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seancekitsch · 4 years

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Strictly Confectional.

a/n: part whatever of the prize buck series, slight spoilers of tua season 2 so you HAVE been warned but like if youve read the comics nbd, smut warnings, klaus being sorta dominant for once, slight sensory deprivation kink, unprotected norty bits (wrap it up folx), canon drug references, rehab references, drug use, cursing, the title of this fic is from a lemon demon song which warrants its own warning, my usual run of the mill warnings etc.

Halloween is a fucking ordeal when you work at an occult shop and date a personified ouija board, and that’s putting it lightly. Even more of an ordeal considering Klaus decides to go cold turkey for the holiday week without warning you. Of course it was easy to figure out what was going on. The his and her’s morning joints you typically had resting on the windowsill became yours and yours joints. He had exactly one beer since last saturday, and halloween was still a day away. It was starting to get a little spooky. Your boss Margie hated Klaus on a regular day, claiming he threw off the vibes her store was supposed to give off. She was a highly superstitious woman and you wouldn't put it past her to actually notice if Klaus agitated any of the spirits that were probably attached to the things you sell. Realistically, Klaus’ presence did in fact stir up the spirits in her store. Lots of victorian era mourning hair bracelets and taxidermy probably made before your birth would do that. He always claimed the store was extremely loud, but still liked to visit you when your boss was running errands because you were there, and he can't help that he gets bored easily. Klaus’ being there never went unnoticed by your boss, even if he was gone by the time she came back. But this whole cold turkey thing was new for him. Even Diego and Ben said he had only tried to do this one other time, and it was during the apocalypse that never happened that you still think might have been a case of mass hallucination. You weren't sure what his reasoning for it was, since he was just sober enough to conjure Ben any time enough for you to see him and speak to him, even if he was a glowing blue apparition that you compared to the Tupac hologram from Coachella that only appeared for a few minutes. This week was a lot of Klaus having the usual headaches and shaking that come with coming off alcohol, but probably heightened because you know the ghosts don't just shut up when he wants them to. He hasn't been sleeping well unless spooned by you and hushed to sleep with the cool beginnings of fall air blowing through the window.

Friday morning you get your first cryptic answer as to what's been going on with him.

“The veil is thinner on Saturday, I want to try something I haven't been able to do since the sixties,” is the only explanation he’ll give as he kisses your fingertips and holds the door open for you at the shop. Of course, it has something to do with the sixties. Normally you wouldn't pay much attention to his family’s antics because you knew something was going on there that probably didn't concern you, the exception being that time he pulled you back to the sixties briefly and you were handed a briefcase meant for an old man before ending up back at home. You still aren't sure how you made it back to your shift at work that day but Margie hasn’t looked at you the same since. She probably thinks you're a freak like your partner. Which, fair.

His answer doesn't give you that much clarification, but it's better than nothing which is usually what he gives you in warning for his ideas. But anything testing the limits of his powers is usually good for the both of you, because it's a testament to growth and confidence just as much as the pieces of furniture you're slowly accumulating. Sure, there are still bad days. There are still terrible days for the both of you. The more he learns to control his abilities and the more furnished your apartment becomes, it's almost more like you're becoming real functioning people and you can consider yourselves part of that human race you've heard so much about.

Your shift at work is… different. Friday is typically a slow day, but the holiday weekend packs your store in a way you can barely keep up with. The quiet baroque music generally wafting through the air is interrupted by quiet “ewwws” and “what is that?”s from people who normally wouldn't be setting foot in a store like this being dragged in by their spookier friends. You've sold hundreds more than you usually would, but the quiet almost holy spell of the place is broken today. At least the day passes quickly with all the sales you make.

You can feel Klaus coming before he even presses his face into the glass window, smushing his lips and cheek into the glass like one of those slugs in an aquarium. Maybe there is something to be said about the veil being thin and all that. When his tongue darts out to join the rest of his face on the cold surface, you giggle, but then begin to wonder if you're getting a taste of what all the ghosts see when he tries to get in contact with them. He pulls back and waves before putting a hand on the door, a silent question of if it's safe to enter. You shake your head no because your boss is in the back room, but he only has to wait ten more minutes.

Those ten minutes pass slower than the entire shift before that. Just knowing he’s outside has you almost itching for his touch. Since when were you so needy that ten minutes felt like torture? Blame it on the fucking veil or whatever. Your hands are clammy by the time you clock out and bid Margie goodbye,while she reminds you to show up at work in costume tomorrow. Only she doesn't know you fully plan to come dressed in one of your partner’s silly superhero outfits from when he was a teenager.

Klaus is all too happy to kiss you open mouthed the second your figure is out of your workplace, and you willingly ignore that it's the same mouth he just smeared all over the side of a storefront because you're all too happy to kiss him back. One thing about his little cold turkey experiment that you’ve been loving is how potent his sex drive has become. His hands grip your hips like a vice as you continue kissing on the short three block walk and up the flight of stairs to your apartment and travel down to your thighs as you fumble with the keys in the dark of the setting sun not facing the only window in the building that faces the front door of your apartment. It's always a testament to your will when he gets like this as there's nothing you'd like better than to just ride him on the steps in front of your door, but there's just something about doing it in the privacy of your apartment that you like better.

But it's seconds before you feel the key sink into the hole and the tell tale click of everything being pushed into place, and the door gives way almost not soon enough for the two of you to clumsily barrel through it. Now Klaus under normal circumstances is a sexual being, but this cold turkey sobriety and focus is new, and makes you feel wanted- maybe loved- in a way you've never felt before in your life. It's not just that he wants to get off, he wants you. He wants to get off with and for you. Specifically you. Which is the sexiest feeling in the world, you've decided.

You barely put your bag down before he's pulling your coat from your shoulders behind you and growling in your ear.

“Now we’re trying something new tonight, okay baby?” you barely get out an affirmative nod before he finishes, “good, just trust me, I've got you in safe hands.”

You let him take the lead as he strips you bare in the middle of the studio apartment, which feels much bigger than usual, maybe because he’s still fully clothed. His movements are greedy, hands sparing no touch on even an inch of your skin, grabbing and caressing as if it was his property, which in a way, you'd be glad to grant him ownership. He takes control of you, your body not moving in any direction he does not will himself.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers as his hands find their way to your chest, and you do. You hear him sigh, and maybe a breath of “that's right” as his hand slides up to touch your face, making sure you listen to directions as well as he wants you to. You can hear him start to breathe a little heavier as he presses his leather clad crotch into your ass. He chuckles as you return the pressure, wiggling your hips a little to entice him, before he spins you around and presses your hand into the buttons that hold his pants up on his bony hips. Your eyes are still closed, that’s good, he thinks as he rewards you with a kiss. Your hands make quick work of the buttons, despite your impaired senses, and he shimmies the pants to his ankles, where his boots prevent them from falling any further.

