#can’t decide which is better lady dream or stardust

[elysesium]

“Good. Because the title rather suits you, Lady Dream.”

I think others are way better at this but I really wanna put something at the altar of Today, I Bury You In Me. I wanted to put a crown on her but can’t draw crowns 🙃. Hopefully, the stars in her dress are showing. If not, maybe I’ll try scanning.

I LOVE THIS POCKET OF THE SANDMAN FANDOM THAT @the-darklings MADE! It helped me unwind during my clinical days and she feeds us so well and further expands her universe! I’m not really for the finale but I’m so excited for reunions, the feels and the drama! I WISH NETFLIX CAN CONFIRM SEASON 2 JUST SO WE CAN HAVE A SEQUEL!

[thenightgazer]

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”  

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.  

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?  

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”      

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”  

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.  

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”  

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.  

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It��s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.  

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.  

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her—  his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

[whitetigerdemoness]

I was going to apologize for this taking so long, but it's actually only been a week and that isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. I've been distracted shit posting on https://discord.gg/geus6XM which is a breeding ground for Miraculous Ladybug au's. Pretty much all of them center around Nathaniel at this point but that is open to change. I also accidentally ship Nathaniel\Marinette\Marc\Luka now so *shrug emoji*

Foxes are very good at digging complex networks of tunnels. You never know where one might pop up.

Master Post of All Chapters

The moment Ladybug showed up was the exact moment everything went to hell. One moment they were curing the Shepard, who turned back into the wah-wah lacky from the hospital, and the next the group was fighting for their lives. Again. It had been a long twenty-four hours Viperion sighed to himself.

Between Ladybug and Penknight the scarlet akumas were falling at a steady rate. Between Scarlet Hawkmoth a female Chatnoir calling herself Panther, the heroes were dropping only slightly slower. Carapace had used his shelter early on to protect Night Hunter (a hero using the Tiger miraculous he was 90% certain was Adrien) from a flurry of Cataclysms. The turtle hero had been forced to retreat, his five minute time limit long since expired. Plumage had lost his fan in a similar manner, Panther turning it to dust with her Cataclysm before he could create a sentimonster. The new peacock hero was still an asset with his martial power, obviously trained in hand to hand, but he seemed to be tiring more quickly than he should. 

Sabrina was being protected by Queen Bee and Stardust as they tried to find a break in the wave of akuma’s to let her escape. Retriever had used her power to yank Ladybug to her side moments before Scarlet Hawkmoth could snatch her earrings, Ladybug having been pinned by scarlet akumas. Night Hunter was a flurry of claws as he felled akuma’s for Ladybug to purify. Rena Rogue was now helping Penknight fend off Panther, who was after his pen-sword to get his akuma. If they could only get some breathing room Viperion was certain the fox hero could create an illusion to give Sabrina enough cover so she could retreat and hopefully join up with Carapace in finding their kwamis food.

Viperion himself had used his second chance the moment Scarlet Hawkmoth showed up, but the power had expired long ago. He was grateful his miraculous didn’t seem to have a time limit like the others. Judging by how Panther was able to sling cataclysm after cataclysm, she didn’t either. He wondered what the factor was that decided that. He refused to believe it was because she was a better fit for the cat miraculous than Adrien had been. Viperion knew there were secrets within secrets surrounding the miraculous but having a firmer grasp on the ground rules would be nice. Using his power too many times close together made him tired, but didn’t detransform him. If Panther suffered the same problem she might take herself out of the fight soon with how liberally she was using her power.

“Rena, no!” Night Hunter shouted, hand outstretched to the fox heroine. Rena Rogue had had her feet swept out from under her by a scarlet akuma, going down hard. Panther was darting towards the downed heroine with a cataclysm ready. 

“Venom! Shit!” Queen Bee cursed, throwing her energized top. It was too late. The venom hit, paralyzing Panther, but not before she touched Rena Rouge’s miraculous. A horrified Alya clutched at the ashes of her miraculous as her transformation failed. Night Hunter, having tackled Panther only a second after the venom had hit, cursed and hit the ground. 

“Regroup!” Ladybug ordered, her yoyo spinning into a shield as she backed towards the downed girl. Night Hunter collected himself and removed the cat ring from Panther. She reverted a middle aged woman Luka didn’t recognize. Sabrina dived into Alya, hugging her fiercely as the girl stared in shock at her shattered miraculous.

“No!” Scarlet Hawkmoth growled. “Get them! Bring me their Miraculous!” The scarlet akuma fell on them with renewed vigor. 

“We could fight better if we weren’t protecting these guys.” Penknight snarled in frustration, furiously slashing at anything that got too close to their huddle. 

“We can’t just abandon them!” Stardust argued, using his staff like a baseball bat.

“Penknight is right.” Ladybug said. 

“I am?” He started, taken aback. Plumage slammed the scarlet akuma that jumped at Penknight in his distraction to the ground with a haymaker.

“Night Hunter, use your power to take Queenbee, Alya, Sabrina, Plumage, and Nathalie out of here. Feed your kwamis and re-transform if you can.” Ladybug ignored the various protests from the group. “Go. Now.” 

“But Ladybug...taking this many with me...I’m not sure I’ll be able to come back. I might pass out.” Night Hunter pleaded. Viperion winced. Normally Ladybug would never make such a dispassionate decision, but with Reverser’s alteration…

“Ladybug, are you sure?” Viperion gently asked while violently breaking a mixing bowl he had grabbed off an akuma over his knee. Ladybug gave him a cool, emotionless look as she snapped the butterfly out of the air. It sent shivers down his spine, and not good ones. “Maybe…” Viperion thought fast, “Using your lucky charm would reassure them?” He said, catching Night Hunter’s eye. Scarlet Hawkmoth was hanging back shouting orders as his akuma army tried to swallow them. It was only a matter of time before the man joined them in the assault, the horde was thinning.

