#and would you believe me if i said this drawing is technically translucent

[tppart]

It's giving.... Crayola 😳

[yandere-daydreams]

I neeeeeeeed more Hades and Persephone with their darling! Maybe a continuation of the last one, but it’s Hades’ turn with darling?

He’d have to steal his Darling away for that, wouldn’t he? Persephone is far from a demanding captor, but with how on-edge she is around Hades, it’s not hard to believe she’d be hesitant to leave the two of you alone. She deserves to be paranoid, at least. 

Part One.

TW: Minor Acts of Violence, Past Kidnapping, Current Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, and Mentions of Starvation.

~

Hades’ garden was the only place in the Underworld with sunlight. 

Well, ‘sunlight’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. There was no sun, no sky, no heat - there couldn’t be, not this far underground. But, there were slivers in the ground where rays of light spilled in, flowing down like sparkling streams of water and bouncing off of gemstones and smooth stone until the barest hints of their radiance reached the plot of land designated to buds that bloomed into thorns rather than petals, trees that’d bleed magma rather than sap, fruits of the dead that’d dye your fingertips red for days, even if you didn’t dare to pluck them off their stems. You couldn’t see it, but if you sat on the stone and closed your eyes, you could feel it, you could imagine the ghost of its warmth on your cold, frozen skin. You savored the garden. You relished the garden. You loved the garden, as much as you could love any part of your gilded cage.

You just wished you could enjoy it alone, for once. 

Hades was like a shadow. Persephone was easily dissuaded when you expressed an interest in venturing beyond the confines of her palace, but Hades was an aura, a chill, a pair of eyes you couldn’t shake or stop from prying into your skin more painstakingly than any dagger ever could. This was his domain, his kingdom, and yet, away from his throne and his crown and his mistress, he seemed more like one of the spirits he ruled over than a god cast off of Olympus. You’d long-since come to terms with it, hiding yourself away and holding your breath, limiting your movements, being as quiet and as still as possible in hopes of coaxing him out, as a hunter would for a timid fawn. Some days, it took a few minutes and others, a few hours. Today, he must’ve been feeling confident. Your lungs had only begun to ache by the time he gathered the courage to show himself. 

You kept your attention centered on the flower in front of you, as he approached. A translucent rose, jagged shards of glass curling around a crystalline core and emerging from a base of emerald, the edge of each petal just starting to blacken and wilt. A thought played on your tongue as Hades came to a stop at your side, as he muttered an affectionate greeting under his breath. You meant to return the gesture, intent on keeping your relationship with your captors as civil as it had to be, but you were already asking before you could stop yourself, posing a question you weren’t sure you’d like the answer to. “Will it die?” 

That seemed to catch Hades off-guard. He hesitated before he answered, his hands twitching where they were folded behind his back as he fought the urge to scan over you. You were almost thankful he was the more concerned of the two. Persephone would’ve clicked her tongue, pulled you into her side, and told you that they would, but that you also shouldn’t ask after such morbid things. At least Hades wasn’t so patronizing. “They will,” He confirmed, finally, his tone steady. “Eventually. They last longer than plants in the mortal realm, but I made them to be living things.” A pause, a bite to the inside of his cheek. “That comes with a certain set of requirements, unfortunately.” 

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d had to step over half a dozen shattered flowers just to get to this part of the garden, and you knew he wouldn’t design something that went against the law of nature he worked so tirelessly to uphold. “I’m a living thing,” You mumbled, the words barely audible. “Does that mean I’ll have to conform to your requirements, one day?” 

Hades didn’t see fit to answer, this time. “You haven’t been eating.” 

Technically, you haven’t eaten at all, not since you’re arrival. Hades had tried his hand at locking you in your room, raising his voice, making threats of what would happen if you didn’t take your meals with gratitude, and Persephone had gone on about how torturous hunger could be for an hour or two before growing frustrated and leaving you to wallow in your pain, but neither seemed to understand the notion that you’d much rather face the pangs and the aches and the weaknesses that came with starvation than accept the fact that you’d be thoroughly, completely, utterly trapped here for the rest of your now-eternal life. Among the dead, you had no appetite, no desire, no will. Not when the consequences of submission were so unignorable.

You wanted to stay warm far more than you wanted to make them happy. 

You must’ve been silent for a moment too long. For the first time, Hades let out a sigh, the man shaking his head as he turned to face you. His lips were barely turned downward, his brow furrowed in something more akin to irritation than rage, but it was the angriest you’d seen him, the angriest at you he’d ever been. “There’s no point in putting it off.” He didn’t make excuses, didn’t make it sound like submitting would do you any good, but that almost made it worse. Unlike Persephone, he knew he was in the wrong. Unlike Persephone, he didn’t try to make it sound like he thought he wasn’t. “You’re here because there are two people in the Underworld who love you more than anyone in the mortal realm ever could. By behaving like this, you’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting us. That’s not the kind of action you should be able to take without guilt.” 

“Because my pain is the only kind that doesn’t matter,” You replied, tearing your eyes away from Hades and forcing yourself to direct your glare at the ground, at the dull, shriveled jewels that littered the ground because he wasn’t kind enough to share his immortality with the creatures who needed it. You hadn’t asked for this. You hadn’t prayed for it, or begged it, or needed it, as much as he’d like to pretend you did. You hadn’t wanted it, and you refused to act as if you had. “You might love me, but I don’t love you. As soon as I get my chance to leave, I don’t plan on sacrificing it for a slice of a pomegranate. If that hurts you, then maybe you should be--”

He didn’t hit you, he didn’t lash out, but he didn’t have to. The iron-clad, ice cold fingers soon wrapped around your wrist were enough to stop you, enough to remind you that Persephone wasn’t the only deity you had to be afraid of, here. Reflexively, you snapped toward him, but you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself as soon as your eyes met his, grey and metallic and so, so wrathful. “I don’t want to hear a word of what you just said get back to Persephone,” He growled, his grip tightening, his nails biting into your skin drawing fresh, hot blood. If he noticed, though, he didn’t care, only pulling you forward as he went on. “There won’t be a second warning. If you dare to say something so careless to my wife, it’ll be her mercy you’ll have to rely on. I can guarantee you mine will be out of your reach, by then.” 

He let you go, scowling as you pulled your injured arm to your chest, not caring how the pooling blood might stain your clothes. You could only nod and avert your stare, your throat dry and your mind so blank, you almost forgot you’d ever thought you were capable of thought. 

All you knew was that, quite suddenly, the garden felt just as frigid as the rest of the Underworld.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Chapter 57: Jon

Coming back here would be a lot worse if he didn’t have Tim and Martin with him, Jon thinks as he looks uncertainly around the room. It’s not just the wax figures everywhere, which are creepy enough. There are cobwebs hanging in every corner, draped over half the waxworks, and it’s…it’s a lot.

He takes a deep, ragged breath and steps back slightly, bumping into Martin, who rubs his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Jon. They’re just cobwebs.”

“It’s never just cobwebs,” Jon hisses back.

Martin doesn’t rise to the bait. “Cobwebs mean the spiders are long gone. It’s okay.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” Jon tries to calm down. It’s not really working, though. “Is this it?”

“Yeah,” Basira replied. “We plant the last of it here, and this whole place goes up nice.”

“Remember, we need all of it. This place is bigger than it looks,” Martin says.

Daisy unzips the bag of explosives with unnecessary force. “I heard you.”

“Okay, okay! I’m just saying.”

Jon tunes out the conversation and steps away from Martin, studying the waxworks uneasily. They’re just…they’re just waxworks, he’s pretty sure, just plain, ordinary, creepy mannequins, but…

“So where is everyone?” Basira asks, evidently done with the bickering.

“Preparing, I guess,” Jon says, uncertainly. “I haven’t seen any of them since the last of—w-whatever the hell that was went inside.”

Basira frowns. “It’s too quiet.”

“It could be a trap,” Jon says and immediately regrets it.

Daisy straightens up from where she’s standing. “And? If it is, I give this a squeeze”—she holds up the detonator—“no more trap.”

“And no more us,” Basira points out. Daisy grunts, not really in assent or denial, just acknowledging, Jon thinks.

“Don’t sweat it. At least we’re not alone,” Tim says, false brightness in his voice. He steps up next to Jon and points at one of the mannequins. “Look! It’s Prince Charles! You know, if he was in a horrible accident. Oh, and here’s the Beatles, if they were all in separate accidents. Like if Ringo was in a horrible fire, and Paul was in a car crash, that’s a classic—”

“Yes, Tim, I know,” Jon snaps, more testily than he wants. He swallows and consciously softens his voice. “I saw them.”

The facade of levity drops from Tim’s face, and Martin’s eyes brim with sympathy. It hurts and Jon has to look away. Martin speaks softly. “This is where they kept you, isn’t it.” It’s not a question.

“I-I—yes,” Jon says. A chill settles on his shoulders, and he wants nothing more than to step into Tim and Martin’s arms for them to ward it off, but it isn’t safe, this isn’t the time. Time for that when they’re clear of this place. “They tended to—th-there’s a room, right over there. It’s nominally a workshop, but…well, I suppose technically they were…working on me.”

“Oh, God.” Martin draws in a sharp breath and turns away briefly, and Jon sees his hand curl into a fist. Under his breath, he mutters, “Don’t open any doors.”

“Who told you that, anyway?” Basira demands. “What’s behind them?”

“The Primes. They said we don’t need to know what’s behind those doors, and—” Martin swallows hard and looks at one of the other doors. “We can’t save them.”

There’s a moment of horrible silence as all of them realize, in the same instant, what that means. Tim’s face goes ashen, and he stares at the same door Martin is looking at. Jon’s breath catches in his throat; he knows what Tim is thinking, because he’s thinking it too.

“Tim, no.” Martin reaches out and catches his arm, pale as a sheet. “Tim, we can’t—we can’t let them know we’re here. You open that door, it puts the whole thing at risk.”

Tim backs off, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Jon can’t blame him. He turns to Daisy. “How much longer?”

“I don’t know,” Daisy grits out.

Jon knows he shouldn’t say anything, but he can’t help it. “The others didn’t take this long.”

“The others had obvious structural weaknesses. This one doesn’t.”

“Seriously?” Tim hisses, sounding even more tense than before. “How hard is it to blow up a building? All this stuff—”

“I’m trying to be careful,” Daisy retorts. “I was told to avoid damage to the surrounding structures if I could—”

“Okay, let’s all stop distracting Daisy and get this over with,” Martin says, but even his normally soothing voice has an edge to it. He’s not angry, Jon thinks, just more scared than he’s letting on.

They all are. This is the worst idea Jon’s had since he took the Archivist job, which is saying something. He should have sent Daisy in alone. Shouldn’t have insisted on all of them coming along. He, Tim, and Martin have all been marked by the Stranger, they’re going to attract attention even if Orsinov and the others can’t smell the Eye on them. And the longer it takes Daisy to set the last of the charges, the more tempting opening those doors is.

Especially since he can hear movement behind them.

“So,” Basira says, jerking her head at the mannequin nearest her. “Would you say this is supposed to be Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock?”

Jon appreciates the distraction. “Jowls like that, could be either. I mean, the distinction is a bit—” He wobbles his hand, well aware of the fact that it’s shaking.

“It’s Hitchcock. Churchill’s face was more square,” Martin says absently. He’s fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves in a way Jon’s never seen Martin do before—but, he realizes, is the way he often plays with his cuffs when he’s nervous or anxious or scared. God, how long have they been picking up on one another’s habits and mannerisms?

Tim’s eyes wander over to something in the corner, and his whole body stiffens. Jon, too, goes tense. “What? What’s over there?”

“Nothing,” Tim mutters, cutting his eyes away quickly and looking at the door again.

Jon doesn’t believe him. He comes over to Tim’s side and looks—and his stomach lurches when he sees what’s there. It’s a solid chair with flaked, cheaply done gilding clinging to the badly-done carvings on the back and curved arms. A couple of twisted nylon ropes still lie around the feet and across the seat, and even from here in the dim light, he can see that one of them is still faintly stained with blood.

“It’s fine,” he says, his voice weak even to his own ears. “It—it wasn’t as bad as it looks.”

Tim gives Jon a look so filthy he’s tempted to scrub its mouth out with carbolic soap. “I saw you when you got back, Jon. I know how bad it was.”

Basira speaks up in her I-don’t-want-to-deal-with-this-so-I-am-changing-the-subject voice. “How big is this auditorium thing, anyway?”

“I don’t know! Big!” Jon flaps his hands in irritation.

“I mean, it’s not a huge building.” Basira eyes the corners where Daisy is prowling and prodding.

“Jon Prime said it was bigger than it looks,” Martin says firmly. “They’ve done this before. I trust them. If they say we need all of it, we need all of it.”

Basira looks unimpressed. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“I am. This is definitely where they kept me.” Jon points at the chair for emphasis just as Daisy stalks in front of it. “Although I don’t remember quite this many waxworks.”

“All right. I just don’t want to get this far and find out we’re in a—” Basira begins.

She’s cut off by a sound from the door that keeps drawing Tim and Martin’s attention—faint, haunting, hollow-sounding music. All of them freeze, listening. Jon’s never been one for circuses, but he knows a calliope when he hears one.

Be still, for there is strange music.

Jon exhales shakily. “This is the place.”

“We need to see what’s going on in there,” Tim mutters. His eyes have gone slightly unfocused, and Jon can feel the faint prickle of static. Tim is Looking at the door, as if he’s trying to see through it.

Jon grabs his arm more roughly than he should, but he has to startle him. “Leave it. We have a job to do,” he orders.

“Jesus,” Basira hisses.

“What?” Jon, Tim and Martin all ask in unison, in almost the exact same tone of voice, as they pivot to stare at her.

Basira is staring at one of the waxworks intently, her hand on her hip, probably where she once carried a gun. “It moved.”

No. No, this is not happening, it’s too soon—Jon swallows down the panic. “Right, okay, if they’re starting to, ah—we’ve got to go.”

“No, it’s just—” Basira looked equal parts intent and horrified. “Like—it was just a flicker in its eyes. Look at it—”

“Don’t—look, if the waxworks are coming alive, we need to go,” Jon insists. He cannot, will not risk Tim and Martin. Whatever charges are set will have to be enough.

“Just shut up and look,” Basira snaps.

Jon crosses over to Basira’s side and looks. He’s prepared to either brush her off or hurry her along when he sees it, too—a flicker in the eyes of the statue in front of them. He looks more intently…

Those aren’t glass.

The realization hits him a second before the thing locks eyes with him, an expression of total panic. Of human panic, frantically pleading with him. A sick look passes over Basira’s face, but all she says is, “Huh.”

“Oh, God—oh, God, they’re not waxworks,” Jon chokes out.

Martin goes pale. “What are you—” he begins, then takes a closer look at the “waxwork” closest to him and recoils. “Christ!”

“Tim, I—I think we need to see what’s going on in there,” Jon says. People. There are people in there. Trapped and afraid and—

"Yeah.” Tim reaches for the doorknob.

“No!” Martin steps forward and physically puts himself between Tim and the door, drawn up to his full height. His skin is so white as to practically be translucent, worm scars and freckles alike practically floating above his face they’re so well-defined, and he looks both upset and determined. “We know what’s going on in there. We know it’s—bad. We know the room’s bigger than we think, and—we don’t need to look.”

“We need to know when they’re starting,” Tim argues.

It’s a good argument, but Martin doesn’t budge. “We’ll know they’re starting when the music changes. That? That’s probably the organist warming up. That door cannot be open when the song starts proper, Tim.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve read the statements! You know what—what that thing can do—”

“It’s not the same one! That one’s locked in Artifact Storage.”

Jon blinks. “He’s right. I didn’t—”

“It’s not, though,” Martin interrupts. “Remember? Melanie told us last week. She was talking to Sonia about it, and according to her, nobody’s seen it for a while and none of them can remember when they saw it last. I’m willing to bet that when Breekon and Hope delivered that table, they picked up the Calliophone too. And since their whole thing is being unrecognized and unremembered, probably nobody saw them take it, anymore than they saw them get it out of Leanne Deniken’s house the first time.”

Jon draws in a sharp breath. He remembers now. Melanie was trying to find any other circus-related artifacts up there. Sasha’s theory was that it was taken for use in the Unknowing.

Hearing that haunting melody, he suspects it’s right.

Tim subsides a little, but still puts up one last protest. “What if there’s someone in there we can save?”

“There isn’t. Even the ones that are already alive are basically dead.” Martin’s eyes brim with sympathy. “Tim. Remember the statement about Gwydir Forest? The one where Gertrude said at the end that she—she wouldn’t be surprised to see Mr. Skinner’s face at the Unknowing?”

“Yeah, so?” Tim shrugs a little.

“So, his isn’t the only face that’s going to be in there.” Martin’s own face softens, and he takes a half-step closer to Tim. “You don’t need to see that. If—if he’s in there, if he’s waiting for—for his turn at the dance…you don’t need to see that again.”