“Wait a tic- wait, just…” he trails off and falters a little, you notice, before commanding you again, “stand there and touch yourself. I gotta get these boots off but if you open your eyes it'll ruin what I have planned for us.”

You comply and focus on the smells and sounds of the room as you part your legs a little further and trail your fingers down. There's a heady scent in the air from stale weed smoked this morning and the sickening sweetness of the strawberry hookah set out and packed for tonight, which now would probably be left to the wayside, you note, as you feel wetness collect on your fingertips even at first contact. You focus on the sound of his laces as they smack the hardwood floor as your middle finger rubs slow calculated tight circles on your clit. You don't dare pick up the pace or try to touch yourself in earnest at first, unsure of his intentions for the night as a soft sigh of a moan leaves your parted lips. You hear a loud dull thud, and then another. He must be done, you think, as your fingers pick up the speed, just a little, just enough to make you whine at your own actions. And he is, his boots are discarded near the door, but this isn't a view he's going to give up that easily. Its not every day someone is obeying his commands, fucking themselves and whimpering his name uninhibited like this. He smiles as he watches, and you can feel his eyes on you. You wonder what you must look like, shameless, wanton, on display for him. But then you feel a hand wrap around the wrist of the hand that's between your legs and he pulls it away from your body. Then the chill of the fall air hitting your wet fingers, then his wet mouth engulfs them, sucking. The action sending shockwaves up your arm to the joint of your shoulder, the entire arm pliant for him to use as he wishes. This is what being with Klaus does to you. Your body instinctively wants him to use it. Once he's content with licking every drop of you off your fingers, he moves your hand from his mouth to on his shoulders, and surges up to gather you in his arms, yours moving to grab him and stabilize yourself in return. He carries you to what you assume is your bed and settles you on his naked lap, his hard cock finding shelter between your thighs. He kisses you hard and deep, focusing on his tongue greeting yours, then pushing it out of his way as he explores your mouth. You've been so good, keeping your eyes shut for this long, and tells you so as he grinds up, the head of his cock just barely brushing against where you want him most.

His hips rock up and down, up and down, tantalizing and teasing you. Your moans and keens whenever he happens to hit the mark are music to his ears, something he holds so incredibly dear to him. Even with your eyes closed, when he looks up at them he can still see the love behind them. It's an acceptance he’s been struggling to find in modern times, until you. It’s the full trust you give him with your body and mind. He remembers every scrap and detail you’ve given him since he first tucked you into bed that day in the clinic, and hoards it like treasure. The way you’ve slowly opened up to him like dropping a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow, your willingness to work to give him what you can. You’re guarded for a lot of the reasons he’s so open. But you make the choice to be open to him, and he’s thankful. And as he shifts your bodies to thrust inside you, as your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, he decides he wants to take everything you’ll give him, bask in the affection you readily shine on him, as long as you’ll shine on him. Tonight he wants to impress you.

You’re being so good, really so good. You haven’t opened your eyes once, not even to peek. You’ve just held on tight and let Klaus take the lead. It’s kind of kinky; really. Letting him be in control, losing one of your senses, blindly kissing the parts of skin you can reach, which you think is his chest and shoulder. Even as he shifts you, holding your legs now as he shifts the position a little more. It’s not uncomfortable, but never a position you’ve been in before. You can tell by the way your thigh muscles quietly burn that you’re pretzeled up in his lap, with him thrusting deeply up into you.

The way his thrusts hit inside you is delicious, each time he bottoms out earns him another moan falling from your lips against his skin, always vocal for him. This time your moans are uncontrollable, the way he controls the action is undeniably sexy and undeniably the Klaus of it all, the way he can toe the line between gentle and rough, the care he puts into every motion. He makes sure to use his entire body to get you off, and tonight he’s really trying to go above and beyond.

“Okay-“ a moan from deep in his throat, “open your eyes. Don't scream!”

The first thing you see is the blank white smoothness of the wall, specifically where it kisses the ceiling. At just above eye level. Your head has to be, what, inches from the ceiling? and. wait. What?

If you weren’t clinging to him for dear life, you certainly were now. He hisses then groans at the feeling of your nails digging into him, sure to leave shallow little crescent moon marks on the tops of his biceps. The ceilings are tall enough that Klaus can stand on top of it without his head brushing the ceiling, and you were somehow floating right up there.

Immediately Klaus sees the panic that crosses your features and shushes you, comforting, but not unlike how someone tries to calm a child or a pet.

“Hey, look! I haven’t levitated since 1963. I thought it would be a nice surprise, I can stop if you need, we can lay down,” Ever the sweet man, he’s instantly trying to make sure this is okay or if he’s crossed a line. But you shake your head no. Honestly, fucking freaky at first, but then its fucking freaky, and you are down with it. Up with it.

“No, no... I like this. Do your worst.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he leans back, bringing you with him. Now you can sit up, and give your body a little bit more space than he had been giving it before. You figure you could ride him like this and push against the ceiling for support, which actually, was Klaus’ whole idea behind this. Great minds think alike or whatever. So as he keeps thrusting you start to shift your hips back to meet his. It’s weird not having anything below you for leverage for your legs, but maybe if he does this again you can figure something out.

Instead it’s this steady grind, him up, you down. Now its less of an honest to god fuck and more of a writhing midair to make each other come.Instead of his worst like you’d asked, its incredibly intimate in a way you usually aren’t. But that's enough for the both of you. The ceiling does wonders to help your arms press you down into his pelvis, rocking yourself up and down on him while your legs dangled. You were honestly impressed by the way he was able to keep himself so horizontal. Maybe his being trained in combat as a teen gave him core muscles you didn't realize he had. All of these thoughts of muscles are quickly swallowed by Klaus, Klaus, and nothing but the way Klaus was making you feel at this very moment.