“Lucky Charm.” Ladybug sighed rather than said. A red and black spotted pillow popped into existence. Her eyes darted around the battlefield in calculation. “Night Hunter, go. Now. Viperion, use your second chance. Penknight, create something above us. Anything so long as it provides a large shadow.” Penknight frowned at her but obeyed, using his creation to create a tent sized tarp about ten feet above them. Viperion nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring way at Night Hunter, who grit his teeth.

“I’m coming back for you, My Lady.” The current Tiger hero promised. “Shadow Step!” He shouted, the specified group sinking into the large shadow at their feet. The tarp fluttered sideways in the wind, tangling on a few akuma who easily ripped it apart. Scarlet Hawkmoth had not been idle. Using the tarp as cover, villain lept towards the sinking group with amazing speed. 

--------------

“Stardust!” Ladybug barked in command, shoving away an akuma that had tried to tackle her. “Stop him!” The goat hero swung his staff at Scarlet Hawkmoth, but he was too fast. Ducking under the boy’s attack he grabbed Night Hunter by the tail, yanking him out of the shadow. The rest vanished with terrified screams.

“This ends now!” Hakwmoth growled, ripping away the tiger and cat miraculous with one swipe. Adrien fell at his feet, exhausted by the energy it had taken to move so many people. He would deal with his son later. The boy had been brainwashed by Ladybug but no matter. Having his mother back would hopeful end this ridiculous rebellious phase. Emile had always known how to get their son to see reason. 

“Plagg, Noro, Unify.” Scarlet Hawkmoth growled, shoving the ring of the cat onto his own finger. He felt a great rush of power sweep over him like nothing he had ever experienced. If this was what just the cat and the butterfly felt like together he couldn't even begin to imagine how adding the ladybug would feel. He would know soon enough.

“Surrender Ladybug, and I’ll spare you.” He said, confidently striding forward as she backed away in fear. 

“No!” His wayward akuma shouted, valiantly trying to leap to her defense. He almost felt regret at the tearful expression of horror on the young woman’s face as he almost absently turned Penknight to dust with a superpowered cataclysm. The two remaining heroes, the goat and the snake, took up defensive positions in front of her. Scarlet Hawkmoth smirked, raising his hands, a cataclysm smoking in each one.

“No, please!” Ladybug begged, pushing to the front of the line. “Please. You’ve won. Take my miraculous, don’t hurt them.” She begged, pulling off her earrings.

“Of course not. I’m not unreasonable.” Scarlet Hawkmoth said, canceling the cataclysms to finally, finally, take his victory in hand. He hardly spared the plain looking young woman another glance, she was neither memorable nor important. 

“Father…” Adrien spoke, hesitant.

“Don’t worry my son, this will all finally be over soon. Your mother will come back to us and we will be a family again. Please understand, everything I have done has been to bring her back to us.” Scarlet Hawkmoth said, kneeling to place a hand on Adrien’s shoulders.

“She’s….she’s really coming back?” His son asked, tearful. Scarlet Hawkmoth nodded. Adrien clung to him in a hug. “Do it. I miss her so much, bring her back to us.” Briefly but strongly returning the hug, Scarlet Hawkmoth rose and adorned the ladybug miraculous.

“Tiki, Plagg, Unify.” The rush of power was euphoric, almost too much to bear. He was a god. No feat was beyond him now. Reaching out with his soul to the familiar one it yearned for, he pulled and….

---------

“Are you okay? You’re crying.” Penknight fretted, holding Stardust.

“I’m fine. It’s just...his dream...he misses her so much.” Stardust sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Ladybug gently eased the pillow lucky charm out from under Gabriel Agrest’s head. Stardust had managed to hit Scarlet Hawkmoth with his Sweet Dreams just moments before the man had grabbed Night Hunter, allowing the group time to escape. She saw Viperion sagging with relief out of the corner of her eye. It had taken a few Second Chance’s to set this up. The kwami she still had with her were cheering and hugging Noro, who was equally overwhelmed at the reunion. She was glad she had not needed to unify any of them with Tiki. She had been spread so thin the past couple days she wasn’t sure she could have handled the strain long enough to be useful.

“Say goodbye.” She instructed Stardust and Penknight. “Once I use my Lucky Charm he’ll likely revert to Nathaniel.” The akuma started towards her with a dark expression, but Stardust pulled him back.

“Let her.” He said, taking the akuma’s hands.

“But I’ll forget all of this. Everything that’s happened. I won’t be the person you fell in love with anymore, I’ll just be Nathaniel.” He spat the name like a curse. Stardust smiled at him gently and kissed him.

“You are Nathaniel. At least the most confidant part of him. I like that about you, I’m so shy it’s...comforting to know there’s someone more bold who cares for me.” Stardust pressed their foreheads together. “but I love the shy part of you too. I love the part of you that gets excited when he’s talking about a new akuma design he came up with. I love watching how serene you look while you’re drawing, and how kind you can be, even when someone doesn’t deserve it. I love all of you, and that will never change.” Penknight stared into his eyes for a moment, before sighing and pulling the green eyed boy close.

“Do it.” He said to Ladybug, face buried in Stardust’s hood. 

