metal has been a major influence in my own musical journey. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Not really, I don't think so. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? No one specifically inspired me; I just thought that if I'm going to make music, why not also share it on the Internet? You know, what's the harm, right? So, I just decided to put it out there.

How did you learn to sing/write/to play? You could say I'm a self-trained musician since I never really took any formal classes or lessons. I vaguely remember some piano lessons as a little kid, but I don't remember much from them, and I don't really play the piano now. My instruments are the electric guitar, electric bass, and classical guitar. Vocally, I do both clean singing and metal screams. This self-training extends to recording and production as well. In fact, I feel I've only recently begun to scratch the surface in achieving professional-sounding audio quality on my own. My single Mirror's Gaze marks a significant step up in production quality. The violin is one of my favorite instruments, and I aspire to learn how to play it one day. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? Actually, I've never attended any concerts or other kinds of live events. Social gatherings don't interest me at all, and I tend to avoid them unless absolutely necessary. How could you describe your music? I believe diverse is the best word to describe my music, as it spans across many different genres and subgenres. This can be both a blessing and a curse, though in my case, it's been more of the latter. It's kind of too heavy for the pop crowd, yet too soft for the metalheads, if you see what I mean. In any case, this is the sound I like the most, so I'm going to stick with it, hoping to find my niche. Describe your creative process. Here's my process for creating new songs: First, I start by composing riffs and/or chord progressions on the classical guitar, as it's more convenient for me. Once I'm happy with the results, I transpose them into whatever key sounds or plays best on the electric guitar. After finalizing the song structure, I begin the recording process, starting with the electric guitar, followed by the electric bass. Once the guitars are recorded, I add in the drums. Next, I write the lyrics and vocal melodies simultaneously and then record the vocals. The final step involves adding synth elements and atmosphere to the song. https://youtu.be/HtZj5yCQh5Q What is your main inspiration? I wholeheartedly adore the sound of old-school melodic death metal as well as gothic/doom records. To me, metal is all about authenticity and catharsis; it's about releasing a sound that truly embodies who you are, without any compromise or doubt. Ever since I was introduced to the metal genre as a young child, I've been deeply fascinated by both its aesthetics and philosophy. I knew from early on that this was the path I wanted to pursue in my own music-making. In a sense, I aspire to stand on the shoulders of the giants who have shaped this genre. With that being said, I do hope that I may contribute something new of my own as well. What musician do you admire most and why? Oh, choosing between Olivier Deriviere and Akira Yamaoka would be incredibly difficult! I absolutely adore every piece of music they've composed, so much so that picking a favorite seems impossible. While they primarily compose music for video games, and as I've mentioned, I'm a huge nerd, I'd rather talk about my favorite work from each composer. Starting with Akira Yamaoka, there's something magical about his song 'Cradle of the Forest' from the Silent Hill 4 soundtrack that's hard to articulate. It has the most haunting atmosphere I've ever encountered in music, hands down. Everything about it perfectly harmonizes with the game's themes. When you listen to this song, you can visualize the game; it's beyond impressive. The same can be said about Olivier Deriviere's 'An End for a Prelude' from the Alone in the Dark (2008) soundtrack. The Bulgarian choir vocals are spine-tingling, and the orchestral background is simply out of this world. However, if I had to choose my all-time favorite soundtrack, it would be Hideyuki Fukasawa's work on the Chaos Legion Soundtrack. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career?

Absolutely! My debut was an instrumental post-rock album, featuring no drums or vocals. The albums that followed were a mix of rock and metal. It wasn't until my 5th full-length album that I fully transitioned into metal. As for the subgenres, that's a long story for another day. Who do you see as your main competitor? I'm not particularly well-versed in the music industry or other artists, so I can't say for sure. However, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it would likely be another artist who experiments with blending various genres and subgenres together. What are your interests outside of music? Video games are undoubtedly my biggest, if not my only, hobby. These days, I'm mostly into competitive first-person shooters, and I take my ranking on the leaderboards very seriously, always striving to compete against the best. Mobile games have significantly evolved, so I spend a lot of my gaming time on mobile shooters, though I was primarily a PC gamer in the past. For instance, I've been playing Counter-Strike 1.6 since its early days. However, when it comes to story-driven games, I'm a huge fan of Action RPGs, particularly the soulslike genre, as I love overcoming meaningful challenges. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? My alternative interest would be either video game development, which I have some experience in, or writing. Speaking of which, I recently authored my first anthology book. It's a collection of my older short stories, poems, and previously unreleased lyrics. You can find it on Google Books. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Right, I can actually think of a couple of examples off the top of my head! As you might know, I operate from what you could technically call a home studio, but in reality, it's quite basic. My only physical instruments are an electric bass and an electric guitar, which I used to plug directly into my PC's motherboard line-in jack with an adapter. It's only recently that I've acquired an audio interface to use with my new microphone. Frankly, I was quite surprised to realize that it didn't make much of a difference, if any, in terms of instrument signal quality. However, I needed it to connect my dynamic mic, so there's that. The point is, I have practically no physical gear, and everything you hear is the result of computer software magic. The fact that it's now possible to make this kind of music without going to an actual studio filled with tons of colossal gear is a testament to how far technology has advanced. Impressive, isn't it? One can only imagine where technology might go in the future. Honestly, it's kind of frightening, I guess. The fear of the unknown and all, but I digress. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? I'm not sure, maybe add more kittens to the music industry or something, because I love animals. Like I said, I'm not deeply involved with the music industry, nor do I know much about it. So, it's really hard for me to say what I'd change when I'm not fully aware of all the ins and outs. You see what I mean? Why did you choose this as the title of this project? I've always been fascinated by mirror metaphors in literature, so it felt natural to incorporate what I like into my work. The primary reason I chose Mirror's Gaze as the title for this single was because I couldn't find any other artist using this exact title, at least not from what I could find on search engines. https://open.spotify.com/artist/4QqBOZOiit5hIBwW6Bs9G7 What are your plans for the coming months? My ongoing plan is to release a new song every first Friday of each month. Additionally, I have two upcoming metal albums scheduled for the next two years, both professionally produced by other studios for the first time. The first album, titled Ghosts of Nations, is set for release on October 14, 2024. It's a rather grim album that addresses sensitive subjects such as societal collapse, domestic abuse, suicide, and mass shootings, among others.

I hope to approach these topics in a tasteful manner. The second album, Infect the Clouds, is a concept album featuring a villain protagonist who is a disgruntled misanthrope seeking revenge on humanity. This album is scheduled for release on October 14, 2025. The tracklisting and lyrics for both albums are available online now. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans" I don't have any specific collaboration plans of my own, unless it involves working with my friends and associates. However, I am open to receiving collaboration offers and will consider each proposal on a case-by-case basis. What message would you like to give to your fans? Be kind to animals. Peace!- What was the role of music in the early years of your life? Well, my initial exposure to music was through video game soundtracks, which I grew up listening to. Later on, I was introduced to the metal genre, and it was an instant connection. I fell in love with the intensity, complexity, and emotional depth of metal music. This transition from the melodic and often atmospheric tunes of video games to the powerful and expressive world of metal has been a major influence in my own musical journey.- Are you from a musical or artistic family?

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Club ‘Illusion’

Fandom: DC x Marvel Pairing: Avenger x Batfam | Reader x Loki Word count: 3k (yes I can still write things over 1.5k words) Summay: With your hero work taking up most of your time you decide to find an outlet - that outlet turns out to be your own soon to be opened club. On the V.I.P. list for that evening? Two of the most important groups of people in your life. The only problem: they have yet to meet each other, not to mention the little fact that you’ve been keeping not just the club a secret... Requested by a universal fantastic Anon: If requests are still open, can I request a BatBoys x reader x Avengers where both teams meet through reader and fight because they were talking about which team reader likes more? Pairing would be your choice.

“Where does this go, boss?” a man in a dungaree holding a box full of musical equipment, chords and the like asked you and interrupted the conversation you were having with the DJ. “Bring it up these stairs there and then set it onto the black clothed table, Marianne will be there in a minute, could you help her set it up? “Sure thing boss,” the man nodded and trudged over to the direction you had waved him to. You turned back to Marianne - the mentioned DJ - who had been your friend for years and she was the first person you had hired when you had decided to take the advice of your Avengers issued therapist and find an outlet for your creativity and passion outside of your time-consuming hero work all over the planet and the universe. So you decided to use your funds from years of getting paid by Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne (even though you continued telling them you didn’t want their money) to do something fun and - in the spirit of a certain green-themed archer - open a nightclub. You had kept everything under wraps, the only people knowing about it were the contractors, decorators and Marianne and they all pledged secrecy, but tonight you would lift the metaphorical curtain. With the Avengers and Waynes (including non-Wayne-named) invited and the news about this new club opening all over social media doing the rest you were positively sure that tonight would be a great night. “Y/N?” Marianne’s voice ripped you out of your daydreams and you had to shake your head free of other thoughts and focus back onto the matter at hand, with last touches still having to be made. “Uhm- yeah, sorry, I was lost in thoughts.” “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will go just fine. Look around you, this place is amazing, everyone did such an amazing job,” she complimented and you couldn’t help but follow her advice and actually take a look around.The room was very spacious and even though it was almost empty except the worker getting ready for tonight and a few others who helped set some stuff up. In the middle was a lower dance area with small sets of steps leading up, the floor in a chess pattern, but neon techni-coloured instead of black and white, all around that area were booths to sit in and on the far end of the room, a bit off of the dance-ground were two circular bars that were fully stocked with every drink you could ever need or want. On the other end was a stage for life-performances and ten feet above that was a sort of balcony that served as the DJ-booth with a view over the entire club. And yet again on the other side, above the bars, was a V.I.P. room which was a bit more soundproof and where a conversation could be actually held, with a one-way-mirror facing the club. The way the lights reflected off the surfaces and the sound carried through the space really confirmed what Marianne had said, the place was pretty amazing. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” you took a deep calming breath and smiled. “Yes I am, but now we gotta get going, I’ll be up in the booth if you need me. You better give the final briefing to the staff,” she instructed before turning around and walking away. Deciding that taking her advice was the best course of action you went to go to the staff room, when Marianne called out to you yet again, shouting after you: “Don’t forget that you gotta be getting ready in an hour, your special guest should be arriving around then.”

The evening was starting to greet the people and the sun had started to disappear a few minutes ago when a group of five and a group of six gathered before a clearly newly constructed building - a club - with the name ‘Illusion’ in enlightened letters on the front. A long line of interested people, mostly young adults around 25, stretched before what seemed to be the entrance, but it seemed to still be closed. Both of the groups looked around a little bit confused, but they didn’t notice each other, or at least found nothing suspicious about the other. Now, if you were to take a very close look at both of these groups beside each other you’d find a lot of similarities, like - for example - the redeemed ‘bad-guy’ who now acted as professional sarcastic commentator, the goofball with a history in circus, the genius, philanthropist, playboy billionaire and the bad-ass tech-savvy red-head. Not to mention all of their past-time ‘hobbies’. And yet, with all these great intellect and talent collected in front of the club, they did not seem to be able to figure out what they were doing there or that there was another group in just about the same situation. The doors to the club opened and a bouncer and two servers walked out, the bouncer stationating himself before the entrance and starting to check people in, and the two servers looking around for a second before catching sight of the groups. They exchanged a few words before each of them walked over to the collection of people. The group from New York was brought over to the front entrance, allowed to skip the line and enter the club, while the Gotham-group was brought in through the back-entrance, but even though the place where they entered the club was different, they were yet both stil led to the same room, up above the bars behind a one-way-mirror.

You had changed into your sparkle-y, y/f/c outfit with make-up that would glow in the ultraviolet light that would shine all over the club later and your hair in a fashionable hairdo, perfectly prepared for your great night, with Marianne’s outfit mirroring yours just in different colours. With a clipboard you made your last round through the different areas, checking in with your staff and manager to make sure that everything would go flawless and that they could come to you with questions or if they needed help - if necessary you yourself would change into the gender-neutral uniform and start serving people. In the end the last area you had to check before meeting your special guests in the V.I.P. area was the DJ booth. “Everything good?” you asked, enjoying the last moments of relative silence before the booming music would start as you leant over the balcony railing and eyed your own little business. “Yes, I tried it out during soundcheck earlier while you were getting dressed, it’s some sweet equittement you got here, a Dream,” Marianne sighed in bliss and you could see how happy she was to be able to work with this equipment that had certainly cost enough to deserve that demeanor from her. “You know, if you like it this much, I could use a full-time DJ,” you tried to mention as nonchalant as possible, but you could feel her piercing, unbelieving gaze in your neck. “Are you serious? I thought you had employed one over a month ago. I thought tonight was a one-time-thing.” “Oh well, I did talk to one but then I listened to some of his stuff and compared to you it’s like a ten years old project on garage band. But don’t worry, I get it, you’re right. I’m sure you have way better gigs lined up left and right, I’ll find someone,” you shrugged, a little bit disappointed that Marianne didn’t seem even remotely interested in working full-time, only to be stopped when she grabbed your shoulders and began to almost shake you. “Are you kidding, I would love to work here full-time!!! This job would be a dream: the equipment, the atmosphere, my employer! DJ’s would kill for an opportunity like this. That’s why I was so confused, I thought you’d have plenty of better DJs lining up for this job,” she gushed before hugging you close and almost sobbing with happiness and thanking you for this opportunity. You agreed that you’d talk the details over later before telling her to start the music since people started to walk in and you could see a certain group of Heroes being led by one of your bar-women walking towards the left stairs to the V.I.P. room and another group of vigilantes led by one of the security-members being brought to the elevator on the right side to exactly the same room. “Okay, I gotta go, Got me some guests waiting,” you winked at Marianne who just waved you off, too immersed in her element. With quick steps and a happy smile you walked along the side of the room and followed where you saw the Avengers walk up, a little skip in your step. Honoring your word, both groups had been brought into the V.I.P. area which was big enough for them to both sit inside it without having to sit together, with the security guard taking position at the wall and the bar-women at the small, private bar. Another calming sigh later you opened the door and walked into the room immediately catching the eyes of all occupants of the room and as you nodded at your two employees in thanks, both groups of superheroes had stood up to greet you, seemingly only now realizing the presence (or rather the reason of the presence) of each other. “Hello guys, it’s so nice to have you here,” you greeted all 11 with a big gesture before mentioning to the window, “So, what do you think?” Confused eyes found you and they looked between each other and you, only one pair standing out, but seemingly not ready to reveal themselves properly yet. “It looks amazing,” Stephanie, who somehow managed to look perfectly club-fitting even in her casual clothes with her blond hair laying over her shoulder in a braid, and jumped towards you and engulfed you in a sisterly hug like she always did, “How did you get us in? I saw the adverts for this place all over social media and the line was enormous. Do you know the owner?” You held back a chuckle and laid your head to the side. “You could say so,” you gave her a cheeky smile that she couldn’t quite decipher, before turning to face the complete group, “But first things first, introduction.” Since both of the groups were still standing separately enough to be distinguished between you motioned to the Waynes. “May I introduce my somewhat-adopted-not-legally-but-emotionally-family. This is Bruce Wayne - I bet you all have heard of him - these are his sons, Richard Grayson - you can call him Dick - and Jason Todd, and his daughter Stephanie - or Steph - Brown and close family friend Barbara Gordon,” you motioned to each of them in turn with their names and they nodded in greeting at the others, still unknown to them. Then you turned to the others and said: “And may I introduce to you my first ever superhero team slash found family group also known as the Avengers - or rather a view of them anyways. Here we have Tony Stark - I’m sure you heard of him too, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, our two super soldiers Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the trickster god himself - Loki.” “Wait, Loki-Loki? The ‘battle-of-New-York’ Loki?” Jason asked in a surprised, but also amused manner and you could almost hear Loki roll his eyes. “Oh please, get over it Mortal,” he answered sarcastically, but before you could intervene Stephanie took her turn. “Oh you’re one to talk Jay, let’s not forget that.” You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at that and even though the Avengers seemed confused at how easily that shut Jason up, they accepted it as the end of that part of the conversation. For a few minutes the gathered people - a few of your favorite people in the world - started making their own introductions and you were happy that you saw them get along well. Waiting for a good opportunity to get into the conversation and get back to what you wanted to tell them, you were stopped from taking it when Dick motioned at Loki’s outfit. A deep-green suit, black dress-shirt under it, a golden tie, black hair slicked back and black asgardian armor boots - putting that certain touch to it - adorned him and you couldn’t blame Dick when he stated: “How comes none of us got a warning that we’d need to wear something fancy, but he did?” It was only now that the people who had come there with Loki had noticed his outfit and it was Tony who raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the grey jumper you said was ‘nice enough’ to be seen out with when you have to be out with us annoying mortals?” “Well, I can’t let Lady Y/N be the only one who shows that she has a sense of elegance and fashion in this despicable planet, can I now?” Loki answered sarcastically and now you wanted to roll your eyes at him calling you ‘Lady Y/N’, something you had told him to stop ages ago. “Loki isn’t actually wearing this,” you tried to clear things up, ignoring Loki’s remark, only to receive even more confusing looks, causing you to sigh. “Loki is a trickster god, he uses Illusions, he’s probably still in his Pajamas, he just makes it seem like he is wearing this.” Before anyone would start bombarding the god and you with questions, you took hold of  the conversation and used your stern hero voice to gain the attention. “Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I invited my favorite people to a newly opened nightclub and like Stephanie has already mentioned, one that is hard to get into nonetheless. The reason is-” you made a pause to emphasize, “-that it is my club.” A wave of confused ‘what?’s hit you and you quickly explained: “Well, I needed to find another outlet than hanging around with other heroes and busting bad guys and after a talk with Oliver - he’s a friend from Starling city,” you explained for the Avengers, “I decided that opening a club was just what I needed. That’s the reason I was so absent the past few weeks, I was busy planning and employing and stuff, but from now on everything should run itself. I will be able to perfectly split my time into three for the club, hero work and friends and family.” “That’s so cool!” Stephanie squealed and gave you a high five and the others joined in congratulating you, telling you how amazing everything looked and that they were proud of you. “Boss?” a voice interrupted from behind you and you turned to see one of your staff members, “Could I talk to you for a second?”   “Excuse me for a bit, I gotta go and run my business,” you cheekily smiled and left your two favorite teams to make conversation as you and the women left through the door that lead to the stairs. “So what’s the matter? What can I he-” you were rudely interrupted when the women’s form morphed into a taller, sleeker one of a certain trickster and promptly continued to press you against the door you had just left through. “Well, well, look who’s getting impatient,” you giggled as he pressed a kiss to your jawline. That was another secret that you had kept from your teams and even from Marianne. Loki and you. If you were being quite honest you were not sure how the two of you became a thing, but somehow you did and now the two of you were waiting for the right moment to tell the rest of the team that you were a lot more than just colleagues. “Can you blame me? You should’ve told me about this, beloved, then I’d known that you were not growing sick of me. I was all worried when you kept on disappearing,” he muttered as he relished in the closeness with you. Slightly shocked at this you grabbed his broad shoulders and pushed him back slightly. “How could you ever think that, Loki? I love you, I could never grow sick of you,” you assured him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. “That is very good to know, beloved, and I’ll make sure to remind you of that whenever you need,” he winked and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay, but I think I have to go back now, we can pick this up again later.” You turned around and opened the door again only to catch what was being said. “We’re obviously her favorites, I mean this club is in New York, not Gotham, why do you think that is?” “Oh shut your mouth, that means nothing. You heard what she said, we’re her family, we’re her brothers and sisters. The Demon is the best proof of that.” “Which Demon?” “Oh please, she called us her family too. After all we got all the appeal of you, but we also have gods.” “She has dinner every second weekend with Superman, an amazonian goddess, the king of atlantis and a world-class magician.” “Well with us she has the world's strongest AI, a world class witch AND the sorcerer supreme, two timeless soldiers, the world's fastest man and the god of thunder.” “Oh please, our fastest man could beat your fastest man in his sleep, not to mention that we have multiple of them.” “Well then bring it on” After having heard enough you looked at Loki, back at the group - and the illusion Loki that was standing bored beside them - and back at Loki, before closing the door again. “You know what, I think I’ll just let them talk that over for a bit.” “Yeah, I think that would be best,” Loki agreed, but he was clearly amused. “What do you think they’ll do when they find out that I am actually your favorite?” he asked teasingly and snug his arms around your waist. “Honestly I’m not sure you’d survive that…”

[summoner-chan]

I actually wanted to do a fanmade Valentine Event but like never got to finish it since my brain isn't committed to long term plannings-

So I'm going to just drop it here for everyone to see (≧▽≦)!! + This is a base reason for me to do so because I did some character sketches for the said event (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

Anyways, hope you enjoy reading!!

Valentine Chase: Catch the Valentine's Hare!