Tim turns grey, and his face tightens with obvious pain. With a jolt, Jon realizes what Martin is saying. He said it himself on tape the other day: Danny Stoker is probably in there.

Martin’s right. Tim doesn’t need to see that.

He reaches out to touch Tim’s arm, to offer what little comfort he can, when Daisy comes over to them. “Done.”

“What?” Jon says, a bit stupidly.

“It’s done. We’re good to go.” Daisy holds something out to Tim. “Here.”

Tim takes the object, and Jon realizes it’s the detonator. He hasn’t told Daisy they’re letting Tim blow the trigger, but from the way he nods at her, it’s clear they’ve discussed this already. He takes a deep breath. “Right. Let’s get out of here and blow this place to hell.”

“This way.” Basira turns towards the door they came in.

For as small as it is, the building is a maze. Jon would almost suspect it to be the work of the Spiral rather than the Stranger, except that the purpose isn’t to confuse, it’s to conceal. Basira’s studied the layout thoroughly, though, so he lets her and Daisy lead. Martin brings up the rear, probably to make sure neither Jon nor Tim cut back and try to do something stupid like look, or try to get someone out. Jon won’t lie, he considers it, if only because he desperately wants to know what’s going on—it’s a blind spot, no matter how he reaches for it—but there’s enough of him that’s terrified of what the Primes told him to keep him moving forward. Besides, he won’t leave Tim and Martin behind, and he won’t risk getting either of them hurt by taking them in there.

So. Forward it is.

They twist around a couple of odd corners, passing through several rooms they’ve already set charges in. Daisy taps Basira’s arm and points at a narrow corridor; Basira nods, and they slip down it. It’s small enough they have to go single file, and part of Jon wonders if Martin’s going to get stuck, but when he glances over his shoulder, Martin gives him a quick smile and a nod, like he knows what Jon’s thinking. Then again, he probably does. They know each other well enough by now.

A few dozen yards and the corridor opens up into what’s essentially a storage space, probably for, if not theatrical costumes, then clothes to dress the waxworks in. Jon doesn’t want to think about what else it might have been used for, but thankfully, the racks and hangers are all empty. Apart from the way in, there’s another door up a short ramp and a third down a small, hollowed-out space that looks something like an enclosed orchestra pit or a place to work special effects from below a stage. The strange music is just barely audible from above.

To Jon’s surprise, Daisy pulls up short and turns to look at Tim. “This is where we leave you.”

“Wait, what?” Martin says incredulously.

Tim ignores him. “Five minutes?”

“Better make it ten,” Daisy says.

“Right.”

“Wait, wait, wait, no, no, we are not leaving Tim behind,” Martin says, his voice rising in pitch even as he keeps the volume low. “We’re not—that’s not part of the plan! It’s not—you didn’t add that when I wasn’t looking, did you?”

“No!” Jon hisses. “It’s not!”

Daisy growls in frustration. “The range on the detonator is good, but it’s not that good. The only way you can make it blow from outside and be sure of hitting all the charges is if you’re right outside, which is more dangerous.”

“Than blowing it up from the middle of the building?” Jon demands. His heart is pounding furiously.

“Under there, you’ve got a chance,” Daisy says, gesturing to the band shell. “Out there, you’ve got none.”

Martin sputters incoherently. Jon shakes his head. “No—no, that can’t—”

“It can, and it is,” Tim says. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“Come on,” Basira says impatiently. “They’re going to get started soon. Can’t you hear it?”

Jon is starting to have trouble breathing. “Leaving you behind is not an option, Tim.”

“Tough! It’s the only way!” Tim snaps. “Stop being stubborn and go!”

Martin’s jaw clenches, and he turns abruptly to face Basira and Daisy. “Go on! We’ll catch up.”

“Martin—” Tim begins.

Jon interrupts him, waving at the other two. “Go!”

Daisy shrugs and turns for the door. Basira gives all three of them a long look, then follows.

Tim looks both annoyed and worried. “You two need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“Then it’s not safe for you, either,” Martin retorts. “Tim, please, you can—as long as we get most of them, it’s fine. Th-the ritual can’t, it’s going to fail anyway, so even if we don’t completely destroy the building—”

“Then whoever investigates finds unexploded charges, and starts asking awkward questions,” Tim shoots back. “It’s going to be close as it is. Look, just—just go, damn it. Let me do this.”

“Tim, you can’t—” Jon eyes the band shell. “Even if the explosion somehow spares that area, you’ll be trapped under the rubble until—”

“Jon, I know,” Tim snaps. “Believe me, I’ve been over this already. I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t bring you along so you could kill yourself!” Jon snaps back, and then draws in a sharp breath and covers his mouth with one hand as he realizes what he just said. He wants to take the words back as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but at the same time…he realizes they’re true.

Before he can apologize, though, Tim says, “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Martin asks. He’s got that same look he had when he barred the door from them upstairs. “Maybe you’re not going to do it yourself, but you don’t care if you live or die, do you?”

“Of course I care, but I’m not going to—” Tim makes a noise of frustration and exasperation. “Look, get out of here, both of you. Go. I’ll blow the building once you’re clear, and if I survive, you can yell at me later.”

“There is—” Jon realizes he’s starting to shout and brings his voice back down to a whisper with effort. “There is no if here, Timothy Stoker. Either you leave this building with us, or—”

“Or what?” Tim challenges. “You knew I might not make it out—”

“I knew none of us might make it out, and I am not going to let anyone die unnecessarily,” Jon says, stabbing a finger at Tim’s chest for emphasis.

“Then go!” Tim snaps. “Both of you. Go. For God’s sake, don’t make this for nothing. It’s worth it if it saves your lives.”

“Our lives aren’t worth you sacrificing yours!” Martin’s voice cracks with emotion.

“They are to me!” Tim all but shouts back.

Jon feels like he’s missing an important piece of the puzzle here, but they don’t have time for him to figure it out. He could compel the answer out of Tim, but even now, even when their lives might literally depend on the truth, he won’t do that to him. Not on purpose. To Tim or to Martin. He won’t betray their trust like that.

“If this is some…misguided attempt to martyr yourself to save the world, o-or—” he begins.

“Fuck the world!” Tim bursts out. “I don’t care about any of that right now. It’s you. It’s both of you. For God’s sake, I love you.” He draws in a sharp breath. “Not—not like I love Sasha. It’s not…I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with both of you for a long time. Maybe as long as I’ve known you, Martin, but—however long it’s been, doesn’t matter. I know you don’t feel the same way about me, but that’s what it is. I love you both, and I will do anything it takes to save you, because to me, it’s worth it as long as you both survive.”

And there it is—the piece Jon’s been missing. His heart drops into his stomach as he realizes that, in all the chaos of the two weeks since he got home from America, he’s never actually sat down and talked to Tim and Martin. He knows he had the revelation about the other two, he knows how he feels, but even when they had down time and some relative peace, he hasn’t said anything. He’s not sure how much of it is cowardice and how much of it is fear and how much of it is just genuinely not thinking about it.

“And just where do you get off pretending you know how we feel?” he demands. He’s angry, but not really at Tim—mostly at himself. “I-I may have taken a long time to realize it, but I love you. Both of you. I should have said something sooner, but God, I love you both. I wasn’t acting in Elias’ office when I said it wasn’t safe and I wanted you two to stay behind. I-it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I wanted you to be safe, damn it. I need you to be safe. I need you to be okay. I can’t—” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard before trying again. “I can’t do this without you.”

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the rumble of either pipes or the central air system and the faint hints of circus music filtering down from above. Suddenly, Martin steps forward, his expression a mixture of anger, pain, and fear. He grabs Tim’s face in both hands and kisses him, hard.

Tim makes a muffled sound of surprise, nearly dropping the detonator, then kisses him back. His shoulders relax slightly, and while he seems to have difficulty knowing what to do with his hands since one is in a cast and the other is clutching the detonator, he manages well enough.

The sight does something funny to Jon’s chest. He’s not sure if he should quantify it as jealousy or satisfaction or fear or what. Before he has time to consider it, though, Martin releases Tim, turns to Jon, cups his face, and kisses him, too.

Jon remembers the night they moved into their house, when he watched the Primes and wondered if he would feel differently about kissing if it’s Martin he’s kissing. He can now definitively answer that question with a resounding yes. Martin’s lips aren’t necessarily as soft as he might have expected—they’re cracked and split, probably from biting them in agitation and nerves—but the lipstick he’s taken to wearing more often because both Tim and Jon have complimented him on it smooths over the worst of it and tastes faintly of cherries. Despite the urgency of the kiss, it’s surprisingly tender, and Martin’s hands against his cheeks are gentle.

Warmth floods Jon’s body. It’s the same way he feels when he wakes up in Martin and Tim’s arms—safe, secure, and above all loved. In Martin’s kiss, he realizes that they’ve all been feeling this way for quite a while, that Tim has always thought of him as more than a friend, that Martin’s crush has deepened into real feelings, that he’s a right tit for not having said something sooner.

Martin pulls away from Jon as carefully as he went into the kiss. It still leaves Jon a bit off-balance and breathless.

“We are having a proper serious conversation about this when we get home,” Martin tells them both. “But for the record, I love you, too.”

Tim manages a shaky laugh. “I would hope you don’t go around kissing just anybody like that.”

“Shut up, Tim.” Martin looks from Tim to Jon and back. He still looks upset and scared, but he’s smiling slightly, too, and his cheeks are faintly pink. “Now what?”

Tim looks at the detonator in his hand. “I was serious before. I have to detonate it from down here or it won’t blow them all. And if they don’t all blow…there was no point in doing all this.”

The music shifts. Jon inhales quickly as a voice filters down from the stage above—he can’t make out the words from down here, but the voice is very clearly Nikola Orsinov’s. “Yes. And—we owe it to Danny. And to Gertrude,” he adds softly, looking at Martin.

Martin swallows hard and nods. “Right. You’re right. Okay, then.” He looks at Tim. “We’re still not leaving you behind.”

“Martin, it’s not safe for you two to be here,” Tim says again.

“Tough! Okay?” Martin says bluntly. “We’re not leaving without you. Especially not now. Together, or not at all.”

“That’s the deal,” Jon agrees. He won’t pretend he isn’t scared, but Martin’s right, they’re not leaving this place without Tim.

Tim stares at them both, then smiles, even as tears fill his eyes. “Okay, then. Together.”

They step together into the space. The music is louder here; Jon can feel it pulling him upwards, and he can hear thumps, taps, and creaks as the “dance” begins. He shivers and reaches for Tim and Martin on instinct. They both reach back. Even before this, Jon wouldn’t have expected otherwise, but now he no more doubts them than he doubts his own right arm. The three of them wrap arms around one another, and despite their differing heights, they manage to press their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Jon gasps out.

“I love you,” Martin murmurs.

“I love you,” Tim echoes. He meets Jon’s eyes. “Tell me when.”

Jon nods back and takes a deep breath. “Three…two…one…”

Tim pulls Jon and Martin down into a protective huddle and presses the detonator.

[feferipeixes]

Mother Knows Best (1/5)

Answering an oddly familiar summons, Alcor finds himself face-to-face with none other than his own mother. Sure, she died years ago and reincarnated as someone completely different, but it's a little hard for Alcor to see past who she once was. As time goes on, however, he starts to wonder if maybe she really has changed -- and maybe, just maybe, if things could be better between them this time.

Here’s my entry for the 5th annual @transcendence-au ficathon! Based on the prompt “Dipper and his mother have a talk” from the awesome @toothpastecanyon! As you can see, I took it in a bit of a different direction :)

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

Chapter 1: Summoned

It was a clean summoning, one of the smoothest he'd felt in a while. No incorrect symbols on the circle. Plain candles, flames lapping at the wick, fresh from the box. Flawless Latin that sang across the Mindscape to bring him forth, instead of the grating mispronunciations he'd gotten more and more accustomed to as the years passed and there was almost no one left who even knew that Latin was a language.

Why then, Alcor wondered, did this summoning feel so off? Why was there a bitter edge to the call that triggered his fight or flight response in a way that a sad group of cultists hadn't managed to do in decades? And why did it feel so familiar?

The structure of a room pulled itself together around him, and with a pop he was there. By the blue light of the candles, he noticed that the room he’d been summoned to was actually quite small -- most likely a bedroom, given the bed tucked in the corner. He couldn’t help but notice the walls coated in boy band posters -- his mind jumped right to Mabel, filling his brain with a fuzzy sadness that wasn’t appropriate for a summoning.

That sadness evaporated pretty quickly when he saw the pro-nat hate speech on the posters hidden beneath them. He had a few guesses as to how this was going to go. Might as well get on with it.

"W̞̦̙̬̪̻̳H͖̦̲̟̻̖O̯͡ ̨̻̻̫̜͔̗͇D̛͔̣A̹͚͢R̞E͇̻͎̰S ̭͇͚͔T̹̣͔̦͎̝O̧ ̛̥̦̥̼̗S̢̳U͇M̦̘̺̰̲M̻̥̳̫̝̟O̩̗̥̦N͞ ͉͖̪̰͚̖A̙̣̠̫̬̗̰L̸̲C̭̠̖̣͚O͕͇͇͍̲͍R͖͕̞̲̣ ̷͔̙T̠̘͢H͔̼͉E̠̩͇̖͔̕ ̴D͉͙R҉̳͓̯̼̺E̢̘̬̱̠A͓̰̗͇̪͚M̜͎̟͇͍̱̺B̟̦̱̪̕E̲̘̯̙̜͘N̵͈̜̝D͏͈͓E̝͇̺̹R̛̝̱̳̭?͖̖͔̩̙͉̟" he roared.

The only person in the room was a young woman -- couldn't have been more than 25 -- who practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. She had mousy brown hair (she’d considered dyeing it many, many times, but always chickened out in the stylist’s chair) and stunning green eyes (contacts -- her eyes were really brown but she figured if her eyesight was poor enough that she needed contacts she might as well be adventurous), was dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans (all of her nice clothes were in the wash), and had a tilted cross on a necklace tucked underneath her shirt.

"It's, uh," she stammered, "my name is Arielle, and…"

"That's your first mistake, kid," Alcor cut in. "Never tell a demon your real name. Not that it matters too much to me since I already know it, but if you get any other lesser demon in here? Forget about it, they'd love to use that against you."

Arielle's aura flickered anxiously, and she drew her arms close to her chest. "Y-yeah? Why's that?"

Alcor flipped over so he was lying on his back in midair, his head upside down from her perspective. "True names are powerful. If you know someone’s true name, you have access to who they really are. It’s the best way to control someone without literally owning their soul.”

“Owning… their soul?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me. You don’t know what a soul is?”

She frowned. “I know what a soul is. But I didn’t think you could control someone with their soul.”

“Oh, you totally can! Well, you can’t. I can, ‘cause I’m a demon and all. It’s kind of our specialty.” He uncrossed his arms and let them dangle beneath him. “But enough about that. Why don’t you tell me what someone like you is doing summoning a demon? Last I heard, the New Canaan Methodist Church wasn’t too fond of my folk.”

She practically seized up in shock. “What?”

He rolled over onto his front, leaning on some invisible plane with his elbows, and let a wide grin spread across his face. “I just couldn’t help but notice what a nice necklace you’re wearing. The NCMC and I aren’t the closest of friends, you know. I’ve got some hilarious stories I could tell you -- wow, where to begin…”

“Hang on, what?” she cut in, and then slapped her hands to her mouth, apparently in shock at the fact that she’d just spoken back to a demon.

Alcor flipped over into a seated position. “No storytime?”

“No, I just…” She reached under her top and pulled out the necklace. “Did you look through my shirt? That’s very rude.”

Alcor spluttered and turned pink. “What? No! I mean I guess I technically did, but not like that! I just wanted to see what was on your necklace.” He cowed under the furious glare she was giving him. “Hey, I’m asking the questions here! Regardless of where the necklace was, you’re still a New Canaanite!”

She deflated a little, but the irritated look didn’t leave her face. “I’m… I’m not, okay? Not anymore.”

He cocked his head curiously, the pink tinge slowly dissipating from his cheeks. “Anymore?”

She sighed, and looked away. “This is all my parents’ stuff, okay? It’s not my fault they’re Canaanites! They tried to make me go along with their hateful garbage, but I didn’t really believe, so I left. They didn’t like that, and they forced me to keep wearing the necklace ‘as protection’. They literally glued the clasp together -- I can’t take it off. So I hide it under my clothes. Happy?”

Alcor frowned. She… was lying to him.

At least about the parents thing -- he could sense her parents in the next room, could practically smell the unconditional love radiating off of them, nauseatingly sweet to his delicate nose. He had a hard time believing that the kind of people who smelled like that would glue an extremist group’s iconography to their child.

But… maybe they weren’t her real parents. If she left the NCMC, she might’ve been forced to leave the community too. It sort of held up as a story. And besides, he didn’t want to ditch this summoning just yet. He needed to know why he was sure he’d met her before.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he said finally. “What do you want?”