“Miraculous Ladybug.” She said without feeling, throwing the lucky charm in the air. Ladybugs swarmed around her, and all of a sudden the emotions she had been lacking slammed back into her. Viperion caught her as she stumbled to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“Ladybug?” He asked in concern. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just need a moment to get used to having emotions again. Oomf,” She breathed out. “I already kind of miss it, can’t feel stress without emotions.” She laughed a little too fast.

“I know a guy who runs a massage parlor if you’re up for it later?” Viperion offered with a smile.

“I may take you up on that.” She said shakily, burying her head in his chest. She couldn’t believe it was all finally over. Hawkmoth was defeated and she could finally rest. 

“Huh. I’m still here.” She turned her head to see Penknight poking himself in the chest with mild curiosity. Ugh. Well, at least he was a loose end that could wait a little while to finally tie up.

“Well, would you look at that. So am I.” Ladybug and Viperion shot to their feet, her earrings giving their first warning beep. Stepping out of the shadows, wearing the miraculous of the Bee, Fox, Turtle, Tiger, Dog, and Peacock was Volpina. Ladybug didn’t see Plagg with the other kawmi and sent a furious prayer that Adrien had gotten away from her safely and she wasn’t just hiding the Cat somewhere.

“Oh Ladybug, don’t look so shocked! You didn’t really think it would be that easy did you?” Volpina’s laugh rang in her head like a bell tolling. Maybe that was just the beeping from both her and Stardust’s miraculous. The fox akuma pointed her flute at Stardust. Penknight bristled and growled at her.

“I can’t believe Ladybug gave you a miraculous. Oh well, no matter. Mutton, Butterfly, or treacherous little human, I’m not picky about my dinner.” Volpina grinned, showing off wickedly sharp teeth. Marc’s miraculous beeped on final time, dropping his transformation. 

“This IS my lucky day.” Volpina laughed as Penknight shoved Marc behind himself and raised his sword in warning.

“You’ll never get passed me.” The male akuma growled. Volpina just smirked and laughed again.

“But I already have.” Ladybug saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and felt stupid. Of course the fox akuma would pull something underhanded like this, she thought in despair as Marc screamed, being dragged into his own shadow by a clawed hand. 

“MARC!” Penknight shrieked, diving for Marc’s outstretched hand. Their fingers brushed briefly before the boy was swallowed up. The mocking laughter of Volpina’s illusion echoed in Ladybug’s head long after it had dissolved into smoke.

[redrobin-detective]

I got tagged by  buff and wonderful @timdrakeothy and I haven't done these in a while cause, well, I'm drowning in asks all the time but I decided to do one again :) Thanks so much man!

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better

Nicknames: I don't really have one? Meg? But not a lot of people call me that

Star sign: Cancer

Height: 5'3" and ready 2 fyght

Time right now: 8:00pm

Last thing you googled: I looked up what cardiac ablation was because I was studying for my adult health quiz Wednesday (Apparently it's a surgical procedure where you enter the heart via a catheter and basically electroshock the electrical pace setting area in your heart to kill some of the tissue and hopefully reset the electrical pattern. It's used for things like severe A Fib and A Flutter but sounds pretty whack to me)

Fave music artist: I've been in a weird place lately in that I've always been a classic rock girl but lately I've been exploring and fallen super hard for 2000's and up alternative/folk/punk bands. Of Monsters and Men, Mumford and Sons, One Republic, Train, X Ambassadors. Right now I'm highkey obsessed with Florence + the Machine. Know any other bands that fit this model LET ME KNOW.

Song stuck in my head: Hold on Forever by Rob Thomas, heard on the radio and it won't leave.

Last movie I watched: Once Upon a Time in America, the last Sergio Leone film

Last tv show I watched: Powerless On Demand this morning when I recalled that it aired last night

What I’m wearing right now: My beloved Superboy shirt and some black sweatpants.

When I created this blog: God it was June 2013, I'd been the hugest Doctor Who fan and I needed people to talk to about my love (or to talk to in general) so I caved and joined. God I was here for the DW 50th anniversary special goddamn. I've know @historygrump for nearly 4 years wtf man where does time go?

The kind of stuff I post: I swear this used to be a pure Doctor Who blog once upon a time. I'll post a little bit of everything but clearly I hone in on whatever I'm interested in at the moment. DW was big, manga (mostly FMA), Elementary, various cartoons, music, movies, books, funny stuff. And yes Batman, apparently I've become a Tim Drake hotspot, who knew?

Do I get asks regularly? I get so many I have no idea how this happened. Like wow guys, I still can't believe it but I answer upwards of 20 a day. It's nuts, I'm starting to fall behind which I feel bad about but school's getting overwhelming and I'm too tired to answer them all but I love hearing from you guys.

Why did I choose my url: Oh I've been waiting for this one. I have a very specific image in my mind. Tim is sitting in an armchair, facing away. It's in black and white, he's going on about how he'll take the case. He turns, he's in his Red Robin suit accept there's a fedora on his head. "Nice to meet cha, I'm Red Robin, detective" in that 30s noir tone cause I love that shit and I bet Tim does too

Gender: Lady

Hogwarts House: I'd been told for years I'm Ravenclaw, was forced to do the online test and it was confirmed. Go blue birds.

Pokémon team: The science one?

Favorite color: I really love green, a warm, light olive green that earthy. The color of my bedroom walls my dad painted while I was at school. I love it, it's so soothing.

Average hours of sleep: I am a grad student and I get about 6-8 hours per night and if you aren't amazed get out of my face (also no caffeine addiction!)