If any one would have seen the two of you climax, which happened at the same time for once in the hundreds of times now that you'd fornicated, one would have seen from the top of your window two legs go rigid before two bodies floated down back to where human bodies should be with surprising grace, the owners of those bodies kissing everywhere one each other that they could reach. He kissed your neck, your chest, your face, long strong fingers brushing your hair soothingly as his back hit the mattress. He slides out of you unceremoniously, at which you pout at the loss of him, but only to shift and tuck you into his side as his arms still cradled you close.

“So, as lovely and thrilling as that was, why did the veil or whatever need to be thin for you to do that?”

“Well, it didn’t, but I wanted us to get in the holiday spirit a little more, like that scene in Poltergeist.” He punctuates the sentence with a kiss to your temple as he slides off the bed, and gingerly walks over to the kitchen. He’s turning on the stove, then using tongs to place a coal onto the heat.

“If I torch this for hookah, will you take this bowl with me?” as if everything that just happened was commonplace. An everyday occurrence.

All you can do is nod.

#klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves smut #klaus hargreeves fanfic #my work #prize buck series

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pensivetense · 4 years

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A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

#tma #the magnus archives #fic recs #long post #i'm not kidding you guys it's long #so be warned before you click read more #pinned on my blog

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stahlop · 4 years

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Once Upon a Time 3x02 “Lost Girl” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x111x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x032x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13 2x14 2x152x16 2x17 2x18 2x19 2x20 2x21 2x22 3x01

This episode is all about knowing who you are. We have Emma who still feels like an orphan, despite having found her parents, Snow White who almost gives up her kingdom because she’s lost her way, and Rumple who feels like he’s still that coward from years ago. They all have to go through something to move past that hurt and shame inside of them and become a Savior, a Queen, and a hero. Unfortunately, the whole storyline is really slow.

Summary: Pan gives Emma a map to find Henry, but warns her that only she can unlock the map when she admits who she really is. In the past, Snow White is having doubts about taking back the kingdom, until Charming takes her to an enchanted weapon that helps her injure the Evil Queen.

Opening: Sword in the Stone

Character Observations:

Gold: He immediately cuts off his shadow and gives it his dagger to hide so that even he can’t find it. I guess if you’re magical you can have your shadow taken from you without risk of death? Or maybe it’s different for people from the Enchanted Forest then from Earth? Not sure. Either way, Gold no longer has his shadow or his dagger. Gold is looking at the doll when he hears rustling. A hooded figure steals the doll and it turns out to be, Belle? Gold is confused about how Belle is there, and she doesn’t really answer his questions about it, just asks her own about his wardrobe. She thought it was his past, he tells her it’s now his future so he can save Henry. She tells him that there’s still hope and that he would never go completely dark again. He almost kisses her before he realizes that something is amiss. At first he asks her questions about Storybrooke, but then thinks that she’s a trick of Pan’s. She tells him he conjured her. Gold is understandably confused about that, because he seems to think he has everything under control, so Belle asks him why he conjured her. Belle brings him to a ledge overlooking the ocean. Is this the same place Henry and Pan flew from? It looks like it, but they may also only have one cliff and have to dress it up differently each time. They argue about why he’s brought Belle to the island. He claims he doesn’t know why he’d imagine her there and she insists he does (is he literally arguing with himself right now if Belle is a figment of his imagination?). He finally admits he’s a coward just like his father. He finally admits that Pan wanted him to leave Henry and Gold would get to live. Belle says he’s afraid he’ll make the selfish choice because he knows Henry will lead to his death. Belle reminds him how he spent most of his life looking for Bae after he abandoned him. He wouldn’t do the same to Henry. He needs to let go of the past. We finally find out that the doll is the last thing Gold’s father gave him before he left. So that’s why he’s so sentimental about it. Belle tells him to let go of the past so he doesn’t make the same mistakes. She leaves and Gold drops the doll over the cliff’s edge. Except the damn thing keeps coming back like a bad penny. It falls from the sky back at Gold’s feet. He sets it on fire and crushes it beneath his foot, but there it is, completely unharmed, just behind the next bush. Gold decides it’s probably best to keep it on him after that. But he looks really worried, which is not a look we normally see on him.

Emma: While Gold is busy trying to move past his past, Emma is being forced to relive hers in order to save Henry. Hook is leading them to a ridge to be able to see the whole island. Emma defends him when Regina is being a bitch again. Emma thanks Mary Margaret for some water and Mary Margaret asks her to call her mom instead. Emma is not comfortable with that. Only in life and death situations. Do you not know your daughter yet, Mary Margaret? They reach the ridge and find the Dark Jungle has grown more than when Hook was last there. Emma worries that it will be too late when they find Henry. Mary Margaret assures her that it’s never too late. Um, if Henry is dead then it will be too late. Emma is woken by the sound of the Lost Boys crying. She ventures away from their camp (though she does try to wake the others, but they’re all sound asleep). Emma finally meets Pan and she immediately puts a sword to his throat (good job, Emma). He tells Emma he’s there to help her find Henry. He’ll give her a map that only she can open if she stops denying who she really is. Regina wants to use magic to unlock the map, but Emma is determined to figure it out herself. She also doesn’t want to risk ruining the map. Emma tries naming things about herself to unlock the map with no success. Mary Margaret and David are trying to help her, but they are so overeager that Emma is clearly uncomfortable with them there. And while Mary Margaret tells her not to hold anything back, it’s very obvious that she doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Everyone thinks Emma saying she’s the Savior will unlock the map, but it doesn’t. Regina decides to use a locator spell on the map to find Pan’s camp. Emma does not look convinced this is the right decision. Way to be a leader, Emma. And then Regina tells Emma to be a leader and lead them into the Dark Jungle after the map after Emma said she didn’t want to use magic to find Henry. WTF! Regina snarks at Emma if she’s ready to thank her yet. Emma says she will, but then the map stops. The gang goes on ahead convinced that Pan is there, but Emma looks very uncertain about everything. They do come across a camp, but no one is there. Emma sees someone who she thinks is Henry, but it’s actually Pan dressed in Henry’s clothes. She wants to know where Henry is, but Pan tells her she broke the rules, she doesn’t care, she wants Henry. Pan tells her cheaters never win, so the Lost Boys attack. Emma has a little freak out when she gets the upper hand on one of the Lost Boys. Pan reminds Emma that the map will only reveal itself when she stops denying who she really is. Mary Margaret and David try to lift Emma’s spirits, again, but she rebuffs them, again. Mary Margaret goes to talk to her privately, but Emma doesn’t want to talk to her. She is too afraid of hurting Mary Margaret’s feelings about how she felt when she was fighting the Lost Boy. Emma claims that she stopped fighting him because he was just a boy, but Mary Margaret keeps pushing her. Eventually, Emma says the boy reminded him of her when she was in the foster care system; a lost girl who desperately wanted a family and couldn’t understand what she’d done to make her parents give her up. On Neverland, she feels like an orphan. Bravo to Jennifer Morrison and Ginnifer Goodwin on this scene. I know it made me cry. The map finally unlocks. Emma apologizes to Mary Margaret, but Mary Margaret knows it’s the truth and that its her job to change the way Emma feels. They tell the rest of the group that the map is unlocked and they make preparations to leave. Hook flirts with Emma, but in a sincere way, and she seems slightly uncomfortable about this new dynamic. Pan comes by while Emma is alone and picking berries and she tries her best to ignore his taunts. But then he says she never forgave her parents for abandoning her and Henry hasn’t forgiven her either. Which, I call Bull. Shit. Henry has told Emma numerous times he knows why she had to give him up. And he didn’t have a hellish childhood like Emma did. Pan says by the time she gets to him, Henry will never want to leave the island. Emma’s not buying what Pan’s selling and walks off, but not before Pan gets out one more quip about her leaving the island an orphan.