She looked surprised for a moment, and then nodded. “I want you to go to the local chapter of the New Canaan Methodist Church. In the back room, where they keep the picket signs, there’s a warded chest. The chapter leader stole something important from me. I want you to get it back.”

He narrowed his eyes, and peered through space. As he did so, his wings went translucent, and an image of the room in question appeared over them. Alcor saw the chest -- it was surrounded by binding circles and wards, but nothing that he wouldn’t be able to handle. With effort, he peeked into the chest -- why did it have so many wards around it? -- and did a double take when he saw what was inside.

“Really? You summoned a demon to fetch a stuffed animal for you?”

She scowled. “It’s important to me and I want it back! I’ve got payment. You can have my memories of first grade. You like memories, right?”

Alcor scratched his chin. He did like memories, and the ones he could see dancing in her skull seemed particularly juicy. Besides, the stuffed animal thing reminded him of Mabel again. But this couldn’t be her. He’d know, wouldn’t he?

“Alright.” He reached toward her, blue flame dancing on his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Her eyes lit up in a brilliant display of hope and gratitude. “Thank you so much,” she said. Her aura changed -- greed pulsating through it so vibrantly that it felt like she was screaming into his eyeballs -- and she smiled. “Finally, I’ll get her away from that monster.”

Alcor’s face twitched. Her voice called out to him through the recesses of his mind.

Thank the stars I’ve got you away from that monster!

He jerked his hand back before she could grab it. "No," he breathed. "That's how I know you. That's who you are. You almost tricked me. How dare you."

Her smile faltered, and she took a step back. "Uh, what?"

He clenched his fists, and black void rippled across his body. "How Ḑ̛̜͇̱̟͈̺̩̭̪̳̖̦̹̹̣̩̉ͣ́̂̌͋̉͗͒ͯͪ̓̒̎͜͞Ạ̸̟̹̼̫̭̫̙͔͖̙̝̲̳̺̭̺̃̑̆ͣͪ͆͑͋͑͒ͪͫͭ͗͒͝R̐̈́̂͞͡҉̦̭̖̬̮̜̞E̡ͯ̊ͦ͆̀̐͆ͤ͊̽ͯ̅̄̐͗̊͌̽̇͜͠҉͉̯̯͈͈͓̮̥̫̠͉̞̣̼͔ you!" he screeched, sending a shockwave through the air that knocked knocked items off their shelves and whipped her hair up into a tangled mess. "I wasn't good enough for you before, and now you want my help?"

She gibbered under the gaze of the incensed demon. "What? This is the first time I've summoned you!"

"Oh sure, just pretend like you don't even know me anymore! Hah, not like it's the first time you've ever done that!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Can it -- I've had enough. The deal's off, Mom!"

With that, he vanished, leaving behind a very confused summoner. He tessered to the Mystery Shack, to Mabel and Henry’s old room, and stood there fuming for a minute. Then, he pulled his arm back, balled his hand into a fist, and punched the wall so hard that a big chunk of it flew out into the woods.

His breaths gradually slowed, becoming longer and deeper, the better to draw unnecessary air into his fake lungs, because he enjoyed the taste of it -- enjoyed the game -- because it helped ground him and distract him from the fact that he was capable of punching through a wall at a moment’s notice. That -- he began to realize, as his thoughts slowed down too -- may not have been the best idea. At least no one had seen him lose his temper like that.

“Um.”

Alcor turned around so quickly that he may have skipped over the “turning” part entirely. Willow was standing in the hall, just outside the door to the room, holding a teapot in one hand and her inhaler in the other.

“Everything okay, Uncle Dipper?” she asked, sounding more concerned than nervous. She did not step into the room.

Alcor looked down. “Everything’s fine, now.” He grimaced. “But I’d love a cup of tea, if you’re offering.”

She shrugged. “Well, I guess I’m offering now.” Alcor started to move forward, and she wagged a finger at him. “If, that is, you fix the wall you just destroyed.”

He smiled weakly, and let his hand ignite into flame. “That’s the best offer I’ve heard all day. Deal.”

Willow shook his hand, and walked off toward the kitchen. Alcor started to follow, and then paused. He looked back at the hole he’d just punched in the wall and sucked in a deep breath.

That sure was a soul he’d never expected to see again. After all he’d been through, he thought she’d be smart enough to keep away. And yet she had the gall to summon him like nothing had ever happened. Like she’d done nothing wrong.

Like she wasn’t Anna Pines. Like she wasn’t his mother.

He snapped his fingers, and the hole in the wall fixed itself. He squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, and then headed off to the kitchen.

---

The circle was drawn. The candles were set. The sacrifice -- a can of Pitt Cola -- was ready. It was to be a flawless summoning.

The only problem was the unwilling demon.

“Mabel, are you sure this is a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, bro-bro, it’ll be great!” Mabel replied in a singsong voice while fiddling with a book of matches. “You said it yourself, Mr. Knows-Everythingpants -- if we do this, then you can be physical for a bit!”

Dipper bit his fingernails -- nails that he couldn’t help but notice were getting longer every day and starting to look a little more like claws than human nails. “That’s not the problem.”

Mabel looked at her brother and rested a hand on her hip. “You’re worried about how they’re going to react?”

He nodded. “They’re our parents. What if they don’t… what if they’re scared of me?”

“Yeah, they are our parents, and that’s why I think it’s gonna go great! They think you’re dead, Dipdops -- they’re gonna be so happy to see that you’re still alive after all!”

Dipper frowned. “I don’t think it’s that easy -”

“Too bad!” Mabel chirped, cutting him off. Having lit the last candle, she pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall into the circle. “Come on out!”

“Ack!” Dipper let out a squeak as the air twisted around him and he was yanked out of the Mindscape. He felt the atoms rushing around him -- actual, physical matter, collecting on his body and forming a tangible shell. Then he was deposited above the circle, only a few feet away from where he started, but now very much real.

He gaped, the sensations of reality overpowering him for a moment. “Oh my stars, it worked,” he breathed. “I’m actually here, I can feel the air around me, oh wow, I forgot how good this feels!” He let out a little cackle and stretched like he’d been cooped up in a box for weeks.

Mabel grinned. “And you dared to doubt me!” She jumped into the circle with him and gave him a massive hug.

“Mabel, stoppppp,” he whined playfully. “You can already hug me even when I’m not physical.”

“I got excited!” she said, giggling. “But I know a couple of people who can’t hug you normally! Come on, let’s go!” She tugged on his hand and tried to pull him out of the circle.

“Wait…”

“Nuh-uh, broski! You gotta do this, no weaseling out of it! How much time does that can of soda get you?”

He glanced at his wrist, as if he were wearing a watch. “Twenty minutes, I think. But…”

“That’s barely any time! If you’re going to have a heartfelt reunion with your parents, it’s gotta be now!”

He slumped. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll do it.”

She brightened, which was impressive given how excited she’d already appeared. “Yay! Let’s go, they’ll be so excited to see you!”

Dipper had his doubts, but he let himself be pulled from the circle. Mabel skipped out of the room, down the hall, and up to their parents’ closed bedroom door. She knocked three times on the door as Dipper started chewing his nails again.

“Mabel, is that you?” came a groggy-sounding voice from the room.

“Yeah, Mom!” she sang. “I know it’s late, but I’ve got someone here you should see!”

“Can it wait until the morning? Your father and I aren’t exactly prepared to meet anyone right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you already know him!” She opened the door and rushed in, pulling Dipper by the hand with her. “Tada!” she announced.

The room was dark, but for the light from the hallway, and the glow of Dipper’s eyes. “Mabel, sweetie,” replied the voice, “it’s 2am. You can show us your new stuffed animals in the morning.”

There was a click, and the lamp beside the bed switched on, revealing their parents. Their father still seemed to be asleep, but their mom was sitting up in bed, a nightmask resting on her forehead, sleepily rubbing her eyes. When she finished and finally took in the scene in front of her, her entire body froze up, every muscle screaming in obvious terror.

“Hi Mom,” Dipper offered nervously, giving a little wave.

Mabel, oblivious to her mother’s body language, beamed at him. “Here he is! In the flesh! Uhh, well, sort of…”

“Mabel?” their mother asked, voice shaking worse than an action figure in a blender. “Wh-wh-wh-what wh-what is that?”

Mabel frowned. “It’s Dipper! I told you he was still alive!”

“I know I look a little different,” Dipper started, “but…”

Their mom seemed to break past her paralysis, and started shaking her husband vigorously. “Mark. Mark! Wake up, wake up!”

“Yeah, this isn’t going well,” Dipper muttered under his breath. Mabel glared at him.

“What is it, Anna?” their father asked. He opened his eyes, took in the sight in front of him, and then jumped about a foot into the air. “Demon!” he yelled. “There’s a demon in here!”

“Dad, it’s just Dipper, calm down!” Mabel yelled back. “I told you he was a demon now!”

Their father grabbed his phone off the bedside table and started pawing frantically at it. “What do we do, Anna? There’s a demon in here! What do we do what do we do what do we do -”

“Quit gibbering, Mark!” their mother spat. “They feed on fear!”

“Mom, Dad, please, I’m not going to hurt you…” Dipper said lamely.

Their father turned sheet white. His mouth flapped open and shut wordlessly, and then he managed to croak, “Dipper?”

Mabel glanced at her brother, grinning again. “Yes! It’s him!”

“No, it’s not!” their mother yelled. “Stop it, Mabel, and -- Mark, will you quit it!”

“I can’t,” he moaned, “that- that’s the demon that killed Dipper, and it’s here to get the rest of us, I knew this was going to happen!”

Their mother glared daggers at him, and then gestured frantically at Mabel. “Get over here now,” she ordered. “Get away from it!”

Dipper shivered -- despite the fact that he was a demon now, his mother’s angry voice still intimidated him. “I- I can explain everything, I promise!”

“It’s lying, Mabel -- do as I say and get over here!”

Mabel half turned to Dipper, looking as shocked as if she’d seen a flying saucer. “Dipper, I didn’t think they’d act like this, I…”

She let out a squeak as her mother wrapped her arms around her stomach and yanked her backwards. “There you go, sweetheart, thank the stars I’ve got you away from that monster!”

“Let go of me!” Mabel shrieked. She tried to squirm her way out of her mother’s grasp, but it was too strong. “Dipper!”

“Mabel!” Dipper cried. He shot forward, and -

There was a popping noise, and the summons expired.

Dipper was still in his parents’ room, but he could tell by the sudden lack of sensation that he was no longer corporeal, and that once again only Mabel could see him. He watched his parents’ faces twist from fear and anger into utter relief; watched how they held Mabel close and said how worried they’d been; watched Mabel’s apologetic look as she glanced back at him.

It didn’t matter. He knew it would happen. There was nothing he could’ve said to make that first meeting go better. He floated through the wall to his bedroom, collapsed above his bed, and let the little yellow tears on his pillow speak for themselves.

(AO3 link)

[twitchesandstitches]

Tiashar peeked over the table, sprawled on the ground on her belly and clearly trying to be sneaky. Her gigantic butt rose up nearly as high as a three-person shack, her tail curling above even that in a thick mass nearly as large around as she was, and her enormous breast rose her off the ground by nearly six feet, so she was clearly not doing well.

A large robotic bee, approximately the size of a train, had been watching her politely for some time. As far as the bee robot could tell, Tiashar was staring suspiciously at a large plate of pancakes sitting on the table.

She was very still. The only thing moving on her was the automatic twitch of her hair tendrils, glistening pink in the sunlight; they weren’t quite translucent, but they weren’t totally opaque, light filtering through them in lovely patterns, painting the slick surface of her black skin in neon stripes. The enormous, blunt tail crowning her backside curled around her, wobbling faintly, squishing against whatever touched it like a big water balloon with an endoskeleton.

The robot bee had been puzzling over her behavior for some time. She couldn’t take the curiosity anymore, and took off, flying near Tiashar and transforming; her body reconfigured, morphing into a bipedal and extreme feminine form. She was built on broadly the same hyper-curvy lines as Tiashar, most of her body mass apparently in her hips, an enormous set of thighs with matching backside, and enormous biomechanical breasts glowing with a substance quite similar to honey.

There was still a certain bee-ness to her. Her abdomen had folded into her body, its mass assimilated into her new backside and hips, but a small pair of antannae extended from her forehead, her legs were alarmingly slim for her size (at least, below the knees) and her feet tiny little grippers, with a very high ankle for superior sprinting. A pair of wing-engines lay against her back, currently folded away.

Her name was Fixerup. She was technically a doctor; she was specialized for working on biomechanical systems like her own, so she supposed she was mostly a cybernetic specialist. Nevertheless, she was fascinated by life different from her own, and Tiashar was certainly an interest study.

She spoke. “Miss Tia. What the heck are you doing?”

“Shh!” Tiashar said urgently. “Don’t let it see you!”

“Don’t let... what see me?”

“That!” a pink tentacle pointed at, of all things, the breakfast.

“...The pancakes?”

“Yes!” Tiashar said, hissing. “My breakfast! It’s plotting AGAINST me.”

There was a long pause.

“...IS it now,” said Fixerup calmly.

“You should see the things it’s saying about your finish,” Tiashar said, sounding hurt on her behalf. “It’s very mean.”

“If you say so!” Fixerup said brightly.

Fixerup did not see anything particular about what happened. But Tiashar did. She alone saw it; just as she saw colors that shouldn’t exist, or her clothing speaking to her when she was confused or thoughtful.

It was not, in any objective sense, real. Not real in the sense that, if no one had been there, it would have kept on happening.

But magic makes the concept of objectively real a fuzzy matter.

The pancakes opened, like a mouth. “She’ll never believe you now, butt-monster!”

Tiashar gasped. “You speak lies! And stop making fun of my butt!”

Fixerup tilted her head. She had seen nothing. The pancakes, to her, had simply sat there like innocent breakfast foods.

------

“It’s called chimerical reality,” Viomira the elf necromancer said, putting away books in a makeshift laboratory.

Elumai the purpleblood troll nodded dreamily. She was enormously huge, even by troll standards; she loomed over Viomira, her plump belly above the elf’s gaze. Dark coats, long lacy dresses, and hooded coverings outlined her fantastically curvaceous body, on a broad build very similar to her mother, Sekhma. But Sekhma was more muscular than her; Elumai was not as interested in refining the tool of her muscles, and so where her mother was athletic, Elumai was soft, her expansive backside idea for either devouring chairs or squishing into them.

“Chimerical,” Elumai repeated. “I have heard that word before. It is like a fusion, correct?”

“Yes, indeed. Chimerical reality is... well, it’s not exactly real, in a typical sense. It’s... you might call it the reality layer of imagination.”

“How so?”

“It’s informed by mortal minds; brief ideas, daydreams and other such things, drifting about and smashing into each other. Not like the astral sea; that’s made form all thoughts and ideas, forever, while the chimerical realm is more transitory. Some people draw power from it to create things; beings made from imagination. or impossible devices. And some people with a lot of power but little control might find it... leaking in.”

“That seems a worrying thought.”

“Not normally; they require an outside focus to be given true volition. Otherwise it’s more like parts of your brains speaking to you, or your imagination being overly active.” Viomira paused, as if she worked something out. “Ah, that’s a good way to put it, in fact. The chimerical realm is where your imagination leaks out in the astral plane, pools together with magic, and I suppose you might see things. Or talk to them.”

“Sounds kind of trippy.”

“Oh, certainly. The important thing is to know they’re only as real as you encourage them to be.”

