#*Coughs in Skies of Arcadia*

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Golden ribbons of sacred light descend from the heavens, responding to your desperate plea for a miracle. They swirl and swoop through the air like birds of sparkling crystal, leaving shimmering trails in their wake. You watch, breath caught in your throat, as the light converges upon the body of your dearest friend, settling like effervescent dew upon their lifeless form. Like the merest whisper of a sigh, the light is drawn into them, imparting a soft glow upon their surroundings that moves you to tears. It's like coming home, and you feel in the deepest reaches of your immortal soul that everything is going to be okay.

*Miss*

[troublesometrollhunters]

I realy hope I'm not late ok can you do

A reader that is a ocean goddess with a. Mermaid like look taking a likeing to jim and trying to flirt with him

California was known for its sunny beaches and clear skies. Some parts of Cali weren't as fortunate as Arcadia Oaks but Jim was glad that his neighborhood was typically sunny and the beach was only a 30 minute trip. So he could just get away for the day and go where the water was warm year around.

He was never known as the best surfer but being so close to the beach he'd picked some things up and after a long week he thought this spantenous trip to take some time to himself would be good. Just sun, sand, and no magic or trolls or girls. He could finally relax and get some things he'd been feeling off his chest.

Locking everything important in his vespa seat he smiles before taking off his shoes feeling the warm sand under his feet and inbetween his toes. Putting his towel down along with his umbrella and cooler he hides his keys under the blanket and his jacket before he runs towards the water with his old board. Laughing the entire way he yells at the sky once he makes it in the water, jumping up and down in joy. He watches the water splash all around and smiles as he spins taking in the sea and sand as he stands in the shallow waves.

He hadn't realized how hard it was to be be the Trollhunter until it was almost too much. Until unpleasant thoughts filled his head and his doubts nearly killed him. Laying on his board and paddling out to sea he's thankful the waves won't pumbel him as hard as Draal does during sparring or the Forge does during practice.

Paddling out he does a duck dive with his board as he aims for some of the bigger waves. Watching for the current and being careful he finally gets where he wants to be. Flipping himself over so he's ready to stand when the wave comes he waits. Letting the wave pick his board up he stands before sticking his hands out to keep balanced. Riding the wave and shifting his stance slightly to keep upright, he pauses as he sees something shiny in the water.

Crying out as he leans too far trying to see the shiny thing he falls into the water and tumbles with the waves.

Holding his board and moving his hair out of his face he hums. What was that?

~~~~~

A few hours later and Jims arms are sore but he's happy after a long day of surf and sand. He lays backwards on his board staring at the sky when a wave suddenly washes over him.

Crying out Jims thrown off his board and into the water. Reaching out for his board trying to get to the surface he feels the current tug him down as he begins sinking. Swiping for his board again he misses sinking further into the water. The Velcro on his ankle begins to loosen and he pinwheels against the current struggling to grab his board and ride a wave back to the saftey of the sand.

Hand grasping for wood he pauses as it grabs something else. Running out of breath and confused Jim gasps as he suddenly breeches the water and hits the beach. Coughing he blinks looking at the clouds before he takes deep breaths heaving in air. He'd been so far out, how had he gotten back to land? What had he grabbed or what had grabbed him?

That's when he notices a heavy pressure on his chest. Tilting his head he pauses seeing you. Whatever you were.

Jim stares at you and you look back blinking owlishy. Seeing he's heaving you force yourself backwards, propelling yourself off him so he can breathe. You land in the sand with a loud thump as you sit next to him.

"Ummm... hi?" He mumbles in a daze. You smile at him wiping hair out of his eyes.

"Your eyes are as blue as the ocean..." You mumble. He pauses as you reach out again and touch his face, his cheeks become red and you look panicked. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I don't know much about humans. I-" Scooting away from him he watches as a blue and green tail he hadn't noticed slowly fades to two human legs covered in a scale skirt.

"What are you?" He asks amazed. You smile and with some effort shift your legs so your sitting closer to Jim.

"... What do landers call it? A mermaid perhaps? A water dweller. A siren. Oh Merfolk! I'm a mer folk." They explain with a soft smile.

"What do they call you?" He questions swallowing as he stares at you amazed.

"A name... Your asking for My name?" Shifting the mer person stares at the sky thinking. Jim wonders what world they live in where they have to think of their name. Do they have one?

As they think Jim pauses as he observes them waiting for their answer. They wore a baggy sailors shirt and the skirt that was once their tail. Worn rope tied their skirt and shirt together and he could see little barnacles growing on the edges.

They were wild just like the sea.

They're hair was braided and curled, with seaweed and he noticed shells woven in like beads. Bracelets hung on their wrists and they jangled as the person moved. Looking closer he saw they were gold and silver bangles that hung with ancient coins, probabaly lost to the sea from sunken ships. A real mer folk. Jim was staring at a real mer folk.

"... My name is (Y/N)." They greet.

"I'm J-Jim. Jim Lake." He responds blushing. You giggle and he smiles listening to a sound similar to bells.

"Well Lake what are you doing in the ocean?" You ask with a teasing smile and he chuckles.

He had come to get away from magic but talking with you relaxing on the beach, maybe magic was exactly what he needed.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, December 11th

GIRL: Hey. (Wesley chokes on his Reuben and starts coughing) Nice sweater. Hand knit? WESLEY: Certainly not by me. GIRL: I didn't mean...I meant, it's a great sweater. WESLEY: Oh, well, I-I'll pass that on then--to the person who knit it. I-I mean, I would, if I knew who did--but I don't. So I won't pass it on to anyone, will I? GIRL: Bye. (She walks away)

~~She~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Spike's Best Present Ever (Spike/Angel, R/M) by apachefirecat

The Truth of a Seer (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Joan963z

[Chaptered Fiction]

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion, Chapter 226 (Ensemble, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure crossover, T) by madimpossibledreamer

Reordering the Universe, Chapter 30 (complete) (Buffy/Spike, E) by touchstoneaf

The path to redemption, Chapter 84 (Scoobies, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Slayers and Trollhunters, Chapter 37 (Scoobies, Tales of Arcadia crossover, T) by Starfox5

Yvette, the Vampire Slayer - Arc 2, Chapter 31 (OC Slayer, Castlevania crossover, G) by TheSovereigntyofReality

Not So Black and White, Chapter 7 (Angel & Wesley, M) by GandalftheGay17

Keeping Up With the Scoobies, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Takara_Phoenix

You Can't Fight Fate - But You Can Bitch About Him, Chapter 32 (Buffy, Young Justice/DCU crossover, not rated) by Hermione2be

Marmelade Skies, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Popsy

Wrong Place, Perfect Time, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, E) by MaggieLaFey

You Can't Fight Fate - But You Can Decipher Him, Chapter 17 (Dawn, Batman crossover, not rated) by Hermione2be

Buffy's Father Chapter 51 (Ensemble, Stargate SG-1 crossover, T) by Vidicon666

In Between Worlds, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, M) by DianneRose2016

Blood Bath, Chapters 1-2 (complete) (Willow/Tara, T) by cELouise_Moore

Sunnydale High Reunion, Chapter 1 (Ensemble, T) by Rutkowski

Things That Go Bump in the Night, Chapters 1-2 (complete) (Faith/Dean, Supernatural crossover, E) by CookieDoughMe

Edith, Drusilla, Xander (Xander, M) by calikocat

In Between Worlds, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by babylove969

Changes, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Jws1993

Spike and the Quest for the Gems of Amara, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by the_big_bad

[Images, Audio & Video]

Tattoo: Holographic Sticker Tattoo of Spike (worksafe) posted by cloudcats

Artwork: Giles (worksafe) by flummoxedangel

Artwork: Buffy: "Take all that away and what’s left?" (worksafe) by lillbitdramatic

Artwork: Buffy season 1 and Buffy season 2 (worksafe) by marcialeben

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Gifs: Buffy Summers + Flowers (worksafe) by buffysource

Fanvid: Angel & Darla || Running up that hill by QueenVampireSlayer

[Reviews & Recaps]

Buffy The Vampire Slayer (S01E01), (S01E02), (S01E03) and (S01E04) by rainbowwlsparroww

[Spike’s entrance in School Hard] by bakasara

BUFFY REWATCH - S06E07 - Once More, With Feeling by girl4music

[Fandom Discussions]

What the Buffy characters would get as tattoos by 5bi5

I find the Spuffy vs. Bangel discourse especially weird because [...] by comradesummers

Fuffy fanfic idea by confusedguytoo

[About Willow hating herself] by girl4music

In ‘Tough Love’ the fight between Willow and Tara escalates so quickly because [...] by girl4music

The S3 Buffy/Angel/Faith is both the only love triangle in Buffy and a rare true love triangle by herinsectreflection

I’ve made the switch from Bangel to Spuffy, and here’s why by pollencoveredwoman

Season 6: the trio = The worse reflections of the original trio by spikesheart

[Vagueness on whether Willow and Tara were contributing financially in S6] by sspoike

What was the point of turning Gunn into a lawyer? by jdpm1991

Regarding Willow and Xander... by JeanGreyStan143

Do you personally consider the comic continuations to be canon? by Grebnesorwolliw

How come Faith never had to go through the 18th birthday helpless trial? by Bacon531

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[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Bonus Chapter #2: Hot Cocoa

Douxie x fem!reader

Masterlist in bio!

Summary: You get to relax with your boyfriend!! (Takes place in the fire keeper universe).

Requested?: Yes! This was inspired by @blixeon ’s wonderful request:

Would I possibly be able to request a bonus chapter of sorts for Fire Keeper maybe..? Something like a movie night date with snacks and hot coco?

Happy Reading!!

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia

Warnings: Pure fluff

A/n: This takes place after chapter 21, but it can be read as a oneshot. I hope you enjoy it!

Requests are open!!!!

Stuff

You looked up from your phone to Douxie and smiled. “Our reputation for legitimate psychics is getting pretty good,” you announced.

“Enough to go to a nicer hotel?” Archie asked from Douxie's shoulder as you levitated your one bag off the ship.

You grinned, your eyes lighting up. “Yep! No more disgusting motels!”

“Will it be warm?” Nari asked, shivering a bit despite the fact she was wrapped in your jacket.

“Yes, and we can get some better clothes too,” you promised as Douxie compressed the ship.

“I’m assuming you have a hotel in mind?” Douxie asked, smiling at you once he was done.

You nodded excitedly. “Follow me!”

~~~~

“Pillows!” You exclaimed, flopping onto the soft bed. You closed your eyes to just enjoy being surrounded by the soft white mounds of fluff. Mao jumped onto the bad and landed on your stomach. You let out a cough as you adjusted her position and began to stroke her soft fur. You had made a pit stop to collect her and a few necessities from your mom’s house before you had left.

You heard the heater start up in the corner and sighed. It was nice having a job and money, you were really glad Douxie had had the idea to become traveling psychics. With your growing reputation it was becoming a rather lucrative idea. You’d need the money for nice, heated hotels with winter coming.