Snow/Mary Margaret: Snow has just been woken by Charming and proposed to and wants to take back the kingdom. She has now gone to a village in her kingdom and makes a passionate speech about fighting the Evil Queen, but the villagers are too scared to fight with her. Then the Evil Queen comes to threaten them some more. Snow and Charming both grab their swords, but the Evil Queen ties Charming up while she offers Snow a deal. She wants Snow to give up her claim to the throne and exile herself. She wants Snow to live a life where she sees everything that should have been hers taken over by the Evil Queen. She wants Snow to get down on her knees and swear on her father’s grave that the kingdom belongs to the Evil Queen. Snow wonders what happens if she doesn’t, so the Evil Queen grabs the nearest villager (a young girl) and starts magically choking her. Snow runs after the Evil Queen with her sword, but the Evil Queen poufs away leaving Snow sprawled on the ground. The Evil Queen gives Snow a deadline and says she’ll start killing a loyal subject a day if Snow doesn’t take the deal. So this is different from the way things currently are, how? The Evil Queen tells her she may have been a princess but she’ll never be a queen. Snow is pretty much done at this point. Her confidence is shot and she wants to take the queen’s deal. Charming says the Evil Queen will still menace the people but now they’ll have no one to protect them. Snow doesn’t think she did such a great job protecting them today. Grumpy says as her friends, the dwarfs will do whatever she decides. David reminds her that she’s Snow White, but she’s not sure who that is anymore. This is an interesting dichotomy here, because Charming only knows her as the Bandit Princess who tried to rob from him. He doesn’t know the innocent Snow who had everything her heart desired from her father and who grew up with Regina as a stepmother. So when he calls her Snow White he’s referring to the strong woman he met in the woods, whereas Snow doesn’t know who she is anymore, bandit or princess or both. Snow makes up her mind to take the exile deal since they’ll all be alive and can live together. Snow is working off some anger by doing target practice, but she hasn’t hit a target yet. Charming tells her he made a deal with Rumplestiltskin to find a weapon that can help her defeat the Evil Queen. She wants to know how the weapon can help her defeat the Evil Queen. He tells her by showing the Evil Queen who Snow really is. He then helps her with her stance and she shoots the arrow into the bullseye. They get to the weapon and it’s Excalibur, the sword in the stone. Charming can’t remove it from the stone and offers for Snow to try, but she doesn’t think she’ll be able to if he couldn’t get it out. Charming tells her the legend states only the true ruler can get the sword out. Snow is able to get it out, and she is shocked! Snow is chock full of confidence when she sees the Evil Queen. Snow is not taking the deal. This time the Evil Queen starts choking Grumpy. Charming reminds her that she can defeat the Evil Queen because she pulled the sword from the stone. This time when Snow goes after the Evil Queen and she poufs away, Snow is smart enough to swing behind her and she ends up cutting the Evil Queen’s cheek. Snow is in awe of what she’s done, the Evil Queen is now shocked. Snow tells her this is her kingdom and she will fight for it. The village rejoices. Snow calls upon Rumplestiltskin to pay the price for Charming, but he tells her he didn’t help her prince. She doesn’t believe him since she’s holding Excalibur, but Rumplestiltskin tells her it’s a fake and the real Excalibur is in Camelot. And I’m not sure what’s up with Ginnifer Goodwin’s acting in this scene, because she’s really hamming it up. She reminds me of how Bailey Madison plays young Snow. Which is great for a child, but not for a grown woman. Snow is adamant that the sword must be Excalibur because she was able to strike the Evil Queen, but Rumplestiltskin’s not having it and he takes the necklace from her neck for wasting his time. Snow comes back to Charming and the dwarfs, pissed as hell. She wants to know why he planted a false Excalibur. He just wanted her to realize that she has the strength inside her. They kiss, all is well.

Mary Margaret is now trying to get Emma to realize who she is, although she won’t like it in the end. We start with her trying to get Emma to call her mom, like she did in Storybrooke. Emma’s not so comfortable with that when they’re not about to die. Mary Margaret says she gets it, but the second Emma walks past her, her face falls in disappointment. When they realize they can’t see Pan’s camp from the ridge, Emma worries that they’re going to be too late to save Henry, but Mary Margaret, in her hopeful manner, tells Emma that it’s never too late. After Emma gets the map Mary Margaret reminds Emma that Pan is playing a game, so that means they can win. Emma is trying to unlock the map and Mary Margaret and David are acting like cheerleaders. It’s actually really annoying. Like they’re literally sitting across from her cheering her on and giving words of encouragement, but they’re also trying to get her to admit to being the Savior, which is not the answer Pan is looking for because the map is still blank. Regina uses her magic to find Pan’s camp and when they get there, no one is there and Mary Margaret thinks maybe Regina’s magic didn’t work. Regina gets pissed that Mary Margaret is blaming her for something going wrong, again. I think Mary Margaret has every right to blame Regina, it’s not like her magic is usually used for good. And usually when she uses it, things tend to go wrong. Anyway, Pan has the Lost Boys attack and David gets his jacket ripped by an arrow possibly laced with Dreamshade while saving Mary Margaret. She notices that Emma is kind of freaking out over one of the Lost Boys after the fight ends. Once again, Mary Margaret starts spouting off platitudes and Emma is just not having it. She follows Emma when she goes off by herself and tells her they need to keep fighting. Emma thinks they’ve already lost because saying she’s the Savior hasn’t revealed anything. Mary Margaret realizes that Emma isn’t who she thinks she is, or at least tries to hide who she used to be, and asks why she freaked out with the Lost Boy. Emma is really trying not to delve into the past to upset Mary Margaret, but she keeps pushing her. Eventually, Emma blurts out about feeling like an orphan and wanting parents and crying herself to sleep at night and all the things she knows Mary Margaret doesn’t need to know, or Emma didn’t want her to know. And Mary Margaret is crying and feeling guilty the whole time. Luckily, this revelation opens the map. Emma doesn’t understand why, but Mary Margaret does. Emma finally admitted she still feels like an orphan, despite having found her parents is what she’s denied about herself. Emma tells Mary Margaret she’s sorry for feeling that way, but Mary Margaret accepts that it’s the truth, and it’s her job to change the way she feels by being her mother.