[chickenfetus]

all moongan

thank you for asking falen tbh i love u sm and i love doing these 

omg is this ask for this ask meme i literally almost posted this along with the wrong ask fml

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

more cereal than mik because.. i dont eat cereal with milk……… i love the crunch

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

as someone who lives in a tropical country is that what its called idk we dont have seasons and it never gets lower than 25 degrees so yes that would be ideal

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

hrmmmmm… i just remember the page number?? or try to lmao if i dont remember i just skim through the pages and try to recognise where i left off

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

with at least 2 packets of sugar tbh…. i dont drink coffee

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

omg story time i went 2 get my braces removed and the dentist wanted to take pics so he was like “smile with your teeth!” and i was like ok! but then he kept saying i wasnt doing it right lmao… guess whos never smiled b4… (me) so he told me 2 practice my smile lol i didnt answer the qn but ya,,, i am probably

6: do you keep plants?

i used 2 be very against plants… now theyre okay i guess i dont rly keep any

7: do you name your plants?

refer 2 6

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

art??? i havent drawn in awhile

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

no LOL

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

on my side!!!! i cant sleep on my back bc i gotta hug smth.. and my stomach is out of the qn

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

🅱️… and .. same brainwaves…. poor mans ____…. this is all from the shady hq im so sorry my other pals

12: what’s your favorite planet?

the moon for no real reason

13: what’s something that made you smile today?

hMMm, watching astro and mx perform??? and just being shady with bell lmao

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

this… question,,,..so im thinking of a bright place with white walls and translucent curtains so the light call fill the (living) room perfectly and everythings really ??? sunny and shit idk its warm… the floor’s made of (fake?) wood and theres a small kitchen bc i cant cook and idk if my friend would be able to lol.. theres 2 bed rooms both are painfully small but it works.. theres one other room with a closet for clothes… the bathroom is just a shower, sink and toilet… theres no washing machine rip and ?? thats about it poor mens life

i watchd the like we used mv again and i realized ...... that is literally where i got this imagery from thanks the rose i love a relatable band

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

heres a fact (?) from me first: it rains diamonds on one planet ?? mecury maybe?? mars??? whomst.. this isnt even a fact its ,me trying to recall shit

ok real fact: There are thousands of other planets out there. sorry lads this website doesnt wanna have fun

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?

is spaghetti bolognese a pasta dish

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

im chill with my current hair colour??? bc its brown sometimes idk shitty hair

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

i asked my irl friends (group name: panic support group) and this is what they said

K: everything

E: when u were one hour late (i dont remember this happening but i do know im always late but never for an hour past me wyd)

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

goDD i dont but i sure want to

20: what’s your favorite eye color?

this is strange but every eye colour is my favourite although ppl with two or more colours in their eyes are so cool

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

its just my school bag lmao i got it 4 years ago and i take it everywhere even if the event is “small” and they ask us to bring “smaller bags” ill bring my big ass school bag anyway it looks like this (i dont have to but linking stuff is so fun)

22: are you a morning person?

technically.???its the holidays but i still manage to get up before 10 (most of the time) and … even if i have like 5 hours of sleep i manage to feel awake really easily????

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

tf i just use my phone lmao this is what ive been doing for like a month now… i could watch every vlive i havent watched yet, i could make video compilations i could practice my art but… even though im out of school im still procrastinating.. legends only

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

mmmm falens the closest to that

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

my classroom

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

white converse??  i have 2 get new ones every like 2 years since theyre also my school shoes and break easily….. other than those i have my blueblack converse too (i dont wear them as much so theyre still in one piece)

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

i dont eat bubblegum bc im always afraid ill swallow it and die and im p sure its illegal here

28: sunrise or sunset?

sunset but i dont look outside enough for either

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

hm……… with jen its when she sends me asks on anon despite it being super obvious like im not a Fan when my friends send me asks on anon bc sometimes i cant tell and i get a sense of false hope but w/ jen its okay but i know its her

with bell its when they reply to my keyboard smashes with their own keyboard smashes lmao and when they just??//?? say smth cute abt their faves (lately its been sanha thank u sh)

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

ya lmao when i have 2 sleep alone and its completely dark i have half a mind 2 believe some random supernatural being is out for me

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

hmM. socks are great i always wear them bc i wear shoes almost every time i go outside… i dont have any weird socks bc im Boring but i have 3 pkmn songs and 1 gudetama socks/.. bUT I DID buy my friend those socks with individual toe pockets… it was so funny when my other friend saw it she choked on her drink and almost spat it out. we laughed so hard we hit our heads against each other i love friendship.. i have 2 wear white socks for sch bc… aesthetic? god if i know lmao….. i only ever wear ankle socks bc….. socks any higher than that? cancelled.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

listen ive never stayed up later than like 1am ok maybe 2am??? but i was working on like a project that was due the next day for school with my groupmates (friends) so does that count lmao

33: what’s your fave pastry?

bread………. sugar donuts…….. i am Aware that thats not how u spell it but wtv

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

why does this ask so many qns in 1 qn……. i had a cat?? it had pink stripes and it didnt have a name bc i dont name my stuff… even my pokemon.. and yeah i still have it except its in a big dusty bag where all my other toys are kept

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

i kinda have to use stationary for school so ya.. p often is correct… pretty pens??? i dont rly see the point whoopS!!! in exams u can only use black or blue so

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?

im listening 2 day6 so like day6

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

my room isnt even my room i just go there to sleep .. the place im always at is like a study area except its open?? so everyone can see me lol and . its not messy?? if u look at it from far but the shit on the desk and shelves are so fucking messy god i need to pack those

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

aLRIGHT LADS welcome 2 megans ted talk

(skip this if ur not fond of drama)

so something (refer to the song he said suits myday) happened with jae recently and ive seen fans trying to defend him by @ing him and saying that they love him which is fine - great even! but what i dont approve is how everyone’s basically forgotten about the whole matter because they had concerts so instead of @-ing him and asking him to explain himself, they tell him what a great concert it was which is also great bc their concerts are honestly amazing. basically my pet peeve is when ppl dismiss the problematic action of some people just bc they like them.

another thing is that there were some fans who started guilting others for wanting to drop day6 completely because of what jae did and in my opinion i think it is totally cool to want to drop a group if they did smth bad like??? its ur life???? u can choose who you want to like. what is not cool is pulling out all the good things the person has ever done in their entire life and try to remind others about the positive sides of the person. yes. they’re an encouraging person, etc. but that does not cancel out the bad things they’ve done until they explain/apologise. what is infuriating is just the manner some people took it?? they literally went ahead and tweeted shit like “would your parents drop you if you did smth wrong?” and “you’re seriously gonna drop someone whos been nothing been nice because of one incident?” yes. people will and you dont have any fucking right to stop them? so dont go pulling out receipts.

another thing. its also okay to want to stan the whole group even if someone has done smth problematic. like? to me youre cool if youre able to see and acknowledge the bad shit someone has done and still stand by their side while educating them at the same time its nice to have faith in your idols. however, i wont say much when your idols dont respond and/or respond in a way that shows absolutely no remorse. its cool if you want to support them too, despite that.

tldr; dont fucking excuse someone’s behaviour/action just because youre so far up their fucking ass. dont pull out shit from before either, be it good or bad. and lastly, its okay to want to drop/continue supporting them, its your life.

i just wanted to talk about this tbh,, it was nice to see a few mydays trying to urge jae to explain the whole situation but seeing as he still hasnt and couldve it really irks me :-/

okay update its been a day and i havent really thought about this but im kinda conflicted now bc jae still hasnt talked about the song and im probably just making a big deal out of smth that will never happen again but it really doesnt sit right with me knowing that jae recommended that song to his fans and said it suited mydays?? bc looking at the lyrics... i SURE hope not... idk i have neither forgiven or forgotten but he’s okay now.? i cant stay mad at someone for that long anyway ill never forgive him 4 it though lmao petty ppl only

another thing... jae’s still an amazing person to me with all the encouraging words he says to mydays but this one incident is just soOOOOO hrm and i did go off tangent with the question as usual lol

39: what color do you wear the most?

i wear a lot of colours tbh??? but bc its rly hot out ive just been wearing the same shirt every time i leave the house and its black so

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?

i dont wear jewelry rip

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

challenger deep

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

hm,, ive only ever visited this coffee shop like more than once bc the girl i used 2 like showed it to me b4 like 2 years ago and it was nice i liked their mocha frappe and its cozy i guess??? sometimes i go there with friends to study/just eat but i havent gone in awhile.., its two stories and it has an open air sitting area too i prefer sitting inside bc the sun is a big no thanks.. the ceiling is kind of like?? going downward?? like the kind iin attics???? idk man it was nice

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

u cant see shit here sorry

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

cant relate

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

yea?? sometimes i just gotta bc my brain wont shut the fuck up

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

suddenly all of the puns i know have left my mind thanks @ me

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

vegetables

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

the dark and whats basically in it???? like ghosts zombies and shit u kno the scary shit

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

i like buying albums?? theres a CD in those so it counts lmao i bought sunrise by day6

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?

boxes??? like containers????

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

boxy and letting go by day6

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT TO THEM and oh worm

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

me: rocky.. ?????? from astro.. /?? no ive never heard of any of those and i saw the word horror so u wont hear abt those from me any time soon

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

i literally havent been outside for 2 days

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

be petty aka yesterday i changed my twitter icon from jae 2 brian bc jae’s being a child rn so hes out

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

when they ramble abt smth they like thanksk buds

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

is this the song from p!atd i have it in my playlist lmao oh i fucing hate this song i always skip it im not listening

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

idk what either of those are but bell and boxy

59: what’s your favorite myth?

idk any

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

anything that eunwoo has ever written

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?

ive given eggs for karissa’s birthday b4 and i got a kermit its not stupid tho its just the closest thign i could think of

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

i drink water juice everyday every minute every hour

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

my books are all in shelves lads i just  heard the fucking keys rattle im not doing this shit im logging off night

ok day 3 and im back like i said previously my books are on shelves i tried rearranging them by series b4 but my housekeeper rearrnaged them randomly the next day so i gave up

i make playlists for songs that i like, really like (i still skip them sometimes rip) and songs that my friend recommends me i have a seperate playlist for the songs i like in japanese 2

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

light blue?? like its actually p white bc its cloudy

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?

m not rly

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

just. leaves maybe??

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

Horror Movie

68: what’s winter like where you live?

oh winter is fucking fantastic it never gets colder than 25 degrees celsius here and if it does rain it lasts for like 10 minutes

69: what are your favorite board games?

i used to rly like snake and ladders and monopoly :-o

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

im not ready for that kinda death

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea?

english breakfast or earl gray??? those r like the standard right

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

ya but i never do bc i either forget to or am just 2 lazy

73: what are some of your worst habits?

being lazy + procrastinating :-D

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

okie :-o ..

they’re great ok ive talked abt them like 10 times in the span of 2 months but whatever folks

they’re super nice, kind and just all of the positive adjectives out there in the dictionary ...... they’ve helped me multiple times and they’re always there 2 lend me a listening ear (or in our case, eye lmao) idk??? im just super comfortable around them always and im honestly so thankful we became mutuals (and subsequently friends) last year!!!! i cant say a lot bc ill just get v repetitive but overall they’re an awesome friend and im glad we still communicate daily via twitter and sometimes our skype sessions even if they’re kinda awkward bc i never know when 2 talk bc im scared ill speak and theyll say smth and itll turn into a MESS which actually happened lmao  

im looking forward to the day our skype sessions become super smooth and easy going!!!

75: tell us about your pets!

i have none but id die for boxys cats

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

well yeah always tbh but its not smth i have to do but more like want to do im just 2 lazy to get around doing it

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

?? i almost said lemons arent pink but i Remembered...... yellow lemonade

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

i feel like this is an Attack? okay LISTEN so story time again.

on the flight back from japan i watched the alien covenant and i couldnt even get past the scene where the baby alien was gonna kill the poor guy who ended up being locked up with the infected dude as soon as i saw the blood and the alien emerge from the guy’s back i bolted lmao

so to calm myself down nd block that memory from my mind i went ahead and watched despicable me 3.. which HONESTLY im the worst critic ever but in my humble opinion.... the movie was good????????? idk i didnt watch minions the movie though i got lazy again whooopS!

anwyay i sidetracked but im neutral im not a fan but i wouldnt go out of my way to call minions annoying?? bc they really arent? i feel like its only seen that way bc of how people make posts abt how annoying minions are even tho.. they arent??

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

my memory hates me so every specific thing my friends have ever done for me has left my mind but .

the cutest thing? everything my friends do for me

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

theyre yellow and no i didnt theyve been there ever since i could remember

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

lava cake

82: are/were you good in school?

yeah i was good in school for like the first three years and this year i just flopped so badly lmao and its my important year too oh well my exams r over and i still dont have a backup plan in mind

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?

all of dance gavin dance’s albums have awesome art

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

back when i was really into 5sos i thought of getting a tally since that was their logo at that time but now no not really unless i decide to get lance’s face tattooed onto my forehead on impulse

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

im keeping up with hq, bnha and tg manga!!!!

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

idk what those r but sure

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

big hero 6

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

who wrote this whats up with these questions

i googled and.. not really?? they all look nice

89: are you close to your parents?

close enough to stand being in the same room as them but not close enough to want to initiate conversations

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities.

tokyo was really cool (literally) and if i ever go again id love to go with friends so we can explore more??

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

japan was supposed to be the only plan for this year but my grandad passed away so i had to go to malaysia multiple times earlier this year ik this wasnt the qn but ive already went to the planned destination tm so

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

BARELY SPRINKLES A PINCH im anti cheese

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

um. like?? i tie the sides of my hair that cover my face back??? bc i dont like hair in my face

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

bell

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

hopefully something useful

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

i also click remind me tomorrow lmao

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

infp-t, capricorn, hufflepuff (same as falen nd jen yay)

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

uh ive never been hiking and i dont plan on it sorry body

99: list some five (or id never shut up) songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

currently......

when you love someone - day6

like we used to - the rose

crazy sexy cool - astro

death of a strawberry - dance gavin dance

if it means a lot to you - a day to remember

idk if these actually “resonate to my soul” they just sound nice

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

oh worm.. i wouldnt miind either???

i know i have 2 choose but like

if i go back into the past i could be less annoying?? but the past has actually helped me be the way i am today and i think im learning to be a better person?? im definitely way better than how i was previously 5 years ago and im just grateful i was able to learn from my mistakes???

so i wouldnt go back to the past.

if its in the future i can see how ill end up and if its not good i might end up being able to change myself so i dont get my “bad end”..???? maybe or i can just see what happens in the future and i can look forward to it

itll also give me a chnace to have the most fun while i can if its not too nice

so my decision is to go to the future

thank you so much for asking falen god this got so long lmao

[terrifyingrenegadelibrary]

Chapter 9

Better Than Caffeine

-Janice opens fire. The Magicians and Liz dive out of the way as Janice conjures up more guns, and as all the guns are polite, elegant derringers as opposed to Janice’s usual artillery, there isn’t a whole lot to avoid-

Morgan: Damn it!

-she conjures a scythe, but it’s still wispy and translucent-

Morgan: What? Why can’t I cast?

-Laura forms her spheres, but they’re tiny and equally wispy-

Laura: Nalis said he’d rerouted the connections of everyone in town, right? If Zaresi’s low on power, we are too.

Morgan: Because nothing can ever just work out. Of course.

Janice: Hey, less talking, more dying.

-they continue firing, everyone taking cover behind tombstones-

Morgan: I can’t believe we’re having the big climactic boss fight and I can’t even do anything.

Liz: What?

Evan: See, this is what you get for using spells. Once a ritual’s made, it’s not like you can unmake it, so I guess I’m the only one properly armed right now. As usual, I’m—

-he cuts off-

Morgan: Do you actually have any rituals on hand that aren’t based around brainwashing people with coffee?

Evan: …Maybe.

Morgan: Why is it you’re only useful when nobody wants you to be?

Evan: Oh, shut up.

Laura: So we’re screwed, basically.

Liz: Not quite. You three are Magicians, but I have my own magic. Under ordinary circumstances I’d rather not use it without Zaresi to draw on, but I think this qualifies as an emergency. Stay down.

-Liz hops over the tombstone. The Magicians follow her instructions, but then…-

Morgan: Come on. Are we really going to miss a chance to see Liz fight?

-and they poke their heads up to see Liz easily evading a volley of shots from Janice-

Liz: Janice, I made a ritual that can get the magic out of your system! If you hold still, I can get you free!

Janice: Now, why would I want to do that? Nalis lets me shoot things.

Liz: I sort of figured you’d say that. I just didn’t want anyone to think I hadn’t offered you the easy way out.

-she spreads her wings, sniping every single bullet out of the air with a feather, and then fires another feather at Janice, hurling them backwards-

Janice: …Ow.

-they don’t bother getting up-

Morgan: That was so cool.

-Liz turns around-

Liz: What part of “Stay down” didn’t you get? Magicians these days, hon—

-she flickers-

Liz: Crap.

Morgan: What’s going on?

Liz: Spirits don’t generate magic like mortals do. Normally, my Contract with Zaresi would be keeping me sustained right now, but if all her connections are gone too, she probably can’t afford to waste any more power on me than she is on you.

Morgan: Wait, so—

Liz: For the time being, I’m a limited resource.

-she goes to exorcise Janice-

Morgan: …So it’s two weakened spellcasters, an unarmed ritualist, and a dying Spirit, up against an entire town’s worth of Magicians?

Liz: Essentially.

Morgan: …This is going to be a really long day.

Laura: Yes.

Evan: Actually, I have an idea. Do we have spray-paint?

Morgan: There’s some at my house, why?

Evan: I took down those charms when I was working for Retilwa, but if I can put them up again, I should be able to channel a ritual through them that ends the brainwashing for everyone.

-Laura and Liz’s heads snap around-

Laura: Wait, what?

Evan: Got a problem with that?

Liz: Not at all. I’m impressed, actually.

Laura: Wait, wh-where would we get the magic to power that?

Evan: I’ve still got a bottle of distilled Nicholas at home. Sure, I used some of it to make the Coffee ritual, but there’s more than enough left to power a few thousand sigils.

Liz: I could use a little of that too, now that you mention it.

Morgan: Well, what are we waiting for? We have a plan, let’s make it happen.