Main Characters: MC and Darius (Fanmade Character+Character Debut that I'll be showing soon don't worry ;^D)

Side Characters: Shirou, Kengo, Ryota, Toji, Agyo, Claude, Snow, Bathym, Pollux, Horkeu Kamui, Nomad, Ophion, Melusine, Licht, Maria, Gabriel, Zabbaniya, Arsalan, Tanngrisnir, Juliette (another Fanmade Character+Character Debut that I'll be showing soon) and Luka (last Fanmade Character+Character Debut that I'll be showing soon!!)

Summary: Just as you were about to dance on the stage, you were swept away by a loveless wolf?! Looks like your companions have to chase down both you and the mysterious canine therian in this frenzied Valentine chase as you uncover the true motives of the cool headed and quiet wolf!

[Part 1/?]

Location:???

[The background is directed to the night sky, the full moon visible as it looms over a land adorned with growing pine trees]

???: This body....is barren. Nothing is blooming

(A wolf like silhouette appears into the screen)

He turned away to face the brightly lit moon, shining down it's light to the figures. How long has it been he wondered? He had them for company but it only seemed like the butterflies were the ones who truly understood him.

Ah yes, the arhopala anthelus or also known as the Oakblues butterfly, he didn't knew why he remembered the butterfly with such details but it stuck with him longer than he could remember. Swarms of it tend to follow him around, especially his enchanted arm that resembled to a dead tree's rotting branch, leaving bits of bark in its wake

???: Well you never know if you try

(A hooded silhouette appears, smaller and shorter than the previous silhouette)

The taller figure sighed, his gaze still fixed to the moon. It seems like he's ignoring them

???: .......

(The smaller silhouette shook violently temporarily, before slidding away to the side of the screen, disappearing from the scene)

[End Scene]

[Screen then fades away to black before shifting to a new scene]

Location: Shinjuku Concert Stadium

[The background is directed to a large stage decorated with multitudes of red,pink and white, each having a heart shaped cutout pattern to each end of the ribbons. The front of the stage had a single row of metal barriers to contain the fans from climbing up the stage]

[SFX: People chattering and the sounds of equipment moving]

[Shiro,Kengo, Ryota, Toji and Agyo's figures are shown individually, each of their expression is shock]

[The three options appear]

⭐: What's with everyone's faces?!

✨:Do I...look that bad?

❤️:As expected! I AM astoundingly cute!

⭐ Route

Shiro: Urk! S-Sorry, we're just-

Kengo: We're still not used to you having those kinds of get-ups! The last time we saw you dressed nicely was at that fancy casino we had to bust in!

Ryota: Well you DO look nice in that costume! Besides, it's a nice change to see you out of that school uniform for once you know

Toji: That, I could agree with Ryota Yakushimaru. It is indeed refreshing to you like this

Agyo: MC, You look so cute in that!! Really fits your eyes! Hey could I get a picture with you? Pretty please?

✨ Route

Shiro: N-No! You look great! Not even the single strand of hair seems to stick out! You look wonderful as ever, MC! Though...you did took us off guard... especially me..cough! What was that? I said something? Possibly not, MC!

Kengo: Well what that nerd said about you looking great is the one thing I could agree on! Wonder if the clothes durable for a fight..Hey, MC! Wanna try sparing right here so we could test it out?!

Toji: Is fighting all you could think of Kengo? MC needs all the energy they can get since the event is going to last till night so could you at least use your muscle brain for once to consider MC's stature?

Kengo: Huh?! You tryna pick a fight with me calling me a muscle brain?!

Ryota: Guys! Could you stop it?! MC is going to perform soon and this whole fighting thing might bring their spirit down....

Toji:....My apologies

Kengo:Yeah I didn't think about it that way...so uh...sorry

Agyo: Apologies accepted! Come on, let's brighten those faces up with some candies I brought with me!

❤️ Route:

Everyone: Huh?!

Toji: You!...You!.. Gah...I am at loss of words of your high confidence, MC...You seem to know very well how push my buttons around....Gah! What's with that look?! Stop staring!

Shiro: Well it's a good thing that you have high confidence in yourself, MC! With that attitude, you'll be sure to capture everyone's hearts when you're up on stage later on!

Kengo: Heh! What'd you expect from my partner? They're definitely going to rock out this entire event!

Ryota: Hehe! You're just brimming with a golden light, MC! Your confident smile is totally attracting people in!

Agyo: You're right, Ryota! I could definitely smell in the change of air and it's really good! Wahhh,MC! Teach me how to be confident too!!

[ END EVENT ]

Haha, yup! This is the only thing I came up with and this is barely half of the first episode (^～^;)ゞ and it was supposed to be much more longer but brain committed watergun on itself so-

For the next post, I'll post the main character sketch of the event so please do anticipate it!

[universe-in-the-void-in-the-cube]

A Web of Lies

Day 8 and 1700 words.

              He was in an elevator going up to the penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel in Helsinki Finland. Thurston was finally meeting his mysterious benefactor face to face. And him being the head of the 2P Nordic 5 he was the only one even allowed to talk to her in the first place but now he was able to meet her finally. And he was so looking forward to it.

              This meeting was an important one and he needed to make sure that he looked presentable, serious and most of all deadly as all business. Thurston wanted to impress his mysterious benefactor as much as possible. So much was on the line for not only him and his fellow 2P Nordics, but for the 2P world as a whole. And if he succeeded in impressing her maybe, just maybe he could rule the world by her side.

                Getting out of the elevator he walked to the door of the penthouse suite and knocked on the door. From what he could tell, when he did talk to her over the phone, she was young. At the most in her mid-30s in age. Give or take a couple of years. He really wasn’t too sure, but in a moment or two he would officially find out.

He did smirk at himself though; this was like going either a blind date or a hook up for sex on Tender. Like he hadn’t did that a few times within the past few years. He knew a man has needs and if he wasn’t in a steady relationship then he would at least try to find someone to keep him happy for a little while. Even if it was a shitty one-night stand. He just wanted to get laid.

 A few moments later the door open to reveal a beautiful woman with warm skin, long black wavy hair and eyes as red as rubies. The woman was all curves in all the right places and her face was stunning to look at. At first Thurston thought he was dreaming when he saw her or at least dead when he saw her. He tried to speak but he couldn’t get the words out.

 “You must be Thurston, please come in. I been expecting you.” She said as she saw Thurston walk inside as she shut the door behind him and locked it.

 Walking in he nodded at her, “Yes. And you must be my and the other Nordic’s mysterious benefactor. I must thank you for helping my country and people. Your generosity has been a great benefit and support to everyone.”

Thurston was almost at a loss for words, but he wanted to thank her for what she had done for him and his people and country. Hell, he wanted to say more gratitudes to the woman before him, but he figured if he kept praising her things might backfire on him. So, he kept his big mouth shut and kept things simple.

 “You’re very welcome. I do my best to provide to people who I believe is in most need and are in benefit to my kindness and generosity. Speaking of which, would you like a drink. Rum, vodka or cognac perhaps?” She asked as she walked to the bar of the penthouse suite.

 “Rum please.” Thurston said as he looked around at the place.

 The room was sure fancy. Most celebrities and dignitaries would stay in this room when visiting Helsinki. Most of the time he would just talk to those kinds of people either in his government buildings, or in the case of celebrities, either back stage or on set of whatever they were working on. But he had to admit, this place was nice with all the amenities someone of great importance would like to have when visiting his country and capital.

 Walking up to him she handed him a glass of rum. “Here enjoy.”

“Thanks.” He said as he took a sip of the strong spirit. Smiling he lifted the briefcase he brought with him. “I got all the jewels and gems you requested me to get from the 1P world. It was easy with the equipment that you gave me to use. Still, I never thought you would choose me to play jewel thief, but I am glad you had trust in my abilities.”

 ‘Reel it in Fin. You don’t want to blow the deal when things are going so damn good for you right now.’ Thurston told himself as he places his glass of rum down before placing the briefcase on the table and opening it to his mysterious benefactor. Inside were the various boxes that various gems and jewels were being kept.

 “Here they are. All of them placed in the specific cases you wanted me to. I hope I did right by you… ah…” Thurston said as he looked at her, “I never got your name. What should I call you other my mysterious benefactor?”

 She walked up to the briefcase, placing her glass of cognac on the table and picking up each box from the briefcase as she opened each box one by one. “Oh sorry, you can call me Rapture.”

 This caught Thurston off guard, who would expect such an interesting name for such and interesting woman. But deep down the 2P Fin felt that the name did fit her. Rather well in his eyes. “So… Rapture, what do you think of the jewels?”

 Rapture looked at them and smiled rather wickedly as she examined each gem and jewel one by one. “Well done, Thurston. You did beyond my expectations. I did chose picking you for the job. What about the others. How have they been doing their assignments for me?”

 He walked next to her as she finished taking out all the cases of gems and jewels. Below the cases was a stack of files. Taking the files out he placed them out in order of each 2P Nordic and the order of the jobs given to them. “As you can see, I have all the reports, up to current of everyone’s task that you requested. Christian stumbled a bit when he misunderstood then you wanted him to track 1P Norway.”

 Rapture raised an eyebrow as she asked, “How so?”

 Sighing, Thurston hoped what he said next wouldn’t hurt his or his fellow 2P Nordics chances with her. “Well, he did follow Lukas, literally. He chartered a yacht and followed him to the Nemo Zone of the south Pacific. He bumped into a mermaid that was more monster than maid. But he was in the hospital and Lukas had him arrested for stalking. But Loki magically arranged to have him free and have all charges dropped. Now he is just keeping tabs on his various finances and business transactions.”

 Hearing this, Rapture felt slight disappointment in Christian, but nothing that she couldn’t forgive. “At least the truth wasn’t revealed to Lukas. What about the others?”

 “Bernard was captured by Berwald, but Loki found him and delt with Berwald and his wife Urd. Loki mind wiped them and magically made sure there was no trace of Bernard or their interaction with Bernard.”

 “Good. Christian and Bernard need to work on their skills in spying and stalking. Train them please.” Rapture said coldly in disappointment as she took a sip of cognac. “What about Egil and Loki?”

This time Thurston smiled, “Egil has successfully conned Robin and Emil to believing him in being a documentary film maker and even weaseled into staying with the two of them.”

 Soon her frown was replaced by a smile, “Good. That Icelander’s acting skills are beyond expectations. I shall reward him with a bonus for his good work.”

 “Loki has been successfully stalking both Lukas and Raya. All his intel is in his files he had given me to give to you.” Thurston said as he saw Rapture look through each one of the folders and skimming though the information. “Forgive me for being so intrusive, but what is it about Raya that has you so concerned?”

 Rapture closed the file that she was currently looking at and put it down before grabbing her glass of cognac and quickly drinking it and slamming the glass on the table. Thurston was convinced that he said something that she shouldn’t of and was prepared for any repercussions for asking such a question. But what was said next surprised the 2P Fin.

 “Raya Arlyeh is a major threat to both the 1P world and the 2P world’s very existence. You may not know this but she is the personification of the island nation of R’lyeh. The only surviving primordial nation left in existence.”

 Before Rapture could finish, Thurston put his rum down and looked at here with grave concern, “What a minute. Are you saying that Raya is the personification of the fictional island of R’lyeh as in the island the Great Cthulhu lays sleeping R’lyeh?”

 “Yes. And before you ask, yes Cthulhu is real and he is tied to various worlds and planes of existence. Ours being one of them. It is her job to awaken Cthulhu and cause apocalypse in the 1P world and our world included. I don’t want to see that monster controlling our world and put it in the brink of destruction. So, I made it my solemn duty to put a stop to it. That is why I asked you 5 Nordics. Raya is intertwined with your 1P counterparts, and thus…”

 “You figured if you can’t go between worlds that your only hope would be any 2P personification so you picked us 2P Nordics because of Raya’s connection to our 1Ps, right?” Thurston was a quick learner and it showed.

 Walking to the sliding glass doors of the penthouse balcony. “Yes, you are correct. That is why I became your benefactor. If you could help me stop the end of our world and the end of the 1P world then why not pay for the help.” Said Rapture as she looked at her reflection in the window as a flash of lightning quickly reflected her true form as an evil smirk slowly formed across her face.

[cienie-isengardu]

The Development of Law and Zoro relationship - Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)

<<Part I: Before Meeting>> <<Part II: Sabaody Archipelago, The First Meeting>> <<Part III: Punk Hazard: The Alliance (A)__(B)>>  <<Part IV: Dressrosa, The Breaking Point (The Plan Failed)__ (Saving Law)__(Protecting Law)__ (Birdcage, Pica and Doflamingo)__ (Aftermath)>> <<Part V: Zou, The Kindred Spirits (Traveling Together)__(Searching for Nakama)__ (Reunion)__ (Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance)__(The Last Moments before War)>>  <<Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)__(Zoro & Luffy means Trouble)  ...>>

A word of introduction to the 6th part of The Development of Law and Zoro relationship: Wano arc is still an ongoing adventure and because of that, weeks if not months will pass before we learn all the details and its impact on the main characters and world as a whole. Right now, One Piece reached the 1000th chapter and from on, the Supernovas will finally face Big Mom and Kaido. It’s hard to tell if this will be their final battle or not and how much the author still has up his sleeve about Zoro and Law in regard to their relationship during this arc. I suspect some flashback may happen in the near future, especially since Luffy, Law and Zoro are going to fight arm to arm with Kid and Killer against the main target of the alliance - the Emperors. Because of that I can’t rule out the possibility that upcoming chapters could show the dynamic of Zoro and Law already analyzed by me in a different light yet I decided to slowly tackle the analysis of what was shown so far and eventually write an annex and/or correction if the future source material will bring any contradiction. 

Every part of the analysis so far got an individual subtitle from me, as a quick summary of Zoro and Law’s relationship stage. For example, Dressrosa Arc was the breaking point that in the visible way separated their neutrality (indifference?) from previous adventures and the clear comradeship presented from on. Wano is pretty hard to name properly so I went with the general “Against Emperors'' title. But frankly speaking, the Together But Separated so far would fit even better because from chapter 909 to 1000, Law and Zoro interacted directly or indirectly (including, having some thoughts about the other) for like, maybe 10 chapters at best. At the same time, most of the likely development of their relationship was happening offscreen - the journey to Wano that is basically omitted by the story so far and so is the time before Straw Hats went undercover. The upcoming confrontation with Emperors thankfully is going to change that. Because of lack of direct interaction I decided to write  also about A) Law and Straw Hats (especially Straw Hats men) and B) Supernovas to show how different it is from his and Zoro dynamic.

That said, time for a proper analysis!

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The alliance separated into four groups. Luffy's team went to rescue Sanji and got into a fight with Big Mom. Zoro and Law became part of Kinemon’s team and headed to Wano Country scrambled in Law’s submarine. For now (up to chapter 1000), there was little to no detail or flashback about that time of journey, but who knows what future chapters will reveal. 

Despite the lack of proper information, some conclusions may be drawn on the basis of previously established informations and logic:

➽ On Zou, Law promised Kinemon a safe passage to Wano. Since shogun Orochi worked closely with Kaido, Beast Pirates posed an additional threat on this part of the sea. Another  problem was limited ways to enter the country by ocean. The hidden tunnel leading to Mogura Port was used only when Kaido or Orochi granted someone permission thus was out of question. The other known method was the Climbing Koi Waterfall which itself was a pretty dangerous method, especially since sea currents and weather there were all the time bad for sailing (chapter 910)

So far, there is no information how exactly Team Kinemon avoided or passed by the natural dangers nor how they entered the country (did they find another way underwater?).To get into the country without being spotted by the enemy the submarine most likely needed to be submerged for the majority if not all of the course since Zou alone was already targeted by Beast Pirates.

➽ It’s hard to tell how long the journey took from Zou to the samurai homeland - what depended on the Elephant’s location, submarine’s speed achieved while sailing or during the submergence and eventual obstacles on the way. The most telling time reference we have is that:

⟹ Luffy’s team needed “multiple (several) days” to reach Big Mom’s territory (chapter 823, 824). Nami said Luffy wasted a week’s food supply which also supports the claim that the journey was meant to last for more than one-two days.

⟹ Additionally, the enemy subordinates transporting Sanji to wedding (chapter 825) also needed “several days'' to cross the borderline of Big Mom’s territory and they left Zou two days before Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky and Law get there. The Straw Hats spent at least two days before they separated into two groups, which gives the enemy four days of advantage. It feels like Big Mom’s pirates sailed around a week (4 day at minimum). 

⟹ Saving Sanji and fighting the Charlotte Family took another five days. On the fifth day, in the early morning the Straw Hats escape Totto Land (chapter 901)

⟹ While Luffy’s team sailed to Wano (chapter 903), manga showed the events happening at the same time in a different places, including the world leaders sailing to Mary Geoise for Reverie that last for a seven days. In chapter 904, it was said the conference would start in two days that have passed in chapter 908. Chapter 909 brings the storyline back to Wano and chapter 910 is the moment when Luffy’s team reach the country boardline. It seems safe to assume Luffy’s group took at least 2 days to reach Wano.

⟹ The journey from Zou to Whole Cake Island took Straw Hats several days but from Totto Land to Wano closer to two days.  

⟹ Jack the Drought’s return to Wano happened several days before Luffy’s arrival. Since “several” is an “indefinite number more than 2 or 3 but not many”(x), he most likely got there before Luffy left Big Mom’s territory. Of course that doesn’t tell much how long it took to sail from Zou to Wano, because Jack needed to be rescue from the bottom of sea first (after Elephant destroyed all ships of Beast Pirates on Momonosuke’s order, chapter 824) but at the same time it suggests that journey from Wano and back took days. To find Jack, the Kaido’s people most likely followed the vivre card - otherwise, how did they manage to find and rescue the person stuck deep underwater? And because they traveled through their captain’s territory, they didn’t need to avoid anyone in their journey, unlike the alliance. 

Though it’s impossible to determine how long time passed from Luffy leaving Zou to arriving in Wano, it was longer than a week yet the most likely shorter than a month. I feel like the safest bet is something around two weeks. When Luffy arrived in Wano, Zoro’s group was already working on their tasks yet the indirect information suggests that Kinemon’s group most likely traveled for a few(?) days rather than just hours. Whatever it was a few hours or one day or more, the Zoro and Law’s group was stuck in enclosed space deep under water for a while.

➽ The manga does not provide a precise scale to measure Thousand Sunny with Polar Tang. The closest in that matter are frames from Marineford and Dressrosa arcs

in which both Polar Tang and Thousand Sunny look tiny compared to Marine Battleship. It’s hard to tell for sure the difference in length but it’s not something truly drastic. Thousand Sunny uses a soldier dock system and the Coup de Burst in specific situations, relying mainly on sailing in a traditional way. Although Submarine is also equipped with sails, more often was shown during immersion. Both boats are equipped with some advanced technology though I suspect that engines and machinery for air circulation and heat (the basic life support equipment) built into Polar Tang may take some of space (that and at least some space was intended for the operating room). 

➽ Even if Law’s Polar Tang was spacious boat, it needed to accommodate Heart Pirates (Law and his 20 crewmembers), samurais (Kinemon, Momonosuke, Raizo and Kanjuro) and remaining part of Straw Hats (Zoro, Robin, Usopp, Franky). An eight additional people to feed and bunk somewhere, in case of a longer journey. For record, Thousand Sunny during its journey to Dressrosa carried only 9 Straw Hats and four additional people (Law, Momonosuke, Kinemon, Caesar Clown). Even if both ships are more or less of the same size, Sunny hadn’t been crowded like Polar Tang was while heading to Wano.

➽ In contrast to normally sailing Thousand Sunny, the submerged submarine has less space to find privacy (isolation) from the group or the noise. All members of Straw Hat crew have their personal space on the ship, be it Usopp’s Factory or Sanji’s kitchen or Zoro’s gym (lookout point). A place they may work in peace or relax. On Polar Tang, samurais and Straw Hats were the guests, thus on personal territory of other pirates. If they didn’t get along well, the journey could be awkward and uncomfortable. Most likely it wasn’t, considering how Heart Pirates were excited to meet their allies and the two crews already were partying together on Zou. At the same time, during that party, the lonely panel (evidence) showed only Usopp interacting with Penguin(?). Zoro was drinking with wolf Mink, while Robin, Franky and samurais weren’t there at all. The little bits of Law’s crew presented in the previous arc suggest they are more emotionally open and easy going people than their captain and both crews have a lot of stories to share and laugh about during their journey to bond over. Usopp and Franky most likely didn’t have any problem fitting into the new situation, but Zoro is a much more reserved, no-nonsense person than them, especially around strangers. Much more intimidating too. And the last journey with Bartolomeo’s crew proved how short-tempered he can be if surrounded by noisy and/or idiotic people for too long.