Charming/David: Charming is all about empowering his love to do what he thinks is best for her. She’s scared (obviously) of the Evil Queen, especially since no one wants to help her fight, so he has to convince her that she’s still the feisty bandit he met in the forest that didn’t take any guff from anyone. But she doesn’t know who she is anymore. Snow decides to take exile. Charming isn’t happy about that. Grumpy accuses him of only wanting to be with Snow for her kingdom, despite that he woke her with True Love’s Kiss. Charming is offended. They tell him that if he wants to change Snow’s mind they need to do it without their help. Charming goes to Rumplestiltskin for help. Rumple can’t help him. Charming knows he must have something, just name his price. Charming goes to Snow who says she won’t change her mind about exile, but Charming tells her about a magic weapon that can help her defeat the Evil Queen by showing her who Snow really is. Snow eventually agrees. They ride to the weapon, which happens to be Excalibur. Charming can’t get the sword out because he’s not the true ruler of the land. But Snow gets it out easily, and Charming reiterates it’s because she is the true ruler of the land. The Evil Queen comes to exile Snow, but when she refuses she starts to choke Grumpy. Snow doesn’t know what to do, but Charming tells her she can do this, and helps give her some of her confidence back. Snow manages to nick the Evil Queen and she tells her she will fight for her kingdom. Charming couldn’t look anymore prouder or turned on by that. They all rejoice when the Evil Queen poufs off. Charming is staring into the lake looking like a proper prince when the dwarfs apologize to him for calling him a gold digger. They drink, but then Snow comes back from meeting with Rumple and is pissed because she found out Charming lied to her about Excalibur. Charming looks like a husband who’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing when Snow confronts him and it’s hilarious. He tells her he needed her to believe in something he already knew. Snow’s freaking out about having stood up to the Evil Queen, but Charming tells her she did that all on her own. The lie about Excalibur just gave her a little push. She kisses him and they’re all good now.

David, on the other hand, is being an ass and a liar, when he’s not being Emma’s cheerleader that is. If you are on a strange island that you’ve never been on with someone who has been on that island and lived there, shouldn’t you listen to them and not fight them on every single little thing? Because that’s how David is acting toward Hook, and it’s really annoying. I’m really confused as to why David is leading the group when he has no idea where he’s going. Then, Hook pulls his arm back as he’s about to machete his way through some Dreamshade, and David barely listens to the reasons why he shouldn’t hack through the thorns. Hook gives his suggestion about which way to go, and David decides to go a different route, and everyone follows him! I get that Hook is the ‘bad guy’, but do they all really not trust him enough that they’ll follow David who has no clue what he’s doing? They eventually make it to the ridge but they can’t see anything so they bed down for the night. After Emma receives the map from Pan, Regina wants to use magic to unlock it, but everyone is against that, including David who agrees with Hook about not breaking Pan’s rules. Wow! David is actually agreeing with Hook! Who’d have thunk it? Emma is trying to figure out who she is to unlock the map and Mary Margaret and David are cheering her on. Okay, they’re lending moral support by building her up positively, but they’re just really annoying when they do it. David thinks using magic on the map is a bad idea and Hook agrees with him. David doesn’t like agreeing with Hook. Regina uses magic to find Pan, David once again takes the lead. But Pan isn’t happy they broke the rules so the Lost Boys attack, and David ends up getting sliced by a Dreamshade laced arrow. Except he tells Mary Margaret it just sliced his jacket and that’s it. Apparently, keeping the truth from his wife to ‘protect her’ is something he hasn’t stopped doing. David and Mary Margaret try to talk to Emma, but she’s not up for their cheeriness. David attempts to go talk to her again, but Mary Margaret stops him to talk to her instead. Later on, after Emma unlocks the map and they camp down for the night, David goes off on his own to reveal that he did indeed get sliced by the arrow, and we can see that his veins around the cut (which has also stopped bleeding) have started to turn black due to the Dreamshade. Looks like David is in real trouble.

The Evil Queen/Regina: The Magic Mirror informs The Evil Queen that Charming has awoken Snow with True Love’s Kiss. She doesn’t seem that angry, just upset that her plan didn’t last that long. The Evil Queen interrupts Snow’s speech to the villagers about taking back the kingdom, noting that they don’t seem too enthused to help her. She offers Snow a deal: declare her queen and put herself, Charming, and the dwarfs into exile. She tells Snow that killing her cursing her everlasting sleep hasn’t worked, and the better punishment would be to make her live in exile knowing that the queen has taken everything that was supposed to be Snow’s. That’s actually growth for the Evil Queen at this point. She’s looking at the bigger picture instead of right in the moment. Too bad it doesn’t stick. If Snow doesn’t take her deal, someone will pay the price. And to prove her point, she starts choking a young girl with her magic. Snow tries to go after her with her sword, but the Evil Queen just poufs away and tells her she has until sunset the next day to make up her mind or she’ll start killing a peasant a day. She also tells Snow to stop denying who she is; she may have been a princess, but Snow will never be queen. The next day the Evil Queen goes to Snow to ask her what her decision will be. Snow doesn’t take exile so The Evil Queen starts magically choking Grumpy. Snow once again goes after her with her sword, but the Evil Queen poufs behind her, and Snow manages to scratch her cheek with her sword. The Evil Queen is stunned. She wasn’t expecting Snow to be able to hurt her. Apparently, this makes her change her mind about killing a villager a day, because now she’s talking about an all out war. Hey, Evil Queen. You are right up in Snow’s face right now. Grab her heart and crush it. No one could stop you at this point. Or send a fireball to kill the entire village or even Charming. I don’t understand why she has all this power and she’s really just all talk. Anyway, she poufs away probably to go lick her wounds.