Laura: Um, someone needs to rescue Zaresi too, right? Nalis is most likely holding her and the rest of the gods hostage, so if Evan’s going to use his ritual, he needs to make his Contract again.

Liz: Good point.

Laura: O-okay, so I’ll go with Morgan, then?

Liz: No. Your job right now is to keep Evan from getting killed. I’ll take Morgan to find Zaresi and the other gods.

Laura: Wait, but—

Morgan: Laura, what’s wrong? I’ll be just fine.

-she grins at Laura, who frowns-

Laura: …Right. Evan, come on.

Evan: About time.

-the two run off-

Morgan: What was that all about?

Liz: …She likes you an awful lot. I don’t think she wants you getting hurt.

Morgan: Aww. She doesn’t have anything to worry about. We’ll be fine.

Liz: Let’s find Zaresi before you jinx us to death. Keep in mind, anyone besides us who isn’t brainwashed is most likely working for Nalis of their own accord.

-at the word “brainwashed” Morgan’s eyes widen-

Morgan: Wait! What about Holly? Or Quinn? We need to find them and make sure they’re okay!

Liz: Your sister? Laura and Evan are already going to your house to collect spray-paint. I’m sure they’ll check on her.

Morgan: That’s not as reassuring as you seem to think.

Liz: Little ever is. Now get moving.

-the two break into a run-

Liz: Nalis sets up shop by the bookstore, I think. If anything’s going on, it’ll be there.

Morgan: We’re not too far, then.

-suddenly, a random bystander turns around-

Bystander: Admittedly true, but—

-the two leave earshot of the bystander, and another speaks up-

Bystander #2: You journey may not be so smooth.

Bystander #3: You see—

Bystander #4: Taylor was not my only hidden Magician.

-glowing pink diamonds streak from nowhere. Liz evades them, but Morgan is knocked to the ground as a blonde, curly-haired girl makes her presence known, more diamonds appearing around her like knives-

Girl: Hi! I’m Celia!

-she rubs her hands together excitedly-

Celia: It gets super-boring just working for Nalis and not even getting to do anything, you know! I was soooo jealous of Taylor, getting to be all mysterious and fighty, but now I get to be mysterious and fighty too!

-she fires another round of diamonds. Morgan generates a scythe, but it’s fairly pitiful-

Celia: I think Taylor’s still lucky though. He got to fight you when you actually had any real magic, but I have to do it when you’re all weak and pathetic.

-she blows a raspberry-

Celia: Oh well! I can still have fun!

-she points at one of her diamonds, which grows large and sharp-

Celia: Say cheese!

-the diamond hurtles towards Morgan, who rolls out of the way-

Celia: Hey! Stay still!

-she forms another diamond, but is interrupted by Morgan tackling her-

Celia: Now that’s just unfair.

Morgan: You really want to talk about fair right now?

-Morgan ducks a diamond-

Morgan: Liz! What should I do with her?

Liz: Maybe snap her neck?

Morgan: That doesn’t involve killing her!

Liz: Um!

-Morgan avoids another gem-

Morgan: Quickly, please!

Liz: I have a ritual I set up a while ago that will keep a Magician from doing magic for a little while, but I only made one use of it and I don’t have the energy to create another one from scratch! I sort of planned to use it on Taylor!

Morgan: How about we burn that bridge when we get to it?

Liz: If you insist.

-she points at Celia, who is currently being pinned to the ground by Morgan, and shouts a nonsense word. A sigil forms around her for a moment, and then another forms around Celia. The diamonds all vanish, and Morgan gets up-

Celia: Hey! What did you do?

Liz: Nothing permanent. But even Morgan has more magic than you right now, so I’d suggest sitting the rest of this war out.

-Celia waves her hands, but nothing happens. She gives Morgan a terrified look. Morgan conjures a wispy scythe, and Celia runs for it-

Morgan: Lucky you had that ritual on hand.

Liz: I make my own luck. But I told you, we’ve only got the one shot at that, and we just used it. For the next Magician, you’re on your own.

Morgan: Got it.

-they keep running-

-until they crash into Jacob. Morgan falls over. Liz doesn’t-

Jacob: Hey, what gives?

Morgan: Jacob! You’re awake!

Jacob: Oh, yeah, Allen woke me up. Said something about a “new world order” and coffee, and then went to the bookstore.

Liz: He doesn’t look brainwashed to me. Morgan, is your friend a Love Magician?

Morgan: Actually, I think he just doesn’t drink coffee. It would explain a lot.

Jacob: It pollutes the mind, you know.

Morgan: You’re more right than average today. Jacob, have you seen my sister? Or Quinn?

-Jacob yawns-

Jacob: Actually, yeah. They were with Allen. Are any of them dating?

Morgan: You—No. They’re not.

-she exchanges a look with Liz-

Liz: Fine, fine, I was wrong.

Morgan: You should probably stay home today.

Jacob: Oh, cool. I was going to do that anyway.

-he yawns and wanders off-

Morgan: We have to get to the bookstore.

Liz: We already had to get to the bookstore.

Morgan: Let’s just move.

-they do. As they do, though, they run past more people talking-

Bystander: You got past Celia?

Bystander #2: Impressive, if entirely expected. But there’s plenty more to do, even if you did exorcise Janice.

Bystander #3: I’ve broken their Contract, by the way. Don’t count on any help from them.

Bystander #4: Oh, I’d duck.

-Morgan does, and a wave of pink magic passes over her head. Liz dodges it, and a boy and a girl step out from behind a house, wearing matching pink scarves-

Boy: Hi! That’s Kaylie—

Kaylie: And this is Pierce! And we’re going to stop you with the power of Love!

-the two strike a pose, a heart forming around them-

Morgan: I mean…they’re not technically wrong, I guess.

Liz: You know how I said you were on your own for the next fight?

Morgan: Yeah, why?

Liz: I changed my mind.

-she darts forwards in front of Morgan-

Liz: Hey, lovebirds!

Kaylie: Yes?

Pierce: Do you have something you’d like to say?

Liz: Not exactly!

-her arms extend into long tendrils, each one wrapping around one of the two Magicians-

Liz: But you two are incredibly annoying!

-and she leaps into the air, does a complete corkscrew, and spikes them both into the ground-

-oneshotted-

Morgan: …Wow. What brought that on?

-Liz picks herself up, now looking positively gaseous-

Liz: …I just really don’t like lovey-dovey stuff.

Morgan: …Maybe Laura and I should cut down on the PDA, huh?

Liz: I didn’t say that.

Morgan: …

Liz: …

-Morgan gives Liz a thumbs-up-

Liz: That makes you look old.

Morgan: Jeez. Let’s just go rescue everyone.

Liz: Let’s.

-so they move-

Morgan: Hey, you know who hasn’t shown up? Richard. Does he drink coffee?

Liz: Wait, damn it! I completely forgot about—

-click-

-a sigil glows into life below the two, and they both leap away in time to avoid the resulting explosion-

Morgan: That was close. Is he nearby?

Liz: Probably not. He doesn’t usually stick around to check his work. But he likes to put traps together. If there’s one sigil, that means…

-multiple additional sigils light up, and tulpas begin forming. Mostly humanoid ones, with a few dogs and birds mixed in-

Liz: There will be more.

Morgan: Can’t anything ever just be simple?

Liz: Rarely. We’re going to have to run for it.

-they turn around, but more tulpas are already approaching from behind-

Morgan: Oh.

Liz: That’s unfortunate.

Morgan: Uh…it was an honor fighting with you?

Liz: I mean, I guess.

Morgan: …Yeah, this is anticlimactic and depressing.

-at which point there’s a loud bang, and several tulpas explode-

Morgan: What was that?!

Janice: Hi!

-they skip into view, raising a hunting rifle into position again and firing to take out another set of tulpas-

Morgan: Oh my god, I’ve never been this happy to see you.

-Janice continues firing at the tulpas. Noticeable, the sounds made by their rifle are different than usual-

-also, the rifle is real and not made of magic-

Morgan: …Janice, is that an actual gun?

Janice: Yeah, why?

Morgan: …No reason.

Janice: If it helps, I don’t usually use it on humans.

-it doesn’t-

Liz: How are you casting?

Janice: Oh, these are just some rituals I cooked up. Once you got the coffee out of my head, I didn’t have any magic to cast spells with, so I figured I’d pick up some stuff I stored in my garage.

Morgan: Why do you have a magic gun?

Janice: In case my regular magic guns run out. Which they did!

-they fire again-

Morgan: I’m simultaneously incredibly afraid and very grateful.

Janice: Thanks!

-they either didn’t notice or didn’t care that only half that sentence was meant as a compliment-

Janice: You guys should probably go on ahead and deal with Nalis. I’ll clear up the tulpas and talk to Richard to snap him out of things.

Liz: Right. Morgan, let’s go.

Morgan: Are you sure you’ll be okay?

-Janice beams-

Janice: I’ll be fine! I’ve known Richard for years.

-they cock their rifle-

Janice: I can snap him out of any brainwashing.

-they fire and the rifle clicks, they toss it to the side and pull out a handgun, which is evidently also loaded with magic bullets because each shot sends sprays of War magic everywhere-

Janice: By the way, when you see Nalis, make sure he suffers, ‘kay?

-they punctuate this by firing a bullet right past Morgan to kill a tulpa about to attack her from behind-

Morgan: …Will do.

Janice: Awesome! See you in a bit!

-as Morgan and Liz run off, they hear a cry of “Take cover” followed by a massive explosion of War magic-

Morgan: That was fortunate.

Liz: Very.

Morgan: And also terrifying.

Liz: Yes.

Morgan: Okay, let’s get moving. There can’t be that many Magicians le—

-she’s cut off by reaching the bookstore, where a fairly impressive scene is going down. Nalis, surrounded by Nymphs, is leaning against the wall, having grown to approximately Zaresi’s height. Zaresi, Vorn, Erian, Novju, and all associated Spirits, meanwhile, are entangled in chains, and most have shrunk dramatically-

-also, Allen and Holly are being held by one of the Nymphs-

Nalis: Yo!

-Morgan immediately charges, forming a scythe, but is intercepted by a Nymph, who parries the scythe with a giant flower-

Morgan: Let them go! And where’s Quinn?

Nalis: Uh, why exactly would I do that? Hey, Nymph #3? If Morgan attacks me again, kill the humans.

Nymph #3: Right!

Nalis: The third one…I dunno. Haven’t seen her.

-he leers. Morgan glares-

Morgan: What did you do to her?

-Nalis shrugs. Morgan growls, but dispels her scythe, and looks to Liz for direction. The Reaper appears somewhat defeated, though-

Nalis: I get it. Lots of righteous anger. But let me run the numbers for you. You’ve got no power, Liz is all out of tricks, and if you try and attack me, I’ll kill your friends. Should I go over things again? Is there something I’m missing?

Morgan: Leaving aside that if you hurt any of my friends, I’ll kill you with my bare hands, magic or no magic?

Nalis: Definitely leaving that aside.

Morgan: Yeah, there is.

-Evan and Laura run up. Evan looks triumphant. Laura looks nervous-

Evan: Okay! Sigils up, jar of nickels collected, ritual’s a go. Where’s Zaresi?

-Laura points wordlessly-

Evan: Oh. That’s a bit annoying. Morgan, how much do you care about your sister?

Morgan: …Are you kidding me?

Evan: Just checking.

Liz: Evan, would you mind giving me that?

-Evan hands Liz the jar. She dips a hand into it-

Nalis: What is that? What are you doing?

Liz: You know, I’m sure you sat out the battle with Nicholas because you didn’t want to give away the depth of resources to which you had access…

-her form becomes more clearly defined, and she spreads her wings-

Liz: But you missed a whole lot. Evan, hold this for me.

-she hands him the jar and saunters towards Nalis’s troops-

Morgan: Liz, wait!

Nalis: Nymph 3! Do your thing!

Nymph #3: Ri—

-it poofs into nothingness as Liz snipes it through the head with a feather-

-followed by the rest of them going as well. The chains are also destroyed, the gods dropping to the ground-

Nalis: Whoa!

-he turns his attention to Holly and Allen-

Nalis: Both of you, I want you to—

-he’s cut off as another feather zips past him-

Nalis: Hey! Watch it!

-and Liz flashes by him, catching Holly and Allen and exorcising them both-

-they look around in shock-

Allen: Where are we?

Holly: No idea. Wait…Morgan, is that you?

Allen: Do you know anybody else who looks exactly like you?

Morgan: Um…you two should get home. We’ll talk about this later.

-Allen nods and heads off-

Nalis: Hey, wait one sec—

-he’s interrupted by another volley of feathers from Liz-

Holly: Morgan, I don’t understand. What’s going on?

Morgan: I’ll explain in a bit! Run!

-this is punctuated by the floor exploding next to Holly. She takes the advice. Morgan sighs. Laura stares at her, but makes no move to assist-

-meanwhile, Evan has sprinted past the battle, to Zaresi-

Evan: Zaresi! I apologize for my truancy and reaffirm myself as your servant once more!

Zaresi: Apology accepted, Evan.

-Evan grins wickedly-

Evan: Then let’s make this happen.

-he raises the jar-

Evan: This is for beating me to killing Retilwa! Ectopi—

-the sun goes out-

Evan: Huh?

-it’s a localized event, as a massive dark shape slams to the ground by Nalis, interlaced with flickers of pink-

-and a chain appears from nowhere, snatching the jar from Evan and bringing it to the hand of Taylor, who followed the dark shape to the bookstore-

Taylor: Hey, Nalis. Picked you up something from the store.

-he turns to Team Zaresi-

Taylor: What? I said we needed it alive.

-indeed, it’s the Fae-

-they are all too stunned to respond-

Evan: You…you! Do you even know what you’re dealing with?

Taylor: I mean, not really, but I know it likes eating magic, and that it’s totally under our control. What more do you really need? Drink up!

-he tosses the jar of Nicholas’s magic into the Fae, where it vanishes instantly-

-the Fae turns darker and more defined, limbs growing out of it. While it’s still silent, the air ripples around it from the force of its power, and the ground cracks where newly-grown talons strike it-

Morgan: Um…is this bad?

Laura: Extremely.

Morgan: Should we run?

Evan: Probably.

Taylor: Sic ‘em. Tybalt!

-as Taylor whips around to battle Liz, the Fae stampedes forwards, and the Magicians scatter. The Fae crashes past them and into a building, getting its newly solid form jammed in-

Laura: Any ideas?

Morgan: Besides not dying?

Laura: I was hoping more for a game plan!

Evan: When in doubt, hit the enemy’s weakest link.

Morgan: You mean Taylor? I think Liz has that covered.

-indeed, she’s currently evading chains and sending feathers flying at him-

Taylor: You really are a very irritating Spirit. You already died once; is it so much to ask for an encore?

Liz: I don’t take requests, I’m afraid.

Evan: The faster we get him out of the picture, the faster his hold on the Fae dissipates. Come on.

-he hurls his knife at Taylor, who ducks it-

Liz: Evan, what help do you really think you can offer me in this situation?

-Liz takes flight to avoid chains coming up from the ground, but Taylor catches her with another one, dragging her back to earth-

Liz: Nngh!

Taylor: This would be so much easier if Spirits drank coffee. Oh well. I hope you like murdering your friends.

Morgan: Hey!

-and she takes the direct approach, tackling Taylor to the ground-

Taylor: Ow!

-the chain disappears, and Liz lifts off again. Taylor turns to Morgan-

Taylor: You are going to pay for that.

Morgan: Actually, given as Laura’s behind you, probably you are.

-Taylor spins around, lashing out with a chain…and sends Evan flying-

Taylor: …That wasn’t Laura. Can’t you even recognize your own girlfriend?

-at which point Laura hits him with a helical burst from the side, knocking him to the ground-

Morgan: Whoops. Distraction!

Evan: Are you kidding me?

Liz: I’ll deal with him! You get the gods out of their chains!

Morgan: Right!

-Morgan and Laura begin the slow process of disintegrating the chains around the gods and Spirits. As Taylor gets to his feet, he’s pinned down by a series of feathers-

Liz: Yeah, we’re not finished.

-she hurls another feather down, striking him in a huge burst of magic-

Liz: Oh. Wait. Now we are.

Morgan: Ha! Problem totally solved!

-the two finish cutting the chains, and the gods begin fleeing in different direction-

Zaresi: Excellent work.

Vorn: Quick question. Why didn’t you get rid of the smoke cloud first?

Morgan: Huh? If Taylor’s out cold, that means he—

-beat-

Morgan: Can’t…control…it…

-beat-

-the Fae rips its way out of the building, blades and tendrils growing from it as it transforms into a ball of sharp-

Morgan: …Time to go.

Laura: Yep.

-cut to them running-

Evan: Didn’t we just come this way?

Morgan: If you’d rather get eaten, be my guest.

Laura: I can’t believe we forgot about the Fae!

Morgan: Really? I can.

Evan: Either way, we need to find a place to hide! I can kill it if we do!