It would be your first official winter too, living in Arcadia all your life meant you hadn’t seen much snow. There were some snowy places in California, but you’d never seen them while it was snowing. You were kinda excited.

You sat up, gently moving Mao to sit beside you. Looking around at the room you had to admit it was rather nice.

“I like it here,” Nari announced, stating your thoughts out loud as she sat under the heater.

“I do too,” you agreed, sitting up. “Though, as much as I don’t want to leave, we should probably go shopping for dinner and other necessities.”

Douxie shook his head, “You stay here with Nari and I’ll get the basics.”

“Aww, Doux, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine, you found the hotel, I’ll find dinner.”

You smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Douxie nodded, gave you a quick goodbye and left. You turned on the TV and flopped back onto the bed. A news report appeared on the screen and you muted it, not wanting to listen to the newest depressing thing that had happened. You surfed through the channels, not exactly having one in mind. A movie sounded good, but you weren’t feeling drawn to any of the ones that were on.

As you made your way through the channels you began to grow bored, wondering if you should splurge and buy a movie. You quickly abandoned that plan though as your scrolling came to Hallmark Channel.

A Timeless Christmas was on next and you smiled. It was one you hadn’t seen, but the time travel aspect definitely piqued your interest.  

Right before the movie started Douxie walked in balancing two grocery bags and two steaming cups of what smelled like hot chocolate. You took the bags and set them on the little table in the corner.

“Thanks love,” he said, giving you a quick kiss. “I got your favorite hot cocoa too.”

“Aww, thanks.” You opened the bags, rummaging through them to see a bunch of instant noodles, some popcorn, some salmon treats for Archie, some strawberries, as well as a bunch of other necessities and snacks.

“What’re you watching?” Douxie asked as you turned back to him and took a sip of your drink, letting out a quiet hum of approval. Douxie had found some really good hot cocoa, and it warmed your heart that he remembered how you liked it.

“It’s a time travel romance,” you said, giggling.

Douxie chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, I could only imagine what it’s like,” you joked.

Douxie laughed and pressed play as you hopped into the bed next to him. The hot cocoa kept your hands toasty as you laid your head down on Douxie’s shoulder and watched the movie.

You eventually ate dinner and once the movie(which was pretty good)was over you decided to go on a walk with Douxie.

Your hands were intertwined as you walked down the street to the park near the hotel. The night was dark, with only street lamps to guide you. The stars were hidden by pollution and you found yourself missing the clear skies of the past. The one you and Douxie had danced under had been especially spectacular, the stars had glittered marvelously above you. The moment was a fond one in your memory.

It had technically been nine hundred years since then, you wished you had thought to take the dress with you, but even though you didn’t have any souvenirs, you were happy that you had Douxie.  

You looked up to him and smiled. “I’m glad I came with you,” you suddenly said, gently squeezing his hand.

He smiled down at you. “Me too.”

****

I really enjoyed writing this request!! Thank you so much for reading have a beautiful and safe day/night. I wish you all the best!!

P.S. I am open to requests!!!!!

P.P.S. If you want to be on the taglist for fire keeper or Douxie feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

[nowoyas]

Stop Counting

A/N: day 27 of the Izumonth server collab hosted by @birds-have-teeth​! this one is pretty much just a lovechild of me and my absolute adoration for Skies of Arcadia, an old JRPG and one of my favorite games of all time, hence *sky* pirate instead of just, like, regular pirate Izuku. this fic was initially intended to end with a big old NSFW sequence but I couldn’t make myself like it. if I ever make myself like it I’ll probably post that section as a sequel/alternate ending!

Summary: You are one of many captured by the Empire and forced to work dangerous jobs aboard their ships. Izuku and the other members of his crew raid your ship in search of things to sell and gold to take, and leave with you. (sky pirate!izuku x reader)

Warnings: angst. there’s a sad dog. at this point you can assume if I wrote a fic there is probably swearing somewhere.

Word count: 4700+

Something is wrong.

You don't know what. You can't know what. But the men holding you aboard this ship are running and shouting even more than usual (which is saying a lot). The ship shook about sixty breaths ago, which is becoming less of a good method of time-keeping now that you're starting to feel more scared than you're used to and your breathing is quickening.

You live in this engine room. When you are told, you add fuel to the fire for the men on the ship. You try to keep time. You count your breaths as best you can. Every eleven thousand breaths or so, with steady breathing, you receive food. You sleep only when a guard allows it. You thank the moons that they aren't working you to your total death.

You have worked in this ship for a very long time.

A very long time, and yet, no time at all, because you no longer have a way to tell the time, other than your breaths. And in this very long time, you've never once heard the men running around like this.

Footsteps are approaching your door. Many, lighter than those of the armored men who feed you or guard you. And it isn't time for you to receive food.

So who is approaching your door, you wonder?

The footsteps stop in front of your door, and after a moment, you hear muffled voices.

"I don't know, maybe we can get some extra fuel for our ship while we're here, too."

The voice is unfamiliar. So unfamiliar, in fact, that familiar feelings well up in you. You're no amnesiac: you remember what life used to be like for you, what the sky looked like, how it felt to talk and have friends and family, though you've long forgotten who those friends and family were. Most importantly, you remember hearing stories of (and even once meeting!) rogue pirates who raid Empire ships.

Empire ships like the one you have lived on for so long you only mostly remember what it felt like to gaze upon the moons.

"I think you're wasting time. How are we going to get the door open, anyway?"

"I-I think I can pick the lock!"

Your body moves without thinking, and you nearly launch yourself at the door, raising your fists to pound against the metal as you search for your voice. "A-are you guys rogues? Please get me out of here! Please!" The strain on your throat forces you to cough, and you fall to the floor, landing roughly on your knees as you cough up a lung from sheer stress.

"Someone's in there!"

"I'm working on it!"

You don't realize you're sobbing in your spot, not when the door swings open wide, not until you're being cradled against someone's chest and helped to your feet.

"Hey, you're okay. You're free now. We're taking over this ship."

The dam officially breaks. Clutching at this kind stranger's top, you begin to sob. He struggles a bit in your hold, wriggling around until he's shucked off his jacket and draped it over your nearly bare shoulders. "For now, come with us, and we'll help you decide what to do from there, okay?"

You whimper pathetically, subconsciously snuggling into his hold and his jacket as you look up at his face and nod. Your savior is a man with a boyish face, unruly green hair, and freckles across his cheeks the way you remember the stars. He smiles down at you as reassuringly as he can.

"My name's Izuku. Can you walk?"

Another nod. "I-I don't know the way out," you borderline whisper, voice unbearably hoarse. "I haven't been outside of this room in... a long time."

He nods. "We're gonna gather up some of this ship's fuel. Stay close to me, I'll protect you. The Empire can't touch you now."

~

Izuku Midoriya isn't quite sure how to feel about the latest raid. The Empire ship was full of guards, full of fuel and food, not so full of gold. They took what was valuable, and left.

And then there's you.

This is hardly the first time Izuku's boarded a ship in his time. He's done plenty with his crew, and learned quite a lot. But it never truly hit him just how unjust the Empire was until he found you. You're obviously malnourished, dressed in tattered clothes that barely cover anything important and covered in a layer of grime that stubbornly remained even after your first attempts to clean it off. The girl who'd gone with you to help you wash up must have scrubbed the skin raw, and yet you still look shaken, skin stained from skies only know how long you spent locked in that engine room. Your hair, precariously long from time spent with no way to cut it, has been drawn back into a bun.

Now, while the rest of the crew is drinking and feasting, you stand off in the corner, hands at your sides as you breathe slowly. You're not even watching the fun, eyes closed. Izuku's jacket swamps your malnourished form–how long it must have been since you had a decent meal, and you're just standing in the corner while the others eat.

He's heard stories, sure. The Empire captures people from conquered settlements, usually the healthiest, and puts them to work in manufacturing or dangerous, unfun jobs like adding fuel to ship furnaces. Usually, these people go mad after not much time, or when they're freed, they throw themselves into the sky or refuse to leave the engine rooms. You'd hesitated at first, but once you were out of the room, he kept you close at hand, one point of contact at all times until you were safely below decks of The Crescent.

With a huff, Izuku stands, grabbing a plate of food and walking over to you. "H-hey, um."

You open your eyes, watching him curiously as he thrusts the plate of food towards you in offering. 

"I know it's scary right now, but everyone on the crew really is good. You should eat something, and come sit down, i-if you want? I don't even know your name yet; I'd like to talk to you, if I can."

You look down at the plate of food for a long moment, and then back up to him. You speak in a meek voice, so quiet and hoarse that he has to lean in to hear you. "[Name]..."

"[Name]," he repeats, testing it on his tongue. "Your name?"

"I think so. It's been... A very long time. Since I had one."

"It's a good name. D-do you want to come up to the deck with me to eat? It's probably been a while since you saw the sky, and I bet these guys are pretty overwhelming when they're drinking."

"Okay, I-Izuku."

Without another word, you follow him up to the deck of the ship. He'll get you out of your shell yet.

~

Before long, you find yourself cleaning the ship whenever you can to help out. You've been aboard the Crescent for a week now—Izuku is sure to check in on you often, and with his help, you've started to integrate yourself into talking more with the rest of the crew, and last night, you even ate with everyone. After a week of baths and attempts to scrub yourself clean of engine room grime, you finally feel clean, light in a way you're sure you've never experienced. 

Some of the crew members banded together to find you a full outfit to wear instead of your previous rags–you look rather like a street rat wearing a rogue's clothes now, instead of your previous pure rattiness. Izuku hasn't asked for his jacket back, and so it remains with you, a strange source of comfort as you find new places on the ship to hide.

Right now, though, you aren't hiding. When Izuku comes looking for you, he finds you cleaning the bridge, eyes glued to the sky rather than your work. It's a cool night–a sniff of the air suggests incoming rain.

"Hey, [name]," he says as he approaches. He's learned quickly to approach slowly—you tend towards the startled animal around sudden noises, and no one wants that. You nod your acknowledgement. "The Captain's looking for you. You should get inside, anyways, I think it's gonna rain soon."

You stand, tearing your eyes away from the sky regretfully. "I-I see."

"Sorry to tear you from your stargazing." He offers an apologetic smile, which you take with your usual nod. "It must be strange, to be able to just look at the sky after everything that's happened to you."

"Mm. It's prettier than I remember. I missed it."

"You seem to be recovering well, though! I'm impressed by how well you're doing already."

"Recovering," you breathe. "Right."

You find the captain in his own cabin, where he's poring over some maps and marking something down that you don't know enough about to comment on. He looks up at your intrusion, and instinctively, you step closer to Izuku. 