Regina is all about not listening and whining this episode. Seriously, she’s just so annoying. First she complains about traipsing through the forest when she could have just magicked them all up to the ridge they’re headed to. But Hook points out that she doesn’t know where it is because of the thickness of the jungle. Then she follows David instead of Hook, who actually knows the island. She even throws Hook a look that basically says David will never trust him, and it’s weird. When they get to the ridge and see the Dark Jungle has grown more since Hook was last there and they can’t see the camp, Hook suggests bedding down for the night and Regina is outraged that Hook would suggest sleeping when her son is in danger and possibly suffering. Notice that Regina always refers to Henry as her son and acts like no one is serious about saving him. They are all on Neverland to save Henry! Hook tells her they need rest if they want to save Henry. Regina is not happy about this (spoiler, she’s never happy). When Pan gives Emma the map she immediately wants to use magic on it to unlock it (what happened to the magic is like a drug arc she was going through last season to prove she had changed for Henry? Is magic no longer considered a drug now that Emma has it?), but Emma is adamant that she can figure it out and unlock it herself. Regina also thinks the map is a distraction for them to not look for Henry. No one wants her to use magic on the map, because they think she might hurt the map. She says it’s a risk she’s willing to take (she’d rather blow up their only way of finding Henry just to prove she’s right by using magic?), but no one else agrees. Regina looks annoyed the whole time Emma is trying to unlock the map. When Emma admits she’s the savior and that doesn’t work, Regina takes the map and puts a locator spell on it. It leads them to the Dark Jungle and even though Regina put the locator spell on the map, she makes Emma lead since Emma had insisted on being the leader. So petty. As the map leads them deeper into the Dark Jungle, Regina starts getting smug and asks Emma if she’s going to thank her for her help. Really? You don’t think for one second that because you used magic you might be headed into a trap? They reach an empty camp and because no one is there Mary Margaret comments that maybe Regina’s magic didn’t work right and Regina gets upset that Mary Margaret is blaming her for something again. Regina, grow up!! I swear she gets worse with every subsequent episode. She had some good growth last season and then Cora made her get off track, then she almost sacrificed herself for Henry, and now she’s bitchy Regina again. During the fight with the Lost Boys Regina uses her magic against them (even though Pan just said using magic was cheating, but whatever). Emma finally unlocks the map, and they decide that they need to stop playing Pan’s game and make Pan play theirs. Regina questions this, but eventually agrees. I don’t understand why she’s questioning this or wants to work on her own. So far everything she has tried has failed, while Emma has been the one to actually get things done. I’m really not liking Regina this season. She’s whiny, and bitchy, and has lost any growth she had from season 2. Last season I actually cared about what happened to her, now she could fall off a cliff and I wouldn’t care.

Hook: Flirtatious as ever with Emma and David (although, mainly to get under David’s skin which is hilarious). He’s the only one in the group familiar with Neverland, yet David doesn’t trust him so no one else does either. David fights him when he tries to cut through some brambles, but Hook knows it’s Dreamshade, which is the poison he used to try and kill Gold. I don’t understand why David is fighting him so hard when he knows nothing about Neverland and Hook lived on the goddamn island! Hook knows he’s a villain but takes offense at Pan not being one when Emma explains that Pan is the hero in all the stories in her world. Hook wants to know how handsome he is in Pan’s books, but Emma thwarts his preening by telling him that perms and waxed mustaches are not handsome. Once they get to the ridge, Hook is disappointed to find out that the Dark Jungle has grown so much they can’t see Pan’s camp. He suggests sleeping for the night to gather their strength. Despite Regina’s protests, everyone actually agrees with him this time. Hook and Regina argue about the map Pan gives Emma. Hook talks about how Pan likes his games and when Regina thinks the map will lead them into a trap, Hook reminds her the whole island is a trap. Regina wants to use magic but Hook tells her breaking Pan’s rules would be unwise. David actually agrees with him and Hook quips about winning him over. Later, when Regina steals the map from Emma to use magic on it, David says it’s not a good idea to use magic and Hook agrees with him. David can’t believe he and Hook agree again and Hook says he’s winning him over. I smell a bromance blooming between these two. Hook is not happy that the map leads them into the Dark Jungle, since he told them never to set foot in there. When they get close to Pan, Hook warns Emma to be careful because while Pan looks like a boy, he’s actually a demon. The Lost Boys attack them and Hook warns that the arrows are tipped with Dreamshade. Hook ends up fighting with Felix and reminds him of Rufio and that it will be a far worse fate for him. Eventually, Pan calls everyone off. Emma finally manages to unlock the map. Hook congratulates her on her patience with Regina and tells her that patience will help her defeat Pan, and then he offers her some rum. She quips about rum being the solution to everything and he says it doesn’t hurt. He’s interested in how she unlocked the map and in getting to know her better. It’s one of the first times he’s truly sincere with her, and you can see how uncomfortable Emma is with it. Not because it’s creepy, but because that might mean Hook is a real person and not just someone she banters with.

Pan: He’s a lot of talk. He talks and talks and talks. And he makes threats, but, with the exception of the Lost Boys attack, he doesn’t actually do anything. He’s more annoying than anything else, because he also says the same things all the time. This time it’s that Emma needs to stop denying who she really is, over and over. Then he threatens that Emma will be an orphan again by the time they leave the island. I mean, at least he’s not villain monologuing, but repetitive monologuing is just as bad. Maybe he and Bell should hang out with the whole, repeating the same thing over and over dialogue.

Questions:

Why did Gold’s shadow change from one that looked like him to the generic shadow that Neverland boasts?

Still wondering how the magic mirror works. Why can she see through to places that obviously don’t have mirrors or reflective surfaces, but Rumple felt it was necessary to cover his mirrors in Skin Deep so she couldn’t spy on him? If she doesn’t need a mirror, then covering his mirrors wouldn’t matter.

Why are we back to Snow’s hair looking so awful? Are they spending all the stylist money on special effects?

Why are Mary Margaret, David, Hook, and Regina still wearing their jackets when Emma has taken off her turtleneck and is traipsing around the hot jungle in her tank top?