Morgan: Speaking of hiding, have either of you seen Quinn anywhere?

Laura: I haven’t, sorry.

Evan: Why do you care? She’s either brainwashed or dead, and either way it doesn’t really make a difference if you find her.

Morgan: After we’re done here, remind me to punch you in the face.

Evan: If you find me somewhere I can get a little work done, I might even not punch you back.

-as they run, they come across Janice-

Janice: Oh, hey you three! I fixed Richard!

-they twirl their gun. Laura ducks-

Janice: Well, actually, I knocked him out, but I’ll deal with him later. He’ll be fine, is my point.

Morgan: Janice, run!

Janice: Huh? Wh—

-and the Fae whips around the corner-

Janice: Oh. Well.

-and it bats them aside so fast they vanish-

Morgan: Janice!

Evan: They’ll be fine. Probably. But we won’t if we don’t keep moving!

-So they do-

Laura: There’s a tornado shelter under the library, if we can get there we might be able to buy some time!

Evan: Sounds like a plan, assuming we make it!

-there’s a crackle of thunder, and bolts of lightning descend from the sky, striking the Fae. It slows slightly-

Erian: Did someone say “make it”?

Evan: Since when are you helpful?

Morgan: Ignore him! How’d you get out?

Erian: Oh, Liz helped out with that.

-she lands between the Fae and Team Zaresi, and a wall of wind cuts it off-

Erian: So as a favor to her, I’m keeping you guys from dying! Though I always felt like you should all be more excited about that. Because, y’know, goddess of Death, right?

Laura: …That’s not really how it works.

Evan: Eh.

Morgan: Thank you, though.

Erian: From where I’m standing, stopping Nalis is in the best interests of the town. Which includes me! I’m not even the only one helping out~

Morgan: Wait, who else is—

-pop, electric blue light-

-unpop within the shelter-

Morgan: …Everybody gets two, I guess?

Laura: Uh…thanks, Novju!

Evan: Thanks? I have tickets in very uncomfortable places right now.

Morgan: Evan, just get your work done. I really want to punch you.

Evan: Ah, yes. This should just take a moment.

-he takes his knife from his pocket-

Evan: See, my ritual was a bit of a pain to figure out, but turns out? It’s actually pretty simple to make once you know the trick.

-he makes a slash on his arm, and then drains a tiny bit of magic in an odd, keylike pattern. The knife glows-

Evan: Necrosyrtes.

-the knife stops glowing, and the Death magic is sucked into it-

Evan: And hey. I know it works now.

-he smiles brightly as a massive tendril punches a hole into the shelter-

Evan: So. Someone else want to say it? Can I say it?

Morgan: I’ll say it.

Evan: If you insist.

-the Fae starts to fill the shelter-

Morgan: Fae! Understand that your actions here today are in violation of the Divine Convocation. Should you not cease immediately, a reaction will be provoked.

-she settles into a fighting stance-

Morgan: Now for the something flashy…

-she conjures up a scythe. Despite its wispiness, when she slashes at the Fae with it, it recoils-

Morgan: Let’s do this.

-and the battle begins-

Morgan: Evan, you’ve got the knife, you’re on point!

-she and Laura step back, fending off tentacles with what spellwork they can manage-

Evan: I have to say I’m slightly uncomfortable with the plan.

Morgan: Want a straw?

Evan: A straw?

Morgan: So you can suck it up! Just keep an eye out!

Evan: Seriously, Morgan, I’ve seen enough anime to know how this—ugh!

-the two girls turn to see Evan knocked sprawling by a tendril appearing from under his feet. He drops the knife, which clatters away-

Morgan: …Seriously?

Evan: I’d like to see you dodge all these tentacles!

Morgan: What do you think we’ve been doing, having tea?

Laura: Never mind him! Morgan, you’re point now!

Evan: Um, Laura—

Laura: Get the knife to the tendrils! Like last time!

Evan: Laura, I—

Laura: I’ll cover!

-Laura swings her arms out to send bursts of Death magic everywhere, burning away the tendrils, while Morgan once again dives for the knife. However, a tendril rises from the ground, cutting her off-

Morgan: Hey!

Evan: Laura! You need to get that knife!

Laura: I—

-but she grabs it anyway as Morgan starts hacking through the tendrils around her-

Evan: Now! Find one and stab!

Laura: …

-she stares at the tendrils-

Evan: What are you waiting for?

Laura: I…I don’t think—

Evan: Stab it!

Laura: But…

-Evan, who is still being swarmed by tendrils, hisses-

Evan: Oh, grow a pair and stab the damn tentacle so we can get this pathetic sidequest over with and get back to the main event!

Morgan: Excuse yo—

Evan: Shut up!

-Morgan stares. Laura, meanwhile, continues staring at the knife, until she’s bowled over by a tendril. The knife clatters to the ground again-

Evan: I hate you so much right now.

Morgan: I’ve got it!

-she dives for the knife, scooping it up-

Evan: Okay, fine, whatever, now give that to me so I can get this done!

Morgan: I’m on it, don’t worry your asshole little head!

-a tendril swoops for Morgan. She sidesteps, and plunges the knife into it-

Evan: Wait, you should—

Morgan: What was that keyword you used, Evan?

Evan: Morgan, no!

Morgan: Necrosyrtes!

-there’s a flash of black-

-and then Morgan’s somewhere else-

Flashback

-Morgan is looking out at the world from a position on the floor in a small room, surrounded by an intricate pentagram. A man is standing over her, Zaresi standing over him, and Evan and Laura close by-

Zaresi: …Excellent work, Shroud.

Morgan (as narration): Where am I…?

Shroud: Excellent work indeed, my lady! I, Shroud the Magnificent, have created for you a tulpa to surpass all tulpas!

Morgan: …A tulpa?

Zaresi: …Well, I would not give yourself that much credit.

Evan: Seriously, don’t.

Shroud: It’s a pretty darn good tulpa, is all I’m saying.

-Morgan shifts around, bouncing against the edges of the pentagram-

Shroud: Sure took a lot out of me, though.

Zaresi: I can only imagine.

Shroud: So, what is you need it for, anyway? Skirmish with Vorn next Town Hall meeting? Getting rid of Nalis once and for all? Just showing off? Wreaking general havoc?

Zaresi: I have never been in the business of wreaking havoc. I do indeed intend this tulpa to tip the balance of power in this town towards myself, certainly.

Shroud: I’ve never been so honored before! Truly, this is a day of days.

Zaresi: Let us not get ahead of ourselves. Have you placed the seals on it so we can control it?

Shroud: Your wish is my command!

-a set of wickedly curved knives appear around him-

Morgan: Wait, are those—

-the knives hang in the air-

Zaresi: Shroud?

Shroud: I—I—

Zaresi: Are you well?

Evan: Ooh, ooh, I know this one.

Shroud: …Oh, drat.

-the knives drop down, forming a series of seals in the pentagram-

-and Shroud detonates, leaving a pile of ash and a glowing black miasma-

Morgan: Oh my god!

Laura: …Crap.

Evan: Dibs on not cleaning it up.

Laura: I mean, I never liked him, but that’s a terrible way to go.

Evan: Well, you can’t say he didn’t put himself into his work.

Laura: Was that necessary?

Evan: You know, I hate it when people ask that.

-the miasma suddenly coalesces into a Reaper-

Laura: Ack!

-Evan takes a step back, pointing his knife at the Reaper, but Zaresi holds him back-

Zaresi: Reaper. Do you remember anything?

-the Reaper looks side to side, and then rockets out of the room-

Zaresi: …Unfortunate.

Evan: Dibs on not cleaning that up either.

Laura: Come on.

-time passes-

Morgan: What’s going on…?

-and Laura and Evan rejoin Zaresi in the room with the pentagram-

Evan: See? Told you I wouldn’t need to clean it up.

Laura: You still nearly let some poor girl die.

Evan: Excuse me? I saved her life.

Laura: Her life only needed saving because you were too lazy to do your job.

Evan: Yeah, well, your mom was too lazy to do her job too.

Laura: …Zaresi, can I punch him?

Zaresi: You may.

-she does-

Morgan: As soon as I get out of this weird hallucination, I’m going to do the same.

Zaresi: Anyway, you two, I have decided to recruit this Magician. She clearly has some power, and I would like to have her on our side when our plan goes through. I particularly do not want her on anyone else’s side.

Laura: Oh.

Evan: How exactly do you plan on getting her to join up? She seems pretty happy with her life, and I figured gods only recruited people who were miserable.

Laura: Uh, at the risk of agreeing with Evan, he does have a point. She’s got two parents, a sister she loves, and a pretty solid friend group…not exactly approachable with an offer to join a secret society.

Evan: I could always kill some of them.

Zaresi: Regrettably, you are close.

Laura: Wait, what?!

Evan: Dibs!

Zaresi: Evan, calm yourself. I have decided to kill two birds with one stone. When in distress or contemplative, this girl comes to the graveyard to speak to the angel statue there, which will mean an easy opportunity for an overture. To that ends, I will test Shroud’s tulpa by having it attack and injure her sister. The Magician will come to talk to the statue, where I will make my offer. She will accept in return for healing her sister, and she will be added to our company none the wiser.

Laura: …I really don’t like this.

Evan: I think it’s hilarious.

Zaresi: Admittedly perturbing, but it seems to me the most effective method of providing leverage. I take no pleasure in it, but it must be done. Now…

-she generates a scythe, and touches it to the seal on the pentagram-

Zaresi: You have your orders.

-the pentagram hisses, and explodes, throwing everyone back-

Laura: Uh-oh.

-Morgan expands upwards, filling the space, and then whisks away on the wind-

Zaresi: …That is disheartening. Let us hope the command at least worked.

Evan: Eh. How much trouble can a tulpa be?

-cut to Morgan soaring above the town-

-she sees Holly below her-

Morgan: No…!

-and dives-

Morgan: No no no no n—

-and slams headlong into Holly, sending her flying, before disappearing into the woods-

Morgan: No!

-fast-forward through everything else, until we reach Morgan stabbing the “Fae”-

-and she jerks up, to see no cloud, and Laura just getting up, while Evan stares at her in shock-

-Morgan punches him-

Evan: Ow!

Morgan: That’s for what you said to Laura back then.

Laura: Back th—

-she turns to Evan-

Laura: What’s she talking about?

Morgan: Well, Evan? What am I talking about?

-Evan, for once in his life, looks totally off-guard-

Evan: …Did it attack you? Psychically?

Morgan: Please. You aren’t that good a liar.

Laura: Morgan, what are you talking about?

Morgan: There’s not even such a thing as a Fae, is there?

Laura: Evan, what is going on—

Morgan: Answer me, not her! Now!

-Evan glares at Morgan-

Laura: What the hell is going on?!

Morgan: You’re the reason Holly was in the hospital in the first place!

-Laura freezes in shock-

Evan: …The ritual, the one I used against Nicholas. It has a side effect.

Morgan: You’ve heard of your life flashing before your eyes, right? Well, I got to see that for that thing you made to get me to join. Isn’t that right, Evan?

Evan: …I wasn’t sure if it would happen with a tulpa.

-Laura’s eyes still wide, Morgan continues-

Morgan: So that’s why he didn’t want me using the ritual. Because he knew I’d find out what you did.

Laura: Morgan…

-Morgan whips around to look at Laura, and the full impact of what she’s seen hits her. She’s speechless-

Laura: Morgan, did you—

Morgan: I could have expected this from Evan, but…

-her voice catches, and she can’t continue. Laura takes a step forward-

Morgan: No!

-Laura stops, looking guilty-

Morgan: Please, just…don’t. Okay?

Laura: …Okay.

Morgan: I just need…

-she clenches her fists, and magic sparks up-

Laura: Morgan—

Evan: If you’d allow me to explain—

-Morgan punches Evan in the face again-

Morgan: That’s the one I promised you earlier.

she whirls back towards Laura, who just stares at her sadly-

Laura: …Please don’t go. You don’t kno—

-and Morgan runs, climbing out of the hole in the shelter roof left by the tulpa-

Evan: Awkward.

-he rubs his jaw-

Laura: You deserved that, you know.

Evan: Ah, whatever. Not like she was going to be sticking around after our next trick anyway.

-Laura winces-

Evan: You knew this was coming, not my fault you started a relationship with an expiration date. We got the magic back, let’s pull the trigger on this.

Laura: …Right.

-Morgan, meanwhile, is running through the town, seeing the destruction left by the tulpa-

Morgan: Hmph. Serves them right if they have to let people know what’s going on after this.

-and she arrives back at the bookstore, where Liz is clearing things up. Zaresi has left, though Vorn is still around. Taylor is lying on the ground, semiconscious-

Liz: Oh, Morgan. Did you—

Morgan: Yeah, I killed the tulpa.

-Liz processes this for a moment-

Liz: Oh. Well then.

Morgan: Yeah.

Liz: Have you seen Nalis?

Morgan: Wait, that’s seriously what you’re asking me? I just found out you engineered a hit on my sister to get me to join you, and Laura and Evan are talking about pulling some trigger, and that’s what’s at the forefront of your mind?

Liz: Ah, they’re doing that now? I suppose it doesn’t matter then.

-she sits down, and takes a deep breath-

Morgan: What are you talking about?!

Liz: You’ll see.

-there’s a hiss. Morgan spins around to see a circle spraypainted near the bookstore glowing brightly-

Morgan: The unbrainwashing ritual?

Liz: …Not precisely.

-and a burst of Death magic streams out from it, piercing through Taylor’s chest-

-Morgan screams-

Liz: Relax.

Morgan: What’s happening?!

Vorn: I have the same question! Liz, what is this?

Liz: None of your concern anymore.

-another tendril branches off from the first one, stabbing through Vorn and twisting skywards, where it splits into four new branches that all go in different directions-

-as Morgan looks up, she can see five other pillars of Death magic rising up, each one emitting its own branches-

Liz: Goodbye, Vorn. I can’t say it was nice knowing you.

-as she looks back at Vorn and Taylor, the shapes of the two waver. Vorn simply vanishes, and Taylor explodes into dust. Red and pink light drains from each of them down the branches impaling them-

Morgan: Liz!

Liz: It won’t hurt you. It will only touch things unaligned with Death.

Morgan: But what is it?

Liz: Evan was correct in saying that these sigils would be used to amplify a ritual. At the moment, they’re being used to amplify the ritual he keeps on his knife.

Morgan: …They’re going to drain the magic from everyone in the town?

Liz: …Yes.

Morgan: I have to go.

Liz: It’s too late.

Morgan: I don’t care.

-and she goes-

-as she runs through the town again, she sees bolts of Death magic striking other people. A Forecaster is caught midflight. Kaylie and Pierce are consumed from where they’re still lying prone, pink light streaming up from them-

Erian: Hey! What’s th—

-and she’s gone too. Morgan keeps running, and nearly runs headlong into Novju, who has already been caught-

Novju: Well then.

Morgan: I—I didn’t know!

Novju: Neither did I, I’m afraid. Too late for either of us.

-she gives Morgan a contemplative look, and is sucked down the tendril. Morgan’s gaze hardens, and she keeps running-

-and she slams headlong into Quinn-

Quinn: Ow! Morgan, what’s going on?!

Morgan: Quinn! I—

-she stops-

Morgan: Wait. You’re not brainwashed.

-Quinn sighs-

Morgan: …And you know something’s happening.

-Quinn looks away slightly-

Morgan: …You work for Nalis.

Quinn: And you work for Zaresi. What’s going on?

-Morgan’s frozen in shock for a moment, and she hugs Quinn-

Quinn: Oh.

-there’s a short gasp of shock. Morgan looks up, and sees that a tendril has gone through Quinn, neatly forking around Morgan. Quinn freezes, as pink light flickers along her-

-and she explodes, leaving a cloud of ash and a pink haze-

[bazzledazzled]

The last one + solangelo

kk!

Prompt: “What a good mortal. I’m glad I decided to keep you.”

The thing with Nico di Angelo is that he tended to landed himself in situations that almost nobody could ever get into. Maybe it was because people saw him, a scrawny teenager with his headphones blasting Fall Out Boy, completely oblivious to the round around him. Maybe it was because he was a magnet, drawing trouble from the depths of the shadows where it lurked, repelling all things good like two south poles facing each other away.

So, really, when he heard a strange noise, like the fluttering of wings, and turned to find a bag thrown over his head, he wasn’t surprised. A sickly sweet smell filled his nostrils and before he could even shout, his brain clouded over with a foggy haze and the world swam into an inky blackness, thicker than sleep.

The twisted part about all of it that Nico actually felt peaceful for once. Sure maybe there was pain in his future and sure his sister would have a heart attack, but that didn’t seem to matter as warm fuzzy thoughts drifted through his head with a bright yellow glow. Some of them where memories of birthdays and happier times. Some flashed images of first crushes, and some were things he didn’t even recognize. Bright green pastures, blond curls, blue eyes. Something otherworldly, but at the same time, felt like home. With a gasp Nico woke up.