➽ Straw Hats for the first time had a chance to see Law on his turf. Up to this moment, they interacted on either neutral, enemy or Straw Hats’ home ground. Now the roles were reserved, Law was the host and captain of the submarine. Kinemon may be the leader of the team, but during the journey it was Trafalgar (and Heart Pirates) that guaranteed safety and took responsibility for the wellbeing of the rest. Straw Hats were the ones who needed to adapt to the situation (like not getting in the way of Heart Pirates when the crew performed their duties) and trust Heart Pirates’ navigation skills.

➽ Adding to that, all the additional 8 people weren’t really accustomed to traveling underwater for longer period of time. Of course, Straw Hats had some experiences with the little submarine built by Franky but from all of them (beside maybe Franky himself), only Robin, at least manga-wise, took part in submerging search for Fishman Island, two years earlier - what was seen in chapter 490. And was apparently aware of the danger submerging too deeply.

All Straw Hats experienced submerging to Fishman Island but according to Nico, it was “nothing like a submarine” and it felt like they were “flying through the air” (chapter 604).

Which may imply that traveling in Law’s submarine was very new and/or different experiences to what Straw Hats knew.

➽ Also, out of 8 people, half were devil fruit users. We may only wonder how spending hours/days underwater could affect samurais (who were still catching up with the technological change that happened in the last 20 years) and Robin - and depending on the result, affecting Zoro, Usopp and Franky. Like was mentioned above, Robin already had some experiences with submerging but we must remember that “Shark Submerge III” was built by Franky, thus trusted to be a safe way of exploring the ocean while Polar Tang was totally new, alien territory belonging to other pirate crew. Once again, we don’t know how long the journey lasted and how enclosed and crowded space was and how being trapped for a longer period of time under water was affecting devil fruit users. Claustrophobia and panic attacks could happen at any moment, even more if the submarine was attacked by sea monsters or flowed into an excessively strong current. Law presumably was used to the feeling and enclosed space by now but at the same time, his crew so far doesn’t seem to have any other devil fruit user beside him. Traveling together with so many (inexperienced) stranger devil fruit users could be much more exhausting than it seemed at first glance.

➽➽ Frankly, the additional scene in episode 490 showed that:

A) living conditions on the submarine can be affected by external factors. In this case, the submarine going through an underwater volcanic(?) region caused the rise of temperature inside the boat and thus brough discomfort to Heart Pirates. 

B) The living conditions worsened to the point Bepo was suffering overheating. He admitted “I hate riding the submarine. Spending several hours in a cramped area together with these scruffy guys.” and even kinda bullied Penguin and Shachi into submarine ascent so he could breath with fresh air.

We don’t know much about the underwater region(s) between Zou and Wano but manga mentioned at least strong sea currents. Depending how deep the submarine could - or rather needed - to submerge, the outside temperature (and pressure) of water could affect traveling people. Generally, the deeper into the ocean, the temperature is lower while the hydrostatic pressure increases. Of course, waters of the Grand Line are unpredictable and there was no one in the group that knew for sure what awaited them during underwater travel. So if even experienced Heart Pirate like Bepo, who according to SBS (vol. 84, chapter 840) met Law shorty after Cora’s death and is his friend since then thus we may assume has the same years of experiences with submarine, could be so affected by heat, cramped area and hours of traveling underwater with “scruffy guys”, the possibility of happening something similar to Straw Hats or Samurais can’t be excluded.

➽ In contrast to the uncertain situation of devil fruit users, Franky and Usopp most likely were smitten with all the technology of the submarine and bonding over it with Heart Pirates. In addition, both men were friendly by nature.

➽ Zoro, sadly, wouldn't have much to do there. No lookout point available, no guarding ship, no way for a serious trening or real fight with Law or samurais (to avoid destroying the submerged boat). Did he happily sleep or drink through the journey or did he grow restless at some point, we don’t have any clue so far. At the same time, Zoro wasn’t on his (safe) ship, had other Straw Hats (and samurais) to look after, didn’t have anything important to do (no real duties, no knowledge how to maintain submarine) and unhealthy habit of sleeping barely 3 hours per day that could finally took its toll. Though looking at Law’s dark circles under eyes, his sleeping habits may not be better than Zoro's .

In general, the alliance journey to Wano could provide a lot of interesting and important details about the development of Law and Zoro relationship, especially since for the first time in the four arcs, Law was on his home ground and had better control over the course of events. At the same time, his dorky crew could tell many stories of their (and Law’s) past or previous adventures. There were also matters of Wano to discuss, but also no place to run away if Zoro wanted some distance from noisy Law’s crewmembers - on Thousand Sunny Law at least could choose to sleep on the ship deck instead of being cramped with others in the men quarter. Straw Hats and samurais didn’t have such luxury.

Zoro and Law could learn something new about each other or simply fall into an already established dynamic or even get tired of each other after being forced to spend time together in enclosed space. Sadly, so far manga did not provide anything useful about their journey.

The next part: Zoro & Luffy Means Troubles...

[its-sixxers]

Contract Lost

Whumptober Day 5 Prompt: Where Do You Think You’re Going? (On the Run)

Lone Wanderer x Charon, Fallout 3

Spring in the Capital Wasteland was wet. Whatever ground wasn’t held together by tree roots turned marshy - Lizzy grunted, struggling to walk through the hard to navigate terrain. Charon plowed on in front of her, his head turning to and fro as he scanned the horizon.

“You know.” she panted after a particularly grating struggle with the muck that had almost eaten her boot. “I’m starting to think we should’ve taken our chances with that group on the road.” It was hours back, a group of six in leather armor with rifles strapped to their backs sauntering down the road. Charon had somehow managed to spot them before they realized there was other company on the road, and quickly ushered her into an alternative path through the wilderness. Cracked and broken pavement wasn’t the most comfortable path, but it beat the mud and brush.

“We were outnumbered.” Came Charon’s short reply - he’d been on edge for months since they’d retaken the purifier, and all the clean water in the world wasn’t enough to settle his nerves. Lizzy couldn’t help but blame herself for it - her own rash actions had destroyed what emotional fortitude he’d built in their time together, and now he was very close to skittish.

Lizzy tried not to wheeze - weeks of bed rest had unwritten the little bit of musculature she’d managed to gain, and the aftereffects of acute rad poisoning had left her body weak. The skin on her face was still bruised, parts of it still peeling from the burns. Still, she was alive - a miracle, everyone had said - so she couldn’t complain. At least she was free of the bandages - the ones around her face had been suffocating.

Charon paused a couple of yards in front of her, glancing over his shoulder at her. He heaved a sigh at her pathetic display as he’d done so many times before - but this time there was concern etched in his brow where before there’d only been annoyance. “Zaychik.” he grumbled, the nickname for her one he’d grown fond of using. “I should call you cherepakha instead.”

“I don’t know what either of those words mean.” she huffed. “Are you ever going to tell me what language you’re speaking?”

“So you can find a dictionary?” He raised a brow, continuing onward once she caught up. “I see you searching the libraries. No. Discover it on your own, then we talk.”

Charon said it with such certainty it almost frustrated her - but his return to playful teasing was one she wasn’t about to question.

“Fine. I hope you don’t mind seeing more libraries.” Lizzy groaned a little when the terrain tilted upward, unhappy to not just have a trek through mud to deal with, but an uphill trek.

“They are not unpleasant.” Charon returned, scaling the small embankment with ease. Lizzy stared at his long and muscular legs with a mix of resentment and awe, earning a slip in the mud for her trouble.

“Shoot.” she hissed as she fell forward, coating the front of her jacket in mud. The familiar clink of Charon’s armor sounded at her side, and her legs dangled as he lifted her up, looping his arms under hers.

“We’re almost back on the road.” He spoke from behind her, his breath ruffling the hair at the crown of her head and his voice rumbling against her back. Somehow even when he was manhandling her he was gentle - she felt like a ballet dancer being lifted gracefully across the stage, even as mud dripped down her coat. Charon walked back up the slippery embankment as if it was nothing and set her down neatly on the pavement.

Lizzy wiped the mud from her pipboy screen and squinted at her map - they were far north, beyond Oasis and its slowly spreading greenery. Running messages for the Temple of the Union wasn’t glamorous work, but it was rewarding - and she liked the change of scenery. They’d made the trip a few times already, to a little settlement called Garden’s End. The wildflowers certainly earned the place its name.

“You look like a slug.” Charon clicked his tongue and wiped a smear of mud from her cheek with his thumb. He paused, knuckles still brushing the underside of her jaw, and for what was far from the first time Lizzy felt her chest leap.

Always she had to be the one to break the contact - Charon’s touches lingered and she never knew if it was the contract or his own feelings. Part of her refused to dwell on the possibility of the latter - she didn’t know if they could ever find a way to break his conditioning, and her heart couldn’t handle it if they couldn’t.

It didn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach or the need she had for his opinion and conversation, but she’d been gifted enough in her lifetime - she was willing to bear dwelling in limbo. Lizzy cleared her throat and looked back down at her pip-boy, bringing her face out of Charon’s reach. He let his arm drop to his side immediately after, resuming the stoic posture of a bodyguard.

“A couple more hours and we should be there.” she reassured him, starting back down the road. “I could go for a bath.”

“Mm.” Charon hummed his agreement at her side. “They let ghouls in?”

“They’d better.” Lizzy stated matter-of-factly. “Not that that’s ever been a problem for us.”

“The Citadel almost was.” he returned. She sighed at him and jogged forward to catch up with his stride.

“But it worked out. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get a nice warm meal, a bath, maybe some rum and nuka-cola…”

“You always have such faith.”

“Someone has to.”

Lizzy caught a grin on his face, and beamed in return. Even being covered in mud couldn’t dampen her spirits - Charon was in a good mood, which meant hers was stellar.

They walked in companionable silence for around an hour more before they met fellow travelers on the road. As always Charon spotted them first - he cast his arm across his chest to bring her to a stop, stepping forward to shield her behind him the best he could.

“Charon.” Lizzy huffed. “There’s only two of them. You’re making us look suspicious.”

His body was stiff again, all trace of his previous good humor vanished like smoke. Lizzy rested her hand against his bicep, feeling the tension humming beneath her fingertips.

“It’s okay.” she murmured gently in an attempt to calm him. “We’re okay.”

The other travelers waved, and any worries Lizzy had evaporated. She waved in turn, and Charon grumbled as he had so many times before.

“I don’t like the look of this.”

Lizzy smiled at the approaching newcomers, though her smile faltered a little once they came close enough for her to see what they looked like. They were two men - one handsome with sleek blonde hair, the other middle-aged and balding - both wore a mix of combat armor and leathers, mercenaries or well-equipped scavengers. They returned her smile.

“Good afternoon.” The older man began, eyeing Charon not with fear as strangers usually did, but with an odd kind of fascination. The younger man behind him said nothing, maintaining his polite smile.

“Hi.” Lizzy greeted. “You guys just leave town?”

“An hour or so ago, yes.”

Charon was sniffing the air. Lizzy knew he was a heartbeat away from reaching for his shotgun. Something about the strangers had him on edge.

“We seem to be distressing your companion.” The balding man continued. “Garner, put your rifle down, you’re spooking the man.”

Garner slowly took the laser rifle at his back out of its holster and set it down on the ground - it was of a make Lizzy had never seen. The balding man did the same with a similar looking pistol at his hip.

Part of her was suspicious - but they’d laid down their weapons, and she had Charon at her side. The advantage was theirs, and they’d beaten much worse odds.

“Thanks. You can’t be too careful on the road these days.” she tried to keep her smile from faltering - something about Garner unnerved her. Maybe it was the way his smile flashed like a blade’s edge.

“Oh, where are my manners - I’m Crawford, and this is my nephew Garner. We’re on our way to DC - rumors are spreading where we come from that the waters run pure, and I’d like to prove them wrong.” Crawford didn’t extend his hand.

“I’m Lizzy, this is Charon.” She did the introductions as she always had - traveling with Charon had made quite the chatterbox out of her. Back in the Vault she stammered when she had to do a presentation in front of the very people she grew up with. “It’s true - there’s a big purifier by Rivet City. They charge out of towners to use it, though.”

“Do they.” Crawford’s eyes glimmered, and he glanced to Garner out of the corner of his eye.

It was enough to set Charon off - in a single fluid movement his shotgun was out of its holster and grasped in his hands, the barrel staring down the two men. “I smell smoke.” he said flatly, and Garner’s smile slid off his face. Lizzy realized what she’d thought was a cloud on the horizon was a pillar of smoke - exactly where Garden’s End was.

To Lizzy’s surprise - and growing dread - it didn’t phase Crawford one bit. “They fit the description.” he said neatly, and before Charon could pull the trigger he uttered what sounded like a code. “Atropos, gamma six twelve.”

Charon lowered his shotgun, tension evaporating from his body. He stood in place idly, and Lizzy drew her own pistol.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” she barked, summoning forth all of her willpower and trying not to look as scared as she felt. “Charon, we should go -”

Crawford was beaming. “I’m afraid he can’t hear you.”

“It worked.” Garner muttered. “After all these years-”

“Charon.” Lizzy pleaded, tugging at his sleeve. It was like tugging on a mannequin. Crawford had rendered him this way with a sentence - perhaps she could undo it. “Atropos-”

Garner picked up his rifle in a heartbeat and fired a warning shot at her feet, cutting her off. “Don’t try it.”

Atropos, oldest of the greek Three Fates, the sister who severed the thread of life. The meaning did not escape her. It was getting hard to breathe. Conflict of any sort sent her anxiety levels spiking high - usually she wasn’t so close to the gun barrel. Usually Charon would have eliminated anyone who aimed a gun at her. Everything was wrong.

“Amazing.” Crawford whispered, walking right up to Charon. “What providence. You have no idea what you possess, girl.”

“Get away from him.” Lizzy stepped in front of Charon, still pointing her laser pistol at Crawford. “Get the fuck away from him, or I swear to god I’ll shoot. He’s not a possession, he’s my friend - “ The man she loved, but she wouldn’t dare speak it. “ - and we’re leaving.”

“Your hands are shaking.” Crawford observed. “Your friend will kill you before you pull the trigger.”

“Bullshit.” Swearing always felt foreign on her tongue, but she felt a need to puff herself up, to seem more dangerous. Lizzy’s mind raced with attempts at solving her issue, and all she could come up with was hoping she could shoot Garner somewhere that’d leave him unable to kill her while she tried to do the same to Crawford.

Unless - and she was starting to realize how likely that unless was - the two men knew more about what Charon was than she did. Charon told her his contract could only pass on through the death of his employer, but she’d spent many nights thinking. Someone had to make him that way. Couldn’t they undo it?

It was too risky.

The situation deeply amused Crawford judging by his rolling chuckle. He tugged off the glove of his right hand and slapped her clean across the face.

Lizzy saw stars, disoriented enough for Crawford to rip her pistol from her hands. He stepped back while she held her hand to her face - he’d hit her hard enough to bruise. Tears of pain sprung to her eyes and she blinked them back, refusing to shed any tears in front of the two men.

“Spare the rod, spoil the child.” Crawford clicked his tongue, and her temper flared. She hadn’t been a child for years - all innocence died with her father. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Reassign Ares protocol.”

Awareness returned to Charon, and for a brief moment Lizzy’s heart soared, hoping that the blow had shaken him to his senses. Her hopes were shattered when he pushed her aside with the butt of his shotgun, causing her to stumble as he walked by, settling at Crawford’s side. The man tapped his finger to his lips thoughtfully.

“You’ve been spoiled. A little girl with a bodyguard that will do whatever she says - I bet you’ve never tried to discover what he is.”

Like hell she didn’t - she’d spent hours pouring over Vault-Tec databases, days exploring every ruined military installation. She’d begged Lyons for access to the Brotherhood archives and paid for it in the start-up codes for the purifier. Lizzy wanted to scream it in his face, to tell him he knew nothing about her - but incensing him wasn’t likely to turn out well.

His smile turned into a sneer. “I’ve spent decades tracking what you’ve obtained through luck. I’d have thought someone of your reputation would be a little more educated - today you’ll learn the cost of ignorance.”

Lizzy felt like she was going to throw up. She looked at Charon pleadingly, unable to hold back her tears any longer - he returned her gaze dispassionately, looking as bored as he had standing in the Ninth Circle when she first met him. “Charon.” she whispered - I love you, she mouthed, as if it was some fairy tale and she could break the spell with a confession and a kiss.

Had everything been a lie? Were the tender moments only hours before just the result of his conditioning, as she’d always feared? A friendship born of programming, wiped away like she’d done to so many protectrons in her time. Lizzy’s breathing came in reedy whines, she was shaking worse than ever now - trying desperately to think of a deal, to think of something that could convince these men to release Charon. It couldn’t have all been a lie, she told herself. This very incident was what he had warned her about, was what he confessed to fearing in the late hours of the night. It was more hellish for him than it was for her, she was certain.

The worst part, he’d told her, was that he was aware of the motions of his body even as his mind screamed otherwise. It was worse to dissent in the mind than to lose all thought, to witness the horrors you wrought with your own hands. Azhrukhal knew it, and made him enact cruelty upon cruelty as punishment with full awareness of the damage it’d do to Charon’s psyche.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“Please.” Begging was her last resort, but it was all that was left to her. “There’s plenty of mercs out there, probably people even better than he is at the whole killing thing - please let him go, I’ll pay you, I’ll give you whatever you want.” In her state she was even willing to lay the purifier on the line - the two men would be ripped apart by the Brotherhood, at least. “Anything.”

Garner laughed. “You don’t have anything we want, kid. You’re in a bad position to bargain. Come on, Crawford - let’s give the big guy a test run.”

Lizzy’s blood ran cold. Charon’s face was blank.

“It’s sad, what lack of discipline will do.” Crawford sighed - his tone sounded like that of an annoyed old settler, rather than a murderer. “Charon. Kill her.”

She was running before the sentence was done - a shotgun blast hitting the ground just behind her feet. This was a nightmare, something out of her worst dreams - but as another blast hit a tree close to her head and wood splinters flew in her face she knew it was all terribly real.

Lizzy took off for the woods, where the ground was sturdier and the cover was deeper. Over and over she repeated that Charon had better aim than that, that if he really wanted her dead she would be - but then a pellet grazed her arm and she knew that if he had the chance he’d kill her. Breathing was agony - she was wheezing, lungs unprepared for such a chase. Adrenaline carried her forward. She thrust a hand into the messenger bag she had slung across her shoulder, desperately searching for the Stealth Boy she knew she had. The only advantage she had was her size - it was easier for her to dart and weave between the trees than it was for him.

Another blast where her torso had been a second earlier. She could hear Crawford and Garner laughing in the distance. Charon was a skilled tracker - she’d seen it with her own eyes. Stealth Boys only lasted a few minutes - how much distance could it buy her, how well could she hide that he wouldn’t find her?

A grim voice in the back of her mind said that at least he’d be the one to kill her - but she remembered the haunted quality to his voice when he recalled being trapped within his own body, and knew she couldn’t let it happen. For his sake, if not hers.

Her fingers brushed the corner of a Stealth Boy - she could hear Charon crashing through the undergrowth only yards away from her. Lizzy flipped open the top and hit the switch, the baby hairs at the back of her neck standing up as the stealth field flowed over her.

It hid her from view, but it didn’t hide her influence on her surroundings. Charon slowed, watching the foliage for movement - she was gaining distance, trying to get enough space to slip away. Her foot landed on a twig, and with the snap came another shotgun blast.

Lizzy nearly bit off her tongue as she held in her scream. Pain shot through her - pellets had ripped through the meat of her hip, the shot a grazing one. Adrenaline flushed through her, and she kept scurrying onward, praying that she wasn’t bleeding enough to leave a trace.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…

In answer to her prayers the undergrowth thinned, leaving short tufts of grass in its wake. The ground here was rocky, easier to travel without leaving a trace - here she extended her legs as far as she could with each stride, covering as much ground as possible. The sound of Charon’s pursuit faded as her stealth field started to wear thin. Frantically she searched her surroundings and spotted a little alcove in the rock, shielded by a shrub. Lizzy slipped in behind it just as her stealth field dissipated. She was barely small enough to fit - the way she had to contort her body made her bullet wound throb. She clamped her hand over her face to silence her breathing.

Familiar footfalls grew closer, so associated in her mind with safety. Charon paced the area, boots scuffing against the stone. She stared at him from her hiding place, trying to will her heart to stop beating. Charon wasn’t looking as carefully as he had with her whenever they were in pursuit of something - pride swelled within her at the small ways he seemed to bend his conditioning.

He grunted after what felt like an eternity of searching, the sound of his footsteps retreating into the distance. Lizzy didn’t dare move.

Only when night fell and darkness blanketed her surroundings did she dare to tend to her wound.

Only then she let her tears fall.

Lizzy had no plan - but there was only one thing she could do.