Lucky number: 11, 11 has always been my number, always. Ironic too since I graduated high school in 2011.

Favorite characters: Tim Drake, Sherlock Holmes, Elizabeth Bennett, the Doctor, Edward Elric, Danny Phantom and more but sticking to utmost favs

Dream job: I'm training to be a nurse but I don't want to be a hospital nurse? At least not forever, I'll start out there, maybe in L&D or OB but then I want to do something else with nursing, don't know what. Maybe Navy nursing and travel, Forensic nursing, Nurse midwife, the possibilities are endless.

Number of blankets I sleep with: I only have my comforter cause I hate layers and I hate feeling trapped (winter and me don't get along) but I'm always colder than shit. I have a heated mattress pad, I tell you I actually would die without it. It's currently on 4 now, I'm very toasty.

Following: 12 because I am extremely picky about my dash and I love all the people I meet on here but I want to keep it to a manageable number.

Tagging!: @jaybirbwalking, @dianaraven, @aka-hawkguy, @blueasthebeetle, @brucewhynes, @iphoenixrising, @loxare, @hummelfun, @timaltman, @3purpleraven3, @theblackbat, @bat-reputation, @sassyminnesotan, @jayredwing, @tumdrake, @historygrump, @leia--stardust, @martianmanhuntter, @jayactivist, @nytpicking, @randomgothamcitizen, @beckermorricone, @murgadur, @deadsrobinscircle

[killiancygnus]

Serendipitous Melody 4/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~2.8k

A/N: Weee it’s time for an update! I hope you guys are having a nice beginning of the year :)  In this chapter you’ll see some singing and maybe some of your questions will be answered…I hope you like it!

As always, thank you to my lovely friends and betas @the-reason-to-sail-home and @londonsbridge  . Huge thanks to the ladies of the CS Writers’ Hub too for being so supportive and for helping me get some writing done <3   <a href="https://tmblr.co/mpg-MAPDtelzgfCOkPEeXlw" target="_blank">

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending, @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @captainwiley, @hencethebravery, @mahstatins, @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans, @legendofthephoenixcs and @csreviews

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 / AO3

Belle called Emma’s name first.

When she arrived on stage, after carefully climbing a flight of stairs with her sky high heels, her sight fell on Killian’s wide eyes and she smiled slyly at him. His reaction at her black leather mini dress had been exactly the one she’d expected.

She watched Will walk up onto the stage and pick up two mics, as she tucked a lock of her loose curls behind her ear. Wishing good luck at each other with a timid and excited smile, Will gave Emma her microphone. They both faced the audience, side by side, and waited for the music to start.

As planned the day before, Emma had to wait to join Will for the refrain after he’d sung the first verse.

When he started singing, Emma had to admit he was good, but she knew she was better. Only half listening to Will’s performance, she took a look at the judges: Tink, Robin and Ariel were having fun, mouthing the lyrics and attempting to dance while still sitting on their chairs, whereas Killian was staring at them, focused on their performance.

Hearing the last lyrics of the first verse, Emma took a deep breath and got ready to sing. Will’s gruff voice balanced her much softer one, but Emma was still partially  holding back for later. They moved around the stage, sometimes finding each other face to face, other times getting closer to the edge of the stage so they could interact with the audience. Emma felt like they were two wolves, dancing around and studying each other, ready to battle for supremacy.

And I’m the one who’s gonna win, she thought as the refrain came to an end, her eyes shining with determination.

Emma stopped in the middle of the stage and smoothly moved onto the second verse.

At first, her voice was soft and sweet, but it got rougher and rougher every passing line. She managed to balance perfectly all the emotions, and express them without any apparent effort.

The resulting effect was beautiful: anger gradually taking place of the beginning affection and frustration.

Can’t you see that you’re smothering me?

Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control

‘Cause everything that you thought I would be

Has fallen apart right in front of you

Every step that I take is another mistake to you

And every second I waste is more than I can take!

After ending the verse with a powerful high note, which made the audience go wild, Will joined her for the refrain. He looked stunned by her performance and even Killian - who was trying his best not to let it show - was quite shocked, his eyes slightly widened were giving him away.

Emma kept singing at high capacity through the whole song, lost in the atmosphere and cheered by the audience.

She lifted her eyes to look at the coaches, the last note of the song still resonating in the air. When she saw all four of them (Yes, Killian too), behaving just like all the other people in the room, standing up and applauding them, she couldn’t suppress the huge grin that spread through her face.

Belle joined them onstage, putting herself in between Will and Emma, and the applause died down.

“Wow, that was great guys! Maybe one of the best performances so far. What do you think Robin?”

“You both were absolutely amazing! You and Killian did such a good job,” he complimented them.

Killian bent forward to look at him, raising his right eyebrow. “Why, did you have any doubts?”

“Maybe I did, but not about them,” Robin replied cheekily.

“You wound me,” Killian gasped over dramatically, putting a hand on his chest, “I thought we were friends!”

“Will you two knock it off?” Tink groaned, “They were brilliant! When I was told that you were going to sing Numb I knew you would have been great Will, and you definitely didn’t let me down. Though, I was a bit worried about you, Emma, because I thought you were too sweet and naive. But damn girl, there’s fire in you! I couldn’t have been so wrong.”

Ariel nodded along, “Yeah, Tink is right. I think you started off a bit insecure, but then, when you sang alone, you literally blew me away! And Robin was speechless too, even though he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Robin caved in, winking at her.