You're not sure how to feel about the captain. Sometimes, he's larger than life itself, loud and showy. When he's not, it's as though he compensates, becoming small, sharp, and calculating. No matter how he's acting, he looks at you in a way that scares you even though there's always compassion there. Granted, you feel vaguely uncomfortable around literally everyone aboard the Crescent, but somehow it's worse around Captain Yagi.

"Ah, [name], come in!" He seems to be in his soft-spoken mode—you stay rooted to the spot, hands coming up to pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders. Izuku telegraphs his movements, placing a hand on the small of your back to help you understand that you're being asked to come stand at the table with Captain Yagi.

'What did you ask to see me for?', you want to say. Instead, you manage a painfully quiet, "you looked for me."

He nods sheepishly. "Please, sit down. Izuku, my boy, you may stay if you wish. If I'm not mistaken, [name] seems a bit more comfortable with you around."

The two of you take your seats, and Captain Yagi sits across from you. "Now then. I'm not sure how much you've been told, [name], but typically, when we find captives such as yourself aboard Empire ships, we try to return them to their homes or, if we can't, bring them someplace to start a new life. But, from what I've heard from the other crew members, you don't have any place to go, is that right?"

You nod, biting your lip. Your eyes scan the map on the table. None of it looks remotely familiar to you. "I don't remember enough. Um... Maybe a harbor town. There were lots of boats. But that was so long ago, even if I were to return, I don't remember anyone who was there."

He sighs. "I figured you might have spent too long in captivity to remember much. Did they ever once let you out of that room?"

"If I wanted to eat, I had to go wait in the side room I slept in until they put my food down and left."

Izuku's eyes flash in recognition. "Are you talking about that broom closet in the engine room? You slept there?" he asks, his voice pitching with anger.

You cringe, moving to hide in your jacket. "I'm sorry."

The hand resting on your back smooths over carefully in small circular motions. It's almost calming. "Hey, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at the people who did that to you. You're okay."

"I apologize if I've brought up unpleasant memories, child. We could use someone aboard the Crescent to help keep things clean, and our cooks could use the helping hand. If you're aboard the ship, you help out. That's our main rule. If you'd like, we can let you onto our crew for a time, so you can leave if we happen to find your old home to return to."

"Okay."

"My boy, young [name] here is the most comfortable around you. Can I formally ask that you show them the ropes and help them get accustomed to the ship?"

"I can help with the engines if you need it," you say. "If the Crescent has a similar engine."

He smiles, shakes his head. "No, my dear. If possible, we'd like to keep you from ever entering an engine room again. You've spent quite enough time around them, for sure."

"Oh. Alright. Thank you, Captain."

"If I may ask, how often did those Imperials actually feed you? You don't have to answer, I'm just curious."

"Every eleven thousand breaths," you reply automatically. "If I was lucky. Sometimes, they forgot."

"Eleven thousand... Breaths?"

You nod. "I keep steady breathing. I needed some semblance of time. No natural light in the engine room. So I count my breaths, always. The people on this ship seem to sleep after around six thousand, seven hundred breaths, based on what I've seen. Eleven thousand breaths seems to be about one day cycle."

"You're still counting?" Captain Yagi raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. It's... A little compulsive at this point. I start over at eleven thousand, make a mark on the wall of my sleep room to keep track. Or did."

Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "[Name], the walls of that room were covered in marks. I don't think any of us could have counted how many there were, even if we did have the time. Were those the number of days you spent there?"

"I'm lucky," you say, shrugging. "One of the others said that on other Empire ships, you're lucky to be fed half as often."

"Well, you can stop counting now. You're free to do whatever you want, so long as you offer us a helping hand as you have been, and we eat several times a day."

For the longest moment, you don't respond. You simply watch Captain Yagi's face in disbelief. You're not sure what to do with freedom.

"Did you hear me, [name]?"

"Yeah. I can stop counting. I can finally... Stop counting."

~

It isn't long before Izuku begins teaching you your way around a sword in his spare time. You blend in to the crew beautifully, and as time goes, you begin to actually fill your clothes and your skin, starting to occupy any amount of space in the room. You come out of your shell, start to wear Izuku's jacket instead of hiding in it. You come ashore when they stop at various islands, never straying far from the crew, but you never recognize the places that you're taken to. After several months, you ask to join in on a raid, your skills with a sword becoming admirable, and captain Yagi agrees to let you take part.

The raid goes swimmingly. In celebration and to fence off the goods retrieved from yet another Empire ship, the Crescent docks at a harbor town Izuku told you was one of his favorites to visit.

The moment you step off the ship, you know where you are. The streets are familiar, the faces moreso, but you're not delighted at your return home. You let your hair (having been cropped short for function some time ago, but still more than long enough) fall in your face, keep your eyes on your feet, and stick close to Izuku as always.

"About three years back, the Empire hit this place pretty hard," Izuku says, walking you down the streets. The buildings around you aren't quite as familiar; they're in the wrong places, the wrong colors, too new and too... different. "That was right after my first time visiting here. We had no idea until months later, when we came back to re-visit and the place had been nearly burnt to the ground."

Your voice doesn't want to come when you call on it to respond, as though speaking will break the magic and send you all the way back to the engine room. Still, you must respond. You don't want to be rude, even if Izuku has been nothing but patient and caring with you. "Did you ever find out what happened?"

"We got the general gist of it, but there's not a lot to tell." Izuku's brow is creased with something a lot like pain that quickly fades away when he continues to speak. "The Empire heard this was a place that was friendly to pirates, and they decided to show them what happens to pirates and their friends. If you've ever questioned what we're doing, going against the Empire... this is a pretty good reminder of why."

"Right." Faces come up in your memory, dusty from disuse, but some of them almost seem to match those you see in market stalls, selling fruit to strangers.

"It's been amazing, watching this place rebuild since then. They've got a lovely little community here, y'know? We've been helping when we can, sometimes when we board we help out with labor or money, if they need it. Every time I come back, they've fixed up a different building or there's new faces settling down. One thing hasn't really changed since they started rebuilding, though."

Izuku comes to a stop at the end of a street, and you feel your chest restrict at the sight. What he's looking at, and now what you're looking at, is the rubble of what was once a very familiar house. You can almost see the house that used to stand there, simple and unassuming but so much like home. You can almost see a younger sibling running out of the door, one of the few remaining things standing among the rubble.

"[Name]?" 

Izuku watches as you step forward, almost in a trance as you stand in the rubble and trace your fingers along what's left of the walls, what used to be a living room, still with a dusty old chair sitting near a fireplace in near-perfect condition.

"[name]? Are you okay?" Izuku asks, following you into the remains of the house.

"What do you think happened to the people who used to live here?" you ask, voice quiet. Quiet even for the you that's timid, even for the you that's waiting for everything to go wrong again.

He frowns. "There was no one willing to rebuild this house. I remember hearing the daughter was dragged away aboard an Imperial ship, but I never heard anything about the rest of the family."

A sudden bark snaps both of you out of your somber mood, followed shortly by your own shriek as a large, fluffy dog tackles you to the ground. "H-hey! Get off of me!" you whine, pushing the torrent of fur and drool off so you can sit up.

"Are you alright?" Izuku asks as he helps you up, brushing dust off you carefully.

"Harley! Harley, where did you run off to?" a familiar voice calls. A painful, familiar girl enters the room—you know her face, know her voice too well. You let your hair fall in your face and pull your jacket around your shoulders, keeping your eyes locked on the dog. "Oh? What are you two pirates doing in the old [surname] house? There's nothing here for you."

Izuku steps forward. Looking at his back, you almost feel calm. "Sorry, my friend wanted to explore a bit. We didn't mean to intrude."

The girl sighs—you can't remember her name. Why can't you remember her name? "Sorry about Harley. His family owned this place, so I think he gets protective of it."

"What happened to his family?" you ask, instinctively forcing your voice into a lower tone than normal.

She frowns, eyes roaming the mottled walls, the broken-down furniture. "My best friend and her family used to live here. We're not sure where they are now, honest. They all got taken away or killed during an Empire raid."

Your stomach flips. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe they're still alive out there." Harley jumps up, placing his paws on your waist and barking. You pet his head to soothe him.

"We've got graves for all of them. Everyone knows no one comes back after the Empire takes 'em, after all. There's no bodies for them, but we left this house up to honor them. A reminder, I guess. Of what we're fightin' for."

But I came back, you want to say. I'm here, not in a grave, not fallen into the sky. I'm here.

You don't respond. Izuku apologizes to the girl again, and when she goes to leave, Harley whines and stays by your side.

"Harley, come on," she insists. Harley whines again, licking your hand and following her to the door. The large dog pauses, looking back at you with sad eyes, before finally turning and leaving.

~

The crew stays in the town overnight. You find yourself sleepless and restless as you stare at the ceiling of the inn. You need a better view if you're going to relax.

You throw on your clothes and go for a walk.

The night is cool, and although you've grown a little dependent on Izuku's presence, these streets are familiar. You know why, now, without a degree of doubt.

You lived here once. Your feet take you, aimlessly, but perhaps not so aimlessly, to the orchard, without need for lights or a map. It's intrinsic to you—you never had much cause to visit the orchard itself, but you can almost remember making this walk before, the memory brushing against your fingertips. A hundred and twenty breaths finds you standing in a secluded overlook filled with fruit trees, each tree bearing a plaque with a name and age.

Natural headstones.

The headstones bear fruit. The fruit feeds the town for free, and, thanks to the Empire raid, there's likely enough fruit to trade, too. The dead are cremated, their ashes used to bolster the growth of the trees, and they continue to support the community while the community honors them.

Your grave is easy to find. It's the first among a stretch of trees of similar age, bearing [favorite fruit] even now. They're even ripe—you delicately pull one off, reading the plaque with a somber glance as you rub the fruit clean with your sleeve. 

[Full Name]

Age 24

Taken away in an Empire Raid.

With a sigh, you venture to the back of the orchard, where the overlook provides a beautiful view of the sky. The horizon stretches out endlessly, dotted occasionally with distant islands. You never dreamed you'd actually get to be part of that horizon someday. You're not sure you wanted it the way you eventually got it.

"I kinda thought I'd find you here."

You don't turn to greet him, leaning on the fencing with a sigh. "Izuku. Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." You wonder if you should tell him. Surely Izuku could sort through the conflict bubbling in your heart. Instead, you offer him the [favorite fruit] you picked without an explanation. "Do you want to see the most peaceful place in town?"

"It's not the graveyard?" he asks. He accepts the fruit, slipping it into his pocket.

You shake your head. "No. There's a place to stargaze near here."

"Lead the way." He raises an eyebrow, expression almost not visible under the dark of night. The light of the moon guides you, and you take Izuku through a small cave not far from town. It leads out into a small grotto, not a sign of human life in sight, simply grass and the light of the moon and the stars filtering through an opening overhead. 

"Wow," he exhales, staring up at the sky. "This place is beautiful."

You nod. "Did you want to talk about what's keeping you up?"