Where you go, I will follow.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Twelve: Belonging

The setting sun shimmered in through the stained-glass windows of the cathedral, making the space glow scarlet, tangerine, ocher, and sacred blue: a sea of coloured light that took Luka’s breath away.

The organ music started up, echoing powerfully like thunder throughout the church, cuing Luka to start his procession down the aisle to meet Adrien at the altar.

He tried to focus entirely on his mate and ignore the gathered crowd of hundreds gawking at him in judgment. He could hear the whispers going around, attendees informing those seated near them that not only was the young king marrying a man, but that that man was a fairy on top of it.

It only served as a stark reminder of how different the mortal realm was from the world of the fae. Sure, people hadn’t been happy about Luka bringing a human home and treating him like an official mate, but most people had shrugged it off and gotten over it. Some people still avoided Adrien, but most had come to accept him as a member of the community.

Luka wasn’t optimistic of his chances of receiving similar treatment from Adrien’s subjects.

He accepted that there was nothing he could do to change their minds but keep his chin up and forge ahead, treating them all with grace, kindness, and respect when he did interact with them. Maybe with time he would gain their trust and affection, but…it seemed like such an uphill battle.

So Luka fixed his gaze on Adrien and how handsome he looked in the clothes Marinette had designed and created with such care. He kept his focus on doing credit to his mate, carrying himself with poise and a quiet dignity. He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and held his head high, pretending that he was a fit companion for a young ruler.

Doubt had been creeping in over the last twenty-four hours as he realized how little he’d understood of Adrien’s world and what his life had been like before he’d thrown his lot in with Luka and left the mortal realm behind.

Adrien had fit so easily into Luka’s world, quickly becoming an entrenched part of the Couffaines’ lives. Luka didn’t think he could do the same in the human realm. He could fit in with Adrien’s friends and get along with Nathalie, but Luka couldn’t see himself sitting on a throne beside Adrien and helping him to rule. Luka had never had a head for politics, and he wasn’t a people person. He did best when left alone to make music. He couldn’t see himself being of much use to Adrien here.

But then Luka reached the end of the aisle, and Adrien took Luka’s hands in his own, giving Luka a radiant smile, eyes sparkling with barely-contained adoration…and Luka remembered that Adrien didn’t necessarily belong here either.

Adrien had learned to act the part over the years so that he could slip, chameleon-like through society, an imposter wearing an elaborate disguise. Adrien didn’t really fit in either, and he was counting on Luka’s love and support to get him through this long-con intact.

That was something Luka excelled at. Comfort and love were two things he was uniquely equipped to give Adrien. Luka may not feel like he brought anything else to this partnership, but of that he could be certain. He could be Adrien’s pillar of support, and that would have to be enough.

The ceremony progressed exactly as Nathalie had described to Luka over half a dozen times.

He paid attention, took his cues from Adrien, and generally tried not to embarrass his mate in front of the hundreds of subjects watching with eagle eyes for any slipup or perceived deficiency.

The time for the vows came, and Adrien and Luka both recited the standard rhetoric about loving and honoring one another for all the days of their lives, in sickness and in health.

The words were quaint, and Luka wondered if they meant anything to Adrien. He hadn’t included them in their abbreviated wedding ceremony, so it was possible that Adrien wasn’t terribly attached to them.

Luka liked the line about cherishing one another; though, he wasn’t such a fan of the “till death do us part”. It was too painful to think about the end of everything when it felt like they’d only just begun their happiness together.

He didn’t want to think of the endless years that lay ahead of him without Adrien. He knew he had the option of renouncing his powers and becoming human, but he wanted to save that as a last resort. Adrien had proven that he didn’t need Luka to protect him, but Luka still wanted to be able to fight and win battles for Adrien if the need ever arose. If he gave up his powers, he’d be defenseless, incapable of protecting himself, let alone Adrien.

Once they’d recited the standard human vows, they repeated the oath they had sworn together half a year ago on their second wedding night:

“I pledge myself to you, to be your partner in all things, to be your support and your shelter, to forever be on your side, never to trick or deceive you, and to respect and love you always, in this life and the next.”

Those words instilled in Luka more hope than the “till death do us part” rubbish in the first set of vows.

Humans could be so uncreative and dull, their minds too small to conceive of continued fidelity in the hereafter.

Luka didn’t want to be released from his bond with Adrien when Adrien’s life ended. Luka wanted something concrete he could hold onto across lifetimes. The thought of his link to Adrien being severed horrified him, so he was glad of the familiar oaths being there to reassure him.

They exchanged rings, said I do, and kissed reservedly so as not to offend anyone’s sensibilities.

Then, it was time for the coronation.

Really, it was just a bunch of pomp and blustering.

Luka and Adrien dutifully submitted to it, and soon crowns were placed upon their heads, and they were announced King and Prince Consort.

Luka felt ridiculous standing there in a church whose windows shone like jewels, wearing a crown and the fine clothes Marinette had made for him by toiling well through the night, as people started at him, cheering politely because they were afraid of what Luka could do to them, afraid that Adrien might prove himself to be King Gabriel’s son after all.

Adrien, though, looked ravishing. The crown suited him, and he knew how to stand and hold himself so that the expensive clothes looked natural.

Luka focused on that instead of how out of place he felt.

 “I think Alya’s having more fun than I am,” Adrien whispered several hours into the feast at which he could eat nothing.

Luka looked to where the fox spirit was dragging poor Nino around the dance floor so that she could get an eyeful of all the lavish outfits worn by the most influential people of the realm and overhear their conversations.

“Yes, she is definitely having the time of her life,” Luka snickered, smiling as Alya tugged on Nino’s arm and pointed at a couple dancing nearby.

Nino quickly batted down her hand and patiently explained that pointing was rude.

Alya instead indicated the dancing couple with an exaggerated jerk of her head and repeated her demand.

With a fond smile, Nino carefully positioned Alya’s hands, one on his shoulder and one clasped in his own, and slowly showed her the basic steps of a slow dance.

Luka’s grin widened as he remembered that night many months ago when he and Adrien had ducked into a clearing at another wedding feast held in their honor to do the same thing.

“Come on,” Adrien prodded gently, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for Luka. “Let’s go dance.”

Luka quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you won’t be missed?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “No one really cares this late into the evening. I’ve greeted and thanked and schmoozed with everyone I was supposed to. No one’s going to die if I take a break from looking regal to dance with my incredibly attractive husband.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Luka snickered, taking Adrien’s hand and following him out onto the dancefloor.

They floated gracefully around the floor, switching back and forth from song to song who was leading.

Adrien taught Luka to waltz, and they had many a laugh as they nearly tripped over one another several times before they were able to sync up and move in tandem.

Many guests stared at them—some in disgust, some only in curiosity. A small number of people who had been ambivalent about their ruler taking a fae man for a spouse saw how normal and, in fact, adorable Luka and Adrien were together and decided in favor of the couple.

Some watched them together and saw only vile debauchery.

The thrice newlyweds didn’t much notice. They were too busy taking delight in one another.

As the night wore on and the party died down, Adrien and Luka slipped off to the Queen’s chambers, no longer worrying about scandalizing the servants.

 Luka quickly learned that Adrien was bad at estimates.

He’d told Luka that he anticipated staying in the mortal realm no more than a few weeks until he could peacefully turn power over to someone who actually wanted the job. One month into their stay at the castle, it didn’t feel like they were any closer to going home than when they’d started.

It turned out that King Gabriel had been letting things slip in the months after Adrien’s disappearance. The entire kingdom was a mess, teetering on the brink of financial ruin, and the peasants were this close to staging an uprising.

It turned out, being king was a fulltime job…and Adrien didn’t entirely hate it. In fact, he was actually pretty good at it.

It was just the place that was no good for him. He didn’t fit in any better now that he was king than he had as a prince. People loved him, but they didn’t really get him, and they couldn’t see him as their equal.

Being king was lonely, and he desperately missed his life among the fae.

 “I want to go home,” Adrien whimpered as he slid into bed, curling up with Luka after yet another hard day.

“Hang in there,” Luka encouraged, squeezing Adrien tight and making the whickering sounds that often calmed his mate. “You’re doing such a good job, and the kingdom is almost back up on its feet. Things will be stable soon, and then we can throw our crowns at Nathalie or someone and run.”

Luka wasn’t entirely convinced that he was telling Adrien the truth about the state of the kingdom, but he knew at least that that was what Adrien needed to hear.

Adrien hummed distractedly. “…I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?” Luka propped himself up on an elbow to look down at his husband.

“I don’t think handing the kingdom over to another monarch is the solution my people need,” Adrien began to explain.

Luka drew in a sharp breath. “Are you…thinking about staying on? …Permanently?”

“No. Hell no,” Adrien snorted, his nose scrunching up in disgust like it did when he accidentally consumed human food. “I may eventually try for some kind of clan leader position within the fae community, but there’s no way I’m going to keep being king here. I can’t do it. I want to go home.”

“Okay,” Luka agreed softly, trying to follow Adrien’s plan. “So…if staying on as king isn’t the right answer and handing the reigns over to another monarch isn’t the right answer…what are you proposing we do?”

Adrien took a deep breath to steady himself before tentatively announcing his crazy scheme. “I want to dissolve the monarchy and set up some kind of democracy for my people so they can elect representatives to help them govern themselves.”

Luka’s eyes went wide. “That’s…very radical of you.”

Adrien nodded shamefacedly. “It’s completely insane, but I think it’s the right move for everyone.” He studied Luka’s eyes with a pleading intensity. “Will you help me start a revolution?”

“Look at me like that, and I’ll help you with anything,” Luka assured, leaning in for a bolstering kiss. “I support you in everything,” he assured. “We’re a team.”

“Thank you,” Adrien whispered, green eyes glowing like lanterns in the dark, guiding the way home.

 As expected, it took a lot of time and effort to tear down a monarchy and replace it with a functioning governmental body.

They brought in Anarka to consult, and Nathalie was elbows deep in the project from the very beginning, eager to throw herself into the work.

Adrien would definitely be voting for Nathalie for Prime Minister.

He pulled in trusted advisors from the most unexpected places to aid him in his scheme, upsetting the local nobility and making Bourgeois, Raincomprix, and Damocles hem and haw.

Adrien sought the guidance of Sabine Cheng who had always had a good head for business on her shoulders.

Xavier Ramier was intimately concerned with the environment and humans’ impact on local wildlife, so Adrien brough him on as well.

Adrien’s childhood friend Chloé was unexpectedly good at marketing and getting the information out to the public, so she was recruited and, in turn, inspired her father to be more helpful going forward as well.

Marianne Lenoir, Caline Bustier, Amina Lahiffe, Sabrina Raincomprix, and both Kagami and Tomoe Tsurugi were also invaluable allies.

It took a little over half a year, but the team worked tirelessly, and there were elections where many civic-minded citizens as well as many members of Adrien’s team won seats in the new Parliament.

The legislature met, passed laws, and successfully began to govern, finally making Adrien feel like he could return home with no regrets or sense of guilt.

His job was done.

 He exchanged temporary goodbyes with his friends, promising to come back to visit once a month.

“But, if you ever need anything, feel free to send Alya for me whenever,” he offered.

The fox spirit had been spending increasingly more time at the palace over the months, mostly only returning to the enchanted forest to sleep and go get the fairy food to deliver to Adrien.

Adrien had a feeling she’d be marrying Nino and settling in at the castle permanently any week now.

“You especially, Madame Prime Minister,” he chuckled, wrapping Nathalie in a warm embrace.

She did what, for her, passed as a smile and returned the hug.

After bidding everyone farewell, Adrien and Luka made their way back to the forest, back home.

The water felt deliciously cool and refreshing on their skin as they submerged themselves after months of feeling dehydrated.

“I feel like I can finally breath again,” Adrien chuckled, swimming into a backflip.

Luka grinned, dissolving into water before reforming as a handsome stallion to rival even Plagg.

“It’s nice to be back in my element,” Luka admitted wearily. “Come along, Little Prince. Hop on.”

Adrien mounted, wrapping his arms securely around Luka’s neck as the kelpie carried them home to the sunken ship at the bottom of Anarka’s lake.

Rose and Anarka pounced upon them as soon as they were through the door, fussing especially over Adrien.

“Why do I feel like he’s the favourite?” Luka pretended to pout, going to embrace Juleka while the other two were busy with his mate.

“It’s because you’ve been home periodically, so they didn’t have as much of a chance to miss you too much,” Juleka explained with a fond snicker as she watched Rose sob over Adrien. “They haven’t seen him at all.”

“Luuuuuuuuc!!!” Rose wailed, throwing herself at her brother-in-law.

Anarka took a step back and smiled, enjoying the spectacle.

Juleka abandoned her brother to Rose’s mercy, steeled herself, and then finally allowed herself to meet Adrien’s gaze.

He smiled hesitantly, awkwardly raising a hand in greeting. “Hi, Juleka. It’s been a long time. I hope you’ve been well?”

With an indignant glare, she socked Adrien in the arm and then pulled him into a crushing hug, muttering, “You’re such an infuriating little cupcake. How dare you make me miss you.”

Adrien pulled Juleka in closer, burying his face in her shoulder as he tried not to cry at finally winning her acceptance.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Jerk,” she accused, giving him a teasing squeeze. “This was all a part of your heinous scheme to make me like you.”

“You caught me,” Adrien laughed through tears.

“…No one makes that potato soup as well as you do,” she grumbled. “I know Rose was the one who taught you in the first place, but…hers isn’t as good.”

Adrien pulled back with a grin, eager to please. “Do you want me to make it for dinner tonight?”

Juleka averted her gaze with an indifferent shrug, still playing coy. “I mean, you can if you want. I don’t care.”

“Please,” Rose snickered, having no qualms about ratting out her wife. “Juju’s been whining about that soup for months. I’ve stopped making it for her because she always gets really sulky when I do because it reminds her of you.”

“Aww. That’s really sweet,” Adrien cooed, pulling Juleka back into his arms for another hug.

“I’ve clearly made a mistake,” Juleka muttered sullenly. “I’m not sweet.”

“You’re adorable,” Luka teased, gently pulling Adrien away. “He can make you soup later. For now, I think Dri and I need some rest. It’s been a long eternity,” he informed, tugging Adrien towards their bedroom.

 Adrien did a bellyflop onto the bed and rolled around happily, overjoyed to be back on his own mattress. “How I’ve missed this,” he giggled.

“Move over,” Luka snickered, dropping a kiss to the back of Adrien’s neck.

“No,” Adrien pouted, burying his face in his estranged pillow. “This is my spot. You get the other side of the bed. Has it really been so long that you’ve forgotten?”

Luka lovingly rolled his eyes and crawled over Adrien, settling into his own customary spot.

Adrien rolled over and curled up beside Luka, resting his head on Luka’s chest with a sigh of contentment.

“You doing okay?” Luka inquired, giving Adrien’s hair a soft nuzzle. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired…tired but good,” Adrien assured, eyes starting to grow heavy as the exhaustion of the past six months caught up with him all at once. “Finally at peace now that there’s nothing left from my past to come find me.”

Luka hummed in understanding.

“I tried not to let myself worry too much before, but it did hang over my head sometimes, how I’d abandoned my family, my friends, my kingdom,” Adrien confessed. “I feel a lot lighter now.”

“Good,” Luka whispered, pressing a trail of tiny kisses from the top of Adrien’s head down the side of his face. “I’m glad. That means we can just focus on being happy from now on.”

“Yeah,” Adrien breathed thoughtfully, lifting his head to meet Luka’s gaze. “Thank you. I know I’ve said it again and again, and I know you’ve said that you’re more than happy to stay by my side and support me through anything, but…I just want you to know how much you mean to me, how much easier my life is just by having you in it. I really do appreciate you.”

“Hush,” Luka chuckled affectionately, reaching up to stroke Adrien’s face. “I’m glad you never take me for granted, but…we are one. Your problems are my problems. I will always be at your side so that we can face whatever comes our way together.”

“Until death do us part?” Adrien whispered, lacing his fingers through Luka’s.

Luka shook his head. “In this life and the next.”

“I’ve always liked that part,” Adrien laughed, leaning in to press his lips to his husband’s. “I can’t think of a better way to spend eternity than with you.”

The

      End

 Epilogue:

Adrien keeps aging naturally until he’s in about his mid-thirties. He doesn’t really notice that he’s stopped aging until his fifties when he notices Marinette and Nino starting to slow down a little while Adrien still has plenty of energy and not a grey hair on his head.

Also, over the years, he starts developing more empathic abilities. His environment subtly reacts to his emotions, and he can read others’ emotions fairly easily and even manipulate them if he chooses.

Luka and Adrien live happily together for about two hundred years before Adrien finally passes away. Luka is completely bereft for a couple decades, but his family keeps him going.

The Couffaines adapt to modern life and pass themselves off as mortals as humanity encroaches ever more on the wild spaces and forgets about the fair folk. Eventually, they get a pirate ship and dock it on the Seine near the Pont de Grenelle by the Eiffel Tower.

One day, the Couffaines hold a concert for the local music festival and receive a shock when strangers with oddly familiar faces attend.

One blonde boy with a birthmark on his shoulder that looks like a bitemark trips while boarding the ship, and Luka helps him up. Luka Couffaine meets Adrien Agreste, and it’s love at first sight all over again.

Challenge to the Reader: Someone go write Luka and reincarnated Adrien’s meeting on the Liberty. I’m just imagining Adrien being all like “Do I…know you?” and Luka freaking out, trying not to scare Adrien away. XD

[aband0ned-s0uls]

A like V - Part 1

-SPOILERS FOR ENDING- 

This is my first time writing a fic, and I’m so excited/nervous to share it with you guys! V gets a ‘lil birthday surprise. 

Also please excuse the dreadful formatting, I’m not a Tumblr pro. 

---------

V swirled the dregs of her drink around her glass as she leaned half against the bar of the Red Dirt, her head resting on her hand, letting the vibrations from the music flow through the cool metal of the worktop and into her body as she waited for the bartender to pour her next one.

After spending months cooped up in her apartment, watching shitty movies, eating cold burritos and recovering from having her own engram re-write the chip, V had been more than surprised when Kerry had called her on the holo and told her – not asked – that he had organised a birthday bash at the Red Dirt for her and her attendance was required. I mean sure, she'd had visitors, and Kerry had been a lifeline in enabling her to get drunk, release her built up frustration by smashing the shit out of everything in true Eurodyne style and reminisce about Johnny, but she never thought in a million years that Kerry Eurodyne would be organising a birthday party for her.

What might have been weirder was the fact that he had also invited her closest friends. Maybe she just wasn't used to people doing things out of the kindness of their hearts, but it all felt a little surreal.

She was lost in her thoughts as she studied the soft red and purple glow illuminating the edges of her glass, musing on how it reminded her of many an exhausted night of stumbling into her apartment, heading straight for her bed after a job and falling asleep to the sounds of Night City. The soft glow of the neon street lights from her window dancing underneath her eyelids as she drifted off. Of many a night listening to Johnny chastise her for falling asleep fully clothed, dinner neglected, asking her for at least one fuckin' cigarette before she passed out. She would launch a pillow at him and tell him to shut the fuck up, he would chuckle and call her a cunt as it sailed through his engram and hit the wall with a soft thud, and she would drift off with a small smile on her face.

Johnny. The thought of him, his absence, she felt it like a punch in the gut. Her fingers tightened around her glass. She'd made it out of Mikoshi alive, the chip re-written by Alt to contain her own engram. She was whole again, but she didn't feel like it.

The music from the band onstage, the animated voices from the people in the bar, strangers, acquaintances and friends alike washed over and around her, but she still felt so alone, and that made her equals parts sad and angry. She'd never really felt alone before – hell, she'd even enjoyed her alone time, but Johnny not being around was like missing a hole in her fuckin' head.

Why should I miss the ghost of a fuckin' asshole?

But V already knew the answer to that question. He wasn't just any asshole, he was her asshole. Johnny, who would tell her she looked shit warmed up and made sure she ate something when she'd forgotten to all day in the same breath. Johnny, who would cover her back and alert her to enemies she hadn't spotted so she didn't get another bullet lodged in her fuckin' skull, but would let her gladly stay unaware of an object at her feet when she stumbled into her apartment drunk, just so he could laugh as she tripped and face planted the back of her couch.

Johnny who had been given a second shot at life, Johnny who was the most inherently selfish motherfucker she'd ever met had turned around and traded it for hers.  

Johnny, who had brushed her hair behind her ear in cyberspace, and with more emotion in his voice than she'd ever thought possible, had said his only regret in this life was that they'd never get a happy ending.  

She'd relived that memory, over and over again. She'd thought he'd meant as two chooms, riding through Night City, shooting the shit after another relentless job, like her and Jackie. But when she'd looked in his eyes, she knew he'd meant more. They'd both shared thoughts and emotions, and the closer they'd got on their journey to Mikoshi, the more their feelings for each other had become intertwined. Never needing to – or at least willingly – be spoken out loud.