Still breathless, Emma muttered a few words to thank them for the compliments, her cheeks flushing pink, whereas Will just smiled and nodded. She felt bad for him, she really did, because Will was caught blindsided between her and Killian.

“So, now Killian is the time to tell us who’s gonna stay in your team and who’s going to leave,” Belle announced.

“Do I really have to?” he uselessly pleaded Belle, pouting a little. Giving her a puppy eyed look and an apologetic nod, he continued, “Okay then, first I’d like to tell you that you were great. You both were perfect in terms of intonation and interpretation, but I have to make a choice. I would keep you both in my team, if that were possible, but unfortunately it isn’t. So please, no matter what happens, don’t stop following your dreams.”

Both Emma and Will shook their heads, too nervous to even breathe out a word.

“Will,” Killian sighed, passing his hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, but Emma is the one who will be performing again in a couple of weeks.”

A whirlwind of emotions passed on Emma’s face: joy, satisfaction, incredulity and something that felt a lot like guilt. Too shocked to move, she stood still for a moment until she saw Will reaching for her to embrace her in a hug, which only lasted a few seconds.

He chose me! I can’t believe it actually worked.  

Murmuring a thank you, Emma faked a grateful smile for the cameras and then headed backstage, the audience still cheering for her. Glancing behind her back one last time before descending the stairs, she saw Killian following her with his gaze and Will still standing next to Belle, his head tilted down. A spark of uneasiness flowed through her.

Turning around, Emma shrugged off the guilt that had settled in her stomach and walked through the door that would lead her backstage.It was a game after all. Will would have done the same thing.

After the ritual post-performance talk in front of a camera about the way she felt now and back on stage, she heard a bell ringing, indicating they were taking a break from shooting.

She was leaning against a wall, drinking some water when Killian found her. He usually went straight to his changing room to relax a few minutes, like his friends always did, but not this time. He’d wanted to apologise to Emma for being such an ass, but as he approached her he felt his confidence falter a little. The speech he had prepared a few minutes before, didn’t seem enough of an apology anymore.

Even though she looked like she had been waiting for him, she only seemed to notice his presence when he stood right in front of her. He was about to mutter an apology when her stunning emerald eyes met his, giving him a questioning look.

The words died on his lips, so he just stared at her, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. He was quite sure he had seen a sparkle of hope flickering in her eyes, but when a pathetic “Good job,” left his lips, a mask of indifference fell on her face.

Spotting David at the end of the luckily deserted corridor, Emma thanked him briefly.

Killian watched her walk away towards David, then turned around and reluctantly joined Ariel and the others onstage. All he wanted to do was go back home and have a drink (or possibly two), but he couldn’t. To Killian, it felt like the following hours would never pass.

When he finally got home that evening, he dropped the keys on the tea table in front of the sofa and went into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of rum from the top left cupboard, he poured some in a glass and gulped it down with a large swig. Killian served himself another drink and, glass in hand, walked into the living room. He plopped down on the sofa and switched on the tv, nursing his drink and enjoying the warm feeling in his stomach. Hoping that it could distract him enough to stop thinking about Emma Swan, he picked an old episode of Sherlock on Netflix, but of course it didn’t work.

He had been so stupid. Yes, he got angry when she told him she’d thought he was the man the tabloids said he was, but then she apologised. She did look like she was truly sorry and if Robin’s words after her audition hadn’t already settled doubts in his mind way before their first lesson, he wouldn’t have been such an obnoxious asshole for the whole week. Unfortunately that didn’t happen though, so he decided that she would duet Numb with Will, to test if Robin was right. He’d wanted to see if she would still make him feel that emotional connection with her, even if he put her in a situation in which she had to sing something that wasn’t really her style. However, he soon realised that wasn’t going to work as everytime she sang during her first lesson, she had the same effect on him. Consequently, Robin’s voice would start ringing in his head on repeat, followed by the flow of memories of Milah, making his wariness grow and hence his rudeness.

He had been so confused. He didn’t really know how to deal with his feelings. He was a mess: sometimes he was kind, and then he would scold her for being off key or for her poor interpretation a few moments later, even if it wasn’t true.

Then came the day in which she gave him a piece of her mind (and rightly so). She definitely was a tough lass, so different from all the others. She treated him as a real person and not just as a famous singer. That had been pretty much clear from the very beginning, when they talked backstage, but that outburst confirmed it.

She was dangerous, and so he did the only thing that seemed reasonable at that time: he kept her at arm’s length. And it had worked up until that morning, when she walked onstage with that sexy leather dress, which hugged her figure in all the right places, and high heels that accentuated her long, perfect legs. And as if that wasn’t enough, she smiled smugly at him and proceeded to blow him away with her talent.

He’d felt that pull again, and there was no denying it this time. It was like she had the ability to make him feel not only all the emotions she was pouring in the lyrics, but some of hers too. She was just amazing. She put the bar so high that Will, with all his talent, couldn’t do anything to beat her.

He knew he needed to apologise to her, and he even got a speech ready in record time after Will went backstage. Though when a few minutes later he heard the bell, he rushed backstage and that’s when he royally fucked up everything.

I don’t know what happened, but my mind went blank and I said the first thing I could think about!  Killian thought, letting out a sigh.

But maybe there was a way to fix the mess he’d made.

Reaching for the remote to lower the volume of the television, he grabbed his phone and called her.

“Hello?” Emma answered immediately, not looking at the number, her voice tired even though it was still early.

“Good evening, lass,” he greeted her cheerfully.  