"Well, for one thing, I got worried," he admits. "About you, I mean. Ah! N-not that you can't take care of yourself or anything like that. You've just been... Off, today. I was just gonna check on you, since you were off to sleep before most everyone got back from the tavern, but then you... Weren't there."

"Thanks for worrying about me." You take a seat in the grass, which quickly becomes laying down. Izuku lays on his back next to you, and you begin to watch the stars. "...can I ask you kind of a weird question?"

"Mm?"

"What... What do you want to do?" You're unsure of yourself even in asking the question, but you ask it all the same.

"R-right now, or in general?"

"In general."

He exhales a sigh, only the moon could tell you why, and answers thoughtfully. "I want to captain my own ship someday. Someday soon. Captain Yagi is amazing, but when I look at you and I look at towns like this, I can't help but feel like we need to do more. We may have stopped one ship in a raid, but how many more do you think there are?"

"Thousands," you answer. "Tens of thousands, even."

"I want to get my own ship, and take out the problem from the top. The Empire hurts so many people, more than it helps."

"I'd go with you," you say. 

He sighs. "I don't think I'd like to risk you like that. Are you sure you'd be able to handle it?"

"I'm strong, you know. Usually, the people they take don't survive, right? They never return to their hometowns. But I'm here. I returned."

The smallest gasp leaves him, eyes flicking to you. "Are you saying—"

You nod quietly. "This isn't the first time I've been here. I know these streets, know these people. They even planted a grave for me, with my name on it."

"[name], that's great! You can finally go home, you can—"

"I don't want to."

And there it is.

Just saying the words feels like a punch to the gut, but for some reason, you keep going. "You've been so kind to me, always looking out for me, teaching me how to fit in to the crew and act like a pirate. You've helped me a lot, and my days are better because you are always in them. I don't want to go back. My family was taken by the Empire, and I... I don't have anything to go back to. I don't even remember who I was the last time I was here."

"[name]..."

You drag your eyes from the stars to Izuku, sighing as you find within yourself what you need to admit—to yourself, to him, to the world as you know it.

"I want to stay with you. I want to sail the world with you, fight back against the Empire that ruined my life but gave me a new one at your side. I don't remember much about myself, but I know I always longed for adventure. And now adventure's here, but the Captain probably wants me to return to my home. I don't belong in a sleepy little harbor rebuilding from the rubble, Izuku. I belong in the skies."

He's silent for a long moment. When he speaks, one warm hand searches for yours, fingers slotting among your own with a gentle squeeze. "H-how do you mean you want to stay with me?

"I'd follow you to the depths of the sky, to the farthest reaches, if only you'll let me." You squeeze his hand back. "Not because you're the one who eventually saved me. You're an amazing person. One who cares. I don't know if you'll ever stop caring, not before you die. I'll stay by your side in whatever capacity you'll have me."

"T-then... Can I kiss you?" He props himself up on one elbow, moonlight casting an almost ethereal glow on him.

You nod, and he closes the distance between you, letting go of your hand to gently caress your cheek. 

One small kiss turns to two. Two quickly becomes uncountable, until you're melting and gasping beneath him, his lips trailing your jaw, your neck, along the neckline of the jacket you're wearing (his jacket, always his jacket), until he's forced to pause.

"How far do you want to take this?" he whispers, as if there's any reason to keep quiet. 

You press a sweet kiss to his lips, threading a hand through his hair. "Didn't I already say that I'd follow wherever you'll lead me?"

Tags: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai @warmchoccymilk @wesparklebitch @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @denise-the-death-goddess​ @themerpenguin​ @sincerebubbles​ @fudobaby​

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Christmas Tree Surprise

Day 12 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Tree

Rating: G

Pairing: 12xRose AU; part of the Queen of Hearts universe

Summary: Ian surprises Rose with a Christmas tree for them to decorate that’s just for their eyes - but it’s the decorations he has ready that makes her melt.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist  |  Queen of Hearts masterlist

AO3

---

“Goodbye!”  With a final wave to the schoolchildren gathered on the steps, Rose stepped into the town car, smiling and blowing kisses out the window as they pulled away from Arcadia Grammar School, waiting until they were out of sight to sink back into the leather.  “I loved that.”

“I’m glad, ma’am,” her private secretary, Jo, said warmly.  “And they loved you, of course.  I suspect I know what they’ll go home telling their parents about at supper tonight.”

Rose smiled at the idea.  “I hope so- that they enjoyed it, I mean.  I’m just glad I was able to read the book without any mistakes.  That’s my definition of a successful engagement, at least!”  It was only in the last few weeks she’d graduated to doing solo events, and though terribly stressful, she was proud of how they’d gone – no incidents yet, though a few near misses.  Most importantly to her, though, she hadn’t walked out of any yet, nor burst into tears. High standards you’ve got for yourself, Rose Tyler.  “So, what’s next?”

Jo consulted her iPad, scrolling for only a moment.  “The King has blocked off the next two hours of your schedule.  No description was given, only to go directly to your suite – he’ll meet you there.”

“That’s odd.”  Rose frowned, biting her lip as she thought.  “Gosh, I’m not in trouble for anything, am I?”

“I doubt it,” Jo dismissed out of hand.  “It’s the first of December – if I know him, you’ll be drowning in tinsel the moment you walk through the door.  Decorating the Palace may be your responsibility, but he’ll handle your suite.  Just you wait and see.  I’m sure it’s fine.”

Rose chewed on that the rest of the drive back, hoping the other woman was right – not that she really doubted her, as she hadn’t been steered wrong yet, but a not-so-small part of her heart was convinced any moment they’d decide she wasn’t learning quickly enough, or performing well enough as Queen, and send her home with only the things she’d arrived with.

The Palace was bustling as they pulled up, the grounds crew decorating for the holiday season and transforming the normally-magical (to Rose) Palace into a winter wonderland.  Fresh garland was being hung over every doorway and window frame on every level, complete with red, gold, and silver ornaments nestled amongst the sprigs.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose breathed as they entered, making Jo laugh. The page stationed just inside the door took her coat, and she headed up the stairs towards their suite of rooms making mental notes on the needed decorations; work hadn’t started indoors quite yet, as she was still pouring over pictures of previous years to get an idea of how it should look.

At the top of the stairs Jo peeled off towards her own office, and Rose traversed the last few meters to her door alone.  Smiling at the guard who let her through, she was nearly overpowered by the scent of fir.  Coughing slightly, she followed her nose to the end of the hall where their bedroom door was cracked open; pushing inside, she found her husband watching with his arms crossed as two teenaged pages wrapped lights around a tree.

Not just a tree- a gigantic tree.  A good three or four meters high it stretched towards the ceiling, so straight she was certain supports were in use.  It was terribly wide, though their bedroom was so large in and of itself that it felt perfectly at size.  Blimey.  Row after row of unlit lights wound from the top down, the sweaty pages finishing the last of it with relieved sighs.

“Right, let’s light her up, see how it looks,” Ian said.

One page went around the back towards the outlet while the other turned to face Ian; catching sight of Rose, his eyes widened, and he bowed to her. “Your Majesty.”

“Hi, Sam,” Rose said faintly, stepping up to Ian’s side. “Hey, you.  What on Earth is this?”

“It’s our Christmas tree,” her husband grinned, kissing her hello. “Don’t worry, we’ll be decorating it together, but I’ve learned that there can be certain perks to this job, and getting someone else to do the bits I can’t stand is part of that.  In this case, stringing lights on a tree.”

“Happy to do so, Sir,” Sam assured him as the lights flicked on, Josh stepping out from behind the tree and bowing to her as well.  “What do you think?”

Arm in arm Rose and Ian stared at the tree; knowing he was probably examining it from a practical viewpoint, she just took in the beauty and the wonder – she’d never had a Christmas tree in her bedroom before, and certainly not with half a dozen others expected to be sprinkled throughout the house.  Not that the 170-room palace she now called home counted as a house.  Is this really my life?

“Rose?  What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” she said firmly.  “Just as it is.  Thank you, Sam, and Josh.  Lovely job.”

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was both young men bowed, murmured, “Your Majesty”, and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving Rose and Ian alone.

“Hello again,” he greeted her, turning to face her and wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her close.  “How’d it go at the school?”

She reached up to kiss him, just because she could, before leading him over to their sofa and curling up next to each other as she gushed. “Oh, it was wonderful!  They were all so bright, and kind.  I read the story, answered a few questions and asked some of my own, and they sang a Christmas carol – “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, if you must know.  It couldn’t have gone better.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”  His eyes crinkled, as he kissed her knuckles.  “I was hoping it would.  I know how important it is to you.”

Rose just smiled, glancing back over her shoulder towards the tree now dominating their living space.  “Thanks. What’s the plan here, then?”

“When you’re ready, I thought we’d decorate it together.  More of a homemade style, if you’re interested. Everything out there,” he gestured towards the doors, “will be prim and polished and befitting a royal Palace, but in here, I want it to be just a normal married couple celebrating their first Christmas together.”

“Normal, right,” she teased, elbowing him.  “In our one hundred-plus square meter bedroom, with five-meter high ceilings and an army of staff.  Not to mention real, actual, literal crown jewels.  Not just a euphemism!”

Ian rolled his eyes in a good-natured way.  “Decorations are over there, if you want to start.”

“Mhmm, not quite yet.  Tell me about the tree – where did you find it?”

“Find it?”  His tone was somewhat bewildered.  “Didn’t anyone tell you- clearly not.  No, I own some acreage in Germany, all of which is forest.  Clearly we’ve had it zoned for cutting down Christmas trees, and it supplies the Palace and Arcadia’s Town Square with trees every year – sustainably, of course.”

Jaw dropping slightly, Rose wondered if it would ever cease to amaze her at how casually he could mention property and possessions – the land in France, where the family vineyard and winery stood, financing some of their royal lifestyle; a ski chalet in the Swiss Alps just over the border from Gallifrey; a “cottage” on Lake Como; and now this.  “How international of you,” she managed, making him laugh.

“It’s a royalty thing,” Ian grinned.  “Pretty much everything’s been in the family for centuries, at this point – especially land.  Most of it’s dowries from various queens marrying in, back when Europe was littered with royal families.  I think the most recent addition was the purchase of a flat in Paris in the Twenties. My great-grandmother was from Lyon, and met my great-grandfather by happenstance at the vineyard.  As a wedding present he got her the flat, and they’d go up for weeks at a time.”  He coughed. “It wasn’t the best investment in hindsight, but it’s still there and ours, though I don’t think anyone’s been since my parents honeymooned there.  But we can visit at some point, if you like.”

“Not if it’s a problem, but yeah, I’d love that.”  A glance at the tree refocused her.  “Tell me more about the trees, though.”