Until the end. The look on his face as she turned around one last time before she crossed the bridge. The thought of more, and the implications of what could have been, was what kept her awake at night.

She was torn away from her melancholy thoughts when the bartender slid her fresh vodka lemonade over to her. V looked up and forced a smile. V's vision blurred slightly, and she told herself it was the four drinks she'd already had, but as she blinked rapidly she knew that wasn't the whole truth. Fuck it, she thought. If this was going to be the tone of the evening, a little extra alcohol could only help. Besides, it was her birthday, and V decided if there was ever an appropriate time to get shit-faced, now was definitely it.

“Two shots of tequila too please, choom.”

“Coming right up, chica.”

The bartender came back quickly with her shots. 

One for Jackie, and one for Johnny. 

V threw them back, one after another. Her eyes watered after the second, and a warm flush enveloped her from her head to her toes. She was buzzed, and the alcohol felt like an emotional safety blanket. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, but at least after 6 drinks it hurt a little less. 

As the bartender took away her empties, V felt a familiar presence close in.

“Those are on me.” 

V turned to see the one person who always managed to lift her spirits, Panam. 

“Happy Birthday, V.”

V smiled, a genuine smile this time, and wrapped an arm around Panam's shoulder. V was relieved that was Panam was here. She was like the sister V had never had, and V held her memories with Pan laying awake, shit-faced and laughing underneath the stars in the Badlands as close to her heart as she did with her memories of Jackie. True friendship was hard to find, and Panam was truly an angel. 

A hot-tempered angel with a love for cold beer and fast cars, but an angel never the less.

“Pan! I didn't think you'd make it, 's good to see you.”

Panam laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with warmth, and V earned herself a nudge in her side from Panam's elbow. V chuckled.

“V, I hope you are joking. It's your birthday, of course I'd be here, you're family.” 

Panam took a swig of the Brosephs she had in hand and gave V a sly smile as she leaned her back against the bar. 

“We managed to finish our... business, right on time.”

V's arched a brow at Panam's choice of words, and was about to question why she looked like the cat who got the cream when she saw, to her utter surprise, Mitch and Kerry walking through the bar towards them. They were talking in serious tones, glancing every now and again at V, but the noise in the bar was too loud for V to hear them.

Now this should be interesting, V thought as she removed her arm from around Panam and reached for her vodka lemonade, taking a sip, her curiosity piqued. Since when the fuck were Mitch and Kerry chooms?

Both of the men broke out into shit-eating grins when they locked eyes on V. Kerry sauntered right over to V, clapping her on the shoulder.

“V! Kid, glad you made it.”

 He beamed at her, and shouted to the barman for another round of drinks. Him and Panam shared a knowing look as V readjusted her position, leaning so that her back was against the bar so that she could look at both of them.

“So, now that you're here, I have a preem birthday surprise for you, V. It's gonna blow your fucking socks off, I'm tellin' ya.” 

Kerry settled beside her, taking a drink from the freshly poured round on the bar. He winked before downing it in one go, as her face turned to look of confusion.

V looked between all three of them, taking another sip of her drink.

 “I'm guessin' all of you were involved in this surprise then, huh?”

Panam and Mitch smiled brightly, Mitch chuckling through a freshly lit cigarette. Before they could answer, Kerry banged down his now empty glass onto the bar, and clapped his hands together, looking at the stage. V followed his gaze and noticed that the music had stopped, and a group of stage hands were moving equipment around. Her eyes went wide as she noticed Nancy setting up her keyboard on the stage, followed shortly by Denny.

“Ker, what the fuck...” She looked at him. “You guys are playin' me a birthday gig?”

Ker laughed, clapping her on the shoulder again as he started walking backwards away into the crowd, heading towards backstage.

“You'll see V, like I said, it's gonna be FUCKIN' preem!”

With another wink and a finger pointed at her, he was gone.

V shook her head, smiling, feeling flattered and happy. She guessed she'd had a bigger impact on the people in her life than she previously thought. Hearing some of Samurai's music live on her birthday? It was going to be bittersweet. 

Still, she didn't understand Mitch's and Panam's involvement in this... V fidgeted with her leather skirt and twisted a strand of her long dark hair pensively whilst she waited for the show to start.

----------------------------- 

Kerry practically skipped backstage, slamming the doors wide open.

“Everythin' ready to go?” He asked, as he jumped in place, rolling his shoulders and wrists.

“Ready to rock and fuckin' roll.”

Ker looked over to the man sat in the corner, who outwardly appeared cocky and relaxed, cigarette in hand and legs up and resting on an amp.

But Ker knew better, far better. The nervous strum of metal fingers along the sideboard that hadn't ceased since they arrived and the empty pack of cigarettes laying on the floor told Kerry all he needed to know.

He gave his old friend a wide smile and smacked him on the shoulder.

“She's gonna fuckin' love it, Johnny. Now stop brooding, lets' go knock her dead.”

[humanmoodring-retired]

Season’s Yeetings Pt. 1 || Blanche, Connor, Nadia (x2), Regan, and Kaden

TIMING: Present PARTIES: @harlowhaunted @connorspiracy @humanmoodring @kadavernagh @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Another exorcism. feat. Mav the Exorcist CONTENT: Self harm, suicide attempt (possession-driven)

If it could, Nadia was sure that her heart would be beating way too fast. She was… scared didn’t seem like it could properly encompass what she was feeling. Nervous and terrified and resigned in case things went wrong. And this could really go wrong. This could go terribly, actually, ending with not just a dead body but the wrong spirit also being destroyed. But she didn’t think she could handle being like this for much longer, and she knew that there was no way in hell Cordelia could be allowed to keep her body and do whatever she wanted with it. This had to end, no matter what. She looked around her apartment, covered in dust and messy as the day she’d walked out. This was the first time she’d been in it since the wards had been put up, and it hurt a bit to be back. This was somewhere that she’d once felt safe, comfortable. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel comfortable again if she made it out of this. But she needed to steel her resolve. She looked over at the others, gave them a nod and what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’re just waiting for Kaden and the exorcist, right?” And her body, of course, but that didn’t need to be voiced, did it?

Regan knew that she didn’t need to remind Nadia of what she had said in the cabin. It was as good as a promise, even though she couldn’t say the word. Nadia wouldn’t die alone. No matter what happened here today, Regan could at least give her that. And anything could happen. The first aid kit Regan had set on the counter was testament to that. Nadia didn’t want to acknowledge it verbally, but her tense expressions and manic pacing -- sometimes through the floor -- said what her words didn’t. She was terrified. In some moments, Regan allowed herself to be, too. This wasn’t how Regan wanted to come back to their apartment together, both of them ghosts of their former selves, but if today went in their favor -- and she would do anything she possibly could to see that it would -- one of them could be saved.

When Blanche and a young man who she assumed to be Connor arrived, Regan backed up to the opposite side of the room, staring across at them with a tight frown and black eyes. She didn’t greet them, but she wouldn’t shame them either. She didn’t have anger inside of her anymore -- not enough to speak -- but from an objective point of view, she did blame the two of them for Nadia’s current predicament. They would set this right, or they would face consequences. They both seem determined but anxious, focused with heavy steps and tight knuckles. Blanche, especially, seemed more an adult than she ever had before. Regan silently watched as some parts of the stage were set. Candles, salt, metal which looked dangerously like iron, and more. For her own contribution, she pushed the furniture to the sides of the room, creating an open space in the center. She could see all of their footprints in the dust, layered on top of each other and the ones she had left just a couple of weeks ago. When that was done, she went back to her wall, maintaining as much distance as possible from anyone who wasn’t Nadia. “Yes,” Regan replied, Nadia’s nervous smile melting through her a little, “Kaden said he would be ready at twenty after.” She checked her watch. Soon. “As for the-- I don’t know anything about them.”

Did it make him look better or worse to show up with homework? Photocopied pages lay folded in his back pocket, but he hadn’t dared pull them out in front of the others. He’d read them countless times anyway. Connor was more than grateful for the material’s Leah had copied from her archives for him, as well as everything he'd found while researching with Rio, but he still hadn’t managed to find anything that related to the exact situation they’d found themselves in. As far as he could tell, exorcising the wrong soul from a body just didn’t happen all that often. He supposed either he was that much of a fuck up, or Nadia’s situation was just that special. Regardless, he reckoned the older exorcist would know. “Do you know where Kaden found this bloke?” Connor asked nobody in particular. He wondered if it would be impolite to smoke a cigarette while they waited. He opted against it, since the woman with the dark eyes seemed ready to kill him at any moment. “I mean, I appreciate the help. I really do. I just wanna check what exactly we know about him.”

The somber expression on Blanche’s face couldn’t seem to leave, even as she entered the apartment and took a look at Nadia and Regan. “Hey,” she said in greeting, her tone flat. She couldn’t say much else. Blanche dropped her smaller bag on a piece of furniture and began to set up as much as she could - Blanche was conscious enough to keep the iron as far from Regan as possible. She glanced at Connor as he began to speak, pulling the long black bag she had on her back off. “He has his connections. I’m sure he’s adequate,” Blanche replied, though she was unsure too. Granny had instilled a distrust of exorcists in her from when she was young. She wasn’t sure how much of that was out of fear of being exorcised herself, but Blanche knew that a lot of people liked to masquerade with powers they didn’t actually have for the chance to get quick cash from desperate people. She unzipped the large bag, before pausing, with a frown. Warily, she announced, “I borrowed a shotgun from a friend,” she said, pulling it out. Well, really, she borrowed it from Stan, who was all too keen to give her a firearm after she got stabbed in his place of business. “It’s loaded with salt rounds. In case things get… Bad.” She glanced at the door, moving her equipment out of the way. “I suppose we’ll hear them.” She looked to Connor. “And we’ll feel Cordelia whenever she’s nearby.”

It had been so long since Kaden pulled up to Regan’s apartment, pulling up to park in front of the building felt strange and foreign at this point. Putain, he hated that. Still, there was a small sense of relief. This was finally almost over. “Welcome home,” he said to Cordelia as he led her from the car up to the top floor. It was eerie being here, even though there were plenty of people waiting inside. Maybe it was because of how abandoned the building felt now. Maybe it was because of how defeated Cordelia seemed, almost accepting of her fate. Almost. Didn’t matter. He carted her upstairs and walked her in. His heart caught in his chest as he looked around the room. Empty, cleared out, and covered in dust nothing like he remembered. It was strange to see it like this. It was strange, too, to see Regan in this context. Willingly, at that. Black eyes and distanced, it was almost easy to forget who it was. Almost. This wasn’t the return to this building he expected for both of them. He winced when he remembered what he’d done to Cordelia’s wrist. Nadia’s body’s wrist. Hopefully Regan didn’t think too poorly of him. But it was too late to do anything about it now. And if this worked, a broken wrist was the least of Nadia’s worries. Blanche was here, too. With a shotgun no less. He shot her a look but let it lie. And also some kid he assumed was Connor. He couldn’t see Nadia even if he wanted to. Now where the fuck was this exorcist?

“Howdy, folks,” the man with a mustache said as he walked through the door behind Kaden, tipping his stetson. “I heard we have a big here nut to crack.” He took a good look around the room and assessed the situation. “I see you all followed instructions. Thank you kindly, this set up should work just fine. Just fine.” He noted the handcuffed woman in the center of the room and made a quick guess that was the little lady in question. “Mr. Langley, good to see you again. I suppose some introductions might be in order. My name’s Maverick, but you can call me Mav.” He was told there was going to be a medium, another younger exorcist, and a banshee. He wasn’t sure what a banshee was doing in these here parts or what her particular interest was in this here ghost, but he wasn’t one to question. Not if he was going to rake and scrape himself together a handsome pay day out of this job. “First thing’s first. I believe a repossession is in order, is that the case here? No need to dilly dally if we’re all ready and raring to go. You all know the plan?”

“What a fucking gentleman,” Nadia snapped at Kaden as they walked into her old apartment. Good memories, she remembered. There was the cabinet where she stored all of her equipment, and that was the couch that she’d passed out on after a couple of good heist, and there was what was left of the kitchen table that she’d definitely destroyed on her way out of this place. She rolled her shoulders, felt Kaden’s knife shift from where she’d tucked it in the waistband of her jeans, the shirt covering it up. She’d just need to snap her handcuffs off like she had the last time this happened. Whatever, she could do it. She could do it. She looked around the room, glancing at the little banshee, the children, the shadow of her host. “Howdy, folks,” she said mockingly. “This looks like a party, huh?” When the mustachioed hombre walked in, she rolled her eyes and glanced at the shadow, at Nadia Diaz. Give me your best shot, she said with her eyes.

For her part, Nadia didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do. This next part was on her, right? She had to get this started, wasn’t she? She was. Of course she was. But she was a bit nervous. Really nervous. Scared, maybe, was the right word. She gritted her teeth as she and Cordelia stared at each other, steeling herself. All she could see was her reflection in the mirror, grinning as she faded out of existence. Except Nadia couldn’t fade now. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She stepped forward instead. “Right. I-- I repossess her, and you exorcise her out, right?” It sounded easy. This was her body, too. It was her body. She could do this. “Is there…” She trailed off as she looked at Cordelia. What a mess the two of them had made of her life. Looking in that woman’s eyes, her eyes, Nadia knew what she wanted. She wanted her fucking life back. “Is there anything else I should do?”

For a moment, Regan lifted herself from the wall when Kaden walked in, yearning to approach. But now wasn’t the time for so many reasons, and she was forgetting herself. Cordelia -- Nadia’s body -- was dragged in, wrist swollen under the handcuffs in a way that made Regan think it might be broken. Would Kaden have-- later, that was something to think about later. Once Nadia was in there again. So she stayed glued to the edge of the room, eyes flitting between Nadia, Kaden, and the shotgun that looked so massive and out of place in Blanche’s small hands. There was only one more person they were waiting on now, and just as Regan thought it, their final party member swung into the room looking like a man straight out of a spaghetti western, but far scrawnier. He appeared almost as malnourished as that child Blanche and Kaden were friendly with, Rio. But despite his protein deficiencies, his mustache still glistened under the dull lightbulbs -- which Regan suspected wouldn’t be there long considering her own track record -- and he seemed energized and ready. Where on earth had Kaden found this man?

“Hello,” Regan said in response, her first words to anyone other than Nadia, “What are your credentials?” She bore into him, not stepping any closer. Was Nadia really ready to pour all of her trust and hopes into this? Regan looked over to her friend for a moment, seeing her fear and tenseness. She offered a hand, though she knew Nadia couldn’t exactly take it; maybe it would still be enough. “I’m Regan. I’m here for Nadia. I’m a-- I was a doctor. I will not let anyone die here today.” As for Mav’s question, she had no answer for him; she’d leave that to Blanche and Connor to answer. She relayed her friend’s concerns instead, in case Mav or others were unable to hear her. “Nadia is wondering if there’s anything she should do.”

Connor's eyes widened as Blanche drew the weapon. "You bloody Americans and your guns," he sighed, but they could have done worse in this situation than a rocksalt shotgun. It was powerful, yet non-lethal, at least at the right distance. "Just be careful. Get too close and you'll blow her fucking chest out even without actual bullets." Thankfully, Kaden and Cordelia's arrival saved them from further conversation about the weapon. "Oh, you're as lovely as ever, darlin'," Connor scoffed, his confidence boosted by the presence of the others in the room. Kaden seemed as gloomy and squinty-eyed as the last time Connor had seen him clearing Snicker-Snackers out of his apartment, yet this time, the weight of his bad mood was far, far heavier.

Connor stood as the final man walked into the room, raising an eyebrow as if this was some type of bloody joke. He imagined this was what John Wayne would look like as an exorcist. "Mav," he repeated, extending his hand. "Y'alright, mate? I'm Connor. I'm gonna be helping you out with this one." He was glad he wasn't the only one who wanted to know the stranger's credentials. Thankfully, Regan had saved him from asking the man directly. He could feel Nadia's nerves, her fear, and somewhere in there, her determination. Connor couldn't touch her, couldn't offer a comforting hand, but he gave her as reassuring a smile as he could manage. "Just stay strong, yeah? Stay focused. You got this."

“I know. If I didn’t know how to use it, I wouldn’t have it,” Blanche snapped quietly at Connor, her already bad temper souring even further. She refused to look at Cordelia, there was no need, considering Nadia hadn’t yet repossessed her body. She wouldn’t need to watch for the struggle for control between them -- not yet, at least. Blanche pressed her lips together into a thin line, examining the exorcist carefully. Had she died and woken up in a bad Western? Blanche was with Regan on this one, and she glanced at the Banshee quickly before turning back to Mav. What were this man’s credentials? It wasn’t like she could ask for a CV or an exorcist license… Blanche slung the shotgun over her shoulder, finally stepping forward to greet him. “Blanche. Medium. I’ll be running telekinetic interference in case it gets…” She let out a breath, remembering the telekinetic game of tug-of-war her and Constance played in the classroom. She had thrown the teacher’s desk through a window. Blanche grimaced, and she hoped they didn’t completely trash Nadia’s apartment. “Completely out of hand.” Eyes narrow, Blanche glanced at Nadia. “Whenever you’re ready to begin, Nadia. Just like we practiced.” She looked back at Mav, still distrusting of him. Finally, lowering her voice, she asked. “You can tell what she is, right? The spirit in the body?” He had to at least be able to answer that Cordelia was a poltergeist. It was the only question she could think to answer to make sure they weren’t getting scammed.

Kaden wanted to go over to Regan, give her hand a quick squeeze of reassurance before slinking off to the side, but it wouldn’t help. The only thing that would help was finishing this, giving Nadia back what was hers. He wished he could see her, give her some reassurance before all this started. “Mav’s one of the best there is. Trust me,” he said before backing away to the door. He had to be. After what Kaden sacrificed to get him here, he had to be. This wouldn’t be for nothing. “I’ll be right at the door. Let me know if you need me.” With that he headed to the door, giving the scene one last look. He really hoped he’d be useless here and it’d be over sooner rather than later. He had to trust this was the best group possible to make this happen.

Mav gave the hunter a nod. “I’ll call on you if I need you, partner.” He didn’t know much about this Langley fellow but he trusted Porter would only refer him to someone worth his time. And this case sure sounded like a doozy. “Nice to meet you, youngin,” he said, shaking Connor’s hand. “I hope you’re good and ready for this rodeo. It’s sure to be a hullabaloo. Just follow my lead and stay by me.” It seemed like Mav and Mr. Langley might be the only two in the room who couldn’t see ghosts by the sound of it. That was alright, he didn’t need to see them to exorcise them. “Telekinesis? Well I'll be damned. That’s a horse of a different color right there, boy howdy.” That was more than he bargained for from a medium. This might not be a total disaster after all. Maybe they had a shot. Though not if they all kept on questioning him. He hoped he could settle this score and keep the quarreling to the spirits. “Young lady, I’ve been dealing with ghosts and performing exorcisms since I was knee high to a grasshopper. I know a poltergeist when I feel one and you’d best believe I know how to handle one so none of y’all need to fret about any credentials, you hear?”

Mav fastened his hat on his head a little tighter and rolled up his sleeves before pulling out his grand pappy’s old iron pocket watch. It was a silly old trinket, but it was a fool proof focal point for him. “We’ll need our Ms. Diaz to repossess her body. Once she’s in there, we’ll start the exorcism. The circle here should keep little lady Cordelia trapped while we do the banishment. There’s bound to be a lot of rattling and hollering but it’s very important that once I start wagging my mouth that no one interrupts me. One missed syllable is all it’ll take for things to go belly up in a delicate situation such as this one. So if we’re ready to start wobbling jaws and get this show on the road, y’all need to be absolutely sure you’re ready.”

Just repossess the body. That was all Nadia needed to worry about doing. She looked at where Cordelia and her body waited within the circle. The moment she crossed that line, she’d be stuck in there with a homicidal maniac until everything was completed. The way that Cordelia looked at her without really seeing her would have chilled Nadia to the bones. This had to be the most twisted form of self-loathing, when her own eyes were filled with so much hate, but she wasn’t even in there. Nadia looked at Regan’s hand and, comforted, stepped forward. Cordelia straightened up, her mouth set in a hard line. Nadia crossed into the circle, and there was no going back. She stood toe to toe with her own body, her feet floating off the ground and making her an inch or so taller. Once again, Nadia felt like she was staring at her reflection in a mirror back in Phoenix, blood on her hands and a smile that wasn’t hers, had never been hers, stretching across her mouth. She was done with this. Nadia reached her hand out and grabbed her own shoulder.