“You?! Why are you calling me?” she retorted, suddenly sounding pretty much awake.

“Relax, Swan!” he exclaimed, “I just wanted to properly apologise for my behaviour, so I thought we could get a coffee together. If you want, of course.”

Emma stayed in silence for a while. He sounded like he truly wanted to fix things between them, however she was still too angry at him.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Oh my God, why did I say that? She thought, feeling the panic building.

“What?” She could hear the smile on his lips. He clearly had heard her, but the smug bastard wanted her to say it again.

“I said okay,” she coldly repeated with more certainty, “Is tomorrow at nine good for you?”

“Sure! There’s a place not far from the studios that’s always pretty quiet and away from prying eyes. I’ll send you the address, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow then.”

“Good night, Swan.”

It seems that tomorrow is going to be an interesting day, Killian thought, gulping down one last sip of rum.

Emma arrived at the Cafe a few minutes early and, not wanting to wait for him outside in the cold, she decided to get in.

She spotted him immediately. He was sitting on a table at the back of the room, reading a book.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked with a smile, startling him. He had been so focused on his book that he hadn’t seen her entering the cafe.

Gesturing her to take a seat, he put the book on the side.

“Emma…” he started, scratching behind his head.

“Yes?” she urged him.

“I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour. I’ve been an ass,” he admitted, “At first I was upset you judged me on what people say about me. But the main reason was that after what Robin said to me and what happened in the past, I was scared of you. But at the same time I liked you, both as an artist and as a person. I didn’t know what to do and I messed up things pretty bad. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, but when she opened her mouth to question him further, a waitress interrupted her.

“What can I get you?”

“A hot chocolate with cinnamon, please,” Emma replied from habit and added, noticing Killian’s lifted eyebrows and amused smile, “What is it? I’m a hot chocolate kind of girl.”

“Nothing,” he chuckled, “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

“You’re so boring,” she mocked him, making him laugh.

They talked about everything and nothing at the same time. She found out he was reading Peter Pan and that he loved books and the sea. He found out she had a sweet tooth and that she loved her old yellow bug. Neither one of them noticed how late it got until people started coming into the Cafe to have lunch.

Emma refused Killian’s offer to pay so, after they both payed for their drinks, they headed outside, Killian putting a cap and a pair of sunglasses on to not be recognised.

Muttering a timid “See you tomorrow”, Emma walked away, turning around one last time to wave at him goodbye.  

When a couple of hours later Killian was getting out of his BMW he had just parked in the garage, his phone rang. Getting it out of his jeans’ pocket, he swiped his thumb on the screen, hoping that Regina wasn’t calling to scold him for something.

“Killian did you have a coffee date with some girl this morning?” she asked him out of the blue.

“Hello to you too, Regina,” he replied, rolling his eyes, “Yes, I did. Why are you asking?”

“They got some pictures of you.”

The color drained from Killian’s face. If by chance those vermins got a picture of him and Emma, things would get bad. For the both of them.

“They are too blurry to see who she is,” she continued calmly, and Killian released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “But Killian, if you could tell me who she is or what’s going on, it’d be-”

“It’s Emma Swan,” he interrupted her, “It’s her in the pictures. We had a disagreement of sorts, so I asked her to have a coffee with me as a way to apologise.”

“I see…Don’t worry, I’ll bury everything. But please, be more careful next time,” Killian opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, “I know it’s not really your fault, but we don’t need a scandal right now, as much as we don’t want them to dig into Emma’s life and write crap about her.”     

“I will,” he promised, “Thanks, Regina.”

“Oh, and Killian?” she addressed him, right before ending the call, “It would be better if you tell her what happened. Trust me.”

Thanks for reading! <3<br>

Emma is wearing the leather dress from 3x12 and the song she’s singing with Will is Numb by Linkin Park. Also, this is how I imagined Killian’s house being: outdoor and indoor (first 8 pictures).

[musiccosmosru]

French disco revivalists Stardust recently announced earlier this year that they were going to release a remastered version of their breakout out-hit wonder ‘Music Sounds Better With You’. On the occasion of its 20th anniversary on July 20, Ryan Alexander Diduck looks back on the Chaka Khan-sampling curiosity to figure out what it meant for us then – and what it says about us now.

“We do not repeat because we repress, we repress because we repeat.” – Gilles Deleuze, Difference & Repetition

There are a number of superficially noteworthy things about the 1981 hit ‘Fate’ by the Queen of Funk, Chaka Khan. The personnel: as if one legend wasn’t enough, Khan’s backup band features Herbie Hancock and David Foster on keyboards; Hiram Bullock, who Paul Shaffer would hire the following year to play in David Letterman’s Late Night house band, covers lead guitar duties. The song’s lyrics confidently describe the chance meeting between two lovers as no mere coincidence: “And the moment I held you I knew it / What we do is decided before we do it.”

But perhaps the most remarkable thing about ‘Fate’ is how Stardust, the short-lived French trio consisting of Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter, Alan Braxe and lyricist Benjamin Diamond, took a seconds-long spoonful of 1980s disco stew and fed it to the world with their 1998 one-hit-wonder, ‘Music Sounds Better With You’.

At the time, the song sounded startlingly out of step with what was concurrent in electronic music — the accelerated pace of, say, Photek’s razor-sharp break beats and Aphex Twin’s snare rushes, or DJ Shadow and Fatboy Slim’s reconstitutive, plunderphonic aesthetics. ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ gestured toward a generation that had until then endured nearly universal disdain: to rockists and night-clubbers alike, disco still sucked. While other artists contested the confines of historicity approaching the new millennium, Stardust doubled down on the past.

