#compress has the magical fingers and he shows you what those mean

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

It looks like the rewind Theory might be coming true

There are many variations of that theory, but yes.

Honestly, it is badly needed in the story if what Horikoshi is aiming for is an ending where the kids and the villains survive.

Introducing a character that can undone damage is always insurance for the author. You have to be careful to not overuse it to the point it loses its impact. If no one ever dies and everyone keeps on resurrecting, the predictability becomes boring.

The good thing is that bnha doesn't overuse Eri. They don't use it to rewind the damage done to the characters when they lose an extremity, for example. It didn't work on Nighteye. They didn't try to use it on All Might—and if they did, I can't remember when it happened.

The point is that I liked that Horikoshi left Eri's quirk to the end of the manga. That way he could make the characters give their 100% without it meaning sure death. It scares the readers, like it should, it creates tension. Knowing that Eri's quirk might not work is another good decision. Even if she shows up after the big showdown, the public doesn't know who is going to survive.

Now, when I say there are many variations...

I'm against the version of it where the villains are turned into kids. Where is the fun of it, uh?

It erases the complexity of each character and all they fought for. What was the point of fighting so much if you're gonna erase what happened? If there's no consequences, no accountability? Any story should grow from the risks of the actions taken. We want to know there's something to be lost, that's where the adrenaline comes from. That's the entertaining part!

The version that completely heals their wounds is also kinda... bland. I'm a fan of bnha because the story doesn't solve most disabilities with magic.

If a pro-hero loses a leg or an eye, they'd have to learn to fight with the cards they were dealt with. Like I said before, those wounds tell a story of the risks they took. Aizawa cut his leg to survive and see another day with Eri and his students. Mirko lost most of her limbs giving her absolute all!!!!

It's the same for villains. It moves you, the way those villains would sacrifice themselves for their goals. Compress' lost arm tells the story of how they lost Magne. Giran lost his fingers when he refused to sell the League, so their absence is the evidence of his loyalty.

I want irreversibility. I want permanece. I want to see the growth that comes with accepting what we do in our lives and how we have to keep going.

My favorite version is the one that heals enough for the person to survive, but not much more. It is not going to take you to step one, it can't erase all you did and all that was done to you.

A second chance, but you have to make it from where you were left. No shortcuts, no easy way out. Either you commit to it or you're over.

I don't want to see Touya without his burns. That is boring! I don't want squeaky clean Touya, all perfect and smooth skinned and whatever. That is not him. He's the boy who burned in the flames of his passion, right or wrong. He's the boy who is supposed to be dead, but survived because he was a stubborn bastard.

The story can lessen them, of course. At this point Touya is more scrap put together by metal than anything else. He cannot possibly survive like that, so he needs to be healed enough to live. The burns can even lessen with time, fading as Touya heals, but I want the memory to last. I don't care if he forgives Enji, I want him to be forced to look at the burns every day knowing how they're there.

Another example?

Tomura's scars tell a story. You cannot resurrect his family, so don't go erasing the scar in his eye or in his lip. Don't go erasing the evidence of his struggle.

To be fair, Tomura has changed a lot since his first appearance. I remember him with yellow teeth, all skinny to the bone. It shows that no one cared for him. Well, maybe enough to keep him breathing, but there was no delicacy involved. It's funny to think how he got better and better the more time he spent far from AFO. That and the surgery he had to undergo...

Which is a wonderful terrible concept. It's about the cleansing, how AFO was preparing Tomura's body to be his. Body modifications to assert ownership, that's a horror favorite. The idea of being "cured" to the point you can't recognize your own body. You know what I mean.

I'm glad that when rewind was used on Mirio, it cost him something. He lost his quirk for a while and he had to make an effort to go back to who he was. I'd say that the nature of the story helped him bounce and that's a chance we didn't see his struggle a bit more.

Anyway, that's my opinion on the matter. I hope it'll be a variation I like and not something that's gonna leave me sweating cold every time I dare to remember it.

[jaksalot]

League of Villains x Child!Reader

fAll Platonic of course

I’m thinking you, reader, were a grown up and a hero at that

That is until you were hit by a villains quirk and were kidnapped and taken to the LOV before the heroes could save you

Having no memories and being helpless Shigaraki thought this was the perfect opportunity to take you down.

But, unfortunately, Toga and Twice stopped him

Saying something about how cute you are

So he spared you, for now

Toga!

Toga’s a terrible babysitter, I don’t know what to tell you

She almost stabbed you on three different occasions to make you not sad anymore

When she isn’t trying to stab you, she’s like a big sister(that has issues)

She’ll often take you to the mall and be called an excellent by sister by the oblivious people around her

She’ll most definitely steal thing from the store

But it’s for you!

She loves to let you play with her knives

She dresses you up in little cardigans and dresses no matter what gender you are

She’ll do your hair too, even though you might hate it, she’ll sit you down and demand to do your hair

She was denied babysitting privileges after the league found you surrounded by knives

If you gave her a deku plushie, or something that even remotely reminded her of Izuku, she’ll love you until the end of the world.

Her hugs are very scary

Mostly because she’ll breath in your ear and tell you how much you mean to her in a very terrifying way

Twice!

Twice is the greatest/worst babysitter on the team

He’ll give you cuddles, and then suddenly decide you’re gross

Will apologize for hours afterwards though

He confused you 

A lot

But your tiny child brain can’t help it

He’s gonna steal you away from Toga after he saw you playing with knives

No child is going to lose their finger on his watch

He’s often in the background when you’re playing with Toga, making sure she doesn’t hurt you too badly

He loves you/hates you at the same time

I mean look at how cute you are

But you’re taking all the attention off of him from Toga

Little attention grabber

Will mistakenly give you booze, but then over react when he remembers booze for babies is wrong

Goes all throughout the league trying to find a cure

Atleast until Dabi trips him and tells him to shut up

Twice will take you to the park at night, or just walk you around

If you can’t sleep he’ll probably waste out all of your energy running around, and then you’ll pass out on the way back home

Saved you from being lit on fire or turned into dust many times

Mr Compress!!!

He’d be a very fun guy to be around, and probably is great at entertaining kids

If you can’t sit still long enough to watch his magic show he’ll absolutely teach you

But you can’t teach with those baby rags on your body

Shopping it is! 

Will be like Toga and dress you up in a matching uniform with him

Little assistant

You’ll sometimes eat his marbles and give him a heartattack

What if one carried acid and you just injested it????

You’re one of the few that have seen his actual face

Which you hated

He’ll take you to renaissance fairs and perhaps a rodeo or two 

Just for fun

Will teach you to steal

But with flash

He’ll turn Dabi or Shigaraki into a marble if they ever try to hurt you

Problem easily solved

You’ll stay in his room for a while

At least until Dabi learns that you’ve been eating marbles and will casually snatch you up one night

Kurogiri!!!

Father of the year award goes to:

He’s very responsible with you, and raises you like he did with Shigaraki

Gives you an ipad and sits you down on the couch

Lets say, just for some reason, you HATE that ipad

Maybe it’s been touched by stinky Tomura 

Or you just hate technology as a child

You would get in the way with everyone else

And despite you being a hero you’re still a child

A child that Kurogiri adores

He’d absolutely carry you around and let you rest on a dark cloud pillow he created

Will NOT let you drink anything in the bar

You’ll cry if he’s not right there with you, so he just gives you some applejuice and a book to read

(He’s raising an introvert) 

I’d find it funny if he gave you a wine glass and poured applejuice into it and called it “Wine”

He’d bust out a gut from laughing so hard if you acted like a customer

Stealing some money and slamming it down on the counter

He calls you his little shadow and wraps you up in his mist

When you’re playing hide and seek with Toga and Twice he’ll hide you in his mist and when they both give up you’ll jump out

He gets emotional when you call him dad

He’ll take you on walks at night like Twice, and will treat you to little fast food places(eventhough he despises them)

Shigaraki

Crusty Big Brother

Will shove you around

Acts like a little brat 

Teaches you terrible things

“Hey kid go decorate Dabi’s room with this endeavor merch I somehow found lying around”

He treats you like shit, but platonically

The more you’re around him, the more he’ll let you play star dew valley with him

You two will just hang out in his room after a big mission

He’ll play league of legends and you’ll play star dew valley

This man will absolutely murder for you though

He’s like a mean big brother that will kill if someone hurts you

You find his quirk very funny and will laugh if he dusts something

You two are a menace to society

Sometimes when the itch gets too bad he’ll cuddle you

He’ll either cuddle or tease you

depends on his status

He got so proud so quickly when you said he was better than All Might

Bro practically crashed when you somehow made a plushie of him

When Kurogiri is busy he’ll just take you to the mall or even a playground to run around in

The king of terrible fast food places

Finally

The one you simps have been waiting for

Dabi!

This man knows his shit about kids

He might be burning himself and have family issues

But he has the most experience

You’re def infatuated with his quirk

You find it so cool!!!

He’ll find it very flattering and will sometimes show you

But it’ll only last for a few seconds

Will tell you stories about things he’s done

don’t be surprised if they’re lies

This man has a tattoo some where I just know it

And when you find it you’ll use markers to color it in

It’ll look terrible, and he’ll be honest with you about that

Play fights

All the time

He got you a shirt that said “Fuck Endeavor”

He calls you shit stain

While you call him “Dab-Dab”

Will take you arson hunting with him

By that I mean that he’ll take you with him when he lights something on fire

After he found out Mr Compress wasn’t stopping you from eating unknown marbles you were snatched with him

He have a tiny little mattress beside his

He’ll wake you up by throwing his blankets on top of you

Will carry you around the league so you don’t get trampled by villains

If someone ever hurts or talks bad about you at the league

Don’t worry

They don’t exist anymore

He’s a good big brother

Just not very good at not murdering people

Thank you for reading! I am always taking requests so pop one in through the asks. 

[writingsbymo-mo]

Seven Minutes of Good Vibes

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❆ Day 7 of our 12 Days of XXXmas Collab

❆ Sumary:  It’s the annual Christmas party at the lov’s hideout. The bar is full of drunk/tipsy villains. Shenanigans ensue and now you’re stuck in the closet with Compress for seven minutes where he has a few tricks up his sleeve.

❆ WC: 2.4k

❆ Contains: alcohol, fingering, vibrating marbles

❆ TW: some drinking, objects stuffed in you

Note: Toga is 18 in this fic and Kurogiri makes sure she isn’t drinking.

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Twas a cold night this fine evening. Many people already sound asleep in their beds or off to their late night shifts. The hustle and bustle of the city dwindled by the hour. But not for a certain group. Oh no. They were far too awake on this Christmas Eve.

The League of Villains were hosting their annual Christmas Party, proposed by none other than Toga and later agreed upon by Kurogiri for some group bonding.

Multicolored lights strung along the bar counter thanks to Kurogiri plus a small tree of quaint decorations of ornaments and garland carefully placed on the front corner of the bar greeting all who enter from the side entrance. It lit up the usually dimly lit room nicely. Keeping up with such festivities, he wore a santa hat. “Everyone must wear one, even you Tomura Shigaraki,” he stated in a calm manner.

Tomura reluctantly wore it, keeping Father over his face the whole time as not to be seen and simply drank glasses of whiskey on the rocks, ignoring the festivities no matter how much Kurogiri tried getting him involved. Anyone who approached him was ignored or simply told to fuck off. He wasn’t in the greatest of moods being forced to miss a gaming tournament with the grand prize winner getting the rarest items in the entire game plus premium figures of the characters he mains. After a few attempts to speak to him, nobody dared bother him. Not even you.

The rest of the league, including yourself, all stayed in the corner opposite the bar.

Dabi stood leaning against the wall brooding as per usual even throwing in his usual snarky quips when the time was right. Twice was playing charades with Toga, Spinner, and Compress trying to figure out what exactly he was doing, throwing out guess after guess. Occasionally, Spinner glanced back at the boss with the soft pink glow forming in his cheeks.

What you were doing? Just sitting next to Mr. Compress, sipping on the cocktail in your hand all bundled up in some throw blankets. After being in the league these past few months, you soon caught glances of the man in such fine attire. Your cheeks were warm, not just from the booze. Honestly, you’d have nothing more than to finally have Compress right where you want him. You shifted your thighs just thinking about it. With the mask on so conspicuously, you never knew if he was ever looking your way or even noticed the little things you do.

As the night went on, everyone kept glancing at the doorway that led towards the second floor where the bathroom was located. Carefully placed over it was some mistletoe. Not once this evening did two people meet underneath it just yet. Everyone kept waiting, watching as someone would leave to use the bathroom, keeping track of who was coming and going. While normally, someone would kiss the person they bump into underneath the mistletoe, Toga came up with the idea that instead of kissing, the two caught under it would go into the broom closet for some seven minutes in heaven. And thus, it was agreed upon.

Tomura was plastered, passed out at the bar with Kurogiri shaking his head in disappointment at the young boss who didn’t wish to participate in the festivities. He had a strong feeling this would happen anyway.

The karaoke was brought out and now the room was filled with the song of some drunken or tipsy villains, minus Toga who Kurogiri made sure drank non-alcoholic beverages that night. Cheers and dancing ensued with everyone taking turns singing.

A sudden tightness in your bladder alerted you and you rushed to the bathroom. Being as tipsy as you were, you didn’t think to notice if anyone saw you get up not.

Feeling much better, you stepped back to the bar but then, you bumped into something or rather, someone. “Oof, s-sorry,” you uttered, slowly raising your head only to feel the heat growing rapidly in your cheeks, not from the various alcohol you’ve been drinking.

The familiar white mask with curious designs caught your attention and the lean build of his...it was him...Mr. Compress. “None to worry my dear.” Despite not seeing his face, you could feel his smile through the mask.

A sudden feeling on the back of your neck told you to look up with Compress having the same idea. You lifted your head slowly and paused. Your body felt hot, almost heavy and light at the same time. There it was, the mistletoe finally serving its purpose. 

Time stopped. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the hemi-parasitic plant hanging above your head. Of course the one moment you forgot about it would cause this to happen. On top of it all...with your crush. A part of you almost wondered if this was all said and forgotten about or if anyone even noticed.

Loud cheers from across the bar snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh my god! It’s happening!!!” Toga squealed, giving you a knowing look. You lowered your head in embarrassment, staring at the linoleum floor. She figured out how you felt about Compress a few weeks ago as you had a hard time keeping your eyes off him during the last fight. “Aww look at the lovebirds! Get a room,” Twice cooed then shouted. Spinner nodded and cheered in approval, taking another drink. Dabi was indifferent to the whole ordeal being too busy doodling dicks all over Tomura’s face, stifling his laughter as to what his boss’s reaction might be when he wakes up.

Your eyes continued to focus on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, never subsiding. A gloved hand of crimson obstructed your view. “I’d be honored for you to join me my dear.” The timbre of his voice, so smooth and rich made you lose your breath. You took his hand, warm with a perfect hold in yours as a gentleman would. If you were entirely sober right now, you would’ve fainted in pure astonishing bliss. He traipsed onwards to the nearest closet that so happened to be the broom closet, leading you in first, him following and closed the door behind him.

The room was tiny to say the least. You pulled the string to the light hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space, humming though barely audible. Outside, they started karaoke back up singing some classic music for this kind of party. Compress bumped into you the moment the door clicked. You stumbled back, hitting the wall and somehow pulling him with you. You gasped as you both fell onto the floor with a thud.

His warmth and subtle earthy, musky scent engulfed you, sending a tingling sensation between your legs. Slowly, you came back to reality. His body caged around you, on top of you. Soft but deep sighs caressed your ears, adding to the sensation below.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice. The mask that adorned his face fell off, revealing the beautiful chestnut eyes you could never look away from.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright...so handsome...uh I-I mean, are you?” You shrunk into yourself...you said it… ‘Maybe...he didn’t hear that part?’ Oh, but you knew, you just knew he did.

A spark lit up in his eyes as his lips stretched to form a smirk, “handsome? I’ll have you be the judge of that.” His right hand brushed your cheek that you melted into. Your heart skipped a few beats. “Now what would you like to do for these seven minutes? I might have a few tricks up my sleeve I’m willing to try with you.”

By now, a minute had already passed. You just needed to say it. All this time, how much you’ve always wanted him, how he makes you feel day in and day out. Never once have you ever lusted for someone so much, wondering just what those fingers and marbles could do to you. A man with many secrets who covers his face intrigued you to no ends. All you had to do...was tell him just what you wanted...what you needed. You inhaled deeply and sighed, it was now or never. “F-fuck me with your marbles!”

Compress paused, astounded by your response. He chuckled softly and smiled with a hungry expression on his face, “I didn’t take you as the kinky type but alas it appears I am mistaken. Though,” his voice deepened, almost in a growl, “I do have a trick or two that you might be interested in. Now then, we don’t have much time.” He leaned forward, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering an I’ve always wanted you.

The warmth radiating off his body now subtle as he leaned back, unbuttoning your pants. Goosebumps raised on your skin from his touch. He pulled them down your legs along with your panties, leaving your cunny exposed to him. Juices from your arousal shone under the soft lighting before him. You turned your head, blushing. His hand touched your chin tenderly, motioning you to face him.”C-Compress?”

“Shh, it’s alright. Please don’t hide your beautiful face from me my dear. Especially with what’s to come.” You could only feel hotter with every word of his sweeping through your ears.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, pouring all his feelings into it. Your eyes shot open but fluttered shut soon after, moving your lips to match his intensity. For a moment, the world had stopped. Nothing mattered but the emotions you shared.

“Ah!” you cried, breaking the kiss. Your cunny twitched as a couple fingers slid between your folds, testing your every sound and movement. “M-more!”

“Impatient I see. Well, it can’t be helped with us having a short timeframe but, I promise to make this performance worthwhile,” he dipped his fingers lower, sliding two fingers barely past your entrance, making you whimper. “Of course, next time I’ll surely give you the show of a lifetime.”

Long slender fingers plunged deep inside your velvety walls in a rapid, steady rhythm. You moaned and cried his name, urging your hips forward as lust overtook your mind. Every touch, the way he pressed and rubbed your sweet spot sent pleasant chills through your body. It’s no wonder they say he has magic fingers.

They scissored in and out, twisting and twirling in a fierce yet delicate dance leaving you begging for more. He moved so fast, you didn’t even notice his fingers slip out for a brief second only to shove in a special something: a marble. The foreign object made you gasp in surprise. It was cool to the touch making your insides tingle. You shifted your eyes towards his face. Compress couldn’t stop his smile, hearing your melodic moans that slipped out every movement he made making you tighter by the second.

Soon another marble went in. Then another, and another until finally….he stopped.

Compress released his fingers from your tight heat, licking off your juices while humming. Despite the marbles inside you, you couldn’t help but feel empty. He must've noticed the glum expression you held. “It seems you aren’t completely satisfied my dear. No worries, I have a little surprise for you.”

His fingers snapped and everything went white. You couldn’t think or speak. Nothing but incoherent babbling and screams of pleasure echoed from the enclosed space followed by a quiet buzzing sound. Tears poured from your eyes as drool dripped out of your mouth. Your body continuously convulsed as your cunny twitched and oozed more and more fluids. It was as though you finally found nirvana for the first time. You never knew you could feel like this.

“Hhmhmm, I see those marbles are doing the trick,” he cooed with a telltale smirk.

His hands cupped your cheeks, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. You barely heard what he said, mustering a breath to speak, “the m-m-marbles….ah- what..did you-?”

“They’re quite special. Since we wouldn’t have much time here, I wanted to give you as much pleasure as possible so,” he held a marble between his fingers and turned it on like the others, “as you can see, it’s a special vibrating marble. What do you think about it?”

You cried as another jolt made you ascend once more, “so good!!!”

Knock knock knock

“Hey lovebirds, times up,” Dabi grumbled and sauntered away from the door, “better hope you didn’t make a mess in there.”