It felt weird, feeling Nadia Diaz’s hand pass through her body, but the sensation meant that the repossession didn’t work, and all Nadia could do was laugh. “You can’t even be dead properly, can you?” she hissed at the translucent figure in front of her. “God, any ghost worth their shit can possess. Come on, champ, try again.” She looked out amongst the group in front of them, from the little banshee to the cowboy, sneering. Bet they felt like dumbasses, backing the wrong Nadia. She was clearly the better of the two, more in control and more capable of taking care of this body. Not that it’d matter for long, but, shit, it was as if Nadia didn’t even want it anymore. Just like when Nadia had taken over, the girl had no fight. She couldn’t have fought back if she wanted to. “Didn’t you hear me, you dumb bitch? Try aga--” Nadia gasped, and, for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t alone in her head anymore.

The first thing Nadia noticed was that she was unbalanced. She wobbled a bit, trying to remember how to plant her feet on solid ground. Her wrist hurt. Her throat hurt. Her head was killing her. She had to blink tears out of her eyes for a moment as everything came back into focus. She was trembling, but she could feel it. She could feel everything, not just herself, and the weight of it was crushing. It was relieving. But she could feel Cordelia, too, just underneath the surface, and the poltergeist was so much stronger than she was. However, Cordelia wasn’t the one that was used to being possessed, and this would always be Nadia’s body first. For a moment, and just a moment, she had total control, even if the spirit taking up residence in her body fought like a motherfucker. “Now,” she gasped out, locking eyes with anyone that she could. “Start now. You’ve got to start now.”

Regan wasn’t sure why Blanche felt the need to mention her size to Mav (she was more shrimpy than medium, though neither of those words were qualitative enough for Regan’s liking), but she was already struggling to follow everything else that was happening. Telekinesis? Horses? A pocket watch that made a shiver roll down her spine? Instead of trying to make sense of nonsense, she turned her attention to Nadia and Kaden. As much as she wanted him to stay here, she knew it was important that someone guard the door. The last thing they needed was for Cordelia to escape… or for Ms. Carmody to wander up insisting to see what was causing all the noise. Despite not agreeing with Mav’s chosen terminology, she understood that his warning about interruption was to be taken seriously, and for a moment, she considered promising that she wouldn’t interfere. But… what if she had to? What if there was no other option? What if Nadia’s death would be a result not of the “exorcism,” but of Regan’s inability to intervene? So she held her tongue as tightly as she held Nadia’s gaze. Her fingers felt nothing as she tried to graze her friend’s hand, but something in Nadia’s eyes told her that it helped a little nonetheless. Regan only wished she could do more. She wasn’t the best at inspirational speeches, but it seemed prudent to remind Nadia that she believed in her. “You were shot by a mime and wouldn’t even come to me for stitches,” Regan said, voice resolute, “you’ve been using hydrogen peroxide on your wounds despite my warnings, and you fearlessly confronted all of those dangerous individuals at 66 Brimme Stonne. There’s likely more that I don’t even know about.” That thought sank like a stone inside of her. “You can do this, Nadia. You’re tough and, to my chagrin, occasionally medically irresponsible. But most importantly tough. And I’ll be here. No matter what.” That was a promise Regan would have made if she could.

At Mav’s instruction, Nadia drifted into the center of the room, where Cordelia stood in handcuffs. Though Regan had seen both of them individually before, seeing them in one place, staring each other down, was maddening. Some part of her wanted to explain all of this away as a hallucination, but she couldn’t lie about that, not even to herself any longer. There was no imagining Cordelia’s fury out of nowhere, either -- it was very real, even directed at someone so insubstantial as Nadia. There wasn’t even a tremor under Cordelia’s voice; she thought herself invincible, truly believing that Nadia was going to die trying. More impossible things unfolded -- Nadia vanished. Regan looked down, expecting her to pop back up through the floor, but she didn’t. Her head swiveled frantically as she searched the room. Nadia was gone. But Cordelia -- something was changing across her face. And her balance. Cordelia nearly fell, and Regan was caught off guard by how Cordelia’s voice changed. Uncertain, fearful, frenzied, with a backbone of determination. Regan knew, then -- that was where Nadia had gone, somehow. She stayed back, lingering at the side of the room as she looked to Mav, pleading silently with him to save her friend.

Bloody hell, there were a lot of people here. Most of them actual adults. This wasn't like last time when it was a bunch of kids in the woods just hoping to get this right. Connor wasn't sure if he was intimidated by that, or comforted by it. "Right," he said, nodding and stepping into position next to Mav, trying not to let the man's colourful use of language blur his judgement. They wouldn't have invited him if he wasn't capable. This was Nadia's life at stake. "I've got you, mate." He touched his focal point, currently nestled inside his pocket. It would make its real appearance once they were ready. "You got this, Nadia," he said again, looking at her sincerely and giving her an encouraging nod.

Connor could feel the palpable tension in the room. He felt the poltergeist's fury, the struggle, the pain. He focused on the battling spirits, never taking his eyes off them, ready to leap in at any moment regardless of not knowing how he could help. "She's winning," he said, managing a hopeful smile. But they weren't out of the woods yet... There was still the rest of it to do. "Quick, I'll start getting everything in place, yeah?" No wobbly mouths, or waggling jaws, or whatever the cowboy had said. The ritual had to go perfectly. He drew the diagrams around the Nadias, taking the relics and items as Mav handed them to him, the two of them settling the playing field as Nadia and Cordelia fought for control over the other. "You’ve won, okay Nadia? Stay strong, we're almost there," he called to her.

The mustached exorcist watched and waited as the spirit of Nadia Diaz returned to her own body. Mav almost wished he could see it proper, but he didn’t need to see to know what was going on. The energy shifted around them, forces battling to occupy the same space, and beyond that, he wasn’t a spring chicken. He could hear the arguments back and forth. When she said the word, Mav didn’t hesitate to start chanting. He gripped his fingers tight around the chain of the pocket watch as he formed the Latin clean and precise even with his accent peaking through, narrowing in on the energy until it was clear and crisp as sweet tea on a summer’s day. In normal circumstances, he’d never need to focus his energy like this, not for a basic removal ritual. But this? This was three gallons of crazy in a two gallon bucket. The spirit that belonged to the body was weaker, it would take everything he had to pull the poltergeist away. And then a little more than that to banish it back to hell and keep Ms Diaz from heading down to the bone orchard herself. He felt the words forming a bond of energy, like the chain from his watch, latching onto the poltergeist and pulling at it, peeling it away from the body. She was tough as a pine nut. A focal point wasn’t enough. Without dropping a phrase, he nodded to Connor and reached out to him to pull from him, to strengthen the chain. It was going to need to be strong as steel, iron even, to make this work. But Maverick Mulaney was no failure, no sir.

Blanche understood Mav’s exasperation, but she wasn’t quick to drop her skepticism. Once it was all over, she could apologize -- or kill him, if she ended up being right. The somber thought made her grimace, even as Nadia succeeded in overtaking Cordelia and the removal started. The energy in the room was thick and made her skin tingle uncomfortably. Watching Mav start to pull from Connor, Blanche backed away and started inching closer to Regan. “Regan?” She said quietly, not taking her eyes off Nadia and Cordelia. This was probably the first thing she had said to Regan directly in a very long time, but it was better to warn her now then let her be surprised. She had seen the first exorcism, and Nadia’s screams of pain weren’t something she would soon forget. That said, maybe with the removal it would be, at least, a little better. “Once Cordelia is out, it’ll get better for Nadia.” She spoke softly so she wouldn’t disturb Mav or Connor’s concentration. “... Well… Maybe not better. But it probably won’t get worse,” she corrected herself. Her hands tightened on the gun, and let out a hissed wince as her body began to feel like ice. “I think he knows what he’s doing.” Blanche was struck again with a sort of sadness and pity for Cordelia, as well as the familiar guilt in her gut, but she shook it off. There would be time to lament her choices later, now she had to keep a careful eye on Nadia.  She narrowed her eyes at Nadia, taking a few steps forward as she tried to watch for Cordelia’s soul to be ripped out of Nadia’s body. “C’mon, c’mon. Let her go.” Blanche hissed under her breath. Before it killed Nadia.

Just like last time, Nadia felt a pulling sensation, like she was being ripped in half. She gritted her teeth against the pain so hard that she tasted iron in her mouth, but she stayed in control for as long as she could. This was working. They were going to win this. Granted, she felt like her insides were coming apart, as the connection with Cordelia that had literally just reformed was severed again and again and again. Cordelia raged against her skull, but Nadia held on as much as she could. If she concentrated, she could hear Mav chanting. She focused on that, on the sounds of words in a language that she didn’t understand. If she made it out of this-- When, when she made it out of this, she was going to start learning a new language. Maybe a dead language, something that could be useful in this fucking town. But she was making it out of this. Fuck, it was cold. It was so cold. Nadia felt herself trembling, and she opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t say anything at all. She screamed.

“No!” Nadia screamed out, finally regaining control as the temperature in the room plummeted and the lights surged with her anger. No. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t losing this. Not now. Not now. Just like in the last exorcism, she reached inward, to that part of her that was dead and had been for so long but refused to fucking stay that way. Again, the felt the shackles, fucking handcuffs of all things, fall from her wrist, but this time, she knew she wouldn’t make it out in time. She had one last Hail Mary. She didn’t even feel the pain in Nadia’s wrist as she gripped the knife hidden behind her back as tightly as she could. Lightning fast, she ran it against Nadia’s neck, leaving a thin red line. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Too quick. Nadia Diaz would die suffering. She felt herself being pulled, pulled out of the body, but Nadia clung on as hard as she could, planted her heels, and dug the knife into Nadia’s stomach. It was poetic, wasn’t it? This was where she’d stabbed Kaden, where she’d stabbed the little medium. She gritted her teeth and dug in more, as much as she could. It wasn’t a big knife, sure, but she was a determined gal, and she didn’t give a fuck about Nadia’s pain. Not anymore. Then, Nadia wasn’t pulled out of Nadia’s body. She pushed herself out.

[gayenerd]

This is a 2017 interview done by a fan for the fansite, Green Day Authority. It’s super disjointed and fan interviews never ask tough questions, but eh. 

Recently, we asked Green Day's management if it would be possible to get an exclusive interview for GDA, our first ever. After some coordination, it was agreed that I could interview them in Omaha (a show I had already planned to attend). I found out on Wednesday afternoon that I would be interviewing them on Saturday, but fortunately, I had already been preparing a list of questions in case it worked out. Before I go any further, I'll tell you that I had a LOT more questions on my list than there was time for. So, if you're wondering why I didn't ask something in particular, it's probably because we ran out of time. That is the only thing I would change about my whole experience if I had the opportunity. The arrangement was that one of the tour managers would meet me at the back entrance of the arena before sound check. After going through two layers of security, that's exactly what happened. I was the only non-crew person in sound check (!) and it simply felt surreal to be in that position. I enjoyed it greatly but was, of course, also thinking about how the upcoming interview would go. I wanted to represent GDA and the fan community in a way that would not leave a bad impression while also getting some good discussion from the guys. After sound check, I was walked back to a room with a couch and a few chairs. I was able to get comfortable and had some help to set up my recording equipment — thanks again to Lauren Banjo and Daniel, my son, for helping me get exactly the right device for recording the interview. In just a few minutes, in walked Billie, Mike and Tre. I have to say that, in all the times I've seen them, they have never looked better. They seemed relaxed, happy, and bursting with good health. They all sat down, and we got started. Aside from running out of time (though, to be honest, it would have taken hours to work through all my questions), I'm reasonably pleased with the way it all turned out. The guys were so incredibly nice and seemed to be totally engaged in the moment we were all sharing together. They really thought about their answers and seemed to enjoy the discussion. Here's the first installment of the interview — we talked about music, touring, and special shows. I did you all a favor and removed a lot of my rambling when I was asking the questions. Enjoy! "J'net: Guys, you work so hard, and we see how hard you work. During shows, you give so much of your emotion, yourselves, and your life energy to what you do. What keeps you going and keeps you so passionate about what you're doing? Mike: You said it, 'passion.' We only know how to do this one way — give 100%. It's just driven into us, I guess. Tre: It's the way we're wired. Mike: The music moves us the same way with the energy from the crowd. Billie: I agree. We love what we do. I think there've even been times when I thought, 'Maybe I'll take it easy tonight,' and then as soon as you hit the stage, it's just 'All systems go!' It's just a natural response for me. Really no other way to explain it. Mike: I always think, 'I don't know if I'll always be able to give what 100% is today, but I'll always give 100% of what I have to offer.' I don't think these engines know how to run any differently. J'net: Well, it's awesome. Your fans appreciate it so much. I wish you guys could just sometimes sit out in line, y'know? We get in line as early as we can and we compare notes ... "Well, we're driving from Kansas City as soon as the show's over..." Mike: You guys should film some of that. We never get to see it, it's cool! Film some of that interaction and maybe post some of that stuff too, it's rad! Billie & Tre: Yeah! J'net: [thinks to self: challenge accepted!] I'd be glad to do that, yeah. I mean, everybody would, even the people who know how to do that [technical stuff] … like Billie, he's pretty good with all the Facebook Lives and Instagram. Billie: Yeah, I'm getting pretty awesome — Billie Joe Zuckerberg! J'net: Right … 'Now where's the off button?...' Billie: Thank God for two young sons, man! They can tell you everything. Mike: I have to call my wife [laughs]. My wife's still young, she knows how to do that shit! J'net: Music is an emotional experience, and some of your songs are so emotional. Do you ever feel overcome by the emotion when you're performing, or are you somehow in performance mode so you can rise above it? Billie: I definitely go there. Like that line 'I'm like a son that was raised without a father,' — that's a button-pusher for me. Also with Forever Now, and also lately with playing '21 Guns' acoustic … when I get emotional is when I hear people singing along — when I hear voices that loud. I think with Green Day, we create an atmosphere that's as close to a European crowd that you can get — with people singing along, almost like a soccer anthem. And I love seeing people who are normally self-conscious when they lose it. I try to push people to just lose it when they come to our shows. Some nights, people are so pent up with energy, they don't even know that they have inside them. And I try to get people to dance like no one's watching and sing like no one's listening — just go for it! J'net: Do you have favorite show moments that you like to think back on? Billie: Smashing my guitar against the Subaru just the other night was pretty fun. [laughs] That's a first. I've never done that before. Mike: There are favorite moments of each show. We go backstage after the show, and we talk about all the rad things that happened. Billie: There's so many different things that we see going on in the crowd. There was a guy that was like an ex-hippie that was in the house the other night, I think in Portland. He was in the back, and I could see him just dancing and singing all night long. He was probably about the same age as my brother — about 65, and it was fun to just watch him. That's the kind of stuff I like to remember. " Watch for the next installment of the interview! We’ll also be sharing more of the audio from our favorite moments.

The second part of our interview focuses on the band's latest movie project, 'Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk.' They helped produce it with filmmaker and longtime friend, Corbett Redford. The day after the Omaha show, my son Daniel and I started the drive back home to Tulsa, but stopped in Kansas City to see the movie. We went to a great independent theater there, Screenland at Tapcade, and when it was time for the movie to start, we settled ourselves in for a fascinating evening. There's so much to absorb in this movie, but it's compelling all the way through. There is a great deal of history that is lovingly captured and discussed. We feel we need to see it again and again, so It's good to know that a deal is in the works to distribute for home viewing, and that, according to Corbett Redford, "the DVD, Blu-Ray is being worked on, designed, mastered and readied for manufacturing." So many people were interviewed for this movie that I couldn't possibly list them all. The interviews were often just as interesting, funny, or emotional as the vintage footage of events from the beginnings of East Bay punk. It was a touching movie with many emotional moments (at least for us). Two or three of the people who were interviewed in the movie came close to tears as they were talking about the past and their connection to the famed 924 Gilman Street. For Green Day fans, as well as fans of many of the other bands involved in those early days of East Bay punk, there is rare and wonderful vintage footage that really gives a feel for what those early days were like. The writing by Corbett Redford and Anthony Marchitiello is exceptionally fine — it tells a story that could have been overwhelmingly complex in an articulate, accessible, and moving way. The narration by Iggy Pop, the animations (credited to Tim Armstrong, J. Bonner, and Alex Koll), the cinematography and photographic direction by Greg Schneider, and the hand lettering (credited to Aaron Cometbus) are simply delightful and absolutely enrich the content of the movie. I loved the way some of the newer interview footage had a "distressed" look to be more compatible with the footage it was matched with in the film. As Corbett said when I mentioned this to him, "The distressed VHS happened as our crew filmed EVERY interview with an old VHS camera! So that wasn't an effect, it was real! We decided as a crew that VHS and black and white Xerox were going to be our two main go-to 'themes' - so Greg went and bought a VHS camera, and voila!" There were obviously a lot of eyes on this film making sure that every little detail was as perfect as could be. There's no question in my mind that it was made with hearts full of love. Here's part two of our interview: "J'net: 'Turn it Around' is getting such incredible response from most reviewers and many in the punk community. Do you feel more acceptance coming from the community than you may have felt previously? Is there a partial 'return from 86'? Mike: The spirit of the movie is that it was made by the people in the community, and if you took Green Day out of it, it's still an unbelievable documentary. We basically stepped aside and let the movie get made the way it should be made. We realized that should be the anchor — the beginning, that's the beginning. [We wanted] for people to understand the different ingredients it took to make where we are and … to make the beginning… Billie: For us, when I was talking to Corbett, it was — 'Let's do a documentary that could inspire the next generation to create their own scene and not just talk about how you had to be there.' Because almost every scene documentary I've ever seen has a 'glory days' thing about it, where, with this one, you see the people like Michelle Gonzalez, who's a teacher and an author, and Miranda July, who’s a filmmaker and artist, and there are people who are activists, still playing music and active in the community. We approached it like, 'Let's not turn this into a piss and vinegar fest.' Billie: And if it wasn't for Tim Yohannon, even though we had big differences in the past, we wouldn't have had a place to play because he, with other people, created and made Gilman Street happen - and that I'm super grateful for. So if there's a story that you watch out for, it's what Tim Yohannon has done for the bay area scene and globally also. J'net: And Corbett did a great job realizing the vision of the movie. Mike: Corbett kind of did the impossible. You talk about a bunch of people in the scene — you know everybody's in that scene because we're all latchkey kids and come from some fucked up background, right? So then you have to get all the bands to agree to put their music on it this many years later. We had no doubt that he's an incredibly intelligent person and an artful person, but he fuckin' did it. Tre: He's always been super resourceful, and it's kind of like now he's all grown up. Mike: All we had to do was talk him off the ledge a couple times. I mean, we'd go in his office, and it looked like 'A Beautiful Mind.' There's writing everywhere and he's like (Mike demonstrates hyperventilating). It started off he didn't have a beard, and then he turned into Father Time. J'net: Did the fact that he's so well-respected in the community and such a genuine person help him to get buy-in from the people who participated? Mike: And the other people he recruited, like Kamala Parks and Anthony (Marchitiello) and Eggplant and Tim Armstrong, are highly respected and helping to make this thing. And it's like, 'Wait a minute, this isn't like a Warner Brothers movie. This is people who were actually in the scene making it.' And when they would vouch for him, it became even more helpful." We're pretty sure we spotted a cameo of Mr. Redford himself, but I won't put a spoiler here by hinting where to watch for him! For the same reason, I'm not going to tell you details of my favorite parts of the movie. When the opportunity arises, you should pick out your own favorites, and next time we're sitting in line for a Green Day show, we can compare notes. Bottom line, whether you watch the movie because you're interested in the captivating history of East Bay punk or because you want to see how Green Day got their start or both, you aren't likely to be disappointed. The movie is great entertainment but also left me inspired to be the best I can be at whatever I choose to do. The passion that went into the scene way back then, and into the making of the movie itself, left its mark on me. I hope you'll find that it leaves you feeling the same way.