Okay, I get that David does not like Hook, but he’s the only one with knowledge of Neverland. Why won’t he listen to him?

Where was Hook when everyone was sleeping? We saw everyone at camp but him. Was he keeping watch? Because he didn’t do a great job seeing as Emma wandered off and Pan found her.

Would Regina really risk blowing up the map with magic?

Who’s the sheriff of Storybrooke now that both Emma and David are in Neverland?

Why is Emma still wearing her false eyelashes in Neverland? How is Regina’s hair still flipping when it’s obviously humid out?

After the scene in the village, the front of Snow’s white bodice was covered with dirt and mud. How is it perfectly clean the next time we see her? Actually, how has she kept her white, leather outfit so clean? Why white? Did the costume designer decide she needed to wear that because of her name?

How did David get to and from Rumplestiltskin’s castle so fast? We’ve seen in Skin Deep that his castle is in the mountains and not in a location that is just easy to pop in to for a quick favor.

Didn’t David need a potion from Gold to pour over Jefferson’s hat to locate him in We Are Both? How does Regina do a locator spell just using magic?

If the sword is from Camelot, shouldn’t the person who pulls the sword from the stone be the ruler of Camelot? Not the Enchanted Forest.

Is Belle really conjured from Gold’s head or is she something more? Neverland does run on imagination, so it’s not a stretch to think your thoughts could manifest as reality.

So, since Snow didn’t take the deal with the Evil Queen, is someone going to die everyday still?

Where did Snow’s mother’s necklace come from? It only shows up on her neck when she and Charming go to find Excalibur. What does Rumplestiltskin want with it?

Observations:

Considering it’s only supposed to have been maybe a week or so since Charming woke Snow, his hair goes from the short cut he had in season one, to his current longish cut.

Love that Charming and Snow both unsheath their swords at the exact same time. They’re already so in sync with each other.

Dreamshade is the poison Hook used to try and kill Gold back in The Queen is Dead.

What Emma says to try and unlock the map: Her name, being Henry’s mother, she used to be a bailbondsperson, she’s currently the sheriff of Storybrooke, she’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, she’s the product of True Love, she was born in the Enchanted Forest, she’s the Savior.

Hook mentions Rufio to Felix. In the movie Hook, Rufio is the new leader of the Lost Boys and Hook kills him.

The Evil Queen has quite the interesting wardrobe this episode. She goes from an Elizabethan style dress to what I can only describe as an 80’s hair band inspired form fitted gown and headpiece.

I finally realized what’s been bugging me about Mary Margaret’s hair. It’s too fluffy. Maybe it’s the humidity of the jungle, but it looks more like a teenage boy cut rather than the cute pixie cut she’s been sporting.

Sorry this review took me so long to get out, but I was really bored with it. Mary Margaret and David seem to be very out of character with their over-cheerfulness when it comes to Emma. Regina is just whiny and bitchy. Gold seems to be having some sort of mental breakdown. Pan is not as dastardly as Hook is making him out to be. Hook and Emma seem to be the only people in character as we get more hidden feelings exposed from Emma and more flirting from Hook.

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81 @lfh1226-linda

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time 3x02 #once upon a time lost girl

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wardinasrani · 4 years

Text

Long Term Deal || Solo

How can a demon summoner afford an apartment and a bookstore in a new town? The answer may surprise you. (Spoiler alert: it’s demons).

“Is it safe?”

Ah, there they were, the three words he heard most often in his line of work, along with ‘I thought it’d be bigger’. Darwin was sure there was a great joke somewhere in there about the similarities between demon summonings and reviews of his bedroom prowess, but alas, the client wasn’t privy to his thoughts so instead of exchanging quips the thug just stood there, impatiently biting his lips and depriving Darwin of the pleasure of some stimulating conversation. Pity.

With the practiced smile of someone who’s danced to this tune a thousand times Darwin placed a hand on the other man’s back. “Your boss and I have a deal. Are you aware of the terms of said deal, Mr…?”

“Forty-five. Far as you’re concerned that’s my name, age and my favorite toy.” The criminal shifted his weight and stretched, allowing his jacket to lift just enough to show the pistol carelessly tucked in his jeans. A little on the nose, but Darwin wasn’t easy to scare.

“Mr. Forty-five. As I was saying, your boss and I have an arrangement. See this place?” With a flourish he pointed at the basement they were in, bare except for some wards scribbled in chalk on the walls. “This basement, the bookstore upstairs, even the little apartment above that. Your boss promised me I could use this place however I pleased, in exchange for my… Services. And I need this place, badly.”

“Why?”

“Because I plan on staying in town for a while, and I’ll need a business.”

“I thought demons were your business.”

Darwin chuckled and patted the man’s shoulder lightly, his hand lingering there just a second too long. “That they are, Mr. Forty-five, but I doubt the IRS would accept pig’s blood for wards and summonings as a write-off. I need a respectable business. And your boss has given me that. It’s a long term arrangement, so… Yes.”

The thug blinked. “Yes what?”

Forty-five… Name, age, favorite toy and IQ, apparently. So much for stimulating conversation.“Yes, it’s safe. Well, as safe as dealing with demons can be, at least. If something went wrong your boss wouldn’t like it, and the moment he’s no longer happy I’m out of a home and a bookstore, so it’s in my best interest to keep this whole ordeal safe.” Darwin smiled as he noticed some spark of understanding finally lighting up the other man’s face.

“So… You keep the store and the apartment, and in exchange you’ll summon a demon for us. Great! Let’s get started!”

Ah, there it was: the excitement. Most people were impatient during their first summoning, and Darwin made a point of going through every step painfully slow. The build-up, watching the thrill turn into boredom and then fear and amazement… That made even basic summonings like this one interesting for Darwin.

“As you wish. But first…” He took a step closer to the criminal, who obviously wasn’t expecting that. With slow, deliberate movements Darwin raised his hand and placed it on Forty-five’s chest, nothing more than a soft touch, a caress even. He took his time, fully enjoying the man’s discomfort as Darwin’s hand slid lower and lower and finally slipped inside Forty-five’s pocket, reappearing a moment later holding a small switchblade. Forty-five let out the breath he was holding and stared at the weapon in Darwin’s hand.