In a cage

—

Although technically speaking it was a really nice cage, if Nico was being honest with himself. It was weaved out of branches and vines, some looking like they were still growing before his eyes, playing on fast forward. There were bright flowers dotting the leaves, a variety of different colours. Beneath him was a bush which appeared to be a bed, and was surprisingly soft. Under his head was a pillow–no it was a chunk of moss, as well as the covers around him, but neither felt like so. Everything about it was off.

Nico turned as he heard something cackling and breaking, and he realized that it was the branches, shrinking to reveal a doorway. As they moved they seemed to get younger, until they were too young to exist anymore. They finally parted to reveal a boy who was…. all words and no words mixed into one.

He had blond curls piled on top of his head with a crown made of interlocking branches resting on top of them, a clear jewel resting in the center, seeming to flash rainbows whenever the light caught it a certain way. His ears were, oddly, pointed into tips at the dop, disappearing into his mane of hair. He was tall and willowy, everything about his graceful. He had on a plain tunic, the same breathtaking blue as his eyes, which almost seemed to glow in an eerie sort of way. And behind him there was a glimmer of something almost like…. wings.

Yeah that’s what they were. Wings. Almost transparent due to their translucent blue colour, but they were definitely there. Oh god what did Nico get himself into?

“Hullo mortal,” the boy said, his voice like the soft whistles of the wind lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Everything about it was wrong. Nico backed away.

“W-who are you? W-where am I?” The boy laughs, like his confusion is funny.

“I am Will, one of the fae.”

“The w-what?” Something about the name tickled at the corners of Nico’s consciousness, just out of reach. Something he read or learned at school…..

“The Fair Folk. Or Faeries, as some of your kind like to call us.”

“Fairies? Like Tinker Bell?” Will shakes his head sadly, smiling a little to himself.

“No. Far from that.”

“I–”

“Do not speak, mortal. The queen wishes to see you.”

“T-the queen? What about my f-family?”

“All in due time.” For some reason, his calmness angered Nico.

“Take me back,” he growls.

“I’m not at liberty to–”

“Take. Me. Back,” Nico says again, this time close enough to Will that he can feel his hot breath on his face. Will, however, remains calm.

“I am sorry, mortal. I don’t have the power to do that.” Nico growls, punching the wall beside him. There’s a satisfying crunch as it breaks, but only to grow back again, this time stronger. Nico turns back to Will, his frustration rolling off of him in waves that Will could practically feel. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Take me back,” he says again as Will already starts to shake his head. Then, he whispers softly, “Please. They’re all I have.”

Something in Will changes then, something small. His heart seems to feel lighter than air, and he wants nothing more than to comfort the poor mortal, bringing him peace once again.

“It’s the only way….” Nico punches him. Hard. It almost knocks him off balance, but he catches himself, right as guards rush into the cell, grabbing him by his arms. He fights against them, but in the end the fae are too strong. They drag him out as he glares back at Will, ready to face whatever the queen would condemn him too. And Will stood staring after him, a hand held up to his broken nose.

—

A few days, or months later, Nico lost track of time, Nico was sitting in the throne room, the queen with her long curly red hair in front of him, on his knees. On the sides of the room where officials; ambassadors, princes, and princesses alike. Among them was Will, chewing his lip nervously. Nico proved to be… difficult these past few weeks, refusing their kindness and getting a few good punches at a few of the guards. He wouldn’t eat any of their food, making him weak and his skin start to hang off of his already bony frame. He almost never talked, making his voice hoarse in the few rare times he did, and now he was waiting to see what the queen would do to him. Either she’d heal his broken mind…. or give him a fate worse than they could possibly imagine.

Under normal circumstances, Will wouldn’t have minded any of it. Most of the people brought to the fae were trespassing on their territory or some other dreadful thing, but this was the first boy to pass through their control that Will actually got to know, and that’s what made his heart flutter with nervousness.

Because Will was the one who kept watch over him as he slept.

And Will was the one who heard him cry.

At first, he didn’t understand what the noise was, the groans and sniffling echoing through the cell. He never heard a sound quite like it. his curiosity getting the best of him, he went into the cell, not prepared for what he was about to see. It definitely wasn’t Nico staring up at him, his eyes filled with sadness, anger, and annoyance. It wasn’t tears streaming down his face as he wiped them on the sleeves of his shirt, attempting to stare Will in the eye intimidatingly, but failing dramatically. That night, Will left without a word.

It was three days before Will heard it again. This time it seemed more muffled as the poor boy tried to hide it, but Will still heard. He came in again, opening his mouth to say something, but Nico just shook his head.

“Don’t you even start,” Nico whispered. Will left again.

The third time it happened, Nico was shaking by the time Will came in. His tears wouldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried and he was so lost in his own grief that he didn’t even bother to wipe the tears away, or tell Will to leave. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, so he sat beside Nico silently, twiddling his thumbs, thinking of what to say as Nico whimpered. He decided to try and embrace him, but Nico soon pulled away, seeming horrified.

“Don’t,” he growled.

They continued the same dance almost every other night, Will trying his best to help, but Nico keeping his distance. But one night Will didn’t show up. He forgets the exact reason why, but Nico was almost disappointed when he realized it wasn’t Will standing outside his cell, and even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, a small part of him missed him.

The next night, Will came into the cell, prompted by nothing other than the fact that he wanted to be there. Nico looked up, his mouth an “O” of surprise, and he stood up as Will stepped closer to him, an apology already on his lips.

“I’m sorry I had to–” But Will is cut off as Nico, for the first time ever, embraces him in a hug, tears starting to prickle his eyes as he buries his face in Will’s chest.

“Please don’t leave me again,” he whispers, softly. Hesitantly.

Will stayed with him for every night on.

—

“We are here to decide the fate of this boy before us,” the queen says. Nico growls.

“As you all know, there are two options for him, one filled with peace and prosperity, the other filled with a fare worse than death.” Will taps his fingers nervously on the side of his pants, everything about his posture tense and stiff.

“What do you propose, Nico di Angelo?” Nico snarls.

“Take me back to my family. Now.”

“But do you still have a family to go back to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe, your family doesn’t exist anymore?” the queen says, a thoughtful smile on her lips. Dread twists inside him as he chokes out, “W-what?”

“Haven’t you been told? Time is different here in the Land of Fae. It could seem like only weeks have passed here, but in the real world it’s been centuries.”

“No–” Nico cries. The queen giggles a cruel laugh that causes Will to cringe.

“Yes mortal. You’re mother and sister are dead.” Nico crumples to the ground, his head in his hand as he chants the word “no” over and over, his body trembling. Will wanted nothing more to take him into his arms and tell him it would be alright.

“So my family’s gone,” Nico spats, his face seeming paler than before. The queen tilts her head, weighing her options.

“Almost.”

“Almost? Almost? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your father didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?”

“Who he really is.”

“He’s my father.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” she says again. “He’s one of us.”

“N-no you’re l-lying.”

“Oh Nico, Nico, Nico. Haven’t you ever been taught that we fae can’t lie?”

“I-I don’t believe you.”

“Then how come your father, after two centuries, is alive and well, not aged a day with another daughter of his own?”

“No.”

“Yes Nico. This is how we found you in the first place.” Nico was shaking again, but this time it was with anger.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!”

“You don’t have to. That doesn’t change your fate.”

“My f-fate?”

“It has already been decided, Nico di Angelo. Send him into Exile with the other disgraces.” Will’s heart fell and his vision swam. There was nothing worse than Exile. Will has only been down there once, and the half-borns shrieks still haunted him to this day.

Stepping forward, his gaze narrowed on the trembling boy with dark locks, Will shouted, “No.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Will Solace. Well isn’t this a surprise.”

“Your Majesty I think that Nico could prove…. useful to us.”

“And how may I ask?” Will frantically tries to come up with an excuse, but his mind seems to come up empty. But maybe….

“What if he has magic? Powerful magic. It could help us with our enemies in the near future,” Will says, trying to seem cool and collected. Nico flashes him a look that says, “what have you got me into?” The queen wrestles with this idea for a second.

“I see your point, Solace. Very well. If the boy proves that he can wield magic, we will make an exception. Nico glares at Will, his hands shaking nervously.

“Share your gifts with us, if you wish to survive, Di Angelo.” Nico nods his head, not sure if he’ll be able to pull it off. He’s never done magic before, and there’s no way that he’ll be able to now. Will nods his head at him and Nico tries what he could only guess is how you perform magic. He closes his eyes, concentrating on finding something within him to spark a flame or something in his palm. There is gasp from those present in the room, and Nico opens his eyes to see, sure enough, a small fire.

“So the boy does have potential,” the queen whispers.

“Very well. Will, please escort this young man back to his cell.” Will nods his head, breathing out a sigh of relief as he takes Nico’s arm.

When they’re out of earshot, Nico stops, turning to Will.

“How did you know that would work?” Nico says.

“It didn’t,” Will says.

“What? B-but–”

“It didn’t work, because I lied to them.”

“But… I thought faeries couldn’t lie?”

“If they’re pure blood.”

“What?” Will laughs, finding the whole situation funny.

“Nico, someday, with practice, you will be able to do that. But it takes mentoring and practice, like I have.”

“I still don’t understand…. faeries can’t lie.”

“What if I’m not faerie?” Nico gasps, putting his hands up to his mouth, shaking his head.

“B-but you look like them you have to be–”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Will says, starting to shimmer a little. Then, when the light stops, standing in front of Nico is a normal boy, just like him, still breathtakingly beautiful, but with the quirks of humans. Little traces of acne are spread around his face and freckles dot his skin in constellations. His ears look normal and he no longer has wings, but his eyes still seem bright, this time lit with something else. Nico finds himself gasping.

“I–”

“Different, huh?” Will says, a big grin stretching across his face. If the glamour dropping away was supposed to make him uglier, it wasn’t working. Somehow, it mar him more beautiful than ever with the small quirks.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Are you ready to go?” Will asks.

“Where?”

“To your new sister.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we see the mortal world?”

—

They stood out on the freezing street, a small little house in front of them, the world so much different from when they left it. “You ready?”

“No,” Nico admits. Will smiles.

“It’s going to be fine. Say hi to your dad.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll figure something out. Now go.” Nico stares at Will for a second, his mouth open to form words, but he just shakes his head. Then, after a daring moment, he stands up on the tips of his toes and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek, making both of their hearts leap.

“I’ll never forget you.”

“Nor will I.” They stand there for a moment longer, then Nico walks up to the door, knocking. A girl, probably a year or two younger than him answers it.

“Is your father home?” Nico asks shyly to the girl. She eyes him skeptically but nods her head, leaving to go get him.

When Nico’s dad shows up at the door, his eyes are brimming with tears as he hugs Nico tight, murmuring how much he missed him and questioning what happened to him. The girl who answered the door looks confused as she stands off to the side, but her and Nico are soon introduced to each other, and soon smiles are plastered on their faces. Will smiles sadly, knowing that this is where Nico belongs, and turns to walk away.

“Hey Will! Do you want to stay for dinner?” Nico calls. Will turns around, almost feeling like he was floating as a wide grin spread across his face, nodding. Nico walked down to him and took his hand leading him inside. Will leans into him and whispers, “What a good mortal. I’m glad I decided to keep you.“ Nico just shakes his head, happier than he’s been in a long time despite everything.

faerie prompts

[kettlequills]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Steven Universe (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blue Diamond/Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe), Brown Diamond/White Diamond Characters: Blue Diamond, Yellow Diamond, White Diamond, Brown Diamond (OC) Additional Tags: Fusion, Slight horror Summary:

Young Yellow Diamond and Blue Diamond go exploring in a forbidden wing of White Diamond's palace, and discover a hidden facet of White's dark past that could explain why they are the only ones of their kind.

Reforming was always an uncomfortable and exhausting process for Blue. She was reduced to her gem far more easily than any normal diamond should be, but familiarity only bred contempt for the process. She had changed nothing about her appearance, and fell forward in a heap of hair and cloak the moment the bright glow of her reformation dimmed.

Yellow caught her. The familiar safety of Yellow’s arms wrapping around her torso and holding upright was offset by Yellow’s irritated curses; Blue had fallen through several screens that Yellow was hastily dismissing with her free hand, the hot glow of sienna-orange across her cheeks indicating, had it been anyone else, that she had been up to something illicit.

Blue Diamond raised an eyebrow at her. Yellow avoided her eyes, slowly lowering both of them until Blue was draped across Yellow, sat cross-legged. Struggling to catch her breath from the reformation, Blue allowed her face to rest against Yellow’s shoulder, anchoring herself with Yellow’s warmth and solidity. The first few seconds afterwards were always the worst, her body felt pounded flat and stretched out, weak, as if a few hollow vibrations would shake her apart. Yellow held her with the cautious yet tight grip of someone who feared that she would evaporate out of her arms the moment Yellow looked away, her muscles tense and rigid, yet leaving a few millimetres of space between her arms and Blue to avoid direct contact, a constricting cage that aimed not to crush.

Blue breathed. Yellow always seem to smell of a combination of warm fabric and hot oil, like a rag dipped in paraffin, ready to combust. The heavy texture of her clothes was thick and rough against Blue’s cheek, raspy like an unshaven beard; Blue had always had sensitive skin, easy to tear like the peeled papery shell of an onion, somewhat translucent so that the shape of bones underneath showed through, round and bulbous. Their physical forms were as different as soft chalk and hearty cheese. Every inch of Yellow was compact with solid muscle with little extraneous fat, leaving her mannish in shape, small-breasted and thin-hipped with long, carded limbs and broad hands. White had called them bismuth’s paws, once, but Blue liked the dexterity of the stubby fingers with their short, rounded nails, the strength in the flat palms.

“Hello,” murmured Blue, eventually. She nestled her forehead into the crook of Yellow’s neck, Yellow’s sharp chin pressing briefly against her temple.

“You’re back,” said Yellow, relaxing some of her death grip on the space around Blue.

“You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” asked Yellow rhetorically, quirking an eyebrow. In the green-tinted light of their shared chambers, her eyes glittered like pennies, and her blush deep brown-ochre.

“You have your own duties to attend to,” said Blue, batting back. White did not leave them idle, she seemed to think that they would cause trouble if they had nothing to do. Which, considering the events that had led to Blue being reduced her gem, seemed in hindsight very reasonable.

“I did some work, whilst you were gone.” Yellow avoided her eyes, the colour over her nose and cheeks deepening. She was so obviously evading the truth that Blue felt the need to restrain a smile. It was a testament to Yellow’s resilient character that she still tried to hide things from Blue, despite knowing how ultimately futile it would be.

With a few impatient flicks of her fingers, she brought up some glowing white screens. Around them, complex mathematical sketches leapt into view, the design for some new ship, notes and annotations made in Yellow’s angular and spidery writing. By the look of it, she had been improving the design of the ship she had been working on in her free time before their adventure into the bowels of the palace’s unused west wing. The design looked completely different from the last time she had seen it. It would have taken a team of peridots thousands of rotations to suggest the advanced technological changes that came so readily and easily to Yellow.

“How long?” The question came out in a papery sigh. Blue felt Yellow swallow.

“Two hundred and twelve point nine one seven standard rotations, eighteen hours, thirty three minutes and approximately fourteen seconds,” Yellow answered, as exact as ever.

“And you honestly expect me to believe, that those,” said Blue, gesturing at the ship designs around them, “occupied this“, she tapped the centre of Yellow’s forehead with one fingertip, “for over two-hundred rotations of being stuck in one room? Because if I know you at all, and I do, you haven’t left me or this room once since you brought me here.”

Yellow’s cheeks flushed such a deep orange that it spread down her neck and, Blue knew, over her chest. “Yes,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Yellow, what is the use of trying to lie to me?” Blue inquired. “Even if it wasn’t to me, you’re terrible at it.”

“It’s not finished,” said Yellow, with a definite hint of petulance. “You’re not allowed to look unless it’s finished!”

“You’re still going to show me anyway,” Blue said, a sly grin creeping over her face. “Come on Yellow, don’t force me to make you show me.” She hooked one arm around Yellow’s broad shoulders, lightly tugging on the short hairs of the nape of Yellow’s neck.

“Blue-! That’s not fair!” Yellow whined.

Blue’s fingernails scratched faintly over Yellow’s scalp, her skinny, bony fingers pushing with slight difficulty through Yellow’s thick, messy hair. “This is more tangle than hair, Yellow. I never understand how you make it so… stiff.”

“Force of will,” muttered Yellow, deeply disgruntled. She was blushing again, trying to hide it behind gruffness.

“Show me what you’re working on.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Show me anyway?”

“BLUE!”

“You want to show me.”

“I don’t!

“You do!”

“It’s not finished!”

“You’re still going to show me anyway!” Blue wheedled.

“Fine!” cried Yellow, explosively. “But you’re not allowed to say anything, it’s still in its design stages, and you were gone so some of the measurements are a little inaccurate, and well – here.”