In part two, we talked to the band about the early days at Gilman Street and the new movie, 'Turn it Around: The Story of East Bay Punk.' "J’net: From there, Green Day has come so far. What were you dreaming about back then, have you achieved it, and do you have any dreams you haven’t realized yet — things you still want to do? Tre: Pizza! J’net: Really? You haven’t had pizza yet? [Everyone laughs — these guys are SO polite!] Mike: Back then it was like, 'Can we get a show? Can we get into Gilman?' That’s a goal. It’s always like a series of goals – like 'Let’s get a tour.' 'Oh my gosh, what would it be like to play that one club there?' Maybe it’s a different town — or Europe! 'Let’s go to Europe and tour Europe!' There’s always another thing to be done. We just like to keep it exciting. Even live — even live, if we feel it's not exciting and not eventful or we're just going through the motions, we'll do something to change that because we like to stay in the moment, too. Life should be exciting. J’net: [to Tre] When you gave the drumsticks to that little kid last night (in Kansas City) … Mike: I did that. But Tre does every night anyway. One of us will always do it." Backstory: In Kansas City, there was a little girl on her dad’s shoulders throughout much of the show, although security tried multiple times to get him to put her down. At one point, Mike’s bass tech came into the security pit and leaned through to hand her a set of drumsticks. "Mike: She was hitting right on the beat with them on her dad’s shoulders! A lot of people know this, but every night Tre hides a pair of drumsticks under a seat. J’net: Do you always know if somebody finds them? Tre: Well, I put a hashtag on them and sometimes they'll go and put a picture with #TreCoolsHiddenSticks if they found them. J'net: I would just want to know — if no one posted, did they get found? I would have to go back and see if they're still there. [laughs] Tre: Somebody will find them. I'll tape them under the seats. Mike: Eventually. Someone will find them — like at an Usher show. [laughs] J'net: Or a hockey game. [Laughter] J’net: I got to go to the Hall of Fame Induction and the House of Blues show. What a show! I was beating up on the people next to me, because every time something else exciting happened I was [grabbing people and shaking them], "Oh my God! Oh my God!" That was incredible. I want to ask how that felt, but I’m sure you all thought it felt incredible. But could you ever have dreamed that you would be there? And what gave you the idea to come out as Sweet Children, and have Tim [Armstrong of Rancid] come out and sing with y’all and … to celebrate it in that way? Billie: I think it was all about 'bringing it all back home,' to quote Bob Dylan. It was like, 'Let’s make this as fun as possible.' Just have a great time and do everything you can … there’s so much tension with a lot of bands that have gone in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that you literally can’t get them to be on the same stage at the same time. And someone will stay home. And for us, it was the opposite of that. I’d rather seize the moment to remember how we got there. You start off when you’re a kid in a band, and it’s the most exciting thing in the world. And it’s so important to inspire people to understand that it IS the most exciting thing in the world. J’net: Do y’all listen to any kind of music that you think would surprise people to know that you liked it? Mike: All kinds of music. I just like good songs. I don’t care if it’s country — or the other night Tre went out to a jazz club, and then Jason and I went out to the same jazz club after they’d left — the same jazz club, and we didn’t even know they went. And we saw an unbelievable band there in Kansas City. Tre: I like German AND Italian opera. J’net: Do you really? Seriously? Tre: [Laughs] J’net: Oh ... but THAT would have surprised people. Tre: No … just the German. [laughs] J’net: Well, I’m the Italian fan, myself. Tre: It’s all Greek to me! Greek music. Billie: I’m kind of an audiophile. I like to go deep with finding obscure power-pop bands... Tre: Billie makes the best playlists. And he’s the best DJ. Billie: I just read this book called Never a Dull Moment ['Never a Dull Moment: 1971 The Year That Rock Exploded,' by David Hepworth] and it’s all about the music that happened in 1971, so I put together a playlist of all [that music]. I like getting into to doing my own … which is funny, because everybody's doing playlists and putting them on Spotify and stuff like that, and I do playlists and share them with my friends. Mike: She's got to hook you up with about a million more friends to share it with. [Laughter] Mike: Yeah, when we hit the playlist side of things, he’s ready. Billie: Yeah, and it’s all kinds of different stuff, whether it's like Joni Mitchell and Linda Ronstadt, to like ... Foghat and T-Rex. It’s fun to listen to. Especially back then, there was a certain amount of — people were uninhibited. If you listen to Marvin Gaye singing 'What’s Going On?,' there’s nothing self-conscious about songs like that and what was going on back then. I think nowadays, music is so much more visual or something. Some of the stuff from the past is just inspiring. J’net: And you have lots of influences, I can hear them in your music. There are little bits that sound like country and little bits that sound like different genres. Did you get that from your family, or was it all around you, or what? Billie: Well, it was all around me with my family — and I think when I was a kid I just always wanted to be the one to listen to something different. So, when kids were listening to Kool and the Gang’s 'Celebration,' I was listening to AC/DC and Van Halen, or trying to be the first in my high school to discover punk rock, and alternative stuff, too. Nobody in Rodeo had a clue who the Replacements and Hüsker Dü was. I was like the only punk kid in my high school. And John Swett [High School] was ... 400 people, 350 at the most. Mike: Is that what it was? I thought it was a little more than that. That’s still a lot of people, though, when you think about it. Billie: Yeah, there's 80 people in that graduating class. Mike: And then there was this one kid in that high school [who was punk]. Billie: And half of them actually graduated. [Laughs]"

This is the fourth and final installment of our interview with Green Day. In part three, we talked to the band about their past goals, and the musical roots of each of the guys. I have also included some things that were not part of the interview itself, or our recording. At the beginning of the transcription below, I knew our time was running out — and during the recording, we were packing up. I was throwing on my “Still Breathing” shirt, as I call it, for my photo with the band. But I just kept talking and asking questions the whole time to make the most of every second. "J’net: So, I have one more quick question, and this is just my own personal thing that I’ve always wondered — when Mike sang the second half of 'American Eulogy,' did you [Billie] write it with that in mind, did it just happen, I mean … was it something personal to Mike, because the way [Mike] sang it and kind of spit those lyrics out, it sounds like it’s very … something [deciding to stop rambling on with this never ending question and let someone answer] … Billie: I mean, I just wrote it and asked him if he wanted to sing it. [laughs] Mike: I think you need to sing to what the lyrics are calling for. I tend to sing ... like a little girl sometimes. [laughs] J’net: Not in THAT song. Mike: Yeah, but I was conscious that, 'This song isn't for singing like a little girl.' Or if it is, it's a little girl with attitude. Billie: If you think about 'Outsider' by the Ramones, and how DeeDee sang the bridge to it, it just kind of makes more sense. It just kind of comes from the band. And what else? 'I Was There' – Mike sang the bridge on that. J'net: Yeah. Well, you [Mike] sing that 'American Eulogy' like it was written just for you. Just made me wonder … Mike: [Hamming it up] Why, thank you! A friend of mine wrote that just for me! … 'Hey Billie, I got an idea! We can go ahead and take five.' J'net: So, I'm getting a sense that it's time for you [Tre] to have your pizza that you've never had before. Any last things you guys want to say to the readers of Green Day Authority? Mike: Just that we appreciate them and that they should be good to each other and look out for one another online and offline. But, we appreciate the hell out of them, cause that's our community. They're fuckin' rad. We'll see [them] on tour. Billie: I think for me as a musician, it's always important to be a fan first. Because I'm obviously a big fan of the people I like to listen to and stuff like that. So with that said, [we're] like-minded and kindred-spirits. Tre: In the words of the wild stallions, 'Be excellent to each other!'" Thus ended the interview proper, though there was more conversation, as I asked the guys to take a quick photo with me (the first time I've ever asked for a photo with any of them ... the wait was so worth it given how the photo turned out). Then, touring sound engineer and photographer Chris Dugan reminded me that I had a t-shirt to show the band. It was from Jack Yates, Omaha-based editor extraordinaire for GDA, who has been taking all my scribblings and making them look beautiful on the site. His vintage shirt was from Green Day's first tour — the band had screen printed it by hand back in the day. He thought they might like to see it, and maybe even sign it for him (which they graciously did). Tre sarcastically joked that it was really only six months old. Mike laughed, and said he still has the original screen print stencil for that shirt. While the guys were signing Jack's shirt, I was throwing on my "Still Breathing" shirt, which you can see in the photo. The guys loved, it which prompted me to tell them that it's from the Woody Guthrie Museum in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where I'm from. Mike excitedly told me that his wife's family and Billie's whole family were also from Oklahoma. This prompted Billie to tell a story, which really delighted me. The backstory is that he began to tell this tale at the Tulsa Green Day show back in March, but didn't make it all the way to the brilliant ending. We'd talked about this during the car trip there, and Billie just spontaneously answered our question! "Billie: Yeah, my mom's from Sperry, Oklahoma. Oh, we went — this is a funny story. When we were there, I was trying to find where my mom's house was — it was like, I think, about 15 minutes outside of Tulsa. And we went into a high school, and all the people would talk about was like native burial grounds and stuff like that. So we're just looking for this one in particular. So we went into Sperry High School and talked to the administrators, and I come out and all of a sudden it was like, it clicked [snaps fingers], they were like, 'Oh my God, he's here!' and they run out and one goes, 'You're either … Bruno Mars … or the guy in Green Day!' [Laughter] Billie: 'Bruno! Bruno! Bruno Joe!' Tre: [Laughs] 'Bruno Joe.' Billie: And then they sent me all these hats, because they're the Pirates, so I got all these cool pirate hats." Now, as they were still signing Jack's shirt, and I was still "primping" for my first ever Green Day photo, we had this hilarious conversation: "J'net: Do y'all know about all the mis-heard lyrics in your songs? Billie: Mis-heard? Mike: Misinterpreted, you mean? J'net: No, like people hear them and they think you're saying something else! Tre: Oh, that's funny! J'net: Like, 'Gotta know the enemy … raw ham.' Billie: Raw ham? [Hilarity ensues] Tre: Raw ham. J'net: And, 'Somebody take my pants, I think they're falling off … into a state of regression.' Mike: [Singing] 'Somebody take my pants, I think they're falling off, into a state of regression.' [Laughing] Billie: That's amazing. That's a good one. J'net: And then, my son one day and said to me he hears, [singing ... YES, I sang in front of Green Day!] 'Dump truck! Color me stupid!' Billie: Oh, dump truck! [laughs] J'net: British people hear, 'I wore cologne, I wore cologne' [in 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams']. Billie: Oh, wow … J'net: And in 'Welcome to Paradise' — 'Pay attention to the cracked streets and the broken gnomes.' Tre: Scary. Scary. [Laughs] Billie: Nice. I've heard that one before. I think I've seen a meme. J'net: I just wondered if … because when a new song comes out, before the lyrics are published, we're all trying to figure out, "What are they saying? What are they saying?" Billie: Next time we're just going to write them out different. They'll be like just totally different lyrics. Tre: We'll do fucked up lyrics! J'net: Oh yeah, right. That would be great. Tre: We'll get like six-year-olds to say what they think the lyrics are, and then we'll have that be the lyrics. J'net: That would be great! Or me, because my hearing is shot from so many Green Day shows!" This was where our recording ended. At some point during the discussion that continued un-recorded, I told the guys that this (the Omaha show) might be my last show for a while. I said, "A dear friend of mine has a ticket for me to the Rose Bowl show, but I don't know if I'll be able to afford to get there, so this could be it for a while." After that, we prepared to take the photo, which Chris Dugan (the band's sound guy and photographer) kindly offered to take for us — so it wasn't a selfie, after all! Mike suggested that I sit in the chair, and they'd all stand around me. Of course, I can't even express how sweet this was. Then, because I'd been talking to superfan Fran Green in line that day, I said, "Do you know that girl Fran with long brown hair who's always right in the corner of the barricade?" (I motioned with my hands to show where Fran usually stands). And here's how I remember that conversation going: "Billie: Oh, I know her, she's great! She always wants to get up and sing or something, but I really like her energy right there in the corner. Mike: Which one is she? Billie: She has a lip piercing. Mike: Oh yeah! [smiling] J'net: Well, today is her 50th show! Billie: Her 50th really? J'net: Yes, and she's travelling from the 1st through the 27th and not staying in any hotels — just sleeping on the street or in the car. Billie and Mike: WOW. Tre: Sounds like somebody needs a shower!" Finally, my time with Green Day was coming to an end. I thanked them all, and they walked out. Then, as I was about to leave the room, Tre came back with his wife Sara and introduced me to her. She is just as gorgeous and sweet as her online personality seems. We chatted for a few minutes. I told her we love her because of how happy she makes 'this guy' — I point at Tre. To say both their faces were beaming would be a terrible understatement. Just looking at how happy they are together made my heart melt. As they were leaving, Tre stuck his head back in the room and said, "See you at the Rose Bowl." So now, I guess I'll have to find a way to make it to the Rose Bowl. Hope to see you all there! After all this, I was walked out on to the arena floor and asked to choose my spot. I was just dumfounded with the entire barrier to choose from … don't we all wish that could somehow happen at every show?!?! Later, after everyone came in, I couldn't see Fran in her usual spot, and I was just so disappointed, because I thought … knowing the band, they would probably do something special for her if she'd been there. Well, Billie managed to find her on the catwalk, wished her happy 50th and then started singing "Happy Birthday" to her! Hahaha! Tre also gave her an autographed drum head the next night in St. Louis, and I see that she got on stage before her tour was over. The guys are just the sweetest and love their fans so much!

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shinso Hitoshi X Reader part 29

Could Shinso fall for the same irrational behavior that Y/n was in. Those held dear to him threatened against him, unsure who to trust? The act of reaching out could only worsen the situation. Eyes watching, where you don’t even know from what angles. 

A lot of class A actually visited the trio. Benny and Sonny were in decent spirits. They asked about Bakugo and Shinso since they were part of the second act of Y/n’s parents being kidnapped. They were released from the hospital first, but were told to take it easy when it came to training without mentors. Y/n was another story. 

Y/n had to have a series of police interviews. Not just for her motives, but every mission she ever went in with her turncoat hero. We’re they actually helping or hurting society? Y/n beloved all their missions were good since they saved people, only to find out some of it was staged to boost her mentor’s popularity. But she wasn’t part of anything that really hurt society. They did ask her to describe everyone she had ever seen in the agency building which was taxing on the mind. The department allowed half days at school and early mornings to “softly” train. Benny looked up ways how to train without bothering her wounded areas. 

Shinso got a lot of his information from the girls in his life, mostly Mina and Sonny. Sonny told him she enjoys studying with him because he’s so dumb it makes her review all sections, not just her “problem areas”. Mina was checking on Y/n, fearing for her mental health. Her parents were able to leave the hospital, but want Y/n to re-evaluate her career choices.There was back and forth that there is corruption in hospitals and probably every other path. It didn’t make her parents feel any better, they just wanted to hide Y/n in their house and protect her from every possible threat that could ever come in contact.

To everyone else, Shinso was still the edgy purple hair kid he always was. He wasn’t sleeping right, he had a sour attitude, but he didn’t feel the same. He felt a new type of crushing exhaustion mixed with confusion. And then two weeks after the incident, Shinso was just laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes were tired, but his body refused to sleep no matter how still he was, his phone rang. Like instinct, he answered, not even looking at the caller ID.

“Hitoshi?” It was Y/n, sounding more like herself compared to their last meeting.

“What’s up?” He asked casually.

 He didn’t know when he was going to face Y/n. All his guilt was coming back from accidentally using his quirk on her, that led to the whole parents kidnapping incident. Even their last meeting, she didn’t get to talk much. They haven’t been real with one another in awhile.

“I just thought to call. See how you are doing…” She said on the other line.

“You didn’t think I’d be asleep?”

“Not a chance.” she told him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked.

“I was just waiting for my parents to go to sleep. They’ve been fighting a lot, and i’m not really allowed to leave the house, so this is my privacy time.” she said.

He figured the topic they were fighting about.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why do you always assume I’m mad at you? I’ll let you know if I’m mad at you.” She told him. “I’m starting to feel bad about how often you think I’m mad at you.”

“I wasn’t the nicest to you at the hospital.” He reminded her

“I got you involved in some drama that could have killed somebody.”

“That somebody was you.” he reminded her.

“I knew their goal wasn’t to kill me, but it was an accidental blow towards Bakugo. I just thought they would have stopped. I miscalculated…”

“Is that why you haven’t been back?”

“Partly to let my stitches work, but mostly my parents are afraid to let me out of their sight right now. Imagine if they found out about that creep you saved me from.” she said.

“Well I miss you…” Shinso realized what he had just said and grew red. They were words from the heart, but shouldn’t be said so lightly. “Your presence.”

“Yeah, Hitoshi? I light up your day?” she teased “I miss you too, you’re nice to hang around.”

 Things felt a little normal again through the phone call. It wasn’t all bad she was stuck at the hospital. She got a pretty expensive fruit basket she loved. Made her feel like royalty. Shinso gave her some highlights over the Bakugo vs Deku fights, and informed her Iida is still a hardcore rule reminder. Y/n talked about different foods Sonny and Benny brought her, and how it annoyed Y/n’s mom because Y/n’s mom is a good cook, she just hates cooking. And considering her parents were kidnapped, Y/n does not feel like asking her mom to cook for her. There were lower notes of how she get sore if she stands too long, and can’t sit normally for long periods of time. Y/n yawned a couple times, telling a story, and ended up falling asleep on the other line. Shinso listened closely as he could hear her breathing.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” he whispered while hanging up the phone.

 Y/n became meme central for class 1-A, unable to be the busy wannabe hero she was, she sent everyone memes all day long. Pepe the frog, Da Vinky, Kardashian reaction gifs, spongebob, pikachu, the office, a whole variety of memes. For a bit there were lobsters drinking wine on esty shirts. She really did bright the days up of many while in solitude. Sonny and Bakugo would fight, but would still inform how Y/n was in her classes.

 “My Y/n ever so elegantly presented the best idea for a business she could run for our small business class. Gym equipment rentals. She had her hair all styled, she was a little nervous at first, but my Y/n always weathers a storm…” Sonny rambled after beating Bakugo in a fight, who was fuming.

“I didn’t ask!” he yelled.

“Well, if she were to set up that business in real life, surely you’d take part, skip the gym membership, just get the equipment. I bet as a future hero who is as socially awkward as yourself would want a more private way to work out.”

“Shut up-”

“Oh cool it, just sign here that its a good idea. She can’t leave the house, or stay after school to get signatures.” Sonny told him.

“I’ll sign it.” Shinso offered.

“Of course you would.” Sonny glared.

“Shinso use to be a string bean.” Denki added his signature.

“I’m aware. Broccoli boy threw him out of the ring.” Sonny said.

“What was your big bright idea, huh?�� Bakugo asked.

“I already got my signatures, but it would be a Bona Fide field of people with flame quirks providing thermal energy for homes, since a lot of flame quirks have been dehumanized over the years. Thanks Endeavor…” She sarcastically said the last part.

“When’s that crybaby coming back?” Bakugo asked.

“Why do you care?” Sonny asked.

“I was there when…” Bakugo started, but stopped.

“It’s unclear. Her parents don’t really support the hero field right now. I heard recovery girl even tried talking to her parents to encourage them to let her go back. Maybe when she’s fully healed.” Sonny shrugged.

[bittysvalentines]

growing on me

From: @poindextears

To: @starryeyed-cat

Rating: T, for allusions to sex but nothing on-page

Hi lovely person! There's a part 2 to this fic, because apparently I'm out of control. When I see it go up on ao3 on the 14th, I will send you the link via tumblr. Until then, here's part 1! I hope you enjoy this fluff :)

May

The best thing about the new apartment is that there’s a garden behind the building.

It’s not the main reason Will chose to move here, exactly. But it did have some bearing on his decision. His old apartment was tiny, on the fourth floor of the complex, tucked into a dark corner with poor lighting and roaches and a leaky ceiling. He couldn’t so much as keep a houseplant alive in that place, much less any good spirits.

But for two years after college, it was all he could afford at his entry-level salary. His raise last fall put him in a better spot, and it led to this— renting out the bottom floor of a small house on the southwest side of Boston. The landlord says there’s another tenant moving in upstairs in about two weeks, but for now, Will enjoys the peace and quiet, the building all to himself. It has actual windows and floor space and sanitation that would pass inspection.

And… a garden out back.

It’s not the most lush thing in the world. If he could even call the area out back a backyard, it’s right in the center, amidst dingy grass full of brown patches that could use a proper irrigation system. The thing itself is a square patch of dirt, not the best soil but something he can definitely work with. It’s no more than ten feet across.

It’s not much. But if working in Boston means he can’t have the forest or the wide open sea or the yard his parents worked so hard to upkeep around the house he grew up in… then he can have a little garden.

So he resolves to bring the thing back to life.

*

It’ll be a vegetable garden, he decides, just like Ma always plants by the shed in the summer, because if there’s one thing that’s nice, it’s not having to buy your produce. He can envision it now— tomatoes on the left, cucumbers and summer squash under them, snap peas in the center, maybe autumn squash or pumpkins on the right side in a few weeks.

It’s the perfect summer project. When you spend all day working in front of a computer, a little dose of the outdoors in the afternoons is a nice balance.

He plants on a Saturday afternoon, donning his old work boots and a backwards snapback and stationing himself out back with Shep, who ambles around enjoying the mellow sun and napping on the patchy grass.

Shep is an Australian shepherd, or at least that’s what Will is pretty sure he is. Will adopted him by accident, after finding him on the street. His old apartment was no place for a dog, but he couldn’t stand to turn him into the shelter. It was another factor in his wanting to move out as soon as possible.

He’s shaking cucumber seeds into his dirt-stained hand when Shep lets out a little bark, not so much an alert noise but a happy one. Will grins as he hears him trot by, towards the house, and doesn’t look up from his seeds. “What’s up, Shep?”