“The parcel of land came into the family as part of a dowry, as I said, of a Württemberg princess, back when the area was a Duchy in the Holy Roman Empire.  Over time, parts were sold off until just a dozen or so acres remained.  The team that manages the site has been doing so for, oh, two hundred years, so they have it down to a science.  Any excess trees that would be too big after another year of growth are sold – mostly to local governments or other high-ceilinged buildings.  It’s not necessarily a moneymaker, but the sales bring in enough to keep everything operating, which is honestly all I care about.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Rose said truthfully.  “Have you ever been up to see it?”

His brows furrowed in thought.  “As a child, but not recently.  I think Donna took the twins up two years ago to pick one out for Lungbarrow House.  If you like, we can go up next year.”

“I’d like that.”

They fell silent then, admiring the lights strung on the tree. It was nearly hypnotizing, Ian’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear, his warm arms around her, the twinkling lights blinking in and out, all of it working together to lull her to sleep.

And when she slept, she dreamed of wandering through a forest, Ian’s hand in hers, a small child running ahead shrieking with joy.

-

It wasn’t until after dinner they had the opportunity to actually decorate.  While Ian started an instrumental Christmas playlist, Rose opened the first storage container full of decorations – and froze.

“Surprise.”  Her husband’s chuckle behind her made Rose spin, eyes wide.

“You- My- How?”  Speechless, she gestured to the tub, full of her childhood ornaments.

Looking inordinately pleased with himself, he reached in and pulled out the top ornament- clearly school-made, it featured a four-year-old Rose and a toothy grin.  “I called your mum a few weeks ago, and asked her if she had any ornaments you might want put on our tree.  She shipped them out, and they arrived yesterday.  Plus, we brought everything you had in your flat- it’s all combined in this container.”  His smile faltered.  “I hope that’s all right- that I didn’t overstep.  I was very clear I was only asking for things she didn’t mind parting with.”

Overwhelmed, Rose threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”  His arms went easily around her waist.  “This is your home now, and I want it to feel that way.  Over time we’ll build up our own supply of sentimental ornaments, but our individual childhood ones seemed a good start.”

“It is.  I also want to set our own traditions, though.  But you better have similar ones – I don’t want my baby pictures to be the only ones on there!”

Ian laughed.  “They won’t be,” he reassured her.  “I have plenty handmade, awkward picture ornaments as well, and they’re sitting in that box there,” he pointed to the one beneath her own.  “Now, shall we start?”  He handed over the one he’d originally picked up.  “I confess to having rifled through them somewhat, and this was one of my favorites.  I think it should be first on the tree- would you like the honors?”

“Together.”

Hand in hand they stepped up the tree, and by mutual, silent agreement, slid it onto a branch front and center.

“Perfect.”

And it was.

[aliteraryprincess]

identity ask: 1, 4, 11, & 14, please!

Thank you!

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

They should read: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, Jane Eyre by Charlotte  Brontë, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Body by Stephen King, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Girls at 17 Swann Street by Yara Zgheib, and Under Rose-Tainted Skies by Louise Gornall.

They should watch: Stand By Me, Pride and Prejudice (2005), Howl’s Moving Castle, To Walk Invisible, The Addams Family (1991), The Addams Family Values, Anastasia, Beauty and the Beast, The Breakfast Club, Joan of Arcadia, Gossip Girl (especially season 1, episode 7), and The OC.

They should listen to: Heathers: The Musical, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors and The Dance, MARINA’s “Teen Idle,” “Cough Syrup” covered by Darren Criss (yes, the Glee cover, leave me alone), Emilie Autumn’s “Opheliac,” “In” from Carrie: The Musical, “Michael in the Bathroom” from Be More Chill, Simple Mind’s “Don’t You (Forget About Me), and Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me.”

I think all of that would give someone a truly good understanding of me as a person. I may have gone a little overboard...

4. do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

I actually do. I used to hate it and wish my parents had gone with their second choice name, which was Sara. But I’ve come to really love Elizabeth.

11. describe your ideal day.

I wake up feeling fully rested to a beautiful, warm, sunny morning with a light breeze. I have no responsibilities and no one I have to deal with. I spend my whole day reading on the porch.

14. are you a musician?

I can play the guitar and the piano, but I’d hardly call myself a musician. I play a little and very poorly, to quote Elizabeth Bennet. 

[targentis]

answer them **all.**

DAMN OKAY! these r so hard to answer i hope youre happy KJDFNGKSDJFNDKFGSJ

Your favourite non-canon ship?

COFFEE WOLF, I GUESS. it’s canon to us though. um. god this is a hard question. Doc/Ramirez from Skies of Arcadia i guess!!

Is there a ship you didn’t like at first but ultimately started shipping?

TONS BUT IM DRAWING A BLANK RIGHT NOW. Alfonso/De Loco. yes. that’s one. thanks Din

What is the rarest rare pair (that you ship)?

help all my ships are rarepairs.......Des/Nils is probably the rarest. no that’s not true bc i got all my friends on board with this. ok. closest one after that is like...trans lesbian Bloom/Emmy then. eGDKFJGN

Name a popular ship you don’t get the appeal of.

Akechi/Joker...........don’t tell anyone but i have the tags for that ship blocked dfjgkhdfgk it doesn’t make me particularly uncomfortable or anything it just doesn’t appeal to me and i’m tired of seeing it so much

What is your most fluffy + happy ship?

Lunivas/Butter :] (For Now.)

What is your most angsty ship?

UUUUUUUU. GODS UM.....how about VinceDes. thats pretty angsty bro. i think they’re just mostly angsty independently though ejrhdgjhdf

A non-canon ship that should be canon?

dude, Wrightworth. it’s like basically canon already Capcom just needs to like stop being cowarDS DFKGNDFKJGDF

Your oldest ship; the one you’ve shipped for the longest time?

NOT SURE. Alfonso/Ramirez is a pretty long-running ship i think. Wrightworth too but i think Alfonso/Ramirez is older by like a year. 

What ship represents the kind of relationship you’d love to have?

VinceDes. ;]

Is there a ship that makes your skin crawl?

unfortunately, because i am in the Layton fandom, yes. for instance, all the Desmond ships with canon characters, bc they are all like. family members. euughghghgjahgahuggg,ghf,h god

What is a character you can only imagine in one particular ship?

not Ramirez that’s for surE DKJNDFKJGDF probably uhhh Randall......he belongs with Henry and that’s that on that!

What is your favourite canon ship?

hehehe...Nico/Kastor/Vlad!! 

Name a ship that deserved more content.

all the rarepairs bro. every gross artist who has ever drawn like d*sl*y or something owes me coffee wolf content. ESPECIALLY gross artists who draw d*sa*ro and interact with my posts. cough cough. pay up You Know Who.

Is there a ship you feel gets undeserved hate in fandom?

i don’t know any ships that get hate period cause i no longer subscribe to weird fandom drama...but i know of One ship that gets Deserved hate, which is Ramirez/Galcian. i’ll never stop shitting on it never

What is the first ship you had?

ugh. in order to answer this question i had to try to remember the first fandom i was ever in, let alone the first time i ever cared about romance. soooooooo...i think it was Seth/Jynx from my ex’s story Fantasy Fulfillment??

Is there a ship that made you realise something about yourself?

yes there is! a certain ship made me realize i had a second Des canon...

Is there a type of ship you always go for?

IM LIKE NOT BIG ON SHIPPING ANYMORE SO THIS IS HARD TO DETERMINE i just kind of...find my favorite characters and then put them together bc sexy. also sometimes characters will have undeniable chemistry and i’ll be all like ok legally i just Have to ship them. see: Din/Ade.

Is there a ship the writers have ruined for you?

every canon ship in Skies of Arcadia. the writers of this game do not know what chemistry is. Enrique/Moegi sucks, but they have so much POTENTIAL to be a good pairing, but this was not shown at ALL in canon, and i’m SALTY.

Is there a ship the fandom has ruined for you?

Akechi/Joker probably...fandom didn’t do anything wrong per se i just. like i said before i’m just tired of seeing it dkgjhdg

Have you ever created fan created content for a ship?

yeah tons!! i am a Content Creator bro i will not stop

Favourite thing you’ve ever created for a ship?

this VinceDes Valentine’s Day project i’ve been working on for the past four days!! it’s like my favorite thing i’ve ever created PERIOD bro

Is there a ship you’ll never admit you have?

hmmmmmmmm. do my old Hetalia ships count? DFGJDNFG

Have you ever started shipping a ship because of the fans?

YES ACTUALLY! speaking of my old Hetalia ships, i used to ship Japan and Canada SIMPLY BECAUSE i went to an anime convention and these two cosplayers said i looked like their lovechild. i took a photo with my “parents” and it was my phone wallpaper for like two years. i’m so sorry for talking about that stupid anime but like that’s still an important memory to me

What is one scene you want to see happen for all your ships?

HRNNHNH. KIS

I there a ship you wish you didn’t know existed?

You Know Exactly Which Ones.

more recently though...Miles/Franziska?????? like sigh i know of COURSE it exists but like. idk i Just found out about it and i wish i could unlearn that fact.

Name a ship that ended like you wanted it to.

Nico/Kastor/Vlad.........if you want good content you have to make it yourself!

Name a ship that deserved better in the end.

LAYTON/CLAIRE. FOR FUCKING REAL

Is there a character you have several ships for?

Ramirez from Skies of Arcadia........he can just Get It.

What is the ship you ignore 98% of canon for?

ENRIQUE/ILCHYMIS. I JUST THINK THEYRE HOT THEY NEVER INTERACT IN CANON

Is there a ship you like but you dislike the fandom?

lol wym i dislike all fandom. eKJDGFN ummmm??? no i can’t think of any right now??

[kyrie-silverwings]

🎮 - What’s your favorite video game?

*slams fists before my GameCube*

SKIES OF ARCADIA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*coughs*

seriously though, I loved, looooved the heck out of this game. It was my first role-playing game and remains to this day one of my favorites. 

[Mun Asks]

thanks for the ask @rehvedexei-ffxiv!

[theneutralslime]

Chapter 1 Going Home

               Going home always bugged me. It was always a cab across town, buying a ticket for the train, travelling half a day on rails and then catching a handful of buses to get to the bizarrely situated little town of Arcadia. Taking a bus back every year to visit my family was enough to agitate every nerve in my head let alone everything else.  It was enough irritation knowing I’d be hassled by my parent’s, and the strangers around me that needed to voice their opinions.  Today was different though, the bus wasn’t as packed for one, I was able to sit alone instead of pressed up against some grumpy old bear who smelt of B.O. and beer, or a woman and her 6-year-old “baby” she demanded to swaddle.  The weather was unusual too, Arcadia had clear skies during the Spring but it was raining, melancholy rain too, slow and heavy without thunder or lightning.  Rain never bothers me much but something about it seemed particularly off putting.

           I’m Elliott by the way, 22-year-old Otter returning home because of a particularly difficult fall out with my boss and a handful of other complicated factors that would take too long to explain right now.  My body was fine to me, a little scrawny and my parents always reminded me to eat because they say I look spindly when I visit, maybe that’s why I always feel like all my clothes are too big.  My diminished height may figure in there too. Normally I would prefer to avoid small towns like my home, cities are just better for me, I prefer pushy crowds and angry people over small-town communities where everyone knows you. Arcadia was nice enough though, quiet and clean, good place to find some answers about myself.