Was this parody? Was it pastiche? Whatever it was, Stardust capitalized on a zeitgeist that was already underway in cinema, via films like Casino, Boogie Nights, and 54, the cultural current that Simon Reynolds termed “Retromania.”

Stardust’s neo-disco anthem unofficially marks the start of a regressive tendency that characterized the majority of pop production well into the twenty-first century. While Reynolds’ 2011 book doesn’t mention it by name, a thread beginning with ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ can be drawn straight through the retromaniacal era, concluding in 2013 with Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories, when the motif fully achieved self-awareness. As Bangalter’s full-time project would do, Stardust at once fetishized the warm, optimistic tones and timbres of disco’s style, and embraced the cold, post-human mode, what Reynolds identified as Daft Punk’s trademark “transcendent artificiality.” Stardust’s ambivalence suggests a key pre-millennial anxiety of either orienting toward an uncertain future, or receding into a more comfortable and infinitely replicable past.

If the twentieth century was the century of the self, the twenty-first would be the century of the simulation.

Even structurally speaking, ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ broke markedly with dance music conventions of the day. There were no bombastic build-ups, no mammoth breakdowns. No drop. Rather, the ‘Fate’ sample could theoretically loop on happily forever, extending a state of “hyper-stasis” — another of Reynolds’ neologisms that usefully describes the “restless shuttling back and forth within a grid-space of influences and sources, striving frenetically to locate exit routes to the beyond.” The quaint “beyond” that Stardust strove for was simultaneously retro and futurist, organic and plastic, a perfect symmetry of simulacrum and the simulated.

Today, we can look doubly back: twenty years to 1998, and forty-or-so years to the disco-funk period that Bangalter and company pined for in earnest.

Aside from pre-millennium tension, significant shifts were underway at the end of the 1990s in the reality studio of power and politics, shifts that have had enormous consequences ever since. Globalization and a new, affective economy accompanied the wholesale consolidation of wealth and cultural authority by multinational corporations and conglomerates. Brands, as Naomi Klein memorably wrote in No Logo, supplanted products. Manipulation of affect, not emotion, became the proper, postmodern process of social control after decentralization.

If the twentieth century was the century of the self, the twenty-first would be the century of the archetype, the symbol, the simulation. Actualization would take a back seat to virtuality, both in the digital sense of the word, as well as speaking of immanence — or, on the precipice of being in the world.

Crucially, these shifts were set in motion in the early 1980s, the very moment that Stardust chose as their temporal point of nostalgia: the turn to neoliberalism in the west, the rise of political conservatism and economic austerity, the dogmatic embrace of efficiency in all manner of production, the time of Reaganism in the US and Thatcherism in the UK. I find the former American president to be curiously instructive in thinking through Stardust’s infectious floor-filler. Let me explain.

In a 2004 k-punk blog post entitled “Why I Want To Fuck Ronald Reagan”, Mark Fisher wrote about how a coarsely titled excerpt of JG Ballard’s 1970 book The Atrocity Exhibition was distributed by Situationist-inspired pranksters at the 1980 Republican National Convention in San Francisco. But rather than scandalize its readership, which was the intent, the pamphlet — disguised to look just like Republican literature, stripped of its obscene designation, and furnished with the party’s official seal — was tacitly accepted by attendees as a legitimate piece of research, likely “commissioned from some maverick think tank,” as Ballard himself noted later. Fisher interpreted this misidentification as a surefire sign that political subversion itself had been sabotaged, rendered inert by the B-movie actor-cum-politician’s neutralization of satire: “Reagan’s career outstrips any attempt to ludically lampoon it and demonstrates the increasing pliability of the boundaries between the real and its simulations.”

“Reagan operationalized the virtual in postmodern politics,” wrote the cultural theorist Brian Massumi in his 2002 book Parables For The Virtual: “His incipience was prolonged by technologies of image transmission and then relayed by apparatuses such as the family or the church or the school or the chamber of commerce, which in conjunction with the media acted as part of the nervous system of a new and frighteningly reactive body politic. It was on the receiving end,” reiterates Massumi, “that the Reagan incipience was qualified, given content.” Essentially, Ronald Reagan was a blank slate, an empty sign upon which the American public could hang their highest hopes and deepest fears, memories of the past and desires for the future.

Similarly, Stardust manifested a slippery incipience. Contrasting Daft Punk’s robotic masks, Stardust’s members appeared famously in the Michel Gondry-directed video wearing what could be called screens — silver, reflective body suits upon which analogous affective projections could be played out. As the video’s protagonist child constructs a model airplane, we watch him watching the song climb the fictional charts on a fictional chart show, bookended by Robert Palmer and Madness send-ups. As with Reagan, everything familiar here appears uniformly amorphous, anything we want it to be. Is Stardust a real band, or a replication? Is it supposed to be taken seriously, or perceived as a bit of a lark? Is the future frightening? Are we tranquilized by bygone time? We can’t know, so the answer must be yes.

Still, what kind of commemoration is appropriate in 2018? Is the purpose of reflection to canonize cultural artifacts into endless infotainment and click-thru lists? Or is there space to be critical, not in terms of indictment, but instead, as an act of interpretation, of revision, taken in good faith, as if deciphering a distantly remembered dream? I like to think that all of Stardust’s depth was paradoxically present on the surface: what seemed like a clichéd platitude in the late-1990s — feeling good through music and fellowship — has a special sort of resonance now, at a time when feeling poorly is a default setting for most, when there is once again an Iron Lady in the British Parliament, and an inchoate actor, impervious to parody, in the White House.