But then, a voice. “‘Sup, doggy.”

Will whips his head over his shoulder, fearing for a moment that someone is trespassing on the property, but almost immediately he remembers the sounds of people going up and down the stairs this morning. The second tenant has moved in.

And here he is. After giving Shep a pat on the head, he makes his way across the yard and stops a few feet away.

“Oh, chill,” he says, laying eyes on Will for the first time. “Is this garden spoken for?”

Oh, no.

He’s beautiful.

He’s tall, probably about Will’s size, and looks his age, too. He has light-brown skin that makes his lavender t-shirt look bright, and he wears a floral snapback atop an undercut that ends in floppy, dark curls. He has a jawline that could cut glass, and both of his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos, mostly of what look like flowers.

He’s… holy shit. Will is not mentally equipped to process this right now. He’s not sure he’s ever seen a prettier man in his life.

It only occurs to Will after what must be a slightly awkward few seconds that the guy has asked him a question, though. Is this garden spoken for? He tries to clear his throat, like he hasn’t just been staring blankly for the past several moments. “Some of it is.”

“Are you…” The guy pauses to scratch behind his neck, which is really not fucking fair, because it means he has to flex his tattooed arm. And he’s, um. He’s jacked. “... planning on using the some of it that isn’t?”

Will really hopes his face isn’t red. He weighs the implications of what the guy is asking, surveys the part of the garden he’s reserved for squash. If this guy wants to use the garden… so much for squash.

“I mean,” he says finally, “not if you want to use it.”

“Oh, chill,” says the guy, strolling the rest of the way up to him. He sweeps his eyes over Will’s patches of upturned soil and empty seed packets. “What are you planting?”

Will exhales. “Vegetables, mostly.”

The guy calculates for a second, then walks around the empty side of the plot. “Are you cool if I do flowers on the other side?” He spreads his hands out over the space like he can already imagine it. “Wildflowers, a trellis or two, maybe a rosebush.”

Truthfully, Will is not ‘cool’ with this. He doesn’t want to share the garden. He especially doesn’t want to share the garden with a beautiful hipster man who wears floral snapbacks and has sleeve tattoos. He wants to plant squash. He was not informed that his new neighbor was, apparently, also a gardening person, not to mention the most beautiful man in Boston.

As much as he wants to say no, he’s not cool with it, he also knows that there’s this thing called common human decency, and that they’re both tenants on the same house, and that, unfortunately, this garden technically belongs to both of them.

“That’s fine.”

The guy grins. His smile, infuriatingly, is just as gorgeous as the rest of him. His eyes are light— green or hazel, maybe. “Chill.”

Will is pretty sure he’s said chill three times in the past five minutes, which is way too many times.

The guy kneels at the edge of the dirt. Shep, meanwhile, lies down next to the spot he’s chosen, among Will’s empty seed packets. Will pauses for a second, and he wonders if the guy will leave without entertaining further conversation. When he’s still looking at the garden after a moment, Will’s curiosity (and gay frustration) gets the better of him. “Are you the other renter?”

“Oh— yeah, sorry; yeah, I am,” he says, then adds, “I’m Derek. I just got here this morning.”

“Yeah, I heard you moving your boxes,” Will replies. “I’m Will. I live downstairs.”

Derek reaches to pat Shep on the head. “Is this your dog?”

“Yeah, that’s Shep.” Will pauses. Shep closes his eyes as Derek scratches his ears, like it’s an incredibly zen experience. Will adds, as if it were not obvious, “He’s friendly.”

“Hey, Shep.” Derek smiles. He has nice hands. “You’re a fluffy guy.”

Quiet falls in the backyard for a moment. Will mourns the loss of his prospective future squash. Derek smiles vaguely at the stolen patch of dry dirt.

“Well,” he mumbles. “I should probably get unpacking, but hey, it was nice to meet you.” He stands up, and when he smiles at Will, Will feels his stomach do an entire acrobatic routine. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, uh—” Will clears his throat again. He really really really hopes he’s not blushing. “You, too. Nice to meet you.”

Little does he know that this is only the start.

*

June

Derek plants in, like, four stages.

Will doesn’t understand his process, but he keeps seeing him outside, walking back and forth between the staircase that leads down from his apartment to the garden. He plants from seed, like Will does, except for this one time he carries a mini rosebush across the yard and puts it in the corner next to Will’s tomatoes. He puts a little wire trellis in the center, and his saplings start popping up about a week after Will’s do.

Will successfully avoids talking to him for a little while, aside from the occasional hello when leaving for work in the morning or when their watering times overlap. This is good, because avoiding talking to Derek means avoiding doing something stupid and embarrassing himself.

Then, one warm afternoon in early June, he lets Shep out and sees him go straight up to Derek, who’s watering his rosebush.

Will sighs from his open window. He could use to water anyways.

“Hey, Will.” Derek waves when he approaches, and Shep, thankfully, turns back from the enemy’s side to bound up to Will. “‘Sup?”

“Not much.” Derek is wearing a sun hat and Birkenstocks, and his curls blow in the gentle breeze. He’s ethereal, like a male Persephone. “Just came down to water.”

Will cringes at himself. Of course he’s here to water. He’s holding a watering can.

“Same.” Derek grins, ignoring Will’s stupidity. Will kind of wants to die, but he starts on his cucumber and tomato mounds anyway.

Just be calm. Be cool. He’s just a hot neighbor.

“So, new neighbor,” Derek says, all bravado. “I feel incomplete. I’ve shared a garden with you for two weeks and I don’t know anything about you.”

Will shrugs. “You know my name.”

Derek snorts. “Okay, Mr. Technical. Where are you from?”

“Maine.”

“Like, beach Maine or middle of nowhere Maine?”

“Northern coast Maine.” Will pauses, and almost feels a pang. He hasn’t been home since Christmas, and he misses it. “Near Bar Harbor.”

“Oh.” Derek pauses, then kind of snorts again. “It’s bold of you to assume I know where that is.”

“Well, where are you from?”

“New York,” Derek says, which, really, Will should have been able to guess. “City, not state. I just moved up here.”

“Why did you move to Boston?”

“Work.” Derek pauses, then smiles at his rosebush. “I’m a magazine editor, but I just got promoted, so I relocated to the main office up here.”

“What kind of magazine?” Will asks, for no other reason but curiosity.

“Northeast Lawn and Garden.”

Oh my God. Will might be actually blushing now. “Wait, seriously?”

Derek grins. The brim of his hat casts a shadow over his face. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” he replies. “My ma has been subscribed to that magazine since, like, 1995.” And so have I, since I moved out, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it.

Derek laughs into the blue sky, and it’s a sweet sound. “Hey, that’s chill. I’m glad she enjoys it.”

There’s a brief quiet between them, and Will could choose this moment to leave. His watering is technically done— the garden is so small that it’s low-maintenance— but there’s something about Derek that keeps him, something enticing that wills him not to go just yet.

Besides, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

So when Derek asks, “So what do you do?”, he keeps the conversation going.

*

July

The drive from home in Maine to Boston is long.

Four and a half hours, actually, and although he gets up bright and early at his parents’ house to come home this morning, it doesn’t go by any more quickly than it has in the past. He’s been visiting for the Fourth of July, and even though his brother and a few of his cousins can be prejudiced assholes, he loves his parents, and it feels nice to be home, to be someplace not quite so lonely.

When he and Shep get back to the apartment, it’s high noon, and Derek is outside in the garden.

Will discovers this because he goes to water his plants. They’re getting bigger every day, flourishing in the summer heat, but they’re also super thirsty all the time. Derek is in the same boat— he’s put in wildflowers and a hydrangea and his rosebush and his climbing things. The garden is a tangled mess, and it’s full of weeds.

Except the thing is… Derek is outside today, and… he has no business looking as good as he does.

His shirt, for starters, is a tank top, which leaves little to the imagination when it comes to his arms with all their muscle and ink. He’s also in running shorts, and his weird sun hat, and his skin shines in the sun, and he’s… he’s a lot.

Will has talked to his neighbor, has gotten to know him a little when they’re both out here gardening at the same time. He has managed not to let his annoyance about sharing the garden be his guiding principle with regard to their interpersonal relationship. But still… Jesus fucking Christ. Derek is too much for him to handle.

He pulls his window open, and Derek seems to hear the sound, because he looks up from his flowers and waves.

“Will!” He smiles. “Hey, welcome home, dude! How was Maine?”

“It was fine.” Will pauses, tries to steady himself and maybe not just gape at the fact that he looks so fucking hot oh my God stop being such a gay disaster please focus. “How was your week?”

“Super chill.” Derek stands and steps back from the garden. “Hey, you should come down here. You have a ton of flowers on your tomato plant.”

Shep paws at the door that leads to the backyard, as if to accentuate Derek’s invitation.

You know what? Fine. He needs to water anyway.

*

That’s it. Will is going to kill his neighbor.

Derek may be beautiful, but sharing this garden is not working out. Will’s beloved snap pea plants, having climbed the trellis, are starting to choke out before they bear actual snap peas. And the reason is that Derek’s sweet pea flowers are wrapping around them, turning them brown, tearing the life out of them.

“Derek!”

Derek pokes his curly head out the window of his apartment. “Are you seriously yelling at me from the backyard?”

Will whirls around on his heel. “Your sweet peas are choking out my snap peas!”

Derek snorts. “You’re the one whose plants hijacked my trellis, bro.”

“But they’re—” Will sifts through the plants gingerly, tries to distinguish between the flowered plant and the vegetable one. “They’re dying!”

“Uh, ch’yeah, because you’re encroaching on their territory.”

“The snap peas are dying, not the sweet peas.” Will lets out an anguished sigh. “And the plants were so big—”

Derek, in his window, leans his cheek into his hand. He looks like a noblewoman in a play, in her castle while her suitor confesses his love from the streets below. “Looks like this garden just ain’t big enough for the two of us, Poindexter.”

Will groans again. “You’re an asshole,” he says. While Derek laughs at him from above, he points at him menacingly. “And if my peas die, I’m blaming you for it.”

“I’ll happily take the blame,” Derek replies. “But they’re not gonna die.”

“Yeah.” Will bristles. “We’ll see.”

*

August

The peas don’t die.

Nothing does, actually. The flowers and the vegetables grow into each other, sure, but it’s more like reluctant cohabitation than beautiful cooperation. He and Derek work around each other well into the produce season, and Will vows never to agree to share the garden again. It’s a terrible idea. Derek’s flowers are everywhere, and there could’ve been so much more room for vegetables had he claimed the whole thing before he showed up.

The upside is getting to talk to him. He guesses.

Sunset is getting earlier, but tonight, Will heads out to gather tomatoes at golden hour. Derek is sitting in the grass next to his flowers, in his floral snapback, not really working in the garden but not leaving either. If anything, he’s soaking up the sun.

“Your tomatoes are huge,” Derek says, in lieu of a greeting. “They’re shading my rose.”

Will rolls his eyes and pulls a huge beefsteak off the vine. “The sun is on that side of the yard for half the day.”

“Oh, I’m impressed, not annoyed,” he replies. He looks down at something in his hands— he’s weaving a chain of his wildflowers together, by the stems.

He seems to notice Will studying what he’s doing, so he adds, “I’m making a flower crown.”

Will almost rolls his eyes again, but restrains himself. It’s exactly the kind of hippie shit he’d expect from Derek.

“Do you want one?” Derek continues. “You’d look cute.”

Will fully blushes. He yanks a tomato, hard, and nearly knocks over his entire plant and stake in the process. “No.”

“Okay.” Derek smiles, without a care in the world, and pulls his hat off to put the flower chain on his head. It looks, of course, perfect on him. “Then you can wear my hat.”

Will pauses with his hand in his cherry tomato stalk. “Beg your pardon?”

“Here.” Derek tosses him his snapback, and it lands in the grass by his feet. Then he adds, like it means nothing, “Bet it’d look good on you.”

Will has ascertained that Derek is bi— half because he has a shirt he said he got at NYC Pride that says pretty fly for a bi guy in purple, blue, and pink, and half because he flirts with Will and then pretends like he’s not flirting. Will hasn’t disclosed his sexuality yet, for this reason. For all he knows, Derek could be like this with everyone else in his life.

He’s not in the business of getting hurt by pretty boys, especially not when they share a garden and a building with him.

“C’mon,” Derek urges, still smiling. “Just try it.”

Will bends over and picks up the hat. It’s white, with florals in pink and yellow and green. When he puts it on backwards, Derek falls into the grass and whistles.

“Wow,” he sighs at the afternoon sky. “I was right.”

“I’m keeping this,” Will says, matter-of-factly.

Derek beams. His flower crown falls crooked, daisies and cosmos and nasturtium among his curls. Will wants to kiss him, but can’t and doesn’t. “Be my guest.”

*

September

It’s September, and the grass is green.

Will is picking the very last of the tomatoes off his vines. Some of them aren’t quite ripe yet, but rumor has it the season’s first frost could come tonight, and he doesn’t want to take any chances. While he’s piling them into a basket, he hears movement behind him, and he doesn’t even have to turn to know Derek is there.

“Hey, Will.”

“Hi.” Will pauses. The tomato he pulls next is completely green. “How’s it going?”

“It’s chill.” Derek sidles up next to him and investigates the tomatoes. Today, he’s in a cardigan, like he’s anticipating the cold. “Taking the last of the goods?”

“Yeah, I have to,” Will replies. “Or else the frost’ll get ‘em.”

“I know what you mean.” Derek gazes at his end of the plot. “I cut my last few bouquets earlier.”

Will glances at him sideways. “Do you, like, give them to people?”

He shakes his head. “No one to give ‘em to.” He pauses. “There’s one on my desk at work, then two in my apartment.” He folds his arms and looks at Will’s basket of green tomatoes, then meets his eyes and adds, “You could have one, though. If you wanted.”

Will chuckles. “I’m okay.”

“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”

Derek stands with him while he finishes gathering the tomatoes. He picks them slowly, like dragging out this small task will maximize on the time Derek chooses to spend with him before they both retreat into their apartments again.

Like always.

“So your last harvest,” Derek says. “Are you sad?”

Will shrugs. “No. Seasons change every year.”

“Yeah, I like the fall,” he replies, then nudges his arm a little as they walk back toward the building. “But hey, this might mean we won’t see as much of each other.”

“We live a floor away from each other,” Will mumbles, which. Are they friends? He’s pretty sure they are. They’ve spent an entire summer bickering and chatting and bonding over this garden. Derek even flirts with him. But he’s pretty sure friends-slash-neighbors is all they’ll ever be.

“I guess.” Derek pauses. Will hoists his tomatoes under his arm, and they meet eyes, and for a moment, Derek is looking back at him and Will’s stomach is butterflies.

He opens his mouth to say goodnight. And at the same time, Derek says, “Do you… wanna come upstairs for dinner or something?”

Dear giftee, there is a part 2 to this! Stay tuned and I’ll make sure you get it.

[touchingoldmagic]

Day 18 - Random AU

Day 18 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge!

Author’s Notes: I thought it would be a fun idea for an AU if we saw a 2016 Ghostbusters movie that was more like the Extreme Ghostbusters cartoon!

Erin Gilbert stood outside the door to the lecture hall and shifted her satchel from one hand to the other. "It's no big deal, Erin," she muttered to herself. "Just the first day of the most important class of the rest of your life. No sweat."

She reached out to push the door handle, then hesitated and dropped her hand, losing her nerve.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and Erin jumped aside. A young man gave her an odd look as he walked through the doorway.

Erin squared her shoulders. "You can do this," she whispered. "You can do this." After all, no one inside the room was going to make fun of her. They were all taking the same class.

Then why was it so hard to open the door?

Finally it was time that motivated her. The idea of sliding into the class late and having all the students watch her while she tried to find a seat was more terrifying that the idea of opening the door. With a few minutes left to go, Erin grabbed the door handle and pushed through to the other side.

The lecture hall was a large one, which was the norm for the first level classes. One of Erin's worries had been that there wouldn’t be any seats left, but she found out she needn’t have worried. The hall could easily seat about a hundred students, but only a dozen or so people were seated toward the front of the room, with one or two others who had parked themselves in some of the back rows, looking like they were ready to fall asleep before class had even started.

Gripping her satchel, Erin inched her way down the lecture hall steps to the front of the room. There was no way she was going to miss a single word of any lecture in this class, so she was determined to get a front row seat, if she could find one.

Erin bit her lip when she got to the front. She scanned the row quickly, not wanting to hold up anyone behind her, and saw that there were two empty seats between two young women right next to the stairs. Normally she would want there to be three empty seats, because she felt more comfortable if there was a seat between herself and any other students, but at this point class was going to begin any minute and she had precious little time to make a decision. Taking a breath to steel herself, Erin sank into the seat closest to her.

Erin kept her head down as she pulled her notebook and two pens from her satchel, before she dared to lift her head. When she did, she was surprised to find the woman she had sat next to was staring directly at her.

"Hi!" the woman said, holding out a hand to Erin. She was short with a round face and long brown hair done up in a bun. "I'm Abby. What brings you here?"

Not used to someone introducing themselves so enthusiastically, Erin stared like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Finally she cleared her throat and took Abby's hand, shaking it once. "Um, Erin Gilbert," she said, since it seemed polite to say your name back when someone tells your theirs. "What brings me... why, is this the wrong room?" She looked around wildly, horrified at the thought that she had gone to the wrong lecture hall. "This is Dr. Spengler's class, right!?"

"You got it, chickee." The other young woman, who was seated to Erin's left with a chair between them, cocked her head sideways to regard Erin. She leaned so far to the side that she was almost stretched out horizontal across the chair. Her short hair fell in a cascade over one side of her scalp, the other half shaved short, and her glasses were the same tint of yellow as her hair. "Abby means, what made you want to take Parapsychology 101?"

"O-oh." Erin's voice got small. She didn't want to say why she was taking this class. They would laugh, whether they were taking the class for the same reasons or not. Everyone always laughed. "I, um, well. I--"

Abby was obviously a talkative one, and she plowed on ahead when Erin couldn't find her voice to answer. "I totally believe in ghosts," Abby announced. "I've checked out some haunted houses and I've even felt some things. I've read Dr. Spengler's Spirit Guide cover to cover six times." She had a pile of three or four books next to her feet and the top one was, indeed, Dr. Spengler's guide. Abby bent forward and patted it fondly.

The blond woman was still mostly horizontal, much to Erin's amazement. Erin noticed she had two pencils stuck behind one ear. "Jillian Holtzmann. Double major in Physics and Women's Studies. I've read a lot of online articles about the Ghostbusters' equipment, but they never go into details. Taking this class so I can corner the prof during office hours and pump him for information."

Erin stared at her in shock. Jillian smirked back.

A deeper feminine voice cleared her throat directly behind Erin; she turned her neck quickly to see an extremely tall African American woman with short black hair and a friendly smile. "I'm a History major but this counts as an elective. You know how many times the Ghostbusters saved the city? We're going to be taught by a living legend. We're basically making history just sitting in this class. That’s why I’m here."

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" Abby asked, leaning toward her, not at all offended that the woman had injected herself into their conversation.

"Nah, but I'm open to the possibility. I'm Patty Tolan," she added.

Erin sunk low in her seat. I'm surrounded by extroverts, I'm doomed, she thought to herself.

Before the conversation could continue any further, the door next to the stage opened and an older man stepped through, his blond hair pulled back in a simple tail, saving Erin from finding something to say. He was wearing brown slacks and a blue sweater. Erin was surprised by her first sight of Dr. Egon Spengler. She had expected someone in a suit, at least.

"Welcome to Parapsychology 101," the man announced without preamble. "I'm Dr. Spengler. Let me know if any of you had any trouble ordering the correct textbooks." The few students who were chatting quieted. Jillian Holtzmann sat upright. Erin quickly opened her notebook.

"I'm not too late to join, am I?" a new voice announced from the top of the stairs.

Dr. Spengler stopped short, clearly surprised. "Janine?"

The professor's reaction had most of the class turning their heads to see who was coming down the stairs. She was a woman about Dr. Spengler's age, wearing a short navy skirt and a complimentary short-sleeved blue top. Her red hair was short and her glasses were oval-shaped with gold frames, giving her a trendy look despite being older than most of the other students.

"Ah, yes, you're just in time, Janine," Dr. Spengler said, obviously trying to recover from his surprise. He turned to the rest of the room. "Class, this is Janine Melnitz. When the Ghostbusters were in operation, she was our receptionist and accountant."

"I hope you know that's not the only reason I’m taking this class, Egon," Janine said.

The professor adjusted his glasses. "Of course." He addressed the room again. "Ms. Melnitz also experienced paranormal incidents herself more than forty-two times during her employment with us."

Erin stared at the confident older woman in amazement. Beside her, Abby gave a smothered gasp.

Janine sighed and took a seat.