           The bus was getting cramped now, not full but just the feeling of spending so much time in a small place was starting to get to me.  “Hey, Driver, any idea when we’re gonna be stopping off?” I asked from a couple rows back, I saw the jackalope behind the wheel look up at me in the rear-view mirror, his eyes were red around the edges, tired.  He wore a dingy uniform dark pants with a dirty blue shirt with a falcon on the breast.  Not that I was much better, I was wearing same outfit since yesterday, distressed jeans and an old white t-shirt with a black spiral across the front and a dark red stain on the side.

           “Couple more hours, just past the last stop before town, if you need to go you’re gonna have to hold, kid.”  He said focusing on the road more than me, I could have pushed but I had a feeling he had no problem letting me walk the rest of the way in the rain.  I sat back a bit grabbing my backpack from under the seat and fished out my jacket, simple red hoodie, throwing it on and pulling the hood up over my eyes.  Grabbing my phone, I plugged in some headphones, shuffled my music and it wasn’t long before I was asleep on the bench seat.  

*                                              *                                              *                      

           Floating in water was always rhythmic to me, flowing all around me.  I was just there, drifting in pitch black liquid, looking up at the sky as the lukewarm liquid threatened to engulf me, not worried about how I found myself in a new place or where the bus had gone, just drifting away.  It was dark all around me I could look at the star speckled sky as I lie there, calmly detached but the light around me was too dark to believe the stars were anywhere near here.  In my mesmerized stupor I suddenly felt weight, a heaviness dragging me into the depths below and panic flooded my system.  Thrashing and pushing up against the water was all I could do, using every bit of my energy to get vertical.

           I finally sprung up, the water cascading down my back and arms as I heaved for air.  Looking around I saw trees around me, white and smooth like porcelain reaching up into the sky boney fingers clutching for a moon that was non-existent.  Taking a minute, I tried to stand, the pressure of the black water fighting my every effort, until I was on my feet, the water coming up just below my knees.  Walking was just as, if not more, difficult in this water and I was already feeling my body tire from the strain.  I aimed to get closer to a tree, I was drawn to feel the smooth surface just to see if it was real.  No progress was being made though, the more I moved the further it seemed the tree was. After a bit of trying to push through without development I gave up on the idea, the porcelain plants seeming to grow closer to each other as I tried.

           Standing in the water, dread washed over me.  The sudden realization that I had no idea where I was, what was going on, how I got here, why I couldn’t move, my head spun and with it I was losing my grasp on reality.  The water seemed to heat up the more I panicked, I felt it nearly boiling around me. My spiraling would have continued but I was immediately brought back down when I felt something grab my right arm. Looking down I saw a figure in the water, or a form made of the water, a humanoid hand digging into my shoulder. A faceless head looked up at me and I tried to shake it off but it wasn’t moving, tightening the grip on my limb, cracked nails digging into my flesh.  Suddenly another hand wrapped around my left wrist, a new shape including an arm, torso, and faceless head emerging from the darkness.

           I struggled, in vain, against these shapes as I was slowly dragged lower into the water.  The temperature of the liquid had sharply declined and now felt icy cold.  I was almost waste deep now as another pair of arms reached up from behind me and began pushing against my head, the water drooling down my face.  In mere minutes I was fully submerged, coughing as water filled my lungs.  My heart raced as my head spun, I couldn’t even remember where the surface of the water was!  Through the darkness I could still see something, a massive shape in the water, serpent-like and swirling, four legs sunk close to its thick body. It was only just visible because of a luminescent glow coming from its body, a low purple hue with deep golden eyes that were easy to make out even at this distance.

I continued to struggle against the hot water and just as I surrendered to the intense liquid a voice, serene and quiet cut through water, “Elliott.  It's now time for you to awaken my love.  You've been gone long enough." And suddenly my vision darkened again as I drifted out of consciousness.

                       *                                              *                                              *

            Back on the bus I jumped back to life with a gasp, the hood of my jacket falling away from my head with the sudden motion.  I heard a slight gasp from a little Dalmatian boy in the back, startled by my revival.  Taking a quick peak around I blushed noticing many patrons staring at me, my music still belting out into my ears.  I hastily turned to look away, out the window and into the world still just as dreary as before, the rain still continuing to fall.  My heart was still racing from the experience, even as the nightmare faded from my mind I could still feel them, the clutching hands.  

I shook off the remnants from my mind as the bus pulled into town, passing the mass apartment complex just within the town line.  An old flickering neon sign read The Oasis Springs: Your Home Away from Home just outside.  The tall building always looked out of place in town, it had to be one of the oldest buildings in Arcadia just as decrepit as it had been when I was a kid.  My parents always told me that The Oasis Springs was opened far before even their time but the inside was surprisingly upkept and the staff always friendly.  There was even a joke about the old place being haunted and I swore I’d never set foot in the place back then.

The Oasis Springs was the cap end of the South side of Downtown and we continued passing familiar shops and businesses.  “Oh crap!”  I blurted out under my breath.  Outside the bus window I saw the skeletons of construction, a massive sign on the chain link fence around the perimeter reading “Blue Mercury Shopping Complex”. Arcadia’s never had a mall before, we were always considered a small community, too small for a plethora of small businesses.  It does make some sense though, every time I come back to town they had a new shop open so a collection of business would be predictable.  Looking out I did feel bad for the little store that opened next door, a petite new place just called “The Reaper”.

I didn’t get long to survey the whole of Downtown before I felt the bus lurch, pulling into the stop and I rushed to the other side of the bus to check outside and sure enough I saw a familiar face waiting for me.  As always Brandon was waiting for me, friends since we were still learning to speak he was my oldest acquaintance.  The monkey sat outside, looking up at the bus as he played with the neatly trimmed black mohawk that crowned his head and added three inches to his already exacerbated height.  The hawk always stood out to me because it was wavy and smooth, not spiked like every one I’d seen before it.  He wore his usual, a black zip up jacket, over a red t-shirt and wrung his hands as the bus crawled to a halt.  The rain may not have bothered me but Brandon couldn’t stand the way damp fur felt.

Leaping off the bus, he lunged at me trying to sweep me into a hug, very touchy guy with no idea about personal space, I blocked him before saying, “Hey Brandon, good to see ya bud but you may want to keep a distance.  Haven’t showered in a few days.” His eyes swept from a bight orange to a dim blue as he calmed down a bit and stepped back slightly. Little fun fact, Brandon’s eyes had this weird tendency to change to suit his mood, it was always fun to see.

“Glad your home man, can’t believe it’s already been a year.”  Brandon said as I pulled my duffel bag from below the bus and slung it over my shoulder.  “How long you in town this time?”  He asked beginning to walk me over to his car popping the trunk and grabbed the passenger door for me.  I tossed my duffel in the back and took a seat in the open seat up front.

“I don’t know, this isn’t just a visit this year, I’m home for the foreseeable future.”  I said watching his eyes for the switch from blue back to orange, a little smile creeping across his face.  He closed the door before hopping up over the car and swinging into the open driver side windshield.  He didn’t need to say, and wouldn’t, I could see just how happy he was about the news just from the glint in his eyes.  “Yeah, Cascade was nice but it’s just… Well… It just didn’t work out.”  I clutched at my side a little thinking about the city. I wanted to say something to Brandon but the whole thing was still a bit too raw to condense plus he was so happy I didn’t want to kill the mood.

“So, we’re having a little meet-up tonight, drink, food, fun, you in?”  Brandon asked as we drove away from downtown breaking up the awkward air.

“Where would we be heading?”

“The Smoke Stack, Liz said she wouldn’t come if there wasn’t beer.”

“Who all is coming?”

“The usual bunch, Artie, Liz, Theo, even Thomas and Corey are coming out!” Brandon chattered away excitedly, he’d put a lot of effort into tonight if he’d gone out of his way to get ahold of everyone.  Thomas and Corey were particularly difficult to get ahold of.  I couldn’t turn him down now.

“Alright Brandon, I’ll come out.”  I said knowing it’d probably be better than a night in with my parents.  I love them both but, if given the time to stagnate, they tend to pick at every little thing.  Last time I was in town they rode me about my normal messy hair style, mostly because I hadn’t changed it since I was twelve.

Brandon cheered a little excitedly in triumph and I chuckled watching as he smacked his hand on the roof of the car.  We spent the rest of the ride reminiscing, it was nice and Brandon made good company.

                       *                                              *                                              *

By the time we reached my home the sun was already setting and Brandon announced he’d wait outside for me.  I stepped out of the sedan into the old driveway feeling the same pings of nostalgia I got every time I returned home.  The sunset was nice setting right behind my family home accenting the fading blue paint like something out of a dream.  Out in front of the house was a small garden with a plethora of colorful flowers, my mom’s green thumb showing promise as usual.  Walking up I could hear the chatter of the T.V. through the screen door.

“Hey, hey, hello, I’m home!”  I called out as I came in the door, peeking to my left at the living room.  Inside my mom, was sitting on the couch fiddling with a potter set of flowers, blooming as she opened her hand at them. Admittedly, my mom’s green thumb was founded in her magical botany, with the flick of the wrist she could nurture her whole garden although it often exhausted her.

“Hey, Elli, I’m right in here!”  She said as I strolled in and deposited my bags in the recliner.  I took a seat next to her on the couch as she pruned the small set of flowers.  “Sunflowers, Dahlias and a handful of mums for texture, what do you think?”  She turned the centerpiece toward me, yellow sunflowers, red dahlias and a few orange mums that almost blended the colorful assortment together.

“Mama, you know I prefer Eli over Elli, it’s a girl’s name and the flowers are perfect as always but wouldn’t they fit better in summer?”

“Oh, I was just using these colors for a sample palette.”  Mom waved her hand and the summery colors blurred into cooler blues, and purples.  She pushed the pot back to the center of the table before enveloping in a warm hug. The embrace smelled of the flowers and a blackberry shampoo my mom had been using since I was a kid.  

“Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, he’s been working the night shift since last month, already left for the night and won’t be home until 1.”  Mom said before standing and heading into the kitchen pursuing the inane beeping of a timer. I followed diligently behind her. “I’m making a lasagna right now, it will be ready in 10 minutes if you’re hungry.”  She opened the oven peeking into the small pan in the oven before returning the lid and closing the oven.  The little whiff from the pasta smelt delectable but I needed to hurry.

“Oh, thank you but actually Brandon’s waiting outside, we’re going for dinner with some friends.”  

“Alright sweetheart, have a good time, I’ll save you a slice for when you get back, although I won’t guarantee your father will wait for you.”  She laughed a little bit as I grabbed my bag and headed for the bathroom.  “Just remember to be safe Elli!”  I stepped into the small bathroom and started to get ready for the evening.