The “beyond” we urgently seek now is “beyond capitalism”; “beyond control”; “beyond injustice.” We can ultimately, literally, think of ‘Music Sounds Better With You’ as a simple prescription for ecstasy through community — a call to cultivate social spaces and collective scenes, and celebrate the rare instances of harmony that somehow went missing in this evermore-atomized and acrimonious time.

Ryan Alexander Diduck is the author of Mad Skills: MIDI and Music Technology in the 20th Century. Find him on Twitter.

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[fillerfiller]

ca event 01. | dreamscape

Approximations of time in Wonderland were a rather useless thing. Time would flux and change at the blink of an eye. At one moment it would be evening, the next afternoon, and then back to evening with no set pattern to its abnormality. There was no such thing as getting used to the nonsensical whimsy that shrouded the world like it was an essential to live. The closest thing to that was mere adaptation. For now, the period that had struck (with an expectancy rate similar to winning a lottery) was night time. Call herself a stick in the mud for wanting to abide by her own habits but she could only manage to find herself being able to sleep at night. Her work shift as well as dealing with the Amusement Park residents drained a lot of energy from her. It was fine; she would feel satisfied enough with a means of productivity as to not be a freeloader on Gowland and his workers who so graciously allowed her to stay in this territory. A cunning cheshire with a fixation on guns and a man for an affinity for dreadfully awful fashion sense and a horrible musical skill. Who would have thought these were going to be the people she found most of her company in? The crystalline vial in her hand remained quite empty even with the decent amount of red fluid in its container. Alice had yet to unravel the mystery of what this truly did. Still, it seemed necessary as a means to get along, so she found herself checking it often. As she gazed upon it in wonder, a numbing sensation of drifting off to sleep would creep along her body as she laid down in her guest room. A dream within a dream was an odd phenomenon that Alice couldn’t wrap her head around either. However it didn’t change the fact that once you removed one dream, the other dream would remain a dream. A fictitious world that her psyche apparently felt necessary to expose Alice to for unknown reasons. Perhaps it was to grow as a person. Maybe there was no true explanation for it. The fact remained that she seemed ever disturbed with the contents being so obscurely adolescent and fairytale like when she was a realist. The scene before her as her eyes awakened to this meta dream was nothing less than a place of its own time. It seemed to stand still in a void of nothingness. The realm of scenery was akin to a mix of greens, purples, and blues all being airbrushed onto a stardust like canvas. Such a thing was never ending, nor did it actually have any set point of reality. The surrealism was something she had grown familiar with, eyes blinking to life as she scoured the empty area. He had to have been here somewhere.. Whether he decided to show his face or not was yet to be seen. “I’m here, Alice.” With a whimsy all too suited to the Country of Hearts, a certain dream demon materialized into existence, floating leisurely through the air. His disposition seemed relatively under control this time around. Perhaps the sickly man who hopelessly coughed up blood would be discarded momentarily for his initial demeanor of cryptic mysticism. The outsider crossed her arms, notably upset at his semi-clairvoyance. “Stop reading my mind Nightmare. It feels like a violation of privacy.” “You’re an interesting person. I can’t help but dwell into your heart to see what’s there.” “Don’t be weird.” She hated that all of her impure thoughts were out on display like a glimmering trophy. It was not something she was proud of in the slightest, and while she did speak her own mind in this world, she knew that there sometimes was the act of trying to keep good face and pocket any sort of pessimism that would drip in her mind. However, Nightmare had access to all of this, which only increased the insecurity she had. Negativity flourished her person as if that was what she wore instead of the frilly blue dress Lorina would have advised her to do long ago. …..Lorina?

“You seemed to have gotten used to this world. This world likes you too, Alice. Aren’t you happy? There couldn’t have been a better outcome.” He interjects, partially interrupting her from her thoughts. It was admittedly a good distraction for about half of a second. “…No, it doesn’t. I’m not a sweet, younger sister like Edith or a promising lady like Lorina is. People like my sisters would have deserved to be liked by everyone. Not me.” She states matter-of-factly, clearly out of her own self denial. Alice paused for a moment before continuing. “You told me before that being liked wasn’t just a convenience but something necessary to survive in Wonderland. I don’t like this false pretense.. it’s unreasonable, and uncomfortable. There was the small chance I wouldn’t be liked too. That would have been fine if it wouldn’t lead to me getting killed. I don’t want people to like me but in Wonderland they have to. It’s not a good condition.” Tick tick tick tick…….. “I won’t say you’re wrong. It’s an advantageous way of progression. But it’s hardly as superficial as you think. Haven’t you grown to like this world and its residents too?” [ ……… ] “Boris is too touchy and Gowland nearly kills me everyday along with his park staff because of his bad violin playing.” But they meant well. It wasn’t just the duo she ended up being able to find comfort in, though, even if they were higher up on her list. “You should be more honest.” She turned away abruptly from the man. “…I’m just enjoying myself for now. Since this is a dream, there’s no rush to wake up.” “Yes, Alice. It’s all a dream. So spend your time all you like and get to like this world more and more. You’re very lucky that in Wonderland we cherish the sides of you that you hate, so don’t be so hard on yourself. You were never meant to be a pure, innocent person. You are liked just as you are.” – When she woke, she was not comforted by the familiar, garish decorations of the Amusement Park’s guest room, but in District Zeta of none other than Hive City. This too, was a dream. Right? So why did she feel so alone?