Carefully, Yellow lifted Blue and set her against the wall, then flung herself to her feet, dismissing the ship design screens with a few violent swipes of her hand and tapping in a quick access code. New screens appeared in a blaze of light around them in the circular panoramic style that Yellow preferred when she was designing, highly technical equations sprawling down the left side, in neat rows like soldiers lining up for parade, the right occupied with odd esoteric sketches – an arm, broken down to muscle and bone, thick tubes like borrowing grubs inserted into the sketch, a foot, some odd contraption that Blue thought was a spine, metals jotted akimbo for their properties questioned beside them, everywhere, questions and concepts outlined in glowing text, angry negations next to many of them, queries – as if someone had opened up Yellow’s head and removed the feverish thought process and printed it in the form of flickering light screens, relentlessly creative, fastidiously detailed with numbers and symbols personal to Yellow that Blue couldn’t hope to decode, shorthand for theories of physics and biology and matter that Blue hadn’t even heard of.

Blue’s triumphant smirk faded into confusion, and something like wonder. Yellow was pacing, explaining hurriedly, embarrassed, every statement punctuated with some agonised comment about how it wasn’t yet finished, how everything was still so rushed.

“Yellow,” Blue interrupted, “it looks very detailed but…”

“You don’t like it.” Yellow’s shoulders slumped and bowed as if she had just been slapped, and her hands fidgeted with each other, awkward and ashamed and suddenly too aware of the space that she took up in the room. She always seemed to grow taller like this, bulkier; trying to minimise a massive body only made her more obvious. Blue hated to see her do it.

“It was only an idea,” Yellow hurried on, half-frantic, “You don’t have to like it of course. I should have asked first, I was just thinking, it was my fault that you were – gone – if I had been faster, and you were stuck with me, and I was just – transfixed, like, like some lowcut in thrall to her, and-“ Shame was burning in her golden eyes, lowered, on her cheeks, saturated the apologetic, self-recriminatory way she spoke.

Alarmed, Blue had to raise her voice and call Yellow’s name several times before Yellow seemed to hear her. She froze in the act of another apology, the words dying in her mouth.

“Yellow, it looks very detailed,” Blue repeated, firmly, “but I have no idea what it is.”

“Oh.” Yellow blinked. She blushed brilliantly. “It’s a suit. For-for you, Blue. It-uh… There are these tubes of water, like this,” she was illustrating as she spoke, “that connect to you like this, like rods, you see, and – made of some flexible material, something watertight, I was thinking that new wire insulator that that morganite found on Tantalus III – and you move the water in the rods instead of your arms, and it helps you move, like this –“ The quick crude sketch she was drawing demonstrated the pull of muscle and the rod of water being moved in unison.

“It’s an exoskeleton,” said Blue in dawning wonder, “to support me. I could – I could move, using my hydrokinesis, I could walk.”

“Yes, quite,” said Yellow. “That was rather the intention.” She clasped her hands nervously behind her back, looking for all the world like a naughty quartz presenting a faulty report to their agate.

Blue was caught in a storm of emotions, dawning joy, and a numb, wordless awe. “Yellow,” she heard herself say rather faintly, “Come here, just, come here.”

Diffidently, Yellow approached, kneeling beside Blue. Slowly, and with difficulty, Blue reached up and hugged her, slumping against Yellow’s chest with a strained gasp. Yellow wrapped her arms around Blue, supporting her reflexively, and pressed her nose into Blue’s hair.

“Is it – all right?” Yellow asked, quietly.

“It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.” Blue’s voice sounded thin and choked. Her eyes burned. Yellow said nothing, but let Blue hide her face against Yellow’s shoulder, and pretended not to notice when Blue’s thin frame shook in the attempt to restrain tears.

“Can you actually make this?” Blue asked finally, rather watery, not quite daring to hope.

“Of course.” Yellow drew back and cupped Blue’s face between her hands, her gold tawny eyes intent and fierce. Her breath was hot as it fanned over Blue’s face, her eyes hotter still. She had a way of looking at Blue like Blue was the only thing that mattered in the world, like Blue was the only thing that existed, just the two of them, together in this private moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

“Good,” whispered Blue. She cleared her throat, breaking the moment, “I will look forward to being able to hit you for the stupid comment you made.”

“What?” Yellow looked bewildered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Blue. Immediately Yellow turned their head away, the beginnings of a protest on her lips. Blue spoke over her. “I poofed because White threw us both into the wall with considerable force. It’s not the first time that White has made me reform and I don’t think it will be the last. What’s the use of blaming yourself for things you can’t change?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Blue,” said Yellow. “If she’d asked me to roll over and crack my gem, I would have. I was useless. If she had actually wanted to hurt us –“

“But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t,” Blue said. “White – White looks after the things that are hers. You’ve seen how she is with her pearls. We’re not like real diamonds to her, we’re like… big pearls.”

“I am, even if you aren’t,” said Yellow miserably. “I behaved like a pearl, back there. If you hadn’t done that thing to make us big…”

“It’s called fusion,” said Blue softly. “We… fused.”

Yellow looked at her, and Blue saw that she didn’t understand what had happened, and what words could be possibly used to explain what they’d done? It was fusion, taboo, illicit, dangerous, and Blue had led blindly trusting and naive Yellow right into it.

“If anything, it’s my fault,” she said. “No, you don’t understand – what we did… We can never do it again.”

Yellow opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and looked away. Suddenly the gaps between their knowledge seemed too vast, an unbridgeable gap. How could Blue explain to Yellow the impact of their ill-conceived fusion?

Blue remembered White’s rage, and said nothing. She leaned against Yellow, who held her tighter. Yellow wasn’t stupid, in fact she was the furthest thing from it. She had probably garnered an inkling.

There were moments that Blue considered, in hindsight, as perfect timing. Barely had the taboo subject of fusion died then a knock, so understandably heavy that they left no doubt who was behind it, rapped on the door. Three knocks, precise and clear.

Yellow and Blue jumped apart like naughty children. The door slid open, and White Diamond stood, silhouetted in the light from the corridor, her pale face cast in deep clefts of shadow, like primordial canyon with two fallen stars blazing at the very bottom. The dull jewels she wore glittered and clinked on their silver chains, and her cloak swept at her heels as she stepped forwards, austere, into the room, the door closing with a final sounding hssh behind her.

Penned in, Blue and Yellow watched her with the same wariness they would afford to a baited predator circling particularly stupid prey. White did not approach, but remained pitted in shadow at the door, looming above them both like a pinnacle of perfection they could never reach.

“White Diamond,” said Yellow, rising smoothly to her feet, shoulders back, jaw tilted, almost unintentionally aggressive. Blue murmured her own greeting.

“Blue Diamond, Yellow Diamond,” White replied.

“You have good timing,” said Blue. “I am barely half an hour out of my gem.”

White inclined her head, her rich smooth voice as equal as ever. “I have cameras in this room. I like to watch you both.”

Yellow and Blue shot each other dubious looks. No one really seemed to know what to say in the wake of that revelation.

“I… see,” said Blue diplomatically. Yellow had gone the colour of sour milk.

Despite White’s apparent belief that this was perfectly normal behaviour, there was nevertheless a definite hesitation before White’s next words, carefully formal. “It pleases me to see you both restored. There is no lasting damage, I trust?”

“No, thank you,” said Blue. Yellow said nothing, but remained wary and tense.

Silence fell, and dragged its feet through the dust. No one spoke, and the atmosphere became decidedly awkward. Blue wanted to tell Yellow to at least back down a little, so it didn’t look so much like she was trying to threaten White, wanted to ask why White had even bothered to come.

Eventually, it was White who broke the silence. “I must ask –“ Uncharacteristically, her voice faltered. She shifted where she stood, and one pale hand came up to thumb at one of the brown jewels on her neck. Cautiously, she stepped forward, into the light. It struck her, gilded the lily, like a polished ivory statue. “You will not visit the west wing again,” she commanded in a voice more like her usual one.

Pugnacious, Yellow folded her arms, her stare unexpectedly sharp despite the fact that she had to tilt her head up to look White in the eye. “And may we ask why?”

“It is not unreasonable,” said White vaguely.

She seemed oddly troubled, approaching Blue slowly. Yellow stiffened, half-shifting her stance in front of Blue protectively. White took absolutely no notice of Yellow’s posturing, and lowered herself, very gingerly, to sit on the floor beside Blue. Yellow, standing alone, looked out of place, and sat too, barely mollified and still scowling. They arranged themselves in an awkward trio, White staring off in the middle distance between them, her thumb absently running over the brown jewel hanging from her neck.

“The planet below us was not always barren,” began White, in the unsteady tone of someone who was not used to telling stories, “It is… the original home world. I emerged there, many thousands of years ago, when gem kind was still young and living in scattered tribes, constantly warring with each other...”

She trailed off. White’s gaze was pulled downwards, as if by an unseen weight. She did not look at them. Still, her hand fiddled with the jewel on its silver chain. The dull jewels flashed and sparkled faintly in the light – her belt buckle, the clasp of her cloak, around her neck, rings, set into her boots. Blue had never seen her unadorned with them.

“I was not the only diamond on home world at that time… I was found by another, when I was days old… She found me singing to the stars, said… ‘You’re doing it wrong. How do you expect to sing when you’re not even breathing from the gut properly?’” An odd sort of expression crossed White’s face, as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or to grimace. “It was something of a trade. I would fight for her and the gems she supported – even then, we were the leaders and protectors of lesser gems – and she would teach me to sing as sweetly as she did. Now, of course, I realise that she got the better end of the deal… I was perfect, and for as long as I remained at her side, we were unstoppable…”

“What was her name?” asked Blue, quietly. White startled a little, as if she had forgotten they were there.

“Brown Diamond,” she replied, and then, almost as if she was correcting herself, “She was a brown. Defective, of course, they all were back then, apart from me.”

Her hand around the jewel at her neck clenched into a fist, white-knuckled with strain. “It wasn’t like the empire today,” she told them, almost beseechingly, and her grey eyes lifted, almost soft, if it wasn’t White they were talking about, to look at Yellow. Yellow swallowed, avoided White’s eyes.

“Defective gems, raised without order, rebellious, selfish – they needed to be shown a new way, a better way. They had to be shown… purity.” Now her eyes were strong again, burning, almost alight with a remembered religious fervour, sick. “When a plant sickens, the infected and dead must be… cut away, to improve the breed. For the greater good of gemkind, a certain few individuals had to be… sacrificed.”

White spoke urgently, passionately, as if the need to explain her reasons for the dreadful deed that Yellow had already worked out, her face whitening with unadulterated horror, fear, disgust – as if White was a monster, was of the utmost importance to her.

“You shattered them. You shattered – you shattered all of the other diamonds. Because they were defective,” Yellow whispered. Defective, like us, went unsaid, hung as heavy and potent as a guillotine blade between them.

Blue sucked in a horrified breath. Instinctively, she shrunk away from White, towards Yellow, whose arm clutched her close. Blue pressed against her, tried to remember how to form Green. If they took White by surprise –

“No, no, my dear Yellow, not because they were defective!” White laughed, sharp and shrill and false. Her eyes were still sick with hate. “They were dangerous. They were plotting against me. It was self-defence! They were going to shatter me, they hated me because I was perfect… It was a matter of time… It had to be done. And hasn’t it been for the better? Look how we flourish now… They didn’t know their place. Not like you two, my dears, my flawed jewels… You are obedient. You are subservient to me. You know your place in the natural order is beneath me, for I am pure and you are not… You know this…”

“Yes, we do, my Diamond,” whispered Blue. Yellow’s head bowed, jerkily. She was trembling against Blue. “We are yours… To keep or shatter as you see fit… Your judgement is beyond question…”

White reached out, vindicated, as if bestowing holiness upon them, and gathered them to her. Yellow’s spine bent stiffly into the embrace, then, almost longingly, she melted into White, who kissed the top of her head. Blue, slumped against her side, tried to breathe past the overwhelming song of White’s thunderous presence. Being close to her was like living in the eye of a storm – the air tasted of ozone and electric.

The song of her gem was overpoweringly loud, but this close, Blue began to realise that there was a strange dissonance to it. As if it were not one song, but many. She opened her eyes, wincing a little at the warped song. The dull brown jewel at White Diamond’s neck glittered subtly in the light. This close, Blue realised it was hazed all over with cracks, as if it were shattered pieces, stuck together. In fact, thought Blue, it almost seemed as if the strange dissonance in White Diamond’s gemsong was coming from the shattered gems that Blue Diamond had always taken for ugly ornaments.

White Diamond kept her possessions close. The shattered diamonds from the mural were all right here, decorating their murderer like gory trophies.

“They were not like you, my dear flawed jewels,” crooned White Diamond. “You know your place.”

Blue bit down a scream of horror as Brown Diamond’s shattered gem in its ornamental silver casing fell against her cheek. Beside her, she heard Yellow whisper rapturous agreement.

“They left me no choice,” White Diamond murmured. “They would not consent to being kept.”

[scrappycoco8000]

I love industrial design and have for as long as I can remember. As a child, I broke my dad’s Braun electric razor playing with the dial that raised and lowered the blades because the action was so cool and “clicky.” At school, I dreamed of being either a product designer or an architect. Those dreams were dashed when I flunked technical drawing (I was off by over 4cm and the tolerance of the test was less than 0.5cm) and failed my physics and maths exams, both of which are somewhat vital to designing beautiful buildings that don’t fall down. So for the past 30 years my inner industrial designer has lived vicariously through the career of my contemporary (he’s only a few years younger than me) and fellow Brit, Sir Jony Ive. Ive made being an industrial product designer “cool”. Stop anyone in the street and ask them to name a famous industrial designer and I would hazard a guess that, if they have an answer at all, it would be Jony Ive. Yes, there are many other influential industrial designers. Yves Béhar and Dieter Rams â€" who was much admired by Steve Jobs and was the visionary behind so many of Braun’s products (including my dad’s broken electric razor) â€" both come to mind. So does Marc Newson, a contemporary of Jony’s and a partner in his new company LoveFrom. All are legendary in the design community but none have either the name recognition or influence on the level of Ive. Not only has Ive designed some of the most iconic Apple products created over the past 30 years â€" the iMac, the iPod and the iPhone to name just a few â€" the success of these products has directly affected the lives of millions of people and changed how they view the importance of great industrial design as a result. If you were to simply pose the question “if Jony Ive designed a [insert product here],” most people would be able to visualize exactly what that product would look like: minimal design, clean form, functional utility and a copious use of aluminum. That’s remarkable. Furthermore, this appreciation of great product design has led to it becoming a core tenet of the commercial success of any tech product in today’s marketplace. I would argue that Microsoft’s remarkable resurgence with the Surface under Satya Nadella is at least partially a result of his willingness to embrace the importance of design over pure utility as a defining brand value of the company. That does not mean just copying Apple: the Surface Studio and Surface Pro are beautifully designed in their own right, and they are also uniquely Microsoft. The same could be said of the Pixelbook which is decidedly Google, or even the Galaxy S10 Plus which is unmistakably Samsung (the Bixby button is a dead give away). And the rising value of great product design is not just confined to companies working in the sphere of consumer tech. Back in 2006, when I was photographing the interiors of Virgin America’s brand new planes, I remember just how often we compared the design language of the seats and lighting to Apple and Ive. Without Virgin America’s mood lighting or 50 channels of entertainment, I doubt JetBlue would have followed so closely, let alone American Airlines. The same can be said of cars. Look at the interior design of many cars in 2019 and I think that you can clearly see hints of Ive’s influence. Of course I am not saying that Jony Ive is directly responsible for a better in-flight experience or a more imaginative and functional car dashboard. But I am saying that it’s a result of Ive’s unquestionable influence that many companies now see good design as a far more vital component to their success than they did 30 years ago. Nor am I saying that everything that Ive has ever created has been wonderful. During his time at Apple he has produced some real lemons, too (the Newton, the Cube, the “trashcan” MacPro and iOS 7 immediately spring to mind). But that fallibility only makes me respect his greatest hits even more. At least he was trying something different and new. But while the wider and real adoption of good industrial design practices has unquestionably benefited both consumers and design fans, perhaps rather ironically the one company that has suffered the most as a result has been Apple (though not financially). This may explain Ive’s departure. As Buddy Pine says in the film The Incredibles, “if everyone is super, then no one is.” Thirty years ago, Jony Ive’s design aesthetic and partnership with Steve Jobs made Apple’s products stand head and shoulders above almost anything else available. They were truly revolutionary. The iMac was a joyous translucent blue, orange or magenta PC when every other computer manufacturer’s offering was a beige box; the iPod was gorgeously chunky with a practical, childlike simplicity of operation that put “a thousand songs in your pocket.” And as for that first iPhone. Well, let me just say that in terms of its design, I believe it is still the best iPhone by far. https://adstoppipro.com/blog/jony-ive-made-the-entire-tech-world-care-about-design More blog here Via Adstoppi Blog : Blog Read more : Adstoppi