                                   *                                              *                                              *

           “And that’s how I single handedly explained away the nudity, the paint, and the fire!”  Brandon laughed loudly as he finished his story.  The restaurant was perfect this evening, a few people were dining in but the dim dining area of the Smoke Stack was pretty much vacated.  It was just the six of us, Brandon, Artie, Artie’s girlfriend Valerie, Elizabeth, Theodore and myself sat around a table, making nice conversation.

           Brandon was still softly chuckling at his story, the little glint of yellow in his eye showed his hidden delight.  Artie was a grinning blue deer, chatting away with Valerie, a delightful sheep with beautiful curled horns.  The two were sharing a sandwich and fry platter happily.  Elizabeth, a tall, orange hummingbird was downing her third pint of beer, after she finished each one she would exclaim “more” banging the pint glass on the table.  Finally, next to Elizabeth was Theodore, a husky grey bull, munching quietly on what remained of his steak.

           “So, Elliott, how was city life, do anything interesting since last year?” Artie asked, pointing a fry in my direction before shoving it in his muzzle.

           “Nothing all that interesting, the last couple months I mostly spent binging on Pseudo, the show with the cat detective caught up in interdimensional drama.” I said.

           “Oh yeah, I’ve seen that!  I love the season where the dog finds out his dad stole him from another universe to replace his dead son!”  Brandon grinned and started fishing in his small messenger bag before pulling out his keys and showing off a small boxed shape keychain.  “I even have the keychain from the season finale!”

           “Never actually heard of it,” Artie said glancing to Valerie, “anyway Elliott, are you thinking of enrolling at Capford?”  He was referring to Arcadia’s university, a prestigious school where most of the community attended for higher learning.  The college was the only of it’s kind in regards to magic providing full ride to its entire magical class.

           “I don’t know, it’s pretty expensive, and you know I’m not exactly ‘gifted’.” That was an understatement, unlike many of my peers and my parents I had no magical power what-so-ever.

“You could always take out a loan or something.”  Valerie pitched in.

“Yeah but I don’t want any debt just to eventually—” I said before being cut-off by Elizabeth.

“Alright!”  Elizabeth pitched up, slapping her empty glass on the table.  “I am sufficiently buzzed enough, and bored enough, who wants to fight?”  She said as a grin spread across her face and started walking toward the exit.

           “Theodore, think you can handle this?”  Artie asked, the bulky gray bull slightly slumped over.

           “No, thank you, she kicked my ass last time I tried that.”  Theodore said cleaning the rest of his plate in one last bite.  “How about you Art?”

           “We train together too much, she knows my style too well.”  He replied playing with the charms strung on his wrist. “Not to mention she kind of scares me.”

           “Here, I got this.”  Brandon said hopping from his seat and pulling out a stick of chalk.

           As he walked out into the parking lot the rest of us gathered nearby as a crowd began to form.  Elizabeth was stretching on one side of the lot while Brandon was drawing large circular shapes on to the ground on the other side.  They both said something inaudible and glowed iridescently. Elizabeth’s arms were surrounded in green light like fire swallowing the nimble limbs.  

On the other side Brandon was enveloped in purple light, wild and surging before a hulking form broke out a massive insectile humanoid, it’s body filled with darkness and stars.  The spirit stood a few feet taller than Brandon and looked like a man wearing chitinous armor with an assortment of thin, bug legs sprouting from its backs.

The first to act was Elizabeth, dashing forward and closing the distance between herself and the spirit.  An immediate punch followed, all of her weight with it, smashing into the spirit who blocked it with their forearm.  A loud “smack” echoed out with the impact and the crowd cheered in reaction. Immediately the spirit responded swinging its opposite leg at Elizabeth.  She ducked going for another swift jab, this time at Brandon.  His spirit swung around taking the hit right square in the chest.  Reeling Brandon and the spirit slid back from Elizabeth.

Summoning a bit of energy, purple electricity sparking from the insectile before it released a sharp bolt of energy at the hummingbird.  She swiftly curved her torso, narrowly dodging it, before closing the distance for another hit.  As the punch approached the starry humanoid gathered more energy and let out a burst, the energy escaping in a wave of violet energy.  Elizabeth vanished in the blink of an eye, a teleportation magic, reappearing just behind Brandon.  Before the monkey could pull the spirit around a powerful fist smacked him in the back tossing him across the ground, through the spirit.

Another bolt flew in response, flying at Elizabeth who teleported again this time startling me as she appeared directly in front of the crowd.  I didn’t even have the time to react before she was gone again, replaced by the violet glow of an energy bolt.  It slammed into me, a surge of energy rushing through me as my vision grew dark.  My last moment of consciousness was the sound of Brandon scrambling above me saying, “Crap, crap, crap!” before I faded into darkness.

           *                                              *                                              *

Water, again, dark and thick.  I was lying on my back again, staring up at the stars and surrounded by the porcelain trees.  Sitting up was just as hard as it was before but I managed to get vertical with a little effort and stood with a bit more.  The darkness continued to bewilder as I could still see the stars and the trees but it felt like the shadows were creeping toward me.  As I explored my surroundings I noticed that, unlike before, the pale plant life was closer to me and seemingly not moving.

It took me a little time but I approached the smooth surfaced trees and reached out.  Running my hand over them I was mostly right; the branches and body of the tree were smooth like a decorative plate.  Studying the tree, I could see what was really different between these fallacies and their real-life counterparts.  The “bark” was tough, far harder than any porcelain even close to metal or bone. What surprised me was a slight hum coming from within the tree, not unlike that you might expect from an old television.  My concentration was broken, again, by hands clutching and my thigh.

Looking I was met with the same faceless head from before, dark and liquid crawling up toward me.  I shoved at the figure, the water heating up almost directly from my touch already boiling in heat.  Surprisingly I made some progress, knocking the figure back and doing my best to put distance between us.  I made serious progress before I felt something wrap around my left shoulder and upper arm.  It looked like a liquid tendril and its grip was stronger than the humanoids from earlier. Tugging against it made no difference and before long I felt the boiling heat searing flesh.  The tendril’s grip seemed to dig deep into my arm, reaching down into the bones.  As the pain started become overwhelming and I was reaching my limit I heard a familiar voice. “Elliott.  It's now time for you to awaken my love.  You've been gone long enough."  And immediately I was washed back into a sleepy darkness.

*                                              *                                              *

           I woke up on my back on the sidewalk, I was looking into the eyes of a black jackal.  The stranger seemed to study me, cocking his head intermittently.  His eyes were intense, the whites replaced with a dark coal black accenting a deep red glowing iris.  “Cool.”  He said before hopping off of me and disappearing into the crowd.  In minutes I was approached by my friends, Brandon leading the charge, as they surrounded me.

           “Holy shit!”  Brandon shouted as he approached, “Are you okay?”  He helped me up as I wobbled a bit trying to find my balance again. “I’m so sorry, Gyri is strong but still tough to control I should have been watching more carefully.”  He pulled me into a quick hug breaking the hold when I winced and patting me on the back.

           “Hey, don’t worry about it, I’m fine Brandon.”  I lied feeling my head throb, my arm burning and struggling slightly to breathe.

           “Are you sure about that?  You’re bleeding.”  Valerie said from behind Brandon.  I instinctively grabbed at my side but was clean then I grasped my throbbing arm. Pulling back the crimson flow proved her true the blue polo I was wearing slowly staining.

           “Wait, how?  I had Gyri using stun magic, just some knock-out bolts.”  Brandon said exasperated and getting a bit emotional. His eyes were a deep blue and welling up as he began to spiral.

           “Brandon it’s fine, accidents happen, I probably just scraped my arm when I fell.”  I said before reaching for my bag.  “Would somebody, please.”  Artie was closest so he slid it over to me and I fished out a travel first aid kit. I always carried it because my Dad was an emergency survival freak.  Pulling up my sleeve, I sprayed some disinfectant and wrapped a bandage over my shoulder before replacing the sleeve and standing up.

           “Alright well let’s get you home you guys alright to drag Elizabeth back to the dorms?”  Brandon asked helping me back to the car.  I could see Artie and Theodore carrying Elizabeth, I assumed they walked so they were going to have a long trip home.  We waved goodbye and they all shared a laugh before starting off on their way.  

Brandon continued to apologize as we got in the car but I cut him off quickly. “So, when did you acquire magic, I thought we were the magicless buds?”

“Oh, it’s not really me, the academy taught me some simple rituals to summon spirits, the only thing I really do is sit down and chat with the spirits, forge a little contract.”  Brandon chattered nervously as he pulled out a small leather-bound book.  I opened it and saw many sketches of circular runes and lines, intricate figures with notes and annotations.  I’d never seen him work this hard on something before, it was nice. “Right now, I only have two, the one you saw earlier, Gyri, a lightning spirit and Argyris a fire monster that I’m still new with.”  He continued explaining the mechanics of his magic but I lost track when my shoulder started to burn again.   When we pulled up to the house I unlocked the front door and he helped me in.  I wished him a good night and immediately crashed out on the living room couch as soon as he was gone.

[judesowndaughter]

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” - chloe

   Dana keeps cajoling her into these parties, and Kate keeps going despite her better judgement. She’s no Helen, raring to condemn people for choosing how they spend their time, but God, the acedia has finally come home to roost. ‘If you’ve been to one party,’ Alyssa drawls, ‘You’ve been to them all.’    Kate swirls her drink around, listens to the cool breeze of the Pacific sweep the cramped clearing, rustling the pines. Fairy lights gutter ominously, wrapped around the branches of strong spruce trees. No one pays that disturbance any mind, too busy dancing near the bonfire or toking up by spare kegs. Smoke curls around the treetops, vanishing into starry skies. Boredom sinks in bone-deep, the temptation to sketch the night away reaching fever pitch.    Arcadia Bay’s prodigal daughter is here, but Kate pays her little mind. There are keg stands to commit to, girls to kiss, weed to smoke; none of which really require Kate’s presence. So it’s decidedly not fair when Chloe comes at Kate’s stupid loner schtick with her quick wit and honeyed words.    Chloe calls her pretty, and Kate almost chokes on a modest sip of beer. She must have a guardian angel looking out for her, because it’s nothing short of a miracle that she hasn’t spat her drink up into the solo cup. She’s doing her best to keep the coughing at a minimum, and hopefully refrain from spewing Pabst all over Chloe Price. A few rivulets of booze roll down her chin, but Kate manages to wipe them away in a flash. God bless cable-knit cardigans.   “Just…wanted to have fun?” Her tongue travels rough-shod over words, stumbling into a nervous, uneasy answer. Cross necklace lies heavy on her chest: when was the last time they talked? Mr. Price’s funeral? Had they really talked? “What are you doing here?” Kate counters, “You seem…too cool for this.”   Dana is nowhere to be found, her unopened can of booze lying on top of one of the many coolers scattered around the party. Kate picks it up, the cold numbing her hand. “I may not be the host, but it’s rude not to offer people drinks, so…” she holds the can out for Chloe, “…Beer?”   Drinking at least gives them a reprieve from Kate’s stultifying responses.