“How did you know I kept that in my–”

“Love, you’re literally about to watch me open the gates to another dimension to bring forth a demon ready to do your boss’ bidding. Do you really think my knife-finding trick is the thing that’ll impress you the most tonight?” Not that there was anything impressive at all, truth be told: Forty-five had played with the switchblade during the whole conversation before stuffing it back in his pocket a few moments ago.

“Fair enough. Let’s just get this over with, you’re creeping me out, freak.”

Looked like his playmate was no longer in the mood for games. Normally he’d be disappointed, but this time Darwin welcomed it: there was no challenge in impressing someone like Forty-five, therefore no fun. The switch was immediate: Darwin went from flamboyant gestures and cryptic smiles to precise movements. With practiced ease he brought the switchblade to his forearm, pressing it against his own skin hard enough to draw blood, the thin red line joining faded scars of past rituals.

“The demon we’re calling will be bound to this world by my blood. Never wash this blade, the blood on it will be like a leash for the demon. And make sure to bring it next time.”

“Next time?”

“The ritual will need to be renewed periodically. I told you, long term deal.” As he spoke Darwin spared no glance to the other man, his focus all on the lines he was tracing on the floor with the finger dipped in his own blood. The circle needed to be perfect. Welcoming, yet able to contain the creature that would answer his call.

“Your boss asked for something capable of finding and punishing those who betray him. The demon we’re calling can sniff out a lie without fail.” Not for the first time, Darwin wondered if what he was about to do was ethical. When he’d escaped from his father’s mental clutches he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let himself be used to conjure slaves, nor to hurt people. But this case was different: the client was a criminal, people would still get hurt even without Darwin's intervention. More importantly, a crime lord surely would torture betrayers and alleged betrayers without hesitation... With the help of a demon at least he wouldn’t mistakenly target 'innocent’ people, and the demon would be able to feed without hurting anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. Win-win.

Darwin himself didn’t fully believe that, and he was sure he’d lose more than a few hours of sleep over this, but a lot of his family’s affairs had taken place in White Crest, and he really needed an excuse to stay in town and investigate. That was the price he'd have to pay for a chance at redemption. Darwin only hoped the boss would only use the demon on other criminals.

After a few minutes of meticulous drawing, Darwin stood up and admired his work. The circle was a standard one, the sort he could trace in his sleep, but still Darwin couldn’t help but take some pride in the flawless runes framing the smooth curves of a perfect replica of the demon’s Sigil. Pressing on the wound on his arm to stop the blood, he stepped back and turned to face Forty-five.

“Now I need complete silence. No matter what happens don’t say anything until I say it’s safe to speak. And for the love of everything on this beautiful Earth, do not touch the circle. Even I don’t know what could escape from it.” The thug did his best to hide his nervousness, but Darwin saw the flash of panic in his eyes, the tension in his muscles and the sharp intake of breath. Oh, how he loved working with an audience.

With a flourish that served absolutely no purpose if not impressing the other man, Darwin raised his wounded arm, open hand outstretched toward the circle. “May these words travel far, and reach the ends of the deepest pits. Through thy sigil I summon thee, come forth into the Circle, in a form suitable for our mortal eyes.” His voice echoed through the empty basement, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the small light bulb above Forty-five shattered in a million pieces, small glass shards raining down on him. To his credit, Forty-five didn’t scream.

The room was pitch-black, but it wasn’t empty, even the thug had to feel the energy creeping around them, gathering at the center of the circle. The wards he'd drawn in blood started pulsing, a soft glow that bathed Darwin in a red light. Very dramatic, he liked this demon already.

“Who conjures me?”

A powerful voice, firm and demanding. The tone of a proud creature, one that would never accept servitude. A trade, on the other hand... Darwin had become somewhat of an expert in reading demons, so he shifted his posture accordingly, hunching his shoulders in submission, the gaze fixed on the still empty circle.

“You don’t need my name: you already have my blood, and that binds us. Please, show yourself, so that we may speak.”

A beat, and somehow the room was lit again, not by any light bulb, but by a red, blinding ball of light at the center of the circle, too bright to see anything within it. Darwin lowered his gaze.

“You haven’t earned it yet. Tell me what you seek and maybe I’ll grant you the privilege of witnessing my majestic form.”

Finally, the tricky part. Business with demons: sometimes exciting, always dangerous. It was hard to read his opponent without being able to look at them, but Darwin wouldn’t let that stop him.

“I offer a collaboration. My friend here,” he nodded toward Forty-five, still standing at the far end of the room, pressed against the wall. “…Works for a powerful man. A man with many enemies, some of whom would love nothing more than to lie and deceive to stab him in the back and take his place.”

The room went dark again, and the air itself grew heavy and hot to the point where it was uncomfortable to breathe. “Lie?” That question was more like a growl than an actual word, dense with the demon’s hatred.

“Yes, lie. That is why he could use your help. He doesn’t have your gift for spotting a lie. No one on Earth does, really.” Darwin could feel the demon being appeased by that subtle compliment. Truth demons, so vain.

“What you ask is simple, but what is it that you offer?”

Darwin’s smirk grew wider, and he allowed himself a soft chuckle. “Every liar must be punished, wouldn’t you agree? This man I speak of is a dangerous man. Any liar in his presence would cower in fear even before you did anything. It would be an all-you-can-eat buffet for someone who feeds on terror and pain and exists to uphold the Truth no matter what. You get to feed, he gets to make better choices about whom to trust.”

The demon seemed to consider it, or at least that’s the impression Darwin got by the way the ball of light glowed brighter. Then, after what felt like an eternity…

“We have a deal.”

A flash, and Darwin was pushed back by a gust of hot wind coming directly from the portal in the circle. Forty-five was taken by surprise and fell with a scream, unknowingly feeding the demon and drawing it closer to their dimension. And then, stillness. Darwin laid on the floor, catching his breath. Allowing passage to a demon always took its toll on him, and he felt like he’d just run a marathon; the gash on his arm was bleeding again, but he tried to ignore it and looked at Forty-five instead, who’d been quicker to recover and was already standing up, staring at the center of the room in disbelief.

“Wait, that’s the demon?!”

A small guinea pig returned the thug’s gaze with obvious annoyance, and then went to scratch at the lines of the circle still holding it in place. Darwin willed the circle undone, and the blood holding the demon back slid like a snake toward the creature, allowing it to absorb Darwin’s energy and use it to anchor itself to this world. By the end of the process the floor was clean, Darwin was spent and the guinea pig’s eyes were blood red.

“Yes, that’s the demon. Truth demons need to