A whine left your lips as your eyebrows scrunched together. You sat up, reaching between your legs, digging around to find the marbles but, only one managed to make its way out, rolling onto the floor between your legs. The others however, you could barely reach. “C-Compress...they’re not coming out! Hnngh...please help!” you whimpered. Your legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

Compress shoved his fingers back inside your sopping entrance, digging for the marbles still vibrating inside you. Another one managed to loosen and rolled its way out. He went deeper, trying to reach the others but nothing seemed to work. He sighed, “sorry my dear. It appears I went a bit far. You’ll have to keep them inside until they manage to slide out. After all, I will need them back for next time.” He winked at you as you felt your body heat rise once more. It stands that no matter what he does, you can’t get enough of his charm.

Without a second to spare, he helped put your clothes back on. Despite the smile he wore, you could see a small tinge of guilt in his eyes. You paused for a second then gave him a reassuring smile. He picked you up, holding you close to him, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m glad I got to spend this holiday with you my love.”

He carried you out and everyone cheered at the two of you. Dabi teased you, telling you how loud you were. You couldn’t help but bury your face into Compress’s chest. “I think we’re going to turn in for the night,” Compress stated. 

He quickly went up the stairs, giving you small pecks along the way to his room. It was a happy moment for the league that you and Compress surely will never forget...especially with those pesky little marbles still stuck inside you.

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We know this year has been a rough one for a lot of us, so our little group got together to do this Lil’ collab to try and bring some fun to this time of the year, and also help the ones of us who are experiencing difficulties.

Each fanfic from our collab will have the writer’s commission info or tip jar,check their works and if you like it, feel free to help ✨✨✨✨

✨✨We all hope you have happy holidays ✨✨✨

❆tip jar/ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/momo0953

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.  

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 

[ikeromantic]

Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

[blahkugo]

Congrats for the 1k!! Wdyt ab hawks in an underground scenario?

thanks anon baby!! i love writing for hawks in general and this au was soooooo much fun to explore!! ♡ i honestly went a little crazy with it & added too much rumi in there lmao

                                  -ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TAKAMI KEIGO / HAWKS」

— underground! au (feat. rumi)

— warnings: 18+, smut, drugs / alcohol mention, kind of scumbag hawks

⤏ keigo’s very devious, in the sense that he can be both the star of everyone’s show and a sneaky bastard. he’s a double agent in the truest definition of the word, and it’s no different in an underground au

⤏ ‘heaven’ is the place to get into; no, no, not god’s pearly white gates, but rather the giant underground nightclub teeming with bar hoppers and thrill seekers on a saturday night.

⤏ the highly illegal establishment is run by none other than keigo takami himself, the eccentric club owner that people only know by name

⤏ no one’s ever actually seen keigo at his own club, nobody even knows what he looks like

⤏ so, rumors fly amongst the regular patrons; some say he’s a cartel boss, others a crooked cop

⤏ a choice few believe that he’s the devil himself. and in his jealousy of god’s perfect eden, he crafted his own slice of heaven, where restraint and inhibition are words with absolutely no meaning

⤏ the reality isn’t far off, if we’re being honest

⤏ ‘heaven’ is keigo’s personal playground, a place where he can be anybody he wants to

⤏ typically, that anybody is pulling pretty little whores into the giant vip room, and pumping them chock full of his favorite pills: angel dust

⤏ when his own high kicks in, the fun begins. and at that point, even keigo thinks he may be the devil incarnate

“Tsk, tsk,” Keigo wags a slender finger in front of your face, snatching the pretty little capsule from your hand. 

Quick, pounding percussion still pulses at your ears, though the VIP room is much quieter than the club floor— cooler as well. Without the mass of compressed, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding, you feel a bit over exposed in your two piece set. For a second, you have the urge to cover your midriff, but the angel in front of you sweeps your attention yet again. 

“How do good girls ask for pills?” He’s teasing you, has been since the moment he approached you spouting some nonsense about being the club owner. While you were initially adamant in your disbelief, only agreeing to follow him for his tempting promise of ‘proper drugs,’ the extravagance of the VIP room sways your opinion now. 

Also, the man swims in luxury, seems to be bathed in an ethereal glow that screams money from the tips of his perfectly tousled hair down to the Givenchy trainers on his feet. The richest men always dress in subtleties; you just have to know where to look. 

Your assumptions were confirmed when he ordered top shelf booze. They were absolutely set in stone when Rumi, the Playboy Bunny turned supermodel, settled into the booth next to him and plopped a kiss on his cheek. 

“The sick bastard will really only give it to you if you say pretty please,” the gorgeous woman chuckles, looking every bit as intimidating as she does on the runways. “Like this,” she clasps her hands together— fingernails sporting a fierce, red manicure— and turns towards the smug blonde. “Please Keigo, a pill.” 

It’s unclear whether her tone is sincere, sickly sweet words dripping with mockery and faux praise. Either way, you refuse to be the butt of their jokes. Begging for drugs? Over your dead body. 

Keigo must feel your hesitation, must sense the subtle shift in your body language, because his eyebrows narrow for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining their place far atop his forehead— practiced nonchalance, seemingly perfected over years.  

He hands the pill to Rumi, and then another, pushing his slender fingers into hers without breaking your mutual gaze.

“Oops,” he feigns apology, “looks like I gave two pills to Rumi.” He slants a quick look at the platinum blonde. “You can just take one from her, sweetheart.” 

When you break your glare to peek at the beautiful woman next to him, she’s giggling. The sound is practically silent, a twinkly little thing that barely reaches your ears and doesn’t rumble through her entirety like laughter truly should. 

“Silly me,” she smirks, piercing eyes scanning over you now, “I didn’t realize.” Though you’re sure the night can’t get any stranger, she lets her tongue loll from between supple lips, painted bright red to match her nails. Low and behold, there are two pills, both dangling enticingly on her curved tongue.

“Aw,” Keigo coos, pout brimming with ridicule. Though you attempt to speak up, entirely fed up with this humiliating charade, he doesn’t miss a beat. “She can still have one though, can’t she Rumi?” 

She simply nods, swaying her tongue once more before curling it back into her mouth. He can’t mean— no, he wouldn’t. But the pair simply stares at you, famishment gleaming in their eyes like a pair of ravenous wolves. 

He wants you to kiss her. 

Every one of your nerves stands on end, willing you with a passion to reject his slimy offer. You’re not a Barbie doll for him to play with, to dress and undress and buy off with a bright pink mansion to boot. 

But then again, the pros do vastly outweigh the cons. When’s the next time you’re going to have the chance to kiss a supermodel? And with someone as beautiful as Keigo watching? You take a deep breath, standing up and bracing your arms against the table to lean over. 

And then, you are kissing her. 

Rumi’s lips taste like whiskey sour and a spice that you can’t quite place. She’s quick to take control, cupping your jaw with slender fingers and nipping at your lip. There’s a slight twinge of pain before each swipe of her tongue across your lip, and it’s a miracle that she keeps the pills nestled under her tongue; she kisses you with such passion, such dizzying ferocity, that you feel your head spin. It’s definitely not the alcohol. 

When her lips bite again, more aggressive this time, you part your own in a low, teasing groan. She swings a knee over the table— pushes closer, pulls you further into her. You’re losing your breath, unable to keep up, but she simply continues her onslaught, as though you’ve stolen her last breath and she’s aching to get it back. 

Only when her tongue slinks across the back of your teeth and makes its home between them, does she offer up the pill from under the wet muscle. 

With a parting smile against your mouth, she pulls away. 

“Hope you like that pill as much as you did the kiss,” she speaks, lips, puffy but still perfectly painted, inches from your own. She stays put, watching the strand of drool still connecting the two of you. 

You wish you could say something, anything, to the goddess of a woman, but you’re left in a haze. If it isn’t for the subtle tap against your throat, you’d forget to swallow the pill you worked so diligently for. As she finally recedes, you make a mental note for later: world-renowned supermodel Rumi smells like cinnamon. 

“Bunny got your tongue?” Keigo chuckles, now standing next to your side of the booth, and slithering a lithe hand across your lower back. You’d almost forgotten the smug bastard was there, but one glance his way and you remember where you are: a public space. 

Sure, the VIP lounge is practically empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but those people are presumably A-listers. And they just watched you make out with a woman all for drugs and the entertainment of a very wealthy man. 

Still, it probably isn’t the worst image they’ve ever seen. 

Rumi gives you another once over, baring sharp canines that seem to sparkle beneath the low, purple lights. Even after your intimate moment, she somehow seems more intimidating— or perhaps, more ravenous. She makes some comment to Keigo about giving you her number, throws a wink your way, and ends the encounter with another quick peck on his cheek. 

Then, with hips swaying seductively to the beat, she makes her descent down the stairs to join the thrall of bodies as her high hits, leaving you and the blonde alone. Chancing a glance his way, you decide that’s not a terrible thing. 

That same pompous smirk is plastered across his face, that same insatiable look in his eyes. His blonde locks remain in a state of perfect dishevelment, and when he runs a hand through it, his jewelry— rings upon rings and a watch that probably costs more than your rent— catches the light, shimmering wildly. 

“We’re going to peak soon.”

It’s all he says, before leading you towards the stairs and down, down, down— straight into Heaven. 

-

Wisps of baby pink, streams of bright blue— cotton candy fills the air and washes the man in front of you in a delectable light. It begs you to take a bite, to do more than press your warm, wanton body against him. 

“How do you feel?” Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the side of your face. With his arms wrapped around your waist, he envelops you fully, allowing you to grind and move as you please. The heat radiating off your bodies could rival the sun. 

“Like I’m flying,” you throw your hands into the air; he grazes them with his own. Every touch sends a cacophony of sparks across your flesh, every murmur of praise a chilling tingle down your spine. And when he strains his hips against yours, it heats you further, all throughout your core. You need him— right here, right now, bathed in candied pinks and sugar-filled blues.  

As though he can hear your thoughts, or perhaps you’ve said them aloud, his slender fingers slither further down your body. Down, down, down— dashing under your tight skirt to rub across your soaked slit. When you cry out, a symphony of desire, he simply presses harder, rubs faster. 

Just as you’re about to see stars, to grab at the spun sugar surrounding you and take an overwhelming chomp, he removes his magic fingers. You’re aware you’re crying out, feel as though the entire world’s been ripped away from you, but he simply shushes you with a slick digit against your lips.

“Let’s take this back upstairs, yeah?” The devil pokes at your side. 

You’re already being whisked away, deeper into paradise. 

                          ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[twdormleaderswap]

Visits from the Vice Dorm Leaders

     Trey stood outside of the Pomefiore dorm. He wanted to check in on Riddle. Sure, he’s seen him around school, but not a lot. Plus a lot of Pomefiore students Rook drag him away during lunch, so Trey doesn’t get to see Riddle a lot. The Heartslabyul vice dorm leader heads inside. He was amazed with the dorm’s interior. There were pillars of marble, red carpets, velvet curtains, and pretty people everywhere. He stopped a passing student, Epel.

“Excuse me. Sorry, but can I get some help?”

“Oh, you are Heartslabyul’s vice dorm leader, right?”

“That’s right. Is Riddle here?”

“Yeah. Riddle-senpau is in his quarters. Follow me.”

     Epel led Trey through the dorm. The dorm leader’s quarters was sealed by a large, double door. This dorm did not hold back on anything. The student knocked on the door. A voice could be heard from the other side.

“What is it?”

“There is some here to see you, Riddle-senpai.”

“Send them in.”

     The door opened and the student let Trey into the room before closing the door behind him. In the room, Riddle was sitting at the vanity and practicing makeup. He turned to look at who came for him.

“Trey…”

“Hey, Riddle. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to talk with you regarding Heartslabyul, but Rook-senpai keeps dragging me away to eat with the others.”

“Haha. Wow, you got a serious glow up since being here.”

“Huh?”

“Literally. Your skin is glowing.”

“Oh, that’s the highlighter. Vil’s special highlighter is very bright and luminescent. Shine a light on me and I’m pretty sure my skin will become as bright as these chandeliers.” Then Riddle repeated Trey’s words in his head. “Wait, I know you weren’t just talking about the highlighter when you said ‘glow up!’ What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing bad!” Trey held up his hands in defense.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Ruggie smiled and hummed a little tune as he walked down the pathway to Heartslabyul. He thought he’d pay a surprise visit to his lazy senpai. He heard a groan in a low voice and took that as a sign. He walked into the Rose Maze and saw Leona in a nice cape and squeezing out water from his hair. He, himself, was also soaking wet. Ruggie did not hold back his laughter.

“Pfft-aHAHAHA!!! What happened to you? Hahaha!” Ruggie held his stomach because he thought the view before him was so funny. Leona froze, knowing that laugh and voice all too well. He stood up and looked over at Ruggie.

“Shut it, Ruggie. It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is. Nope. Sorry. It’s REALLY funny.”

“Ugh, whatever.”

“So, what happened to you?”

“Cater Diamond happened.”

“Elaborate.”

“Apparently I broke one of the hundreds of rules of the dorm.”

“How does that relate to you being soaking wet?”

“Riddle’s magic was used to punish those who broke the dorm rules, but I can’t do it. So I gave Cater the hose to spray any rule breakers…including me…” That’s when Ruggie broke. He fell onto the ground on his back, laughing and clutching his stomach. Leona groaned, but he got an idea. He took his new cape and squeezed the water out of it over the laughing hyena.

“Haha-AGH! Hey!” Ruggie immediately stopped laughing and glared at Leona, who had a smug look on his face.

“You dare to laugh at me? I am not just the King of Beasts, I am the King of Hearts. Laugh any longer then…off with your head.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Jade, along with Floyd, stood outside the dorm of Ignihyde. Floyd wanted to see Azul in his new natural habitat. The inside the dorm was just as dark and gloomy as the outside. There were torches lit with blue fire along the walls. Out of nowhere, Azul appears before the twins with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Ignihyde, Jade. Floyd. I’m glad you could come visit.”

“Whoh!” Floyd jumps a little from the sudden appearance. “When did you start sneaking around like that?”

“I saw you two approach the dorm through the security cameras. Plus, we have an alarm for when someone enters the dorm area through the Ignihyde Mirror.” Jade chuckles.

“That’s very impressive. So, how are you doing here in the dorm of technology?”

“I’m doing just fine. Follow me. I’ll show you to our main research room.”

     Azul smiles and leads the twins to the research room. Once there, the twins were in shock and awe. The room was black, but it was covered in lights, screens, and wires.

“This is where many experiments and research takes place. Once everyone saw you two on the cameras, they retreated to their rooms to do their research there.”

“Eh? Are we that scary?” Floyd asked.

“Perhaps, but everyone here is rather shy. Try not to take too much offense to it. With my reputation, everyone is still rather cautious of me.”

“I take it you haven’t made any deals here yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. No one has been courageous enough to ask for anything. They’re all content with their technology.”

     As Jade and Azul talked about the dorm, Floyd wandered off to look at all the gadgets. He touched a button, and a bright blue screen projected up in front of him. He took off his glove, placed his finger on it and swiped it, a new screen showing up. 

“Whoa! This is so cool! How did they do this?” Floyd’s amazement caught Azul’s and Jade’s attention. Azul walks over.

“Ah, that’s one of the earlier projects from several years ago. They combined the technology with image projection from classroom projectors and the touch sensitivity of our phones. With a little magic, the projections ‘corporeal’ of sorts.”

“Huh?” Floyd looked at Azul in confusion. “How does that even work?”

“The projectors are connected to the dorm’s computer system, so the projection will show a computer home screen. Using magic, the alumni were able to give the projection a physical form while maintaining it’s transparent look. Combining that with the touch screen technology has created a physical, transparent projection of sorts. When you touch the screen, the presence of your finger interrupts the flow of the photo and electric current, allowing you to swipe the screen like our phones.” Azul shows them how it works and reveals that you can use it with gloves. He turns back to the twins. “Of course, this is old technology now and is still being improved. At the moment, we’re trying to figure out how to compress it so it can be used mobile. So far, it’s only been uploaded to and tested on Idia’s tablet. The tenants believe that it might be compatible with the mobile phone soon.”

“…” Jade and Floyd look at him and are silent.

“What?” Azul looks at them in confusion. Floyd speaks for both him and Jade mostly him.

“You have become a huge nerd.”

“Wha-…hey!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Lilia hummed and walked through the gardens of Scarabia. He stopped to watch a purple peacock walk by. He was amazed an animal could be such a vivid color. He followed it through the garden, only to be stopped by the dorm leader.

“Can you refrain from acting suspicious around the dorm?” Lilia looked up and smiled.

“Malleus! It’s been a while! How’s the new dorm treating you?”

“What are you doing here, Lilia?”

“Just came by for a visit! All of the vice dorm leaders are visiting our old leaders today. Since the switch, everything is crazy. But every dorm seems to be settling quite nicely with their new leaders. Kalim has really brightened up Diasomnia.”

“I see.”

“Nice outfit by the way. Love the gold on you. It’s a big contrast from your black, green, and silver.”

“It’s not bad. A little more revealing than I’d like, but it works for the heat.”

“So, how’s the dorm? I heard that it’s usually a party palace.”

“It’s alright, I guess. Everyone keeps their distance, so it’s not that much different from Diasomnia.”

“I think this is a good opportunity for you.”

“How is anything about this situation good?”

“You can learn to lighten up a bit. Form some bonds maybe or get other people to get to know you.”

“We’ll see about that. By the way, should you really be here with Kalim as Diasomnia’s dorm leader?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Lilia smiled care freely. Knowing Kalim, Malleus sort of doubted that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Once Rook arrived at the drylands of Savanaclaw, he couldn’t imagine how Vil must be keeping up with his beauty and moisturized skin. He found Jack and got him to take him to “Vil’s” room. The room was very clean and organized. Vil was at the desk with a hand mirror and doing his makeup.

“Knock knock.” Rook said to get Vil’s attention. The dorm leader looked up and smiled. He got up and walked over to Rook.

“Rook, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting? If I had known you’d be coming over, I would have made myself more presentable.”

“Fear not, fairest of them all, you are still beautiful. I’m impressed you’ve stayed so hydrated out here.”

“Well, thanks to that toner I got from Azul, my skin has remained moisturized and smooth. As for my hair, it’s a struggle to get it to remain silky and shiny.”

“You are amazing and beautiful as ever, Roi de Poison. Parfait.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“By the way, I LOVE the leather jacket. It suits you very well.”

“You think so? I’m rather thankful for the long sleeves, as it’s more fashionable. I am NOT wearing those vests. The long sleeves are a nightmare because of the heat, but I am not letting my arms tan from the sun. It’s hard enough avoiding it to prevent my face from tanning and aging.” Vil flips his hair and sighs.

“You know, you should try and put Epel in this getup.” Rook suggested, not being serious. Vil does and thinks about it.

“Well, he’s not exactly meant for this look. It would clash with his delicate beauty. But, if I can fill out this leather than so can he. I wonder if there are any spare uniforms around. I’ll have to ask Ruggie when he gets back.”

“Wait, what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Ortho entered the Mostro Lounge, knowing that his big brother would be there somewhere. He was guided to a seat and ordered a drink, since he can’t just wander around to look for his brother. When he ordered, he also requested to see his brother. The Octavinelle student nodded and went to get the new manager. Ortho happily looked around the lounge as he waited for his drink and brother to arrive. When his drink was placed in front of him, he looked up to see his big brother serving him.

“Hey, big brother!”

“Nice to see you again, Ortho.” Idia took a seat with Ortho so they can talk. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear a thing about you coming over.”

“I just wanted to see you. It’s been a while since we could be together.”

“It has. Oh, how is your body? Do you need any updates? I can do them right now since you’re here.”

“I’m alright. Mr. Azul is a fast learner and has been giving me updates.”

“Wow…he’s really smart if he’s able to learn that quickly.”

“But I might need a new update since I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Alright. Finish up your drink and we can go.”

     Ortho nods and happily spends some ore time with his brother. The two spent some time talking and catching up. Ortho shared what’s been happening at Ignihyde and how he is sort of like Azul’s mentor. Azul was a fast learner and picked up technological terminology in a heartbeat. Once Ortho finished his drink, the brothers got up and went to “Idia’s” room. He connected Ortho to his computer and began the upgrade. Once finished, the two stayed together some more.

“What’s going on with you and Ashengrotto?” Idia asked curiously.

“He’s great. He’s like an honorary big brother. Although, I’m getting a little concerned.”

“How so?”

“I feel like he’s looking into hacking because I saw him reading about it and asking other around about how to do it.”

“He’s…looking into hacking?” That concerned Idia a lot, and it seemed to be worrying Ortho as well.

“He said something about it helping him with future contracts. Something about gacha pulls.”

     That’s when something clicked within Idia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Jamil looked up at the castle that was Diasomnia’s dorm. He took a deep breath and entered the dorm. As he walked through the halls, he kept on getting stares from the tenants. After all, not many others have the courage to venture into Diasomnia for any reason or no reason at all. He found into Sebek and approached him.

“Excuse me.”

“Hm? Oh, you’re Jamil Viper from Scarabia. Are you here to see Kalim?”

“Yes. I am rather concerned about the situation and wish to check on Kalim.”

“You and me both.” Sebek sighs. “The only thing Silver is concerned with is how this all happened. Well, anyway, follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you.”

     It was a rather role reversal from the Entrance Ceremony, but Sebek wasn’t going to say anything. They traveled up many flights of stairs and to the tallest tower in the dorm. Sebek knocked on the door.

“Dorm Leader Kalim? It’s Sebek. There’s someone here to see you.”

“Come in!”

     Sebek opened the door, letting Jamil in first. There, Kalim sitting at the desk and was struggling to do his homework. He looked up to see who was here and smiled brightly. She got up and ran over to the duo, immediately hugging Jamil.

“JAMIL!”

“WHOA! Do not jump at me so suddenly!”

“I missed you so much!”

“But we see each other at school and in class all the time.”

“It’s not the same! I don’t get to see you outside of school! I’m so lonely here! Sebek and Silver are so distant and Lilia is hardly around with me like you always were.”

“I am loyal to the Young Master. I’m not gonna coddle you.” Sebek interrupted.

“I just want company…” Kalim pouted. Jamil sighs, knowing fully well that Kalim’s clinginess is due to him babying him this whole time. Once this is all over, he’ll have to change that. “So, Jamil, what are you doing here? I didn’t here a word that you were coming.”

“The vice dorm leaders decided to check on our former leaders to see how they were doing.”

“Oh yeah? OH! You should come to the feast tonight!”

“What?” Jamil blanked. Did Kalim just say there was going to be a feast?

“I’ve invited the others to come too! We’ve got a big spread coming tonight!”

“What’s happening here?” Jamil looked over at Sebek, wanting an explanation.

“Dorm leader Kalim has been throwing parties rather frequently. Actually, he threw a feast the day he became our new dorm leader. It was really…interesting. But he single handedly got everyone to party in roughly 1 hour.” That was rather shocking to Jamil.

“Wait, did you say others were coming?”

“Yeah! I invited the other dorms! Ruggie is really excited and so is Vil-senpai!”

‘Probably only to get out of the drylands…’ Jamil thought to himself.

“Plus, I think this is a good chance to let others into Diasomnia and let them know that we aren’t so bad. It’s just because of the categorization of them being powerful and good at magic that make them scary. Everyone is really nice. A little distant, but they’re really nice. I wanted the other dorms to know that too!”

     Jamil was rather impressed. Kalim was actually trying to close the distance between Diasomnia and the other dorms. Perhaps Kalim was smarter than he thought.

“Since you’re here, could you help me with my Alchemy homework?”

     Or maybe not.

[twokinkybeans]

Company - Chapter 1: Samhain

Moodboard made by Kim <3

“I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this  and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help  of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask  them to.” “A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?” “Sort of,yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his  knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ says. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible. Or: May's health is deteriorating fast and Peter is running out of  options (and money), so he goes into the woods at night on Halloween to find a Fae willing to help him out. ____________________________________________

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of chronic/incurable illness, blood, etc. Magic and folklore. Slow burn with resolved sexual tension. Lots of mischief, a bit of spooks and of course fluff, angst and smut.

Go to the Masterpost Read Company - Chapter 1: Samhain on AO3

HERE IT FINALLY IS AAAA, I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

... “If it makes you feel any better, I could do a ritual for her?” MJ’s words struck a chord with Peter. He knows she’s always reserved about her Paganism, aware that it’s not a conventional religion. So, this came as quite the surprise. “I-” Peter is at a loss for words as he sinks down into the sofa, eyes locked on the dried, bloody patch in the cushions. This means a lot to MJ, which, in turn, means a lot to Peter. Her connection with her beliefs is strong and deep. She doesn’t say something like this to just anyone. “Yeah…” he sighs, absentmindedly tracing the stain with his index finger. “I’d appreciate that.” Peter hates how formal his reply sounds but MJ smiles encouragingly anyways. She sits down on the floor in front of him and grabs his hand away from the patch of blood and the sour memory attached to it, to make him look down at her. Her hair is up in a messy bun, the flyaways frame her face playfully and she grins up at him. MJ’s been helping him clean the apartment the last few weeks with zero complaints whatsoever. All she said was: “One day, I’ll need your help and then you’ll be there for me too.” It’s true. He’d do anything for her, as he would for Ned. And May . About two months prior, May had suffered a hypo so severe she had to be taken to the hospital. She recovered enough that she could spend the rest of her time at home, but the damage had already been done. Not just physically. Peter had to sell pretty much everything worth anything that he owned in order to cover even a quarter of the bills. Both his and May’s savings had gone into the treatment and now they had next to nothing left, which posed another issue: the insulin. They wouldn’t be able to afford her medication for a while, which meant May was at a constant risk. She wasn’t strong enough to go back to work, but the fact that the meds weren’t there to help her with her recovery meant that it wasn’t going fast. On the contrary. She was deteriorating. But she also decided to keep that from Peter for as long as she could. She didn’t want him to worry about her, nor did she want him to take any other measures in order to get her her meds. Peter noticed, though. May always hated wearing her prescription glasses. But a little over four weeks ago, while Peter was studying at the dinner table, she asked him to fetch them for her. And even as the glasses were on her head, she still squinted- still brought the book further and closer, further and further. Her eyes were getting worse, but she blamed it on her age. Peter knew better. May knew Peter knew better. With the lack of money, good food was out of the picture too. Everything May would need to recover and live a healthy life was figurative miles away- out of reach. It was difficult to determine her body’s needs without the right equipment and she felt lifeless and tired most of the time. She started dropping stuff, accidentally. And her walk became stick-like. Her hands and feet were ice-cold, and she had to wear her mother’s old compression socks to keep her circulation under control. It became increasingly more difficult for her to run errands, though she tried. There was no way she was going to give up. And there was no way she was going to let Peter in on it, regardless of whether or not he noticed. He’d experienced enough loss, she wasn’t going to burden him with any more anxiety. However, the fact that she didn’t talk to him about it, even when he asked or confronted her, only increased his fears. His nights were sleepless. Restless. His mind ran with doom scenarios. What if. What if. What if. A few days before MJ first helped him with the cleaning, Peter found May on the sofa again, casually reading a book when he noticed her leggings around her ankles were a deep red colour. Not the khaki shade he’d seen when he left for uni that day. “May, what’s that?” He’d asked. When she lifted the book - which she was now reading with a magnifying glass - to follow Peter’s glare, she exclaimed a surprised: “Oh!” May aimed to get up from the sofa, but ultimately lost her balance and dropped back into it again. The sofa cushion was stained, just like her feet were. Peter immediately ran over to her and helped her compose herself but she broke down. Tears streamed down her face and the only words that she could utter were unneeded apologies and heavy-weighing regrets. She sobbed against Peter’s shoulder and it took him every inch of willpower not to lose himself to his sadness as well. Apparently, May went downstairs to grab the mail and on the back way up, she tripped, hitting the lower part of her ankles on the steps. She thought it was okay- that she was fine, but she couldn’t feel the wounds underneath her clothes. She hadn’t noticed the blood seeping out from them, not even when she sat down on the sofa and blurred her sight even further with the book. When she was calm again, after taking in all of Peter’s encouraging, hopeful words, he told her to stay seated so he could patch her up. He carefully took off one of the compression socks and tossed it onto the coffee table. It’d be easier to get the stain off of there than the light rug he was now sitting on. Her foot was freezing and he swallowed when he saw the damage on her ankle. He grabbed the first aid kit and cleaned her up. After her first leg was all ready, he moved on to her other. Gently, he pulled at the hem of the other compression sock, but before he could toss it onto the table, he spotted her pinky toe. It was darkening. Dying. That’s when Peter broke. “I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask them to.” “A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?” “Sort of, yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help.” Peter smiles, but he makes a mental note nonetheless. Not that he thinks Fae are real; that’d be kind of insane. “Anyways, what I wanted to say is that… Well, whatever happens, I’m here for you, ‘kay? And for May, too.” “Thanks, MJ.” Peter’s expression softens as MJ stands up. “Now, let’s finish up so I can go home and perform that ritual.” She winks and helps Peter to his feet. He’s not sure how to express his gratitude any further. Should he ask to be there? Or is it private? It’s not like he knows much about Paganism anyways. He’s interested, though. Peter is desperate, sure, but he never imagined he would be this desperate. As soon as MJ is out the door, he grabs his notebook to scribble down everything he thinks he knows about Fae. Fairies- whatever. He even re-reads Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream , the play he had a part in last Summer. Puck’s lines- his lines- were still marked. “It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ said. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible. … Peter knows it’s ridiculous. Fae can’t be real. It’s folklore. A story. Yet… Peter still finds himself seated behind the library computer that still runs on Windows XP, somehow. Every day, he tells himself he should stop looking up information on Fae. That he should study. Regardless of his attempts to set himself straight, his fingers still type the wrong things into the search bar. To say his obsession is bordering unhealthy is an understatement, to be honest. He just wants May to live a full and happy life. He wants May to live. And at this point he’s willing to try anything. He can’t lose her too; she’s all he has left. It’s nearly Halloween, or Samhain in the Pagan religion. On this day, the border between the world of humans and Fae should be relatively thin, which means the odds would be in his favor if he were to look for a Fae then. Samhain’s in two days, so there’s no time to lose. Every trick, every single thing that could harm Peter’s safety has to be ingrained in his brain. Yes, he would do anything to save May, but it’d be nice if he got to spend some time with her after. The most important things Peter noted for himself are “don’t accept anything from a Fae, especially not food,” “don’t listen to their music and definitely don’t dance with them,” and the one that Peter knew he would most likely slip on: “don’t give them your name. Under any circumstance.” Peter quickly decided that if any Fae asked for his name, he would just say his name is Ned, for a lack of creativity. ��� Samhain’s Eve, or Halloween. Peter squeezes his way into the train. He’s very grateful that the New York council had decided that students get to travel the subways for free. Otherwise, he’d have no idea how he would’ve gotten out of the city and into the suburbs. Towards the woods. May is with a friend tonight to give Peter some breathing space, but the opposite is true. The anticipation has knocked the air out of Peter’s lungs. Peter manages to sit down next to a few kids, dressed up for trick or treating. He offers them a nervous smile, clutching his backpack against his chest. The journey out of New York seems to flash by as much as it takes an eternity. After about two hours of travel, Peter steps out of the last possible station and breathes in the cold October air. With an old fashioned map of the area and a thrifted flashlight, Peter finds his way into the woods. He knows he has to get off the paths at some point, but the mere idea frightens him to the core. He’s suddenly not so sure anymore if this was a good idea in the first place. Maybe… Maybe he should turn around? Settle on the couch and watch some bad horror movies? That’d surely be a lot safer than whatever he’s doing right now. Peter’s feet don’t stop, though. He keeps going forward, his mind telling him to go back, but his heart cannot refrain from reaching out for May. For answers. For hope, no matter how little he may have left. He can feel his blood pump through his body, experiencing how it grows heavy with every step he takes. The distinct ache of loneliness in his chest grows tighter and tighter. It’s cold, it’s dark, he’s alone. Utterly and indescribably alone. His eyes are fixated on the path in front of him. So much so, that he doesn’t realize he loses track of his map. Worst of all, he only gets back to his senses when the flashlight starts flickering dangerously. “No,” Peter whispers, shaking the tool. “No-no-no-no-” “Need a hand?” Peter yelps and turns, stumbling backwards until he trips over himself and collides with the harsh ground. He looks up at the man, now towering over him, hand outstretched. The flashlight is on again, lying next to Peter and illuminating the fallen leaves, creating a pattern against the trees just off the path. The stranger has a kind smile. He seems to be in his forties, hair still dark and crow’s feet enunciating his smile. Peter sighs exasperated, reaching forward to take the man’s hand until… No, wait, who is this man? Peter turns his head to grab the flashlight and when he shifts back to the man, it flickers again. Peter loses his breath when the man’s irises seem to light up in the short dark moments. The man’s smile doesn’t falter, even when Peter’s expression drops. On the contrary, the smile turns into a smirk and all that’s left for Peter to look at when the flashlight finally dies is a pair of intense, golden glowing eyes. “What’s a young sprite like you doing in these woods? At this hour?” The man’s illuminated eyes lower and lower until he’s at eye level with Peter, who’s still staring at him. “I-I... “ Peter takes a deep breath. “I’m looking for someone.” The man leans in closer, near-hovering over Peter’s body. Peter tries to move back, but the man follows. “Are they lost? Like you?” His voice is strangely beautiful. Deep. Close. “No, no- It’s... “ “Do you have their name? If you give it to me, I can find them for you.” Peter’s nearly laying down now, the man’s hands caging him at his sides, but not touching him. In a flash of half confidence, Peter replies: “Are you a Fae?” A dark chuckle rumbles below the golden eyes that now squint with glee. “I am many things.” “I’m too, that doesn’t answer the question, though.” Shit. Shit-shit-shit, why did Peter’s sassy side decide to show up when he’s in the clutches of someone who is definitely not human and could probably kill him without thinking about it twice. Instead of getting angry, the man laughs yet again. “Fair enough, boy.” The eyes pull back and Peter quickly scrambles until he stands, so that he can look down at the man this time. “I am what you say I am.” The man pauses as he stands up too. There’s a short shuffle and suddenly, a small fire appears in the man’s palms. The way it lights up his face is an odd combination between warm and creepy. “Does that frighten you?” “N-no.” “Your stutter betrays your lies.” Peter wants to protest, but the man suddenly raises his hand, eyeing Peter curiously. “Were you looking for me?” The man’s words send a chill through Peter’s entire body. He presses his lips on top of each other and fiddles with his fingers. “Maybe.” “So, yes.” “Yes.” The man smiles again. “And why were you looking for me?” “I’m not looking for you specifically.” “Ouch,” the man chuckles. “You’re looking to use my power.” Peter’s jaw tightens. It almost feels like an accusation. Like it’s hurtful to the Fae that Peter’s only there for that. Peter swallows. Now that he puts it like that, it does sound a little mean. “Why?” “It’s… It’s a long story,” Peter says as he looks down at his feet. The light of the fire in the Fae’s hands creates a bubble of light around them. They’re still surrounded by utter darkness, save for a few faint silhouettes of the trees around them. “I have all night.” The man nods, but stops halfway down, seemingly mulling something over. “What did you say your name is, again?” “P-” Peter barely catches himself. Simply saying the first letter of his name already makes him feel a strange, otherworldly tug at his heart. He can’t say Ned now. He already started the word. What name could he possibly give to the Fae? Peter composes himself quickly as the gears in his mind turn fast. Fae. “Puck.” “Ha!” The man laughs bombustuously. “Fitting for a sweet and pretty young man as you. Though, you are not a Fae.” The man wiggles his eyebrows. “Or are you?” Peter opts to ignore the flirtatious compliment. “Am not. You and I both know I shouldn’t give you my real name.” Peter takes a deep breath, relatively pleased with himself for talking back. “You may call me Puck.” “Puck.” The Fae breathes in the name as he closes his glowing eyes. “I’ll call you Puck.” “And what should I call you?” Peter asks carefully. A playful smirk creeps up on the Fae’s face. “I go by many names in these woods. Some call me Inventor. Others call me Iron Man. You may call me Tinker.” Peter can’t help himself and bursts out laughing. “Tinker?” he repeats. “As in Tinkerbell?” The Fae sighs exasperated. It seems like he’s heard that before. “No.” He rolls his golden eyes. “I make things. I tinker. But I suppose you deem the nickname unworthy?” The flame in his hands grows bigger for a split second. “If you’ve got anything else, I’ll gladly call you that,” Peter chuckles. “Inventor… Iron Man. Wait, isn’t iron a Fae’s weakness?” The man laughs softly. “It’s why they call me it. I am one of the few who feels no effect from iron, or technology, for that matter.” The man nods at Peter’s pants. “So, the screwdriver in your pocket is quite a lousy weapon against me.” The playful smirk returns on his face. “Or are you just happy to see me?” “I- I-” Peter takes a step back, wide-eyed, and looks at the tool in his pocket. The man knew he had it on him. Peter shivers. “I like you, Puck,” the man says suddenly. He takes a step closer to Peter, who is stuck in place. The warmth of the fire in the man’s hand now reaches Peter’s skin. It’s… Nice. Comforting, somehow. “There is something about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.” “I’m nothing special, sir,” Peter says politely, breaking eye contact and looking down again. “I’m just here to help my aunt.” “Your… Aunt?” Peter tells him the entire story. About May’s diabetes, without mentioning her name, and the inevitability of amputations and likely death if things keep going the way they are. The Fae listens thoughtfully, not breaking eye contact with Peter the entire time. The man doesn’t flinch, not even when Peter’s voice starts breaking and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. “I shouldn’t be this vulnerable with you,” Peter suddenly interrupts himself, attempting to swallow away the lump in his throat. The Fae finally changes expression. A kind smile spreads on his face and he nods. “A wise assumption.” The man cocks his head and rolls his shoulders, still looking down at Peter. “Though, I am not interested in tricking you right now. I prefer my catch on guard. I like a challenge.” “Good to know,” Peter sighs, tightening his jaw again in an attempt to stop his emotions getting the better of him. “Company.” The Fae’s voice is soft, nearly melancholic. “What?” Peter takes a small step back and frowns, quickly wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. The soft breeze glides between the trees and tickles his face. It makes the flame in the Fae’s hand dance. Peter blinks once. Twice. “I’d much appreciate it if, in return for helping your aunt, you keep me company.” If Peter knew any better he’d say there was a hint of desperation seeping from Fae’s words. Is he lonely? The spark of hope grows brighter in Peter’s chest. May might just survive, if the Fae doesn’t screw him over. Peter takes a second to ponder his words. “How long?” “Bargain for it, boy.” Peter sucks at his teeth and takes a deep breath. He has no idea what kind of price he has to pay. What’s normal. Though, about a week ago he didn’t even think Fae existed, so everything was a wild guess at this point. “I- I don’t know… What would you ask of me?” Peter fumbles, wrapping one hand around the index finger of the other and pulling at it absentmindedly. It’s a nervous tick he couldn’t seem to shake and it betrays his uncertainty. Suddenly, the Fae pushes into his space, making Peter stumble backwards again. He barely keeps himself from tripping over and the Fae cocks his head playfully. “You and I both know I’d rather have your name, but you won’t give that to me, would you?” His tone darkens and he orders. “Bargain.” “Two days. Consecutive. So, 48 hours?” Peter tries. A bargain means the Fae will start with a higher price. If they’re going to work to a middle ground, 48 hours might be a good starting point. “Two days?” The Fae sighs dramatically and raises the back of his hand to his forehead. “You wound me.” The Fae stands up straight again, putting the same hand on his hip and puffing his chest. The flame in his hand grows brighter and brighter. “Eight. Consecutive.” “Mh, three.” “Six…” The Fae’s tone is threatening somehow, but Peter won’t give in that easily. “Four, separate meetings, not consecutive.” The Fae’s laughter shakes the trees and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye before he continues. “Is that all you think your aunt’s precious life is worth, Puck?” Peter jolts and immediately shakes his head. “Y-You told me to bargain!” “Hmm… So I did.” The Fae steps closer to Peter, refraining from touching him, but Peter can feel his hot breath on his skin. The Fae smells of pine and Peter has to set his mind straight to look away from him. He didn’t realize he’d been staring straight into the Fae’s golden eyes. “I really do like you.” Peter shudders. The Fae then pulls back again and nods approvingly. “Four days it is. How about we meet every upcoming celebration up until Beltane?” Peter doesn’t know how to reply, so instead, he keeps quiet. His silence isn’t taken kindly, though. The Fae clears his throat and looks at Peter from behind his long lashes. He smirks. “Have we come to an agreement?” Peter isn’t sure whether or not he should say yes straight away. There’s something that’s still missing from this contract and the last thing Peter wants is to be tricked. “Your medicine has to work completely, otherwise the deal is off,” he states resolute. The Fae chuckles. “Clever boy,” the Fae sighs as he circles Peter. Goosebumps spread over the young man’s entire body. “I cannot cure an illness like hers, but I can ensure she does not suffer. I will help your aunt live a long, full and healthy life, regardless of the ailment she carries with her.” The Fae sniffs once and cocks an eyebrow at Peter’s reply. “Whatever means necessary?” “Whatever means necessary.” “Deal.” The Fae grins and tilts his head slightly. “Good boy.” Peter shivers and takes in a deep breath. That voice . Those words . They shouldn’t do as much to Peter as they actually do. He should be scared. Yet, this whole thing is kind of… Exciting, in a way… Invigorating. “Do you think you can find your way back?” The man asks, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He looks around and into the darkness, which causes his heart to sink. “I’m not sure.” “You can say no, Puck. It’s alright,” the Fae jokes. “If you are comfortable with following me, I can lead you back to the nearby town.” Peter eyes the Fae cautiously. “A human town.” “With a train connection into New York?” “If I knew, I’d tell you. But a town is better than infinite darkness, isn’t it?” The man grins cheekily and gestures around. Peter looks into the dark, realizing that if he doesn’t agree, the Fae will leave him here alone. Without light. “Please, take me there?” His voice is smaller than he hoped it was. “Only because you asked so nicely.” Peter isn’t sure how long they’re walking. The man doesn’t say much, but Peter can’t help but notice he tries to keep the flame close to Peter to keep him warm. He’s kinder than he thought Fae would be, but there is a small weight of dread in Peter’s stomach. What if the Fae did trick him? What if he’s being led somewhere else? His worries fade when he spots a brick house in the distance. He releases the breath he’d been holding and turns to look at the Fae.

“Thank you.” “Of course,” the Fae replies. He seems lost in thought. “Are you okay?” Peter asks quietly. The man seems surprised by his question. “Yes, eh… It’s just been a while since I’ve… Well... “ The man frowns and looks away. “Nevermind.” He leans back on his heels and uses the hand that still carries the flame to point at the path ahead. “If you take a right after the first house, the road you’ll be on should lead you into town.” Peter stares at the man and the sad expression that is still on his face. It confirms Peter’s earlier thoughts. The man is lonely. Peter bites the inside of his cheek. The Fae obviously doesn’t want to talk about whatever is bothering him, and since Peter doesn’t want to push him over any edge, he decides to leave it. For now. “Thanks.” He starts walking away from the Fae, but halts after a few steps. “Is there something small you want in return?” Peter replies. The man blinks a few times, confused. “You did help me.” Peter shrugs. “I... “ The man stops his sentence, purses his lips and frowns. “Ahh,” Peter smirks. “There is something you want.” “You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” The man’s eyes giddily light up for a split second. “Only with people I’m comfortable around.” Peter replies without thinking. A soft “oh” falls from the Fae’s lips. Peter tries to lighten the mood. “Bargain for it,” he says. The Fae looks at him dumbfounded, but collects himself. It’s odd to see him suddenly turn shy. “Is a hug too much to ask for?” “A hug?” Peter repeats surprised. The Fae looks away rejected, so Peter continues quickly. “A hug should suffice.” Peter smiles as he steps towards the Fae. He opens his arms, but pauses. “Do… Do you want me to give you a hug, or do you want to… Take one from me?” Peter doesn’t know why he asked it. Obviously, he should be giving the hug in return for the directions. But something about how the man stood there, tells him differently. “May… May I?” Peter nods encouragingly and before he can even blink, he feels the Fae’s arms wrapped around his body. It feels strangely… Cold? One of his hands finds its way into Peter’s curls. The other presses Peter against him tightly. Peter is completely enveloped in the man’s presence. It’s comforting, somehow, to feel the Fae’s warm breath on his ear. The flame the Fae held has disappeared, but his hands are still tingling with heat, even though the rest of his body seems so cold. “Thank you,” the man whispers quietly. Peter has no idea how long he had been held in the Fae’s embrace, but he had to admit, he kind of didn’t really want to leave. He hasn’t had a hug like this since Ben died. He should let go, obviously. There’s still a small voice in the back of his head, telling him that this is a trick to make him stay. To make him say or do things that would result in him never being able to go home. But Peter can practically feel the man’s sorrow aching against his chest. “Of course,” Peter replies, once again mimicking the man’s words. The Fae finally pulls back, but he doesn’t yet let go of Peter. He seems to be looking for something in Peter’s eyes, but he can’t find what he searches for. Eventually, he clears his throat and lets go. “I’ll see you when Yule graces us.” “When’s that?” Peter asks innocently. The man smiles and cocks his head. “Around your Christmas.” “Ah,” Peter says with a nod. “Well, see Yule then.” Peter wiggles his eyebrows and finger guns. He’s about to hit himself in the head to condemn his stupidity, but what he doesn’t expect, isthe man bursting out laughing. The sound fills Peter’s heart with warmth. The Fae‘s laughter eventually dies down and then he nods at the path ahead. “I will visit your aunt soon, before this week ends. Thank you, Puck.” Peter grins and turns towards the town, continuing his journey home. After about ten feet, he stops again, though. There was a question nagging at his mind that he hadn’t yet gotten the answer to. “What do I call you?” The Fae looks down at the ground between them and starts walking backwards. “Oberon,” he says softly. He smiles one last time before retreating into the dense woods. “You may call me Oberon.”

[mimiplaysgames]

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 10)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 6,286

Summary: It’s time to save Ven from Castle Oblivion

Read on AO3

A/N: Woooooow I really didn’t want to take this long to finish this, but you guys know what my mental health is like sometimes. I actually finished two other WIPs before this one, but I’m still not happy with those so I wrote this one out. Thank you all so much for your patience. I hope this was worth the wait. >.<

~*~*~*~*~

Oblivion, pt. 2

Ven, you let Aqua take you home.

No way. I wanna go with you guys.

You can’t. We have a dangerous task ahead of us. I don’t want you to get hurt.

--And what is this dangerous task, Terra? It doesn’t sound like what the Master told you to do. 

It might be a different route, but I’m fighting the darkness.

--I’m not so sure. I’ve been to the same worlds as you and I’ve seen what you’ve done. You shouldn’t put yourself so close to the darkness.

Listen to yourself, Aqua. Terra would never--

You mean you’ve been spying on me? Is that what he said to do? The Master’s orders?

--He was only…

I get it.

Terra!

Just stay put! I’m on my own now, all right?

--Terra, please! Listen! The Master has no reason to distrust you, really! He was just worried. 

You’re awful, Aqua.

~*~*~*~*~

She’s awful and she knows it. 

Terra stands there, his fingers curled into fists, hurt and bewilderment in the strict knit of his brows. Aqua used to tell herself that everything she’s done was for the greater good. Better for everyone, better for Terra, even if he didn’t know it. She knew he felt betrayed. Felt. Since there’s no time in the Realm of Darkness, Aqua hasn’t been able to count how many years it took her to realize that she’s actually betrayed her best friend, how long it took to tell the difference between the two.

“I was only trying to help,” he says.

This isn’t how it goes. Aqua swallows. “I know that-”

“Then why?”

This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. “The Master was only looking out for you.” That’s true, at least. He’s always had good intentions. 

Terra’s lip snarls. “Was he?”

She doesn’t know anymore. “I was confused and unsure, Terra. I’m so sorry.”

Why is she apologizing now when she already has? When Terra forgave her? 

But did he? That happened in a dream.

Terra scoffs as he looks away, a false smile pulled on his face before he shakes his head. “Sorry. You accused me of leading myself to the darkness. Is that what you really think of me? An idiot?”

“No…” Did she?

“You’ve blamed me for everything.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” she whispers. Has she really? 

“You’re awful, Aqua,” Terra says. 

She knows it. Terra said it. And her heart wretches inside, vomiting an acid that burns her esophagus and is bubbling up, making her head light. 

“A curious memory,” a voice says. Xemnas stands behind her. He hums, his voice so deep it almost sounds like a growl. 

Terra is gone. 

She realizes where she is. Castle Oblivion. An image of Radiant Garden. “It’s false,” she spits.

“Are you certain?” He smiles and it comes slowly, like he takes care in easing into it. “The basic act of remembering is a basic act of storytelling. We take artistic license and smear it each and every time we take a nostalgic trip. You change the details depending on who you decide to recite it to.” He waves his arms open, dramatically drawing out his words. “Depending on your mood, or your motivation, or the meaning you want to take out of it, you alter things to fit a narrative in your head. Our memories are only ever reliable as the most recent story we told ourselves. Are you confident you’d be able to tell the difference?”

“I…” 

“Does this playact fit the story you want to tell about yourself?”

She blinks, trying to recall the exact words and in the order of how it happened. Ven was there that day. She’s sure of that. 

Right?

Xemnas sighs, eyeing the scene around him, bringing his gloved fingers to his lips. “I don’t have memory of this. But it was an interesting tale.”

Aqua inhales sharply and shakes herself out of her own damn stupor. “It doesn’t matter what you think.”

“I think whatever you saw is a reflection of yourself.” He strokes his hair out of his face. “Therefore, it’s true in its own way.”

“It isn’t!” She can’t believe so. She can’t think about it right now. Despite how much her wrist hurts, she charges at him, the Defender high and energized, loyal and at the ready.

He accepts her challenge with open arms and two swords of hot, red energy, barely floating out of her reach as though to coax her to follow him around. And she follows, because she’s an idiot. Master Aqua doesn’t know what she’s doing even when she thinks she does. Even when she believes in the words she says, or believes that attacking Xemnas is the right thing to do, because he is on Xehanort’s side and there’s no reason to stop flailing at him with the heaviest ice magic she can muster.

Aqua thrusts the Keyblade at him. Stupid move. She knows that. Then why is she making so many mistakes?

Xemnas catches it in between his blades, slicing them away to throw her off balance. She retaliates with a mutter under her breath. Waves of ice shards spew out in circles, stabbing in random patterns. Let’s see him block these.

He does a decent job dodging, but he’s distracted. That’s all she needs.

Aqua tracks the tip of the Defender against the floor. An ice path spits forward. She skates on them, picking up speed to ram directly into him, throwing him against the wall with a sickening thud. 

“How’s that for someone less than half your size?”

She inhales deeply, and with it comes magic and the excitement of dance. The anticipation to move and dazzle. She twirls and her Keyblade ignites, gathering energy with each turn she takes in place before it finally combusts in brilliant colors and spackles of white. 

Cutting through the beauty is a mess of black smog. “It was radiant,” Xemnas growls, pushing through with that sickness he calls a Nobody’s power, something that drains energy as if it were a black hole. 

The void sharpens up with electricity and collapses into millions of shards of its own light, fueled by a massive compression as if warping the air around it. Aqua backs off. It’s not a space she should breathe into. The false-light shoots outward with Xemnas’s command, stabbing in all directions. They’re hard to block. Hard to dodge. Hard to withstand a direct hit and Aqua takes them in the legs, the torso, the shoulders. Some stab her in the face. 

By the end, she’s the one splayed out on the floor, the Defender dissipating.

“A waste of my power when we could have had an amicable conversation,” Xemnas says, brushing off his sleeves. 

Aqua is sore all over. Her legs don’t want to pick her up.

Ragged breathing (hers) pounds in her ears, interrupted only by the echoes of his steps, tick-tacking up to her slowly, like he’s pretty sure she won’t get up. 

Aqua grunts while pressing her palms against the floor. Her good wrist shakes. Her bad one just won’t. 

“Back off!” 

Sora’s voice.

He’s coming for Xemnas from above, gripping his Keyblade with both hands high above his head as though he’s about to bat a ball and grovel it into the ground. When he makes contact with Xemnas’s back, slicing across, a white electric spark crackles outward, tossing him at a safe distance away from her body. 

All Aqua sees when Sora lands are the toes of giant yellow shoes. A warmth settles on her, ticklish and relaxing until it suddenly vanishes too soon. He really needs to work on his Cure spells. 

“Think you can handle him?” he asks her, already prepared to fight more. Xemnas picks himself up, brushing his hand on his face. “We can do it together.”

“It’s a waste of time,” she says. Xemnas and false memories and stupid speeches all at once. How many rooms did Sora go through to get here? How much has he lost already?

She sets her eyes on the exit: a gate that would have led to the alleys in the real Radiant Garden. They should go. Should they stay and finish this off?

(I can’t let Sora fight alone. I need to protect Ven from threats. Why am I not spending my time finding him?)

She ends it with, I have to shut myself up. “Can you distract him for me?”

“Sure?”

“Follow me as soon as I call for you,” she commands, marching straight to the door without a glance at the noise combusting behind her. Sora’s yelling with passion and excitement. Xemnas grunts with annoyance. Explosions rumble in between. 

She grips the handle and risks looking back. Sora is a good fighter, all improv and no hesitance, like a rocket with no homing device. He dodges attacks while tossing up mockery and teases (he might as well drop the Keyblade and stick his tongue out while gesturing with his fingers). Xemnas shows off fanciful and destructive magic that is both inefficient in aim and wide-reaching. So much of his hits are collateral damage.

Sora gets knocked onto his knees. She’s about to run to him when he bounces back, blocking another direct hit and redirecting it. 

He’s okay.

She should trust him.

“Focus, Aqua,” she chides herself. Regardless of how much fun Sora is having, he’s depending on her to move forward for everyone’s sakes. She thinks about nothing, she thinks about Ven. Sleeping in that throne all by himself. When she wakes him up, he’s going to pout and say, Did you forget about me or something? Aqua, you’re so mean.

You’re awful, Aqua.

She needs an empty, quiet room. The door responds, a little aha! moment that churns in her belly. She turns the knob. “Sora!”

He hesitates.

“Sora, come here!”

This time he follows, hustling to her side. “But-” He points at Xemnas charging at them, so fast that he’s floating, when she grabs Sora by the elbow and pulls him through with her. Like a vacuum, they get sucked inside. All remnants of destruction, crumbling brick, smokey air, and aftershocks are erased with the click of the doorknob into its latch. 

They land face first on cold tile in a simple white room.

Sora sighs, a little laugh escaping through his breath. She gets it, she’s relieved too.

“I will never look at Xemnas’s face the same way again,” he says, grunting when he hops onto his feet, shoulders rolling and neck stretching like he’s done a good workout. 

Aqua’s wrist still protests when she leans on it to get on her knees. She doesn’t let Sora see - she briskly stands like she’s still got pep to her step, her good hand gently clasped over it as she begins a Curaga to start the healing process. It prickles and kneads, sharp bubbles popping on the skin’s surface like slapping rubber to the skin.

“How did you find me?” Aqua asks. She has to. The castle is designed to disorient. It takes a tremendous bond to keep anyone inside together, and she figures Sora would rather stay close to Riku and the others. 

Sora blinks. “I’m not exactly sure. We got separated, picked off one by one. I took doors that my gut told me to choose.” He touches his chest and chuckles. “Or rather, my heart. I thought it’d lead me back to them.” Then he snorts. “You’re a lot easier to find than Riku, that’s for sure.”

That doesn’t make any much sense, and all Aqua says is, “You’re a good person, Sora.”

He lets his smile fall and cocks his head, a quiet Huh? slipping out. It takes him moments to respond. “You don’t think you are?”

“I don’t…” She’s about to say, deserve my Master’s rank. Something’s wrong. Her Light magic should have only taken a couple of seconds to heal, but it keeps going. When it’s finally complete, her wrist is still sore. Aqua presses her fingers to her temples to massage a headache that isn’t there. “I don’t sound like myself. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” His stretched smile shines again. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal.” 

“Normal?”

“I mean,” he shrugs a playful shoulder, “maybe a little weird, sure. If that’s what you want to hear.”

She scoffs, the tiniest grin wrestling its way onto her lips. “Maybe I am.”

“Did you know I once called Riku ‘stupid?’”

It’s her turn to snort. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d let you say that to him.”

“You’d be surprised.”

The snorting turns into a small giggle, something warm and toasty as though this room has never been cold.

“See?” Sora says. “A little laughter says a lot about you.”

Aqua massages her wrist one last time. “In what way?”

“That you survive what you went through,” he says slowly, “and still laugh? You’re stronger than you think.”

Aqua swallows. She’s once thought the same thing, but she’s tired now. So tired of being strong. 

As if taking her silence as cue, Sora glances around the empty room, that one simple door waiting for them. “So, what now?” 

“We get Ven.”

He’s super excited and it’s very endearing, like he’s about to witness an inexplicable magic trick. “How are we going to do that?”

Aqua leads the way. Ven. Finally. “Again, I will be the one to unlock the door.” 

He keeps to her heels like a puppy. Right now, on the other side of that door, she figures there’s nothing, a canvas in need of paint. When the castle takes a peek inside a person’s head to mirror what they want to see, it takes so much more. 

“Do you just… picture Ven in your head and voila?” Sora asks.

“Kind of.”

“And what else? What’s the secret?”

Aqua hums, fingers twiddling with each other. “A lot of focus and dedication.”

“That can’t be it. There’s gotta be more.”

“And quiet.”

“Oh, sorry.”

It’s Ven’s movement. His voice. A tight hug given or a toothy grin, from any moment of her choosing, so long as the memory is striking. Xemnas.

Why is she thinking of Xemnas?

When he said that memories are only as real as the stories we tell ourselves. Is that the same for memories so powerful, there’s no way they can be anything but untrue? 

He’s wrong. A memory as warm as the laughter she shared with Sora would do the spell right. 

Just before she replays the scene in her head, tears slowly prick at her eyes. Even after spending years knowing that she’s going to lose this memory, that she’s literally giving it up as an offering, she’s still trembling. Why is she so scared? 

She has other memories, she tells herself, just as precious to make up for it.

~*~*~*~*~

Ven wasn’t able to speak much when he first woke up. He’d learn a few words here and there, and would repeat them. For a child without a grip on language, he was so eager to let everyone know everything he felt.

And he really liked stars. 

That night, a thunderstorm blotted the sky, and there weren’t any to see.

Good thing Ven wasn’t afraid of thunder, and good thing Aqua and Terra stashed a tent for nights like these. Draped over Ven’s bed, Terra brought in custom-made wooden lampshades, where he carved out shapes of stars. Third edition - the first time he tried, on cardboard, was a messy affair and some stars turned out to be globs. Stars dotted the entire tent, spreading all over the bed and loitering their bodies. In Ven’s bedroom, they sat in the very sky. 

“Ven won’t let me read to him anymore,” Aqua said, watching Ven snatch the picture book she brought him. 

“You’re welcome,” said Ven. 

Terra chuckled. “He won’t let me either. He just wants to know how it ends.”

“It’s a happy one, I promise,” was Aqua’s desperate plea. He used to be so cute with how attached he was to her and how much he nudged to hear her speak. She even read recipes to him - so long as she spoke, Ven was amused. 

“You’re welcome,” said Ven.

Terra propped himself on his elbow, opening a bag of nuts. “Hungry, Ven?”

Ven, forgetting there was a book on his lap, splayed out his palm. He gestured with a kingly expectation that he’d be graced.

“You need to say, ‘Please,’” Terra said.

“You’re welcome.”

Terra gave Aqua a knowing smirk, a tall boy in a lanky body who told her that morning that he needed to grow muscles. His new Keyblade was too heavy for him, his swings too sluggish. He was worried about his future when she thought he shouldn’t be. He gathered a few peanuts with his fingers and gently placed them in Ven’s hand, watchful for spills. “Now you say, ‘Thank you.’”

“You’re welcome.” Ven snarfed them all down, cheeks bubbling full before he swallowed them in one gulp. He licked his fingers and pointed to a pitcher for water (You’re welcome). Aqua thought she’d never forget it. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?”

Aqua blinks at a fussing Sora, who has his hand on her shoulder with this terrible concern knotting his face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, why are you asking?”

Sora lets her go, his hand still hovering close. “You seemed really sad.”

Tears are indeed flowing down her face and Aqua wipes them off. Why they’re there, she doesn’t understand. There’s nothing to be upset about. Ven is on the other side of this door. That thought alone - Ven! - burns a hearth through her entire body, like snuggling in a blanket by a fireplace. She’s done it. She’s done something truly outstanding. 

“I’m not,” she laughs. “Everything’s going to be okay. He’s on the other side.”

He’s on the other side. Aqua twists the knob as fast as possible, pushing her way into another white room. With a throne. And a boy with blond hair, tucked into a seat two times his size in peaceful sleep.

“Ven,” she gasps. There’s nothing else in her mind. Just Ven.

“Roxas?” 

It’s like being dunked in cold water. What came out of Sora’s mouth, she has no damn idea. “Ventus,” she corrects.

But Sora has a strange look on his face, his hand clutching his stomach. “Huh?”

She doesn’t listen. She runs up to the throne, reaching out to shake him. “Ven?”

Stars, he looks the same in her memories, maybe less pudgy in the cheeks. But the more she studies him, the more a pit in her stomach grows. He looks peaceful from far away, but this close, he looks like he’ll never wake up despite being warm to her touch.

“Is it because I took so long?” she asks softly, as if speaking too loud would startle him out of a nightmare. “Is it because there was something I was missing? Should I have found your heart first?” She takes his face in both of her hands and brings his forehead to hers. This time, she really does want to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

Sora walks carefully up to the throne, hesitant to disturb the moment. “Aqua, I don’t feel so good.”

She finds him staring at Ven, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Sora shakes his head. “It’s creepy.”

“Excuse me?”

A giant bang rattles the door behind them nearly out of its hinges. 

“What was that?” Sora whips around. It bangs again, dust spitting out. Spiney tendrils seep through the cracks. “Xemnas!”

Her first instinct is to stay. To fight anything that would threaten Ven’s body. Dammit. There’s still everyone else they have to find. And what if his body gets hurt in the chaos?

“We don’t have the time.” She swings Ven’s arms over her shoulders, hooking his legs over her arms as she takes on his entire weight onto her back. He’s heavy for someone who hasn’t eaten in years. 

“Do you need help?”

“If he breaks through-”

“Got it.”

This room is a dead end - the only way in is the only way out. The real treasure room of the castle, its finality a way of saying, You’ve made it! 

And so, Aqua has to make a new door. 

She struggles to pull out the Defender with Ven on her back, having to lift one shoulder up to keep him level so he doesn’t slack over.

The door bangs again, nearly rupturing apart.

With Sora on guard, Aqua glares at the wall as though to burn a hole through it. It should be less work than transforming the entire castle. The Master’s Defender, once called its Keeper, is a specific inheritance meant for the wielder to keep secrets - even ones he’s never heard of. The castle will deceive. The castle will do what it needs to protect. Aqua asks it to protect them with secrets it will never tell her. 

Thrusting the Keyblade forward, the outline of a keyhole sparkles on the surface of the wall, stretching into the shape of a door like all the others. Aqua makes sure to give this one a particular lock. 

“Sora!” 

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He leans into her as if to keep Ven upright for her. “Just open the door for me. Make sure to lock it firmly behind us.”

He does so, throwing it wide to a tiny room, stretched long but narrow like a walk-in closet. Aqua hustles inside.

The door bangs one more time. It tears near the handle. Xemnas heaves when he pushes it open as though it’s the heaviest in the castle. He’s angry, annoyed, the last in the race, an also-ran. He’s so composed, so poised though, like a puppet that wears a mask to pretend to be human. 

And Sora has their sanctuary propped open, gaping.

“What’s wrong?”

Sora shakes himself out of a stupor, shutting her new door. It wipes Xemnas out of existence, like hand brushing the surface of a table, throwing all the mess onto the floor for a new start. Sora then watches it latch, as though expecting it to rattle.

“Xemnas won’t get through,” she says. “I made sure of it.”

He scratches his head, that brand of Sora-smile brightening up like normal. “Where are we?”

“In a safe room.” She bends her knees and gently lets her grip of Ven’s wrists go, letting him hit the wall behind her. It’s so narrow that she’s unable to stretch her legs when she sits besides him. “It’s only meant for our friends.”

“They’ll find us?” 

“As easily as they want to, yes.” When she watches Sora slump onto the wall opposite hers, his feet resting up against the other side, she shivers. He’s still reading the walls as if they have words painted on them even though they’re blank. “Are you sure you’re okay?” A worse thought creeps up to her. “Did you see things?”

Sora glances at Ven. “I did actually.” He chuckles. “Like that night when Destiny Islands went under. Kairi yelled at me when I missed dinner like it was just another night. She always had something to nag about.” He blinks. “Or was that my mom?”

“I should apologize,” Aqua says, lowering her gaze. “This should have only been my burden to bear.”

“No regrets here.” Something passes over his face like a cloud hovering over, and Sora presses a fist to his temple as if to think really hard. “Stained glass windows.” 

“Huh?”

“Mountains.” Sora scrunches his eyes as if shampoo had gotten in them. “This place used to be really pretty, right?”

Aqua drops her jaw. She stares at him really hard, but he breathes deeply, lost in his thoughts like a mannequin coming alive. Memory of this place should only live inside a handful of people. He isn’t supposed to know, and the castle couldn’t have shown him any of that.

“How-”

Their door unlocks itself, swinging wide open. Kairi limps inside with heavy breath. Riku is slumped over her shoulders, unconscious.

Sora acts like he’s just woken up. “What happened?” He gets up, taking Riku’s other arm so they could set him down. Riku doesn’t come across as a particularly large boy but he takes up so much space. Aqua has to drag Ven to make room before shifting onto her knees to read Riku’s energy - he’s alive. 

Kairi sniffs. “He took a direct hit for me.”

Sora pats her shoulder. “He would’ve done the same for me.” Though he’s not so confident.

“Don’t worry. He’s going to be okay,” Aqua says.

Kairi grimaces somewhere in the middle of being comforted and not quite believing that. Aqua starts a Cure spell. It takes its time, but whether that’s her failure or because Riku is in terrible condition, she can’t tell. 

“Is that…?”

Aqua spares a glance at Kairi, who has her fingers wiping her tear-stained face. “It is. Ven.”

“Is he not okay?”

Aqua swallows.

The door rattles like there’s a desperate person begging for someone to open it. Lea and Donald bicker when they come in (something about Getting pistol heavy and Donald responds with a Bah!), Goofy trailing behind them. They pile on top of everyone else, Lea opting to stay standing because there’s simply no room for him. 

He takes one look at Riku. And he smirks. “Some people always have to play the dark and brooding hero.” That don’t-give-too-much-of-a-care touch to his voice loses its power, however, the moment he sets his eyes on Ven. 

Aqua never expected they knew each other. 

“Roxas?” He hurries over, hopping over legs and feet like stepping rocks. 

Why do they bring that name up?! Aqua keeps an eye over her shoulder. Something about their reactions to Ven doesn’t sit right with her. Something about Lea’s expression - the wide eyes, the dropped hands, the gasp, the deadset desperation - marks it as more intense than Sora’s, who felt nauseous. 

Lea settles on his knees to take a close look. Aqua couldn’t have misinterpreted it: disappointment flashes across his face, and Lea stops a sharp inhale before letting it out slowly. “No, you’re Ventus.” When they lock eyes, he gets serious. “Listen, there’s other Organization members in the castle.” It makes every conscious person in the room pay attention. 

“Ha, let them try and fit in here!” Donald says, sticking his beak up to the state of the room. Goofy has a long shoe stuck on top of one of his webbed feet, giving Donald a scowl to last two entire nights.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Sora says with a smirk. Playful or careful, it’s hard to differentiate with him. He winks at Aqua. “He’s only that way because of the King.”

The King and Terra lost in the Realm of Darkness. And Aqua’s stuck in a closet with an angry bird and beat up, tired, anxious fighters.

“Do we go back out?” Kairi meekly asks. “Downstairs instead of up?”

Aqua didn’t have to climb stairs to get here. Damn it. 

“We’ll make sure to stay together this time-” she starts to say when Lea interrupts her with a sharp No.

He’s holding his head like he’s got a headache. He fidgets, lost in thought as his eyes search this room though he’s not going to find much help here. There’s someone he obviously doesn’t want to cut across. “We’ll take a shortcut.”

“Excuse me?”

He stands up, leaning over Sora to splay his palm against the wall. “Is Xemnas here?”

Aqua purses her lips before she answers. “Yes.”

“If he’s this close, he’ll find out I used it. He always does.” From his hand slithers out tendrils of black smoke. From that grows a doorway. From the doorway, a glow that opens up a portal to somewhere else. “Straight to the exit.”

Aqua shakes her head. “I’m not going in there.”

“That’s dangerous!” Donald barks. Aqua is grateful she’s not the only one opposed.

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to use a Dark Corridor,” Goofy says. He is game and he is cheerful, letting Sora help him sling Riku over one of his shoulders. “Do ya think we’ll need a night-light?” 

Sora snickers in response. “It’s only a little cold. Nothing much to worry about.”

Aqua doesn’t know where to start. They’re all wrong. “But-”

Lea takes Ven onto his back. He has a much easier time, as though carrying a backpack, bobbing Ven’s weight to make sure he has a better grip. “Let’s go.” Then he glances at Aqua with a stern, almost distasteful look that tells her he means business. No jokes. No sarcasm. In words, Get your shit together.

He leads the way, Ven poofing out of existence the moment he passes through, asleep, oblivious of the world, unsafe and safe all at once. And Aqua stood there staring. Goofy follows next, his large steps striding so widely that Riku’s arms sway side to side. 

Aqua can feel that familiar chill, and it churns her stomach to think that it’s so close to her again. She doesn’t move. Even when Donald struts his way in, throwing a Humph! for good measure.

Even when Sora coaxes Kairi into it, telling her that it’s really no big deal. Just follow the others. Even when he smiles at Aqua and tells her, Come on. It’s a short trip.

She only nudges forward the moment Sora takes one last visible step into the void. She’s alone. She gasps. Summons her armor before dashing after them, metal footsteps clunking through a long, dark tunnel. It slithers around her, but she keeps her eyes ahead, following Sora and Kairi as they run straight to the other side. Don’t look at anything else. Don’t even think about it. Just follow them.

It is indeed a short run to the other side, a round light swallowing her when she crosses the border, leading her back outside to the barren wasteland that is Castle Oblivion’s patio. Aqua’s heart hammers away like she’s drunk too many stimulants for years. Like she’s too old for this. She’s gasping into her helmet, but she won’t dispel it just yet. Not when the others are here. 

Lea doesn’t stop. He marches straight to the gummi ship, its hangar left open for them, followed by a diligent Goofy. They have a room inside where they could tend to Riku’s wounds and make sure Ven is comfortable. 

Sora looks back. “You’ll fly on your own right?”

Aqua weakly nods and the others board the ship. 

Lea made it so easy to exit. Traversing the castle seemed like a nightmare that kept you asleep just to see it end. The gummi ship starts its engines, revving up and blowing air that kicks the dirt up. Aqua listens for Lea’s corridor to dissipate. Maybe all this noise is playing tricks with her mind because that bubbling sound that should signal its disappearance is going on for too long. Aqua turns around. Lea’s is gone alright, but another takes shape at the front entrance.

Vanitas bursts out of it to witness the gummi ship take off. 

Xemnas casually steps out, too. “Stand your ground,” he orders.

Vanitas does obey, though he’s trembling with so much fever that it looks like he’s fighting off a spell that kept him frozen. Fists curled up tight, stance wide like he’s about to charge ahead if only given the permission to do so. Aqua would have expected him to glance back as if to say, Are you stupid?

But he doesn’t look back. She can only imagine him grinding his teeth, muttering curses to himself. Whether he’s staring at her or the sky through his helmet, it doesn’t matter.

Aqua has the Defender at the edge of her fingertips, only needing to summon it. Xemnas stands there with his hands crossed behind him, watching as the ship leaves. 

A roar thunders through the area, making the ground shake. 

What looks like a dragon snakes through the sky. Compartmentalized into chunks that link together a long chain for a body, its purple and green and bears the Heartless symbol on its chest, just below its giant snout and metal fangs. It looks like a machine, something that can drill into a planet until it gets to its core. And then eats.

The weight of it. It’s like carrying a mountain on your shoulders. This thing is a cluster. A Heart of some world that died who knows how long ago, living again as a monster big enough to swallow a ship. 

Xemnas readies his energy sabers but Aqua doesn’t take the bait. She turns on her heel and runs.

Vanitas conjures his Keyblade and follows her. She dodges one of his blasts that comes up behind her. Throws herself off the nearest cliff to thwart him off of her trail. He actually stops to gawk at how she summons Stormfall. She commands it to convert it into her glider so she has something solid to land on.

She takes flight, past the barrier that tries to pull her back to Castle Oblivion, but when she keeps momentum, it lets her go out into deep space. The gummi ship is traversing an area full of them, all of these destroyed worlds, all pieces of earth that Aqua can take a whole day exploring. The monster dragon is huge, weaving around abandoned rubble, its tail whipping into an asteroid and demolishing it into dust. 

Its nose follows the gummi ship closely, as though it’s sniffing. It bares teeth.

“Sora!”

How ridiculous of her - he can’t hear her from the ship. She dislodges the handles of her glider, turning them over so she’s holding a bow as tall as her. With it, she shoots shards of light against the dragon. 

The gummi ship bends into a tunnel inside a spinning asteroid - a wild, dangerous, stupid choice to make and she’ll have to lecture Sora about that later. It comes out of a different hole, now facing the dragon, joining the fight with torpedoes and laser beams. 

The attacks burst when it makes contact with its skin (more like an armor), but it doesn’t leave any scarring. It doesn’t slow it down. Its roar is mechanical, as though it’s coming out of a speaker, sleeking over a boulder so it could chomp the ship directly. 

Aqua grunts as she speeds up, coming up from underneath the dragon’s chin to knock its direction off-kilter. It misses the ship. Good, for now at least, since it swerves back so easily.

Whoever is maneuvering the ship (Aqua doesn’t know it’s Sora, but the way it jerks and gets cocky with taunting the dragon into following it reminds her so much of his fighting style) is making it tank around the perimeter, letting it get close to the dragon. If Sora wants to make a direct hit, he’s in a good position to do so. 

The dragon roars again. This time, a beam of energy bubbles in its throat, twice the size of the ship. Sora readies torpedoes and throws shots into its mouth. But it doesn’t faze the dragon either. 

They’re not going to survive this.

Sora understands. He dips below, the dragon tailing him with that beam still charging up for something catastrophic. Aqua tries zipping around its face, taking shots from her bow directly into its eyes, directly into its mouth in the hopes that it would combust its jaw open and stop the attack. Nothing happens. The dragon ignores her as though she’s just a fly bugging its face.

There’s one more option. Swooping high and higher, she swings over and looks down on the dragon. It opens its mouth wider as Sora barely pushes his speed. 

She charges down, the Master’s Defender in her hand while her other grips on her handlebars. This is an extreme choice to make, a silly little sword against a dragon the size of an entire world. But she’s never known Master Eraqus to ever fail her. To ever show weakness, even in that one night when he received a letter about someone who disappeared due to the darkness. He cried. He stood up. And told her this was why they did the work they did. Use the anger and desperation to drive her forward until the end. She’s desperate right now, and she yells into her helmet as she gathers speed. 

She cuts across the back of the dragon’s neck, where its definitive brain stem would have been. The dragon explodes - first from its mouth, light beams spurting out. Then in between each compartment that makes up the rest of its body, like volcanoes erupting, and tsunamis colliding, and earthquakes collapsing. 

Pieces of it fall through deep space, new asteroids joining the rest of the waste.

But that burst from its mouth hit the gummi ship, which is now smoking from its left wing. Aqua’s glider isn’t big enough to save them.

All she can do is follow the way it falls, to trail behind it when gravity makes it faster than she can possibly catch up to, and watch the way Sora wheels it around obstacles and debris as he tries to control it even though he can’t. 

Until it dives into a world that stands bright, a tall castle jutting out into a horizon. There’s a magic there that is protective. As though an invisible hand has grown out of its dirt, the gummi ship, with her friends inside, slows down, landing somewhere where the sunrise is just beginning.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It's 2007 and somehow, miraculously, Supernatural survives yet another rocky (?) season of mediocre ratings to come back for a third season, or at least, half season, but that season starts out with a real bang! Like, just a real solid trio of an opener for season three. It reminds me of all the things I love about SPN and also it reminds us of all the things that frustrate the hell out of me on SPN. So where did we leave things off?

First up, there’s Dean, who sold his soul to the devil in order to bring Sam back from the dead. Sam, you’ll remember, was part of some overly complicated ponzi scheme to find the perfect vessel to open a door - yep, open a door - and lost to Aldous Hodge who just straight up murders Sam in the season finale. So Dean get’s Sammy back, but in exchange, he’s only got one year left before he permanently moves down south. Oh! And even though they got Sam back and Sam kills Aldous Hodge (RIP pal), they neglected to keep the door from opening. The door to Hell, that is, and now they’ve allowed a shiz ton of demons out to freely roam the earth. Way to go, boys, you lost again! They are two for two on these season finales guys!

OH but they DO kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that’s a plus, but not before he plants the most perfect seed of doubt in Dean’s mind - “How do you know what you brought back is all Sammy?” Like, ugh, UGH, ugh!!!! What a way to drive the knife in deeper! What a way to make the heart of this show slowly start to crumble! C’est Magnifique!! *chef's kissy fingers*

So with all that emotional baggage weighing us down, how do we start season 3? How else - with a threesome of course! And also some technicolor grading, it’s wild guys.

Oh boy guys, let’s talk about this opener for a hot sec. I got into it a little bit last season, but as much as I love Dean, you HAVE to admit that that boy is gross. Just like...he’s a little gross. I’m also old enough now to see exactly how many red flags he’s raising through the last 45 episodes. Like, sorry Little Me, but he is not boyfriend material. Not to mention that all this debauchery is 1,000% him distracting himself from the consequences of his own actions, but we’ll get into that later.

Meanwhile, Sam is doing something constructive and trying to figure out how to reverse the curse and save Dean’s soul. And here we have the culmination of two seasons worth of character development - faced with the imminent demise of Dean Samuel Winchester, Sam tries to step up and take care of his brother for once in his life; Dean parties like it’s 1999. There were two things I thought of during this episode - 1) isn’t this not unlike the sort of behavior you see in suicidal people who have finally decided to take their own life? Which is just, like, further held up by the fact that Dean’s big monologue at the end literally has the line “Truth is I’m tired, Sam. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” and like...dude, you are NOT ok! Why isn't??? ANYONE??? ADDRESSING THIS????? And 2) Dean is sharing a lot of similarities with the demons in this episode.

Because MEANwhile, there’s demons! So many demons! Specifically, the Seven Deadly Sins ones, but also, spoiler alert, Ruby, who is gettin’ reeeeealll into that ketchup.

All these baddies just really taking advantage of their time topside cuz Hell is, as they so artfully put it, it’s like Hell, so they’re just livin’ it up while they still can ~almost like foreshadowing or something~?!?!?

Real talk though, it being a real long time since I’ve watched this season, it’s these kinds of details that I’m impressed with this time around. There is so much character work that goes into this show and it’s something I definitely connected with the first time around, but not on conscious level. Now I can look at it through time and experience and articulate what I’m seeing, which makes this re-watch infinitely more enjoyable.

Episode 1 of this season continues what they started in season 2 and just keeps building out that Hunter Community. Like, there really is a whole Community out there that keeps in contact and works together and makes sure everyone’s up to date on the latest hot goss, and it all makes John Winchester come off like a real creepy splinter cell lone gunman type. And that in turn makes the Winchester sons look like total, unprofessional boneheads who managed to open a portal to Hell. “UGH Great Jorb Guys, but can we blame them? They’re John’s kids,” is a conversation between hunters that I am headcannoning, but also 100% support.

Honestly, I love the idea of the Winchesters being just these real, like, b-grade, Walmart Brand Hunters that other Hunters are just SO done with. We kind of see a little bit of that with Isaac and Tamara, but by the end of the episode, the Winchesters prove that they’re...better Hunters? I hope somewhere in the next 12 seasons I get an episode that is told from another Hunter’s POV who is legitimately better/more emotionally balanced than the Winchesters and the whole episode is them just, like, cleaning up a bunch of Winchester messes like, SONuvabitch, these two ASSholes. I think we see a fair amount of episodes from the POV of people who are less qualified than the Winchesters who end up being mentored by them, but I’d be stoked for them to run into just a group of people who hate them for totally legitimate, professional vs amature reasons.

Bobby does not count because Bobby signed up to be their Dad and so he agreed to take care of their messes when he took that job.

And then we get to “The Kids Are Alright” which showcases one of my fav changes for this season - BRIGHTLY! LIT! HIGH! SATURATION!!!! And of course, by fav, I mean, Most Hilarious.

I do walk a fine line on this one truth be told. Like, season 1 was definitely going for A Look. It’s super gritty and high contrasty and stylized. Now, I got what they were going for but I wasn’t always crazy about it, mostly because the quality on the DVD’s was terrible. Quick tip for everyone: in order to get 2+ hours worth of content on a DVD, you have to compress the final edit of the program to a pretty small bitrate. When we drop videos onto DVD’s at my work (it isn’t often, thank goodness), the discs themselves only hold, like, 2GB worth of content and that is NOT A LOT when it comes to video files. The more compressed a video file is, the less detail you’re gonna get in the visuals. Watching episodes on Netflix (where everything’s probably at a higher bitrate and therefore is a better quality visual), it’s not bad, but on my DVDs, the compression is so heavy that we get SUPER hot highlights and SUPER crunchy shadows - what a lot of people would called “crushed blacks” because you’ve lost all the detail in the shadows and you’re left with a grainy, noisy, black hole on the screen. Like I lost so much detail in the pilot episode guys, I could not make out this guy’s face.

A rough approximation of my DVD quality. Still recommend it over Netflix for the Accurate Soundtrack tho.

Season 2 SPN toned that Look down a lot, like, a lot a lot. Enough that you still got the general vibe they were going for but not enough that you couldn’t make out faces anymore. But through this whole process, the CW execs kept pushing for the show to look lighter, more colorful, less film noir more...well, CW. And in season 3 it finally happened!!!

I get what those execs were going for, but also, I feel like the colorists on these first few episodes just REALLY went wild out of spite. Lookit this shot from “Magnificent Seven” right before Envy causes some rando innocent bystander to beat a girl to death for her shoes -

GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN!!!! I WONDER WHICH SIN THIS GUY IS????

Then in “The Kids Are Alright” the birthday party looks like everything is coated in day-glow neon.

The Winchester Bros look like they just got back from 3 weeks in Aruba - LOOK at the saturation levels in these skin tones! LOOK AT THEM!!

My screencap ability aside, only in SPN can a cemetery at night have brighter lighting than a diner in the middle of the afternoon.

This is definitely a thing I will be tracking the rest of the season because I have a distinct memory of a future episode where the brothers have been magically gifted completely different lives where they were never Hunters, they know nothing of Hunting, and they’re completely normal until the end when everything gets snapped back and the episode literally changes colors. V. Excited to see just how saturated this season stays through the end.

But maybe more importantly in “The Kids Are Alright” we learn that Dean does NOT, in fact, have a son. Not that he would be a good father...well...maybe? I mean, this Dean, this season 3, definitely-suicidal, completely-reckless, can’t-keep-it-together Dean, is not good Dad material. Later seasons Dean? Probably fine? Earlier seasons Dean might ALSO be fine? And if he’d found out that Ben was his legitimate kid, it could have made a WORLD of difference, who knows. I know he ultimately does become father-like to Ben and that gives me a lot of feelings. But this Dean is not in a good place to take care of anyone, including himself and really, someone ought to do something about that.

I gotta say, this is an actual bummer. I can’t remember if, in the later seasons, they do any clarifying on this or not, but I am legitimately bummed that Ben is not Dean’s kid and that as far as we know, Dean has no natural children floating around out there with surly attitudes and soft hearts. Dean’s motivation from Day 1 has always been family and despite what comments he may make in early seasons, Dean’s secret desire is to have the wife and the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. And honestly, we’re only 3 seasons in and I just want Dean to have nice things!!

And then guys, we come to “Bad Day at Black Rock,” and I just...WHAT a masterpiece. I had almost NO memory of ever watching this episode before and I don't understand why. What a glorious masterpiece this episode is. Let’s make a list -

More Hunters™, who should be really annoying but were actually kinda charming in a Marx Brothers kind of way

Gordon’s in jail, where he belongs, but also is masterminding a coup against the Winchesters which is A+ spooky stuff

Slapstick comedy that I didn’t know I was missing from my life

Bela F*cking Talbot

Guys, I think this is my fav episode so far purely because I felt, while watching it, that the last 10 years of my life were not in vain and that I had in fact grown as a human person. I remembered hating Bela Talbot. Like, I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER. To the point that I questioned if her British accent was even real. It is, her mother is from the UK and she lived there for a time, but like, honestly, the audacity of Little Me.

This time around? Oh she’s defs my new fav. Just everything about her is like, A+, Great Job, Why-Did-We-Cancel-Her??? Like, oh yeah, probably because somewhere in here they try to shoehorn a romantic side plot with Dean. I don’t actually mind rioting over shoehorned romance, but also, if they’d let this play out for a season or two and then got the two of them to bone? I’m on board. I’m 100% on board.

Maybe it’s just that she is unapologetically out for herself, maybe it’s the fact that she is definitely a match for the Winchesters in a non-murdery way, probably it is both of those things. She's smart, she’s crooked, she has impeccable taste, she’s honestly a helluva lot of fun and I am so excited to see more of her and so BUMMED that she will not make it past this season.

Despite the fact that I absolutely adore all three of these episodes, they also bring up the problem that I was starting to see in season 2 - WHO is this show about? Isn’t it supposed to be about the Brothers as a whole? But the majority of these first three lean pretty heavily on Dean’s emotional arc. Granted, it makes sense. I mean, of COURSE Dean’s demon deal is gonna be the BIG thing in a season where he is literally staring down the barrel, but knowing that there’s a side plot about Is Sam Evil?? seems like...something we should really explore more? I believe it comes up in season 4, or at least, Sam’s demon-blood powers become a bigger deal in season 4, but I would have enjoyed seeing Sam have a more active stake in this season. I can see planting some weird new ticks being planted for Alive-Again Sam that just get weirder and darker and then a mid-season finale or a run up episode to the end of the season where Dean (finally) decides he needs to stop his demon deal because he needs to stick around so he can keep Sam from going completely off the rails. As much as I love Dean 5ever, I do think the show works best when the emotional weight of the season is distributed equally is all. And to be fair to the writers this season, there could have been a bigger plan for something like that but they ran out of time - their season was cut by about a third due to the Writer’s Strike.

Still, all in all, a solid opening to the third season. I want to say that these episodes feel like Classic SPN, but then I remember that this is season three out of fifteen. These ARE Classic SPN. Mostly self contained with enough emotional drama to remind us of the overarching plot. Maybe a little heavy on the emotional drama, but Dean’s only got a year to live and the show’s only got 16 episodes to resolve that crisis, so it’s fine.

[secret-engima]

nammuellyll

@secret-engima congrats, you woke the monster. ardyn in my hero academia. there. go wild.

Me: MWAHAHAHAHA. You say that like I regret it >:DDD

-Ardyn in this wakes up post The Great Stabbing and is ... more than a little annoyed. Hello. He wanted the afterlife experience. HELLO WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS DESTINY OF FADING TO COSMIC DUST.

-But no. Apparently he gets to have a “second chance” to “be a hero”.

-Just let one of the Astrals show themselves, he’ll show where to put that “second chance”-.

-Anyway. Ardyn is Ardyn, he looks like he did in canon but he’s sane again. Oddly enough he’s still got both his armiger magic, his super healing, and some of his scourge-like abilities (scary face included). He’s not corrupted tho. Ardyn isn’t sure what to make of that.

-Goes and hobos around for a while, getting used to this world and the fact that everyone looks like a storybook encounter with cursed items gone wrong. Picks up a Smol Traumatized Child that can disintegrate things with his fingers off the streets because Why Not, Let’s Both Be Homeless Together Kiddo, then in short order gets himself known as a Major Villain when he finds a trafficking ring and, since Ardyn is Not Exactly Moral Even If Arguably Sane, he slaughters them to the last man.

-Ardyn is known on the news via grainy footage that only catches glimpses of his scourge face and a lot of rumor, he laughs his head off when the ONE soundbite they manage to get from the scene leads to his being named Adagium. AGAIN. Okay he walked into that one.

-Uses the resources of the no-longer-operational trafficking ring to set up a nice restaurant bar with a secret (illegal) clinic in the back. He makes dishes exclusively from his original time period and so the food is known as very eccentric but good. Ardyn rapidly gets the wackiest duel rep in history. To the mainstream/police/pro heroes he’s a shadowy super-murderer named Adagium. To the underworld and the homeless, the quirkless and the children, Adagium is a name that means hope and shelter, healing and comfort and a monster that protects its own rather than giving meaningless promises, all in exchange for simple favors like clothes and information and school books for his child.

-Ardyn makes special one-finger gloves for Tenko so that he can touch touch stuff without worrying about destroying it. He also, at some point, picks up the rest of the not-LoV by pure happenstance. Toga comes into his clinic hunting a patient, he scolds her, puts her in time-out, then gives her a lolli with heavy iron supplement because clearly if the girl has a blood craving she needs more iron in her system. Don’t you heathens know anything about the meaning behind cravings. Spinner gets into a fight in Ardyn’s territory, Ardyn patches him up and gently informs him that if he’s going to pick fights, at least fight dirty enough to win them. Twice comes there often for a meal and company that won’t look at him funny for talking to himself, Mr. Compress is bound and determined to get Ardyn to be surprised by one of his magic tricks (never works, because unlike Compress Ardyn can do LITERAL MAGIC). Magne is not a regular, but still shows up once in a blue moon because Ardyn’s illegal clinic is probably better stocked than most legal ones at this point (people tend to trade his treatment for actual medicine and equipment, Ardyn never asks where they get it).

-Dabi is the last to be picked up. He is also how Ardyn’s increasing collection of strays first learn about Ardyn’s superhealing factor when he TAKES Dabi’s fresh, weeping burns onto himself and they heal over in minutes, leaving both of them unscarred (or mostly so, Ardyn’s skin will always have faint ripple marks where the burns were). It is also around this time that, coincidentally, people start gunning for Endeavor and trying to make his life miserable. Because Adagium hates him and is plotting to end him, so clearly that’s their cue, right?

-The rest of Endeavor’s kids vanish in the middle of the night. No one in the police or pro heroes can find them.

-Far away in a little, unnoticed restaurant bar, Dabi holds his siblings tight and promises they are never going to have to suffer That Man again. Ardyn rests gentle hands on Shōto’s face and whispers that everything will be okay even as his skin bubbles and boils into an ugly burn before healing over with the faintest scars.

-Moving on from Ardyn’s growing collection of strays (that will keep growing so keep an eye on that):

-Ardyn doesn’t get the whole quirk thing. Or the whole superhero society thing. If something needs doing and it suits him then he shall do it, none of this Symbol of Peace nonsense.

-Yes, he said nonsense. The Symbol of Peace is nonsense and only setting society up to fall apart when this All Might fellow either gets too powerful and is made to take a fall or when he finally picks a fight he can’t win.

-Ardyn says as much to Toshinori Yagi, the nice civilian man who wandered into Ardyn’s bar without knowing who is running it. The man sputters a bit and asks why he thinks so, Ardyn just laughs and laughs and laughs until there is something unnerving about the sound and Ardyn has to stop and catch his breath. Blue eyes flicker gold as Ardyn murmurs that he’s seen it happen before.

-Somehow, Toshinori thinks this strange, eccentric barkeep doesn’t mean as a bystander.

-Ardyn meets Aizawa while Aizawa is on the hunt for Adagium, they eyeball each other like wary cats before Ardyn decides that this angry hobo hero is His Now and invites the man over for food. Aizawa declines. Ardyn casually slings Aizawa over his shoulder and carts him in anyway before Aizawa can think to retaliate.

-Ardyn is highly amused to learn that Hobo Man is after the Adagium. Good luck with that, truly, best of fortune.

-So, for those of you paying attention, Ardyn’s count of Heroes He Has Adopted is officially up to 2, even if he pretends not to notice the first one (pretends. Because he knows exactly who Toshi is, come ON it’s not that hard, they have the same voice and smile and everything).

-Ardyn’s kids grow up with his scathing political commentary and one foot in both legal and illegal worlds. Some of them (Tenko, Dabi, Toga, Spinner) decide that they’re gonna make a League to show the world how dumb its being. A League of Villains! (”League of Vigilante’s sounds more appropriate for your chosen activities, Tenko Mine-” “VILLAINS. WE ARE VILLAINS NOW.” “Alright then, will all villains in the room please wash up for supper?”)

-Ardyn finds Hitoshi and decides he’s not quite qualified for this one.

-Aizawa wakes up from another rare session of being black-out to find Ardyn cheerfully tearing up his apartment to make it more “child suitable”. Child WHAT. Child suitable. For your child.

-MY WHAT.

-Ardyn calmly holds out the adoption papers that have Aizawa’s signature on all of them, perfectly legible because the man is a little too good at pretending he isn’t stone drunk, and then gestures to the sad-eyed, skeptical boy with purple hair in the corner. Ardyn smiles (reads: threatens with killing intent) and says that he’s sure Aizawa will take his new responsibilities seriously (read: you’d better or you’re next on my hitlist).

-Aizawa, never one to go back on his word, has a kid now I guess.

-Shōto comes home one day with a bby Izuku in tow and Ardyn is charmed beyond all words over the boy. He’s so Smol! And Smart! Lookit his little brain firing away! Upon hearing the boy is developing All The Esteem Issues because of his bullying and quirklessness, Ardyn stares off into space for a long time, acknowledges that he’s a sap, and then soothingly tells Izuku that some quirks just come in late, why, Ardyn’s came in late too! Just give it a few days. Then he pats Izuku on the head and uses the motion to disguise the teeny tiny fragment of magic he splits off from his own and gives to this boy who deserves better.

-Izuku comes back two days later, crying for joy and with sparkling green magic dripping from his fingertips. Ardyn exclaims in “surprise” over the similarity of their quirks and offers to teach him. Izuku accepts and after some sweet-talking to Inko, Ardyn gets to mold this tiny genius boi as he pleases to both be proud of himself and his “quirk” AND to fight quirkless as much as possible because “tactics, my boy, take them by surprise!”

-Also then he figures out that he didn’t just lend Izuku magic because this world is funky like that, he genuinely gave it away which counts as LC adoption rituals so OOPS GUESS WHO HAS A BLOOD SON NOW.

-Oh well.

-Toshi and Izuku get along like a house on fire whenever Toshi comes over for a hot meal and Ardyn is pretty content with his brood and his handiwork against Endeavor (who by this point has been exposed as an abuser and put in jail for a long time HAH). Toshi ... pointedly doesn’t ask why several of his kids look like Endeavor. Nope. Not asking. They get their red hair from Ardyn, clearly.

-Of course, all of this casual wrecking of canon attracts the attention of AfO, who is not happy about the competition. He shows up at one point, all suave and intimidating because he is immortal and older than anyone alive and smarter too and-

-Ardyn laughs in his face.

-Baby.

-Bby playing at immortal.

-You think two centuries or so makes you hot stuff? You think stolen quirks makes you special? You think you can come into Ardyn’s territory and threaten his kids and get away with it because you’re ... a little older than the average human being? Ardyn leans close and smiles as AfO tries and fails to steal a quirk that doesn’t exist to be stolen, his Scourge face leaking into existence as he purrs that AfO should’ve minded his own business a little more than he minded others.

-AfO came prepared for a quirk. He did not come prepared for the combined might of 2k year old LC magic and abilities of a Scourge the world has never, and will never, see.

-It’s not even a fight.

-Adagium makes the news again when a body is found hanging from a high tower, torn apart as if by dozens upon dozens of blades, the corpse pinned in place by a spear that dissolves into red sparks upon the police touching it, leaving behind only a note that gets leaked to the media and goes viral.

-Dear World, refrain from touching my stuff, and you won’t end up like this man. Sincerely, Adagium.

-Not the most menacing letter until you considering the delivery method.

-Toshinori has to sit there and have a Moment upon the news that the man who murdered Nana is already dead by someone else’s hand and they have no idea when the fight went down. Because surely there was a fight, right? AfO had been centuries old and with dozens upon dozens of quirks. Who could possibly have brought him down when Nana, the then-wielder of OfA could not???

-Ardyn gently pats Toshi’s shoulder through the breakdown. There there. I’m sure you’ll figure out the culprit eventually, you’re a smart man Toshi. There there.

-Also Kurogiri shows up not long after that entire debacle looking for a new job because his old one got murdered and Adagium seems like an efficient dude. Ardyn is always happy for more hands on deck in wrangling the kids, and this one has warping powers. Welcome aboard Kurogiri.

[brightideas]

"Plagg." Adrien asked.

Plagg couldn't be bothered to speak after eating a slice from a wheel of camembert cheese Adrien had given him. His mouth was full. In polite society, speaking when your mouth was full was something no one should ever attempt. Adrien always told him "you kwamis are really out of touch with mankind sometimes. Our etiquette has improved since the birth of the universe. Your table manners could use a tune up, Plagg."

After he swallowed another mouthful Plagg answered. "what is it?"

"Father isn't himself," Adrien said.

"I'm sure your dad's okay," Plagg said, trying to provide his own rational conclusion. "his schedule is really full."

Plagg only wished he could say the same for the empty pit that he called a stomach.

"Yes, that is true father is always busy," Adrien agreed. "you don't think it would have anything to do with-" his train of thought soon came to a grinding halt. He suddenly became tight lipped when he began thinking about the mysterious new acquaintance he met from a nearly a week ago.

"What is it?" Plagg yelled. He flew over to Adrien wondering what he meant. "is it Le Paon?" he questioned. "your gonna say Le Paon aren't you," for once he anticipated Adrien's response. "your dad's been glued to his smartphone over some new superhero?" he threw head back then laughed. "that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of! He's an adult, he has better things to do with his time!"

"It's the way he talks about Le Paon," Adrien admitted. "it's not the same way he discusses Chat Noir or even Ladybug," he exclaimed, trying to hide the alarm in his voice. "we only met her once and now her social media account has blown up overnight and for some reason it's making father uncomfortable."

Plagg paused a few seconds then replied. "it's just nerves."

"It can't be."

Earlier during the day

The change Duusu provided was not immediate.

"What am I feeling? Why am I feeling sad all of a sudden?" Chloe asked, Duusu trying to describe what she meant. "I can feel all of them, laughing, crying, screaming I can't tune them out," she gave a shuddering breath. "all of them are loud and most of them are in pain."

The kwami of emotion supplied his own thoughtful answer.

"I'd say most of those feelings belong to your own classmates," despite Duusu's power by measure. Chloe was still far too inexperienced to read the emotion of every Parisian outside of her own public school. "remember what you said about Jeluka a few hours ago?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Chloe said, angrily.

"Maybe you should apologize for hurting her feelings." Duusu gently suggested.

It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous! Chloe yelled in her loudest most obnoxious voice.

She refused to acknowledge Jeluka's feelings ever mattered.

"It's those feelings of anger, bitterness, and hostility that keep making your classmates attractive targets," Duusu explained. "Hawkmoth is just going to find more reasons to akumatize them again if you keep saying mean things to them."

"So what?" Chloe growled.

"If it would help clear your own conscience you might be able to stop crying in your sleep at night." Duusu said, in a rushed breathe.

Chloe said nothing as she quietly mulled over Duusu's words.

"You may not know it, Chloe but when your in a deep sleep at home you never really stop feeling. Sometimes you feel a lot of bad emotions you pick up from other people in Paris. Do you know what happens when your dad sees you crying in your sleep during the middle of the night? He pulls up a chair to sit beside your bed. He feels sad too, did you know that? He holds your hand, he gives it a gentle squeeze. He brushes the wet bangs away from your forehead while he tries to figure out what went wrong. Maybe you could start showing your classmates this kind of compassion."

After the numb shock slowly subsided Chloe obediently followed Duusu's advice.

Chloe required baby steps.

Apologizing to Jeluka meant that to Duusu Chloe was going to begin practicing humility.

Chapter 2

"You did the right thing," Duusu, informed Chloe. "apologizing for bad behavior is always the right thing to do."

"Whatever, it's not like it really mattered," Chloe said, feeling disgusted by the thought.

"That's the whole point of apologizing to someone when you done something wrong," Duusu exclaimed, he smacked his forehead with the palm of his head. "you aren't supposed to be mean to them again," he let out an exasperated sigh. "Jeluka must know you're going to improve your bad behavior and what about Ladybug?" he quickly added.

"What about Ladybug?" Chloe said, she gave Duusu an incredulous expression.

"Who's side are you on?" Duusu questioned. "it's-it's-as if-," he sputtered, as though he was testing the words on the tip of his tongue. "as if you enjoy contributing to Hawkmoth's ideals!" he told Chloe.

"I am not," Chloe said, through clenched teeth.

"You lack self-awareness," Duusu shouted. "we are not in tune with one another! This isn't a power struggle! We both play important roles, we must work together for the greater good! You must accept responsibility and promise change, you must promise me change!"

"I guess so," Chloe said, her tone of voice was bitter.

"You're lonely because of your hatred," Duusu said, lowering his voice to a soft whisper. "don't you want to make new friends?" Duusu noticed Chloe's lips were compressed together. She refrained from responding. "I have given you my powers, Chloe. You may not understand these emotions your feeling right now. But I'm hoping it will help you reform and Ladybug who've you sworn your allegiance will be proud of you for serving underneath the kwami of creation."

"Okay," Chloe said, pointing a finger towards Duusu's face. "maybe- just maybe- you are right about something. Maybe," she bit the bottom of her quivering lip then said. "maybe I should start acting a little more nicer."

"Perhaps," Duusu said. "or are you uncertain this is how you should be conducting yourself?" he inquired.

Chloe made a nervous expression.

"I should become the better version of myself," she exhaled a long winded wheeze. "is that what you wanna hear," Chloe trilled. "I should be just like that ditzy klutz Marinette but if acted like her then I wouldn't be me!"

"Then you should be yourself. You should follow the example Marinette has set."

"Do I have to?"

Chapter 3

Gabriel was self-absorbed.

It was his assistant Nathalie who found him quietly reading Le Paon's status updates inside of his art studio. It would be far too easy to retrieve the broken miraculous now Chloe had found a brand new accessory to add to her wardrobe.

Gabriel glanced up from his smartphone. "Nathalie," he said, acknowledging her presence. "I suppose you must be wondering what course of action I plan on taking now that we both know who stolen our good friend Duusu."

"I assume you will acquire Chloe's miraculous within a day," Nathalie surmised.

"No," Gabriel said, a soft chuckle rolled off of his tongue. "I've come up with another plan," Nathalie's eyes slowly widened in disbelief. It was obvious her employer carefully weighed his options. "instead of taking back the miraculous I'm going to let Chloe keep it for a while."

"We can't afford another casualty!" Nathalie said, raising her voice.

A long soft hum escaped Gabriel's lips.

"I'm not finished," he said, explaining what he had in mind. "attrition. The exhaustion will set in her bones. Unexplainable fatigue. Fainting spells is how Chloe will help us seize Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculous."

"She's far too young to wield a broken miraculous," Nathalie said, she clutched the tablet she was holding tightly to her chest. "at least Emilie was a full grown woman. Chloe won't be able to stay in transformation if she ever exhausted her powers," she felt unsettled. "you'd be doing Chloe a favor by taking back the miraculous. All you'll be doing is putting Chloe and Andre through unnecessary pain."

"Which is why I want Chloe to work along with us," Gabriel said, calmly. "Le Paon will be left relatively unharmed from the safety of my observatory. Chloe idolizes Ladybug there's no way I'll lose seizing her magical earrings this time."

"And what if Chloe collapses before we're able to mend the broken miraculous."

"That won't happen again."

[inactiive-shit]

The Dragon Witch of Heart’s Hospital

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompt: Dragon Witch

Warnings: Deceit

Pairings: Platonic DLAMP

Words: 1,496

@sanderssidescelebrations i have done what i could:

Dee crept through the forest, treading softly. If he was too loud, the Prince would know he was coming and that would ruin the only advantage he had: surprise.

Oh yes, the Prince was a formidable foe. Perhaps the most formidable in the whole kingdom! If anyone could beat the feared Dragon Witch in battle, it surely would be the Prince. So Dee would have to be extra careful.

The clearing where the Prince and his companions were gathered appeared before Dee, and he readied himself. With a roar, Dee leapt into the clearing.

Prince Roman jumped up, placing himself between Dee and the others. His sword was pointed at Dee, and Dee curled his fingers into claws in the air.

“Stay back, foe!” the Prince cried. Logan the Mage clutched his spell book to his chest and backed up to their newest, glaring companion. “Fear to come closer, for my sword point you will meet!” Dee cackled.

“Oh, little Princeling, I could squash you like a bug. But I see you have a new friend. Who might they be?” Dee hissed the words out around the fangs he was wearing. He didn’t recognize the newest boy at all, and that just wouldn’t do.

“He is the Knight Virgil,” Prince Roman said. “He hails from a kingdom to the west, full of sand and clouds. He is very powerful, and his weapon is made of compressed sand!”

“Glass,” the Mage muttered.

“But infinitely stronger,” the Prince countered.

“Who is that?” Virgil said, glaring at Dee.

“That is the most feared being in the kingdom! The Dragon Witch!” Roman yelled. He waved his sword around for emphasis. Dee snapped his teeth at Virgil.

“He’s not a dragon or a  witch,” Virgil muttered, still glaring. “He’s a person with make-up on.” He crossed his arms, scowling down at the blanket that was covering his legs.

“These scales are very real,” Dee said, lowering his hands. “Would you like to see, Knight Virgil?” He cast a glance at Prince Roman, who lowered his sword and motioned Dee by. Dee knelt by Virgil’s bedside and leaned in a little. “You can feel them,” he said. Virgil kept scowling, but was just curious enough to slowly reach out and touch where Dee had drawn the scales on. He gasped at the texture of the skin under the make-up. (Burn scars that had taken years to heal. Burn scars that could at least do good.)

“Woah. How did you do that?”

“He’s the Dragon Witch,” said the Prince.

“Can you do magic?” Virgil asked, a hopeful light in his eyes. Dee grinned, and showed Virgil his empty hands. Then, he reached back behind Virgil and pulled a dollar coin out of his hair. He handed it to Virgil. Virgil, looking more and more amazed, clutched it tightly.

The Prince smiled at Virgil. He had been a hard egg to crack once, too. “So, Knight Virgil, will you help us defeat him? Be warned, he is the scariest evil in all of the kingdom.”

Hesitantly, Virgil smiled back. “Yeah, I��ll help.” Roman went over to the side of the hospital room and pulled a second wooden sword out of his bag and gave it to Virgil.

“Your weapon, brave Knight.” Smiling broadly now, Virgil accepted the sword. Dee went back to his spot in the room and put his hands back up. He growled and inched a little closer. Roman waved his sword around again.

“Mage Logan! Knight Virgil! We must come up with a plan to defeat the Dragon Witch!” Roman stabbed at him, and Dee backed away hissing.

“Logan’s a mage!” Virgil exclaimed. Logan held up his book in answer. “Well, can’t you find a spell?”

“Good idea, Knight Virgil! We must hold him off so that a spell can be found!” Prince Roman lunged forward with his sword, whacking haphazardly at Dee’s legs. Dee swiped at the sword and waited for Mage Logan to scramble to the other side of Knight Virgil’s hospital bed before advancing on him. The Prince let out a yell and smacked Dee’s arm with the sword. Dee hissed and scrambled at Knight Virgil. The Knight squealed loudly and swung the sword in  his hand. Dee took the blow on his other arm and then reeled back to attack Prince Roman again. The battle went on and on until Mage Logan yelled “Petrificus Totalus!” and waved a stick in the air. Dee froze in the position he was in, unfortunately on one foot and with his mouth open.

“Ha ha!” cried the Prince. He was breathing a little heavier, which Dee kept a careful eye on, but he was happy and excited. “We have the Great Dragon Witch right where we want him! Amazing work, Mage Logan. You have served your kingdom well.” Prince Roman turned to smile at Knight Virgil. “And you did awesome, Knight Virgil. Just as good as me, and I’ve been doing this forever.” The Knight beamed at the Prince, and then looked at Dee.

“What do we do with him now, Prince Roman?” he asked. Dee wobbled, still struggling for balance, causing the Knight and the Mage to giggle.

“Hmm,” said the Prince. “I think we should give him mercy. What do you think?” Knight Virgil nodded. Mage Logan thought about it.

“Yes, but we have to make sure he won’t do anything else bad,” he finally said.

“Wonderful idea, Lo!” Prince Roman said. He looked at Dee, just as kingly as a ten year old could be. “Dee the Dragon Witch, my companions and I wish to show you mercy. Do you promise not to hurt anybody or wreak any more havoc on our kingdom? Do you promise that you will use your skills for good and help to make our kingdom better? Do you promise to support our kingdom?”

Dee looked at Logan, who waved his wand through the air again. Dee knelt on the ground before the three. “I promise, Prince Roman, Mage Logan, and Knight Virgil, that I will not hurt anybody or wreak any more havoc. I promise to help and support the kingdom. And I promise to forever be loyal to you.” Dee bowed his head.

“We accept these promises,” Prince Roman said. He grabbed Dee’s hand and dragged him to Virgil’s bed to sit down. “And we forgive you for stomping on those houses.”

“There were no houses,” Mage Logan said matter-of-factly. “It was an abandoned barn.”

“As long as the horses are alright,” Knight Virgil said. Roman nodded sagely.

“The horses are all okay. They already left because horses have a seventh sense for bad things.”

“You mean a sixth sense,” said Logan. He crawled into the bed with Virgil and reopened his book. “Horses only normally have five senses, so if they did theo-rit-cly have another sense for bad things, it would be the sixth.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” said Roman. “But I’ll believe you. You know a lot of things.” Logan hid his smile behind his book.

“So, Roman,” Dee said, distracting the conversation. Roman looked up at him, and Dee was struck with the feeling of having a younger brother. “Nurse Trish told me that there was a new boy brought in a couple days ago. His name’s Patton. I have a feeling he could use a friend right about now.” Dee resisted the urge to smile at the exalted look on Roman’s face at the prospect.

“Do you know where he is?”

“Right across the hall. Maybe, if you can bring him in, the Dragon Witch just might wreak some more havoc.” Dee laughed as Roman pushed him out of the room, grinning widely. Dee walked away and peaked in the window of the other room. There was a lonely boy sitting in a wheelchair, staring out the window. He looked so sad, but Dee watched as Roman burst in and went right up to the boy without so much as a hello. Within a minute they were both giggling wildly, and not two minutes after that Roman was helping him move his wheelchair into the other room.

Dee took a breath to prepare himself for round two, and waved at a nurse down the hall. It was Nurse Trish, one of the same nurses who had been there when Dee was only ten years old, too. He pressed a finger to his lips, and Nurse Trish smiled right back and mimed zipping her lips. She wouldn’t say anything. Dee might only be sixteen now, but he had spent a long while, even through a couple holidays, in this very hospital alone when he was a kid. Nurse Trish was the last person who would get mad at Dee for livening up Halloween for these kids who didn’t have anybody coming for them. They made their own sort of family.

Dee took one more deep breath, and began creeping through the woods to find the Prince and his companions.

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Blood is Rare (and Sweet like Cherry Wine): 8/8

Short Ficlets in a Witcher!AU for Sterek Valentines week

Beginning: tumblr / Ao3

(also, this one has a readmore cuz it got a lot longer than the other installments. whoops. sort of.)

For valentine’s, a bit late, First Kiss

(also I had a prettier twilight-on-river shot initially, but i figure the misty element probs matches the witcher show tone better. I’ll throw the pretty one on the end.)

7- Destroy with a Sweet Kiss

The fight goes sideways.

Derek was not supposed to be there, was supposed to be safely away, but the kikimore they’d been tracking had clearly turned and decided to track them, and it had caught them. Derek got out of the way fast, hauling on Roscoe’s reins to keep her clear of the fight while Stiles engaged, and slapped her into a short run once he thought they were unlikely to attract the attention of the embattled pair.

Stiles was holding his own, but twilight was falling, and the monster clearly had better vision (and more limbs). Derek knew Stiles had a potion he normally took to improve his vision during the hunt, but he hadn’t had a chance and, though Derek had seen a hand go for that pouch several times, it looked like he might not get one. Not seeing a better option, and not able to stand there and watch the person he loved be dragged into death, one small gash at a time, Derek got a stupid idea.

He picked his way around to the opposite side of the fight from where Roscoe had run off, collecting moderate sized stones on his way. Once on the other side, and with his eyes on his escape route, a clear path and large tree, much taller than the kikimore, Derek began to lob his projectiles at the monster.

By the third rock, it worked, Derek saw it lose focus and begin looking for him, saw Stiles get a hand into his pocket in the gathering dark… and realized he needed to make a run for it.

He tried.

Even as fast as he could be when he really made the effort, Derek was not fast enough, and not experienced enough still, clearly, to know better.

The creature caught him in midair, just as he was leaping for the lowest branches of his chosen tree. Derek had one profound moment to recognize the impact and change of trajectory, to wonder why there was force but no pain, before he hit another tree, and knew no more.

The next thing Derek was aware of was wetness on his face, and pain in his ribs, back, his whole torso. He tried to draw breath and it caught and he coughed, white-hot agony coursed through him.

He opened his eyes. Stiles was staring at him.

“You- you’re alive? How…”

Derek forced himself to look, to acknowledge the fucking tree branch protruding from his miserably destroyed doublet, grimaced and tried to get his breathing under control enough to say something, anything.

“Get. It out.”

Stiles looked so sad.

“Derek. It’s, you’ll bleed to death. If I pull it… you’re going to… there’s no way…”

Derek shook his head, coughing and spitting blood once more.

“Won’t” he managed to grind out.

Stiles just shook his head mutely.

Derek reached out with one hand, limply grasped a shoulder piece on the Witcher’s armor.

“Please.”

Stiles looked so resigned, so regretful. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength. Opened them with determination.

“Are you sure? I mean there’s no… you’re not going to survive this either way, but… there’s maybe time…”

Derek shook his head, grabbed Stiles weakly with both hands, and tried to pull himself off the spike of wood.

Stiles made a noise almost like a sob, partially drowned out by Derek’s deep grunt of pain, slid his hand up Derek’s back, braced the other on the tree, and pulled.

With a sickening sucking sensation and sound, Derek came free, nearly passing out again in the immediate blood loss Stiles had known was coming, but Stiles, despite clearly believing it was futile, clearly believing he was witnessing his friend’s last moments, still did his best to apply pressure to the hole in Derek’s chest cavity. Derek clung to consciousness by his finger tips, focused on breathing.

Several minutes passed, and though the Witcher was still stooped with agony and grief, Derek cradled in his lap… Stiles’ look of desolation began to be edged out by confusion, and then, with the realization that the blood pool had stopped expanding, and Derek still wasn’t dead yet… maybe even a little hope?

After twenty minutes, twenty minutes of lying in Stiles’ lap, trying to figure a way out of the coming conversation and failing, Derek finally decided he was patched enough to talk without tearing something open.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles gaped.

“Am I? Am I okay? You ass. You utter… how are you alive??”

Derek offered a little smile.

“Destiny?”

“Shut the fuck up. You are so full of shit, you… seriously. How. What… what are you?”

And it was Derek’s turn to look away. All this time, and he still didn’t know how to say it, but it looked like his time was up.

“You, do you,” he paused, cleared his throat, and sucked it up. “When we first met, do you remember. The song?”

The witcher paused.

“Bisclarvet. The lai of Bisclarvet.”

Derek nodded, waiting for it to sink in, knowing he was probably healed enough to sit up, being completely unwilling to.

“You’re…” Derek could practically see the wheels turning. “You’re a werewolf.”

Derek forced himself to nod in a way that did not betray how badly he wished he could run. He turned his head at least, not wanting to see the moment his friend’s surprise turned to anger at the lies, hatred of what Derek was. Had always been.

He was surprised a moment later, when Stiles touched his face, gently, turned him back so there was no hiding.

“You can’t… I don’t know how you hid that from me all this time. I can usually…”

Derek smiled, a tiny bitter thing.

“I’m not just fastidious by nature.” It was mild, but the herbs he added to his personal oils and soaps had natural scent-suppressive properties. A decent enough feature in products meant to keep one smelling fresher and cleaner than one was, and as long as he didn’t do anything to enhanced that part of his scent, transform, or anything… “And I’ve a charm.”

Stiles frowned, touching his witcher pendant, “I would know…” his eyes went distant. “It’s on Filivandrel’s Lute, isn’t it?”

Derek nodded. He had figured, correctly it appeared, that the elf lord’s instrument was magical enough that Derek’s little notice-me-not charm would, indeed, be overlooked in the general swell of enchantment.

Stiles looked back at him, and Derek could quite clearly see the hurt in those normally guarded golden eyes. There was a song in that somewhere…

“Why… did you never… do you have that low opinion of me, that you would think I’d, I’d find out and could ever…”

Not really, but Derek couldn’t, it was a risk he could never… He sighed. Stiles had earned the whole story, many times over, and if he chose to depart Derek’s company after, then that was more than understandable.

Derek took a deep breath, and was distracted coughing again. Stiles, now fairly confident Derek was not about to die, propped Derek up against the faithful tree, whistled Roscoe back, and was offering Derek a water skin by the time he could breath again.

Fairly sure all his internal organs were intact, Derek drank greedily, realizing suddenly how desperate he was to replace all the fluid he’d lost.

Stiles sat in a sad silence until he’d drained the water completely, and then held out a compressed cake of nuts, fruit and honey, which Derek gratefully accepted.

Finally, Derek could put it off no longer.

He told him. He told him about falling out of trees as a child, about long golden afternoons on his family’s estate, rolling and frolicking, and being so happy and alive in their skins, he and all his siblings, safe in the knowledge that nothing could ever harm them, that no one would ever cross their mother.

He told him about the growing political tensions as he grew, and the thread of instability that crept into the pack when his uncle left, the fights he was not supposed to hear… and the woman in town to whom he went when it all became too much.

Derek forced himself to tell Stiles of his great mistake, how foolish he’d been, and what a price had been paid, by everyone but him, half the pack dead, their secrets aired to the world, their target hung neatly in the hunter halls for any newcomer to try to make his mark.

How, when he was old enough, he did what his remaining family could not bring themselves to ask him to do.

He left.

He’d always been drawn to music, had a good ear for it, liked the way performance and composition could let him forget sometimes, take him out of himself… he joined a bardic college, and didn’t go home.

He told stiles about his plan, his sorry little dream, his hope that, between the coin he sent home, and the sympathetic and nuanced portrayal of folk like himself he tried to spread, he could begin to pay back the damage he’d done, in his youth and arrogance.

His surprise to meet stiles, but the instant knowledge that this was it, this was how he made that difference, this was how he learned what could nt be found in books of men, and how he reached the far reaches of the known country.

Derek faltered a little, Stiles’ face betrayed nothing once again, and Derek decided enough damage he likely already been done. He took a swig from the new skin Stiles had passed him partway through the tale, and went for broke.

“And, I know that sounds like I only valued you for what you could do for me professionally, and it may have started out that way, but it hasn’t been like that for a long time. For a long time now, I’ve… And I know I’ve no right to ask for, for forgiveness or understanding, but I want you to know, that you are… you are everything. You have so much integrity, you’re kind and generous, and funny and brave, and, and beautiful, lords, and if I could ask one boon of the universe, it would be to be always by your side, in whatever capacity you would have me. I lo-”

And Stiles lunged forward, and kissed him.

It was not a gentle kiss, but Stiles was still clearly using every bit of his Witcher strength not to press upon any of Derek’s so recently knitted flesh, and Derek, as his brain finally caught up with his mouth (okay, he had a limited supply of blood to work with at the moment), decided his did not give a shit about guilt, or pain, or whatever, and he was going to take what was on offer, apparently. Goddamnit. He mustered his strength, and shoved back at Stiles, taking one moment to appreciate the look of surprise on the Witcher’s face as he fell on his ass, before following him down, claiming his mouth again, and laying them both out on the rocky ground.

—

Eventually the pain, and thirst was enough that they had to come up for air. Also Derek found he could only ignore the putrid mess of kikimore stuck to Stiles’ outfit for so long. Also, did he mention, really needed to be having a greater blood volume than he had if he wanted to be taking things much further. It took little persuasion, though a deal more coordination than Derek was prepared for, to get them both stripped and in a river (thank all gods it wasn’t winter).

Derek himself had drunk about half his weight (and made stiles go back for the rest of the honey cakes and jerky), by the time he deemed them both clean enough to not foul their fresh(ish) clothes and bedding, and began to make his way out of the water, when Stiles pulled him back. Derek would have been all for some swimming hanky-panky in other circumstances (his self-imposed celibacy/punishment on the circuit had not, in fact, diminished his libido, or increased his modesty a bit), but he really was still a little too light-headed to be sure of his ability to stay upright on the slick rocks for anything more than they’d already been up to… but the look on stiles face wasn’t lustful. There was a hunger there, Derek thought, but… oh.

Stiles was gently tracing the fresh pink skin on Derek’s torso.

“I had wondered,” the witcher began, swallowed, began again, “I had noticed that you had no scars to speak of. Your being genteel was not a surprise, though I had also wondered why, for as much as you play, your hands were still soft.” There was wonder in Stiles’ voice, as he traced the shape of Derek’s light musculature, traced the slight protrusion of collar bones, up his neck, finally across his face. Derek closed his eyes instinctively, as Stiles’ rough fingertips, only slightly softened in the water, glided across cheekbones and eyelids, thumbs joining a moment later to smooth the length of Derek’s brows. There was a long pause, and Derek let his eyes flutter open again, surprised, as ever, by the way the witcher practically glowed in moonlight.

“Show me?” Stiles whispered, and Derek knew what he meant. And for the first time in decades, it was easy, first to let the blue bleed into his eyes, and then to let the rest of the beta shift flow over him.

Stiles gasped a little, but didn’t pull away. His hands resumed the soft caress, and Derek had never felt so whole, complete, and seen, in his entire life.

--

fin

--

--

End notes:

Who knows, we could come back to this, I feel there’s still a lack of witcher/werewolf sex, which can’t help but be good (mutual scent kiink anyone? Also neither having to hold back, because they are well matched in physical strength/durability. But also also probs some real tender lovin’ at some point, probs at least once when stiles truly processes the idea that he might have found a partner whose lifespan could match his own holy shit he might not have to bury Derek). But also, I felt like Derek needed some sleep first, and didn’t want to start a new section. So that’s it for now!

Bits that didn’t make it in:

Stiles being grumpy over the idea of spoiled, genteel werewolves. Derek coming to their defense, explaining that Laura and Cora, his two surviving siblings, were actually much more, uh, physically inclined than he was, Laura training to be the next alpha, presumably, and Cora, a knight, in service to a bit of a warrior queen (lydia, absolutely).

Stiles insisting that derek needed:

1. Fighting clothes

2. To learn how to fight properly. Like, stiles was not intended to subject him to the worst of the hunts, but the showing derek had put up with the kikimore was pitiful, and even a werewolf probs couldn’t survive being beheaded or eaten, so. Self-defense at least.

Eventually, Stiles helps Derek decide to go home again. Cue teary reunions, forgiveness, and maybe Derek getting called out on having found his mate and not telling anyone. Including, oops, well, now the witcher knows. XD

[Masterlist]

[bygosscarmine]

We Who See Thestrals

A Harry Potter post-canon fic: Luna Lovegood x George Weasley 

hopefully that isn’t a shocker at this point

Go to Chapter 1

2: George Weasley, Talent Manager

2183 words

They went clattering down the stairs to the shop's main floor, where Luna was standing behind a cleared table, with a circle of children of varying ages. As they got closer, George realized she was doing Muggle magic. Her soft voice pattered through a nonsense description of space and time, while the cards seemed to leap from her hands--not necessarily that strange to a wizarding audience, but different cards seemed to leap out of the deck and show themselves as she said words related to hearts or kings or seven and so on.

"Not that," said Ron, annoyed. "It's the Pygmy Puffs!"

George went to the big glass enclosure, and peered in. The coloration and markings range seemed to be normal but...

"Gobstopping Goblins," he whispered.

There was a nest of baby Puffs in the corner, just naked tiny bean-blobs. All Pygmy Puffs until now had been magically altered Puffskein young. The best results were at about two weeks before birth, but the range of about two weeks around that date was usually fruitful. The tricky bit was transforming only the developing young, not the parent. Never had he dreamed they could actually reproduce the Pygmy mutation naturally.

"Are you telling me that Luna is in some way responsible for inducing the Pygmys to have offspring?" he asked Ron, trying to imagine this process.

"She thinks it has to do with telling them fairy tales. I think it has more to do with the fact that she's built them little homes."

Sure enough, there were little decorated boxes, two large enough to hold a whole pack of Pygmy Puffs, two smaller as if for a nuclear family unit. The nest appeared to be made from the shreds of one of the smaller boxes. The tiny hairless creatures he assumed were the natural children of some couple within the glass container were being hovered around by two pink Pygmy Puffs, who had floated to be between his large head and the nest so he could no longer see it directly.

"You know, I think you're right. Probably you're both right."

He stayed until Luna had finished her magic show, to ask her some more questions.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Is my Muggle magic pretty good now?"

"I saw you finessing that with some summoning," George said severely. "Which just goes to show you are a very skilled witch, since that's not easy real magic, either. What about these guys? You've been giving them the birds and bees talk?"

"Just a little privacy and folklore to build their culture on," she said, reaching down under the mesh top of the cage to let some of the little fur balls cluster against her fingers. "I thought about separating the males and females but Ronald said you didn't know a way to determine sex. Besides, we don't know if they have a binary breeding system."

One of the pink parental puffs bobbed over to Luna's hand cautiously, zoomed at her as if beating her off, and rushed away again. Luna slowly withdrew her hand.

"I don't think they are smart enough to recognize a person," she said somewhat sadly.

"They're probably smarter than they let on," said George, who had never seen the puffs so interested in a human. There was a bit of an issue of bonding with the puffs, which wasn't bad for shop profits, but wasn't quite what he liked as an inventor. Puffskeins seemed just barely large enough to have the brains to recognize a familiar human. Pygmy Puffs, not so much.

Maybe they were usually just too immature.

"Was there anything else?" Luna asked.

"Sorry?" George was a little startled.

"You came down here in such a rush, and I hate to keep you from your work. Ron said you only come down to work in the shop when it's really crazy."

"Well, yes," George said. "Rather. Summer hols coming up, will need to be up to snuff so we can just offload our goods on the children who will be loose for a few months."

"So was there anything else you needed to ask me about?"

"Nothing I needed to ask, but plenty I'd like to," he said, grinning. "How long did you practice the cards before coming up with that little twist?"

"I bought a pack and the pamphlet and took it home," said Luna. "So I've had a lot of hours at home working on it."

She seemed to be apologizing for not being an instant expert.

"I have never seen anyone over the age of fourteen put so much effort into card-tricks before. I am impressed."

"Oh," said Luna, nonplussed.

"I was also going to ask you to consult on my ideas for a new mothers line of products, but somehow I don't think you're the right candidate for that."

"Can I see your workshop, though? I'm very curious about that," Luna said. "Ronald said you wouldn't want to be disturbed but he just went to get you so you're already interrupted."

"Certainly you can." He was pleased, really. "I just got off the phone with Neville, but maybe you can give me an opinion on the algae pet I'm developing."

"A phone?"

"Not a Muggle phone," George hurried to say. "I'll show you what I mean with that, too."

"I'd like to talk to Neville, too," she said. Her always slightly wistful voice was not necessarily more melancholy as she said this, but he was strangely afraid it was.

"Rhodie, we'll be back in a jiff," George called out. "I'm curious about our numbers of Pygmy sales to availability over the summer last year, if you have a minute to check on that."

He ushered Luna up the cramped stairs in the stock-room, where the muted sounds of children shouting at the Snap made the sense of having slipped out of the world more acute. He always felt that a little, coming up here, but leading a newcomer through the maze of boxes with their slight coating of inevitable dust, the sound of their footsteps in the heavy quiet, made it stronger.

"Did you have this one made?" Luna said when they came to the cabinet.

"Well spotted," said George, fairly sure he should be feeling a little shame about conspicuous wealth right now, but just feeling a bit pepped up. "It's pretty new. We had to actually do a lot of research and a little guesswork to get it made. Very complicated magic, have a feeling the originals were dark in nature. Nothing a little ingenuity couldn't fix!"

He opened the door. "Usually I'd say, after you, but always watch a man go first into his vanishing cabinet. I'll leave the door open on the way out."

He stepped through.

For a few moments, he was unsure if she'd lost her nerve to come. Or something bad had happened with the cabinet.

Then she stepped out nonchalantly, staring at the lintel of the door keenly, as if she'd been inspecting it.

"That felt like nothing. Really, apparating could well be replaced by a few of these in wizarding gathering places and we'd all be so much more comfortable."

"True," said George.

Now a pang of consumer guilt hit him, so he did not volunteer that to keep this one working accurately he had to limit daily use. Luna took in the room around them and he considered it himself. It was cleanish and brighter than most wizarding research facilities. He had a rather large terrace-house and the attic formed his laboratory. Everything from modern muggle science equipment to herbs hung from the gabled roof, with the highest center part over the working table, where he'd installed an intake fan so he could easily air out the fumes. He'd bespelled it to also make any colorful or intriguing fumes clear.

Just the kinds of precautions he and Fred had found out the hard way in their room laboratory all those years ago.

"How do you call Neville?" Luna asked.

"Here, see this? Do you remember the extendable ears?"

"Sure."

He held out the bits of rubber-covered foam that now were just as long as a fingertip, and brightly colored so he lost fewer of them. "It's actually connected to the Floo network, so you may see things slightly green for a moment, but you just have to give the address."

Luna gingerly took them but nearly immediately dropped the first one she tried to put in. George swiftly bent down to pick it up, and said, "Here."

He brushed some of her rampant hair away from her ear and squeezed the earplug before setting it in her ear. "Like this," he said, showing her how to compress it. She put in the other without too much issue, knowing know she could safely push it inward.

"What's Neville's fireplace?" she asked, a little too loudly.

"Twelve, Hogwarts."

The earplugs didn't really dampen sound much, so he didn't have to yell. But Luna did, as if jumping into a fireplace, and he grinned.

"Hello, Neville," she said next, in a normal tone of voice. "Did I startle you? Yes, it's me, Luna. Oh, this marvelous!"

She gave George an incandescent smile, and jumped a little. "Neville, how's Pomfrey? Oh, good. I thought that tonic should help his scalewort. I have to go. Maybe George will lend me his ears again. Goodbye, Neville!"

After a pause she said in a whisper, "Do I just take them off?"

"Yes," he said, holding out his hand. "Before I had them turn off with a word, but it was annoying to hear other people say half the word all the time, and it's easier if they just stop when one or the other takes them off."

She dropped them in his hand, scrutinizing them slightly, then turned to the desk beside them. "Were you talking to Neville about this?"

The goldfish bowls with the hopeful algae pets were lined up, labelled so he could track the various tests he'd done. Currently there were twelve. The first six he'd given up on as past further experiments were now living with his female relatives, and a few were set downstairs in the shop as a teaser while they waited for Neville to come pick them up.

"Yes. It's tricky to work with biological things. I don't have the hang of it. Neville secretly disapproves of me messing with nature, or I'd just ask him to be my inventor."

George raked his hair up on end as he stared at the blobs of algae that loosely resembled the heads of the Green Man but not enough.

"I suppose using a cutting charm to just fix them isn't enough," said Luna. "You want them to develop for real so people know what they are."

"And it's pretty easy to get them to look vaguely like people in an ugly way. We always think things look like people."

"You want them to be cute? One of your mom-line?"

"Yes," said George, a little surprised she had connected those thoughts. "If I figure out how to affect their shape more, then I can make them trolls or fairies or crones or princes. Then people can pick what they like."

"Yes, and then people can really talk to them, like a friend."

George had not considered this angle, but it made sense.

"Well, it's just something I'm asking anyone for leads about. Feel free to look around and ask about anything you find intriguing."

She pattered around, hands holding her hair back from falling on anything. It was so unconscious he suddenly saw her as a tiny witch in her mother's test kitchen, keeping her hands out of the range of anything dangerous. He had known her mother had been killed by a failed experiment, which he had promptly tried to forget, as an inventor prone to explosions himself.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning over a pan of starts.

"I'm just trying to learn more about botany and magic. They're violets."

She looked up, eyes glinting. She was laughing, for some reason, about him growing flowers. The skylights diffused the light well through the room, but she was wreathed in sun, since he'd put the starts right in the path of the light.

"Well, probably should send you back through to keep Rhodie in line." He stood, "It's been lovely having you. And don't listen to Ron if he says I'm not to be disturbed. I say that to him because I find him disturbing."

Luna chuckled, and swished out through the cabinet, which he shut with deliberation. Then he went downstairs from his house and out the door to walk all the way to The Three Broomsticks instead of just going out his own shop door and turning left.

By the time his friends showed up for the late Brazil v. Mozambique match, he was three pints in. Angelina swung her way in, and halted next to George to say, "Blimey, George. Why are you sodden already?"

"Just enjoying a night off," he said vehemently.

-

Go to Chapter 3

[ottermeat]

TL;DR Unfinished (and Unsolicited) Album Notes

One reason I’ve not “put out” anything in the past decade is because I’ve just not been writing songs.  I’ve written a handful – maybe three in ten years – but for whatever reason, I’ve just not felt compelled to say anything musically. I’ve mostly been sitting around, working on other people’s songs, sharpening my tools, and waiting for creative inspiration to hit me like it used to when I was 20 and soaked in drugs, hormones, and alcohol.

This collection of songs doesn’t change that. I didn’t write any new songs. Part of the exercise of this project was skipping the songwriting part.  Or doing it simultaneous to the recording. Except for Tunneldutch, which is my arrangement of The Beggars Trail’s Tunneldump, none of these songs were written when I hit record for the first time. I might have had a drum sample or programmed loop running in Garageband but I just hit record without any sense of where it was all going. And then I went back and deleted anything that sucked.  I deleted a lot.

Inspired by a Lorne Michaels quote I think about a lot (“The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready; it goes on because it’s 11:30.), I set one rule.  The project was done at midnight on December 31, 2019, regardless of what condition it was in.  After that, it was time to move on.  

For the first six songs, the song title is just an anagram unrelated to the song itself. It’s part of my overall dismissal (and personal inside joke) of these recordings that even I don’t know their names. That’s how either unfinished or ephemeral they are. A few people have asked me about a specific track by name and I have to look on my phone to see which one they’re talking about.  Nonetheless, here are some notes about those songs.

1. Spiced Medal On many of these tracks, I started with my weakness – rhythm. The first thing I did on all except 5. Eclipsed Dam and 6. Medic Pedals is program a drum loop, create a drum sample (usually of Ty), or otherwise create some sort of enforced meter. Having played in a five-piece for half a decade now, I’ve come to appreciate that in rock songs (if not many other genres) the drums and bass are really all that matter. Everything else is just flavor.

So I started Spiced Medal by programming the drum loop and playing bass over it until I found something that didn’t suck. Then I added everything else.  At some point I needed a bridge so I programmed a new drum loop and did the same thing.

2. Scalped Dime This is based around a sample of Ty drumming from either an August 2017 session studio session in Oakland or the One Fine Ride Redux from 2019. It’s pretty chopped up. Most samples of Ty’s drums are very short. Unlike a lot of other drummers, Ty almost never plays when no one else is playing. He’s never suggested taking a drum solo and doesn’t pound out his favorite licks while everyone else is trying to have a discussion about something. At most you’ll get half a measure before everyone else comes in.  That’s a desirable characteristic in a drummer but it means that 99% of the recordings I have of Ty drumming have some other instrument playing as well. On re:KoL (2006), I was able to work that to an advantage but if you want to start fresh with just drums, a lot of times I’m sampling the two-beat count in before playing starts.  In the precious few times I get to play and record with Ty, I’ve become very deliberate about not playing the whole time so I get some drums-only on tape.

I programmed some drums for the bridge and put some uncharacteristic guitar over it. I like the sound of crunch and distortion and it covers for my insecurities about my guitar playing. But I went pretty clean and bare on the bridge and I like it. Some of my funkiest bass playing too. BFP.

3. Decades Limp This is based around a Ty sample from a session in Silver Lake in 2013. I had the song structure in place in 2013 but could never come up with a second line beyond the bit about the sorcerer. So in 2019, I sent it to BDW and asked him to sing the line I had and also, send anything else. He sent back brilliance.

4. Sampled Dice This is based around a layered sample of me hitting a can of WD40.  This is admittedly the least complete thought on the album. I have a tendency to have a short track right in the middle of a project that’s kind of a tonic between the first and second halves.

5. Eclipsed Dam This one has circulated before. It’s probably from 2015-ish. It probably sounds the most like a Cosa Angeles-era recording (2001). I did not start with a drum loop. I just got a head full of cocoa and pressed record. It probably took about 5 or 6 minutes before I got to the part that you hear. There was something magical about these non-thoughts that formed something that approximated a song. Then I sent it to Ty and he worked his magic. He’s got a PhD in playing along to my sloppy meter and covering for me.  All I did in 2019 was add some synth and piano.  EQ and compression.

6. Medic Pedals

This is an iPhone recording of me with three of the four guys I play with in the other band from 2017 or 2018. It’s a straight improvised jam. I don’t know who is playing the synth. It’s some of my best improvised guitar playing to date. Every now and then (and I think any guitar player has had this experience) the fretboard just opens up and becomes readable. It almost sets out road signs for me.  Turn here. Up here, down here, over here. My fingers go on auto-pilot and I watch in amazement. Those moments are why I make music.

Because it was an iPhone recording, I had to make the recording sound worse to make it sound better. I added distortion and then put the crowd noises on to cover up the shittiness. It sounds pretty carnal. If only I had ever actually baited and cajoled a crowd that size with my guitar playing. But if I’ve learned one thing by living in California for twenty years, fake is real.

7. Tunneldutch

This is my arrangement of The Beggars Trail’s Tunneldump. It’s probably my favorite DP-penned song. This recording is based around a single guitar strum that I then tweaked computerly to make it go up a fourth and a fifth (and a second in one spot). Then Ty’s brilliant drumming and my fat-fingered trainwreck guitar playing.  I thought a lot about re-recording the vocals. They could be done a lot better.  But then midnight on NYE rolled around and that was that.

I genuinely don’t remember programming and recording the coda but I have the receipts to prove I did it.