[buzzdixonwriter]

"The Cop and the Anthem" by O. Henry

On his bench in Madison Square Soapy moved uneasily. When wild geese honk high of nights, and when women without sealskin coats grow kind to their husbands, and when Soapy moves uneasily on his bench in the park, you may know that winter is near at hand.

A dead leaf fell in Soapy's lap. That was Jack Frost's card. Jack is kind to the regular denizens of Madison Square, and gives fair warning of his annual call. At the corners of four streets he hands his pasteboard to the North Wind, footman of the mansion of All Outdoors, so that the inhabitants thereof may make ready.

Soapy's mind became cognisant of the fact that the time had come for him to resolve himself into a singular Committee of Ways and Means to provide against the coming rigour. And therefore he moved uneasily on his bench.

The hibernatorial ambitions of Soapy were not of the highest. In them there were no considerations of Mediterranean cruises, of soporific Southern skies drifting in the Vesuvian Bay. Three months on the Island was what his soul craved. Three months of assured board and bed and congenial company, safe from Boreas and bluecoats, seemed to Soapy the essence of things desirable.

For years the hospitable Blackwell's had been his winter quarters. Just as his more fortunate fellow New Yorkers had bought their tickets to Palm Beach and the Riviera each winter, so Soapy had made his humble arrangements for his annual hegira to the Island. And now the time was come. On the previous night three Sabbath newspapers, distributed beneath his coat, about his ankles and over his lap, had failed to repulse the cold as he slept on his bench near the spurting fountain in the ancient square. So the Island loomed big and timely in Soapy's mind. He scorned the provisions made in the name of charity for the city's dependents. In Soapy's opinion the Law was more benign than Philanthropy. There was an endless round of institutions, municipal and eleemosynary, on which he might set out and receive lodging and food accordant with the simple life. But to one of Soapy's proud spirit the gifts of charity are encumbered. If not in coin you must pay in humiliation of spirit for every benefit received at the hands of philanthropy. As Caesar had his Brutus, every bed of charity must have its toll of a bath, every loaf of bread its compensation of a private and personal inquisition. Wherefore it is better to be a guest of the law, which though conducted by rules, does not meddle unduly with a gentleman's private affairs.

Soapy, having decided to go to the Island, at once set about accomplishing his desire. There were many easy ways of doing this. The pleasantest was to dine luxuriously at some expensive restaurant; and then, after declaring insolvency, be handed over quietly and without uproar to a policeman. An accommodating magistrate would do the rest.

Soapy left his bench and strolled out of the square and across the level sea of asphalt, where Broadway and Fifth Avenue flow together. Up Broadway he turned, and halted at a glittering café, where are gathered together nightly the choicest products of the grape, the silkworm and the protoplasm.

Soapy had confidence in himself from the lowest button of his vest upward. He was shaven, and his coat was decent and his neat black, ready-tied four-in-hand had been presented to him by a lady missionary on Thanksgiving Day. If he could reach a table in the restaurant unsuspected success would be his. The portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind. A roasted mallard duck, thought Soapy, would be about the thing—with a bottle of Chablis, and then Camembert, a demi-tasse and a cigar. One dollar for the cigar would be enough. The total would not be so high as to call forth any supreme manifestation of revenge from the café management; and yet the meat would leave him filled and happy for the journey to his winter refuge.

But as Soapy set foot inside the restaurant door the head waiter's eye fell upon his frayed trousers and decadent shoes. Strong and ready hands turned him about and conveyed him in silence and haste to the sidewalk and averted the ignoble fate of the menaced mallard.

Soapy turned off Broadway. It seemed that his route to the coveted island was not to be an epicurean one. Some other way of entering limbo must be thought of.

At a corner of Sixth Avenue electric lights and cunningly displayed wares behind plate-glass made a shop window conspicuous. Soapy took a cobblestone and dashed it through the glass. People came running around the corner, a policeman in the lead. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at the sight of brass buttons.

"Where's the man that done that?" inquired the officer excitedly.

"Don't you figure out that I might have had something to do with it?" said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly, as one greets good fortune.

The policeman's mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue. Men who smash windows do not remain to parley with the law's minions. They take to their heels. The policeman saw a man half way down the block running to catch a car. With drawn club he joined in the pursuit. Soapy, with disgust in his heart, loafed along, twice unsuccessful.

On the opposite side of the street was a restaurant of no great pretensions. It catered to large appetites and modest purses. Its crockery and atmosphere were thick; its soup and napery thin. Into this place Soapy took his accusive shoes and telltale trousers without challenge. At a table he sat and consumed beefsteak, flapjacks, doughnuts and pie. And then to the waiter be betrayed the fact that the minutest coin and himself were strangers.

"Now, get busy and call a cop," said Soapy. "And don't keep a gentleman waiting."

"No cop for youse," said the waiter, with a voice like butter cakes and an eye like the cherry in a Manhattan cocktail. "Hey, Con!"

Neatly upon his left ear on the callous pavement two waiters pitched Soapy. He arose, joint by joint, as a carpenter's rule opens, and beat the dust from his clothes. Arrest seemed but a rosy dream. The Island seemed very far away. A policeman who stood before a drug store two doors away laughed and walked down the street.

Five blocks Soapy travelled before his courage permitted him to woo capture again. This time the opportunity presented what he fatuously termed to himself a "cinch." A young woman of a modest and pleasing guise was standing before a show window gazing with sprightly interest at its display of shaving mugs and inkstands, and two yards from the window a large policeman of severe demeanour leaned against a water plug.

It was Soapy's design to assume the role of the despicable and execrated "masher." The refined and elegant appearance of his victim and the contiguity of the conscientious cop encouraged him to believe that he would soon feel the pleasant official clutch upon his arm that would insure his winter quarters on the right little, tight little isle.

Soapy straightened the lady missionary's ready-made tie, dragged his shrinking cuffs into the open, set his hat at a killing cant and sidled toward the young woman. He made eyes at her, was taken with sudden coughs and "hems," smiled, smirked and went brazenly through the impudent and contemptible litany of the "masher." With half an eye Soapy saw that the policeman was watching him fixedly. The young woman moved away a few steps, and again bestowed her absorbed attention upon the shaving mugs. Soapy followed, boldly stepping to her side, raised his hat and said:

"Ah there, Bedelia! Don't you want to come and play in my yard?"

The policeman was still looking. The persecuted young woman had but to beckon a finger and Soapy would be practically en route for his insular haven. Already he imagined he could feel the cozy warmth of the station-house. The young woman faced him and, stretching out a hand, caught Soapy's coat sleeve.

"Sure, Mike," she said joyfully, "if you'll blow me to a pail of suds. I'd have spoke to you sooner, but the cop was watching."

With the young woman playing the clinging ivy to his oak Soapy walked past the policeman overcome with gloom. He seemed doomed to liberty.

At the next corner he shook off his companion and ran. He halted in the district where by night are found the lightest streets, hearts, vows and librettos. Women in furs and men in greatcoats moved gaily in the wintry air. A sudden fear seized Soapy that some dreadful enchantment had rendered him immune to arrest. The thought brought a little of panic upon it, and when he came upon another policeman lounging grandly in front of a transplendent theatre he caught at the immediate straw of "disorderly conduct."

On the sidewalk Soapy began to yell drunken gibberish at the top of his harsh voice. He danced, howled, raved and otherwise disturbed the welkin.

The policeman twirled his club, turned his back to Soapy and remarked to a citizen.

"'Tis one of them Yale lads celebratin' the goose egg they give to the Hartford College. Noisy; but no harm. We've instructions to lave them be."

Disconsolate, Soapy ceased his unavailing racket. Would never a policeman lay hands on him? In his fancy the Island seemed an unattainable Arcadia. He buttoned his thin coat against the chilling wind.

In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar at a swinging light. His silk umbrella he had set by the door on entering. Soapy stepped inside, secured the umbrella and sauntered off with it slowly. The man at the cigar light followed hastily.

"My umbrella," he said, sternly.

"Oh, is it?" sneered Soapy, adding insult to petit larceny. "Well, why don't you call a policeman? I took it. Your umbrella! Why don't you call a cop? There stands one on the corner."

The umbrella owner slowed his steps. Soapy did likewise, with a presentiment that luck would again run against him. The policeman looked at the two curiously.

"Of course," said the umbrella man—"that is—well, you know how these mistakes occur—I—if it's your umbrella I hope you'll excuse me—I picked it up this morning in a restaurant—If you recognise it as yours, why—I hope you'll—"

"Of course it's mine," said Soapy, viciously.

The ex-umbrella man retreated. The policeman hurried to assist a tall blonde in an opera cloak across the street in front of a street car that was approaching two blocks away.

Soapy walked eastward through a street damaged by improvements. He hurled the umbrella wrathfully into an excavation. He muttered against the men who wear helmets and carry clubs. Because he wanted to fall into their clutches, they seemed to regard him as a king who could do no wrong.

At length Soapy reached one of the avenues to the east where the glitter and turmoil was but faint. He set his face down this toward Madison Square, for the homing instinct survives even when the home is a park bench.

But on an unusually quiet corner Soapy came to a standstill. Here was an old church, quaint and rambling and gabled. Through one violet-stained window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the organist loitered over the keys, making sure of his mastery of the coming Sabbath anthem. For there drifted out to Soapy's ears sweet music that caught and held him transfixed against the convolutions of the iron fence.

The moon was above, lustrous and serene; vehicles and pedestrians were few; sparrows twittered sleepily in the eaves—for a little while the scene might have been a country churchyard. And the anthem that the organist played cemented Soapy to the iron fence, for he had known it well in the days when his life contained such things as mothers and roses and ambitions and friends and immaculate thoughts and collars.

The conjunction of Soapy's receptive state of mind and the influences about the old church wrought a sudden and wonderful change in his soul. He viewed with swift horror the pit into which he had tumbled, the degraded days, unworthy desires, dead hopes, wrecked faculties and base motives that made up his existence.

And also in a moment his heart responded thrillingly to this novel mood. An instantaneous and strong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of the mire; he would make a man of himself again; he would conquer the evil that had taken possession of him. There was time; he was comparatively young yet; he would resurrect his old eager ambitions and pursue them without faltering. Those solemn but sweet organ notes had set up a revolution in him. To-morrow he would go into the roaring downtown district and find work. A fur importer had once offered him a place as driver. He would find him to-morrow and ask for the position. He would be somebody in the world. He would—

Soapy felt a hand laid on his arm. He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman.

"What are you doin' here?" asked the officer.

"Nothin'," said Soapy.

"Then come along," said the policeman.

"Three months on the Island," said the Magistrate in the Police Court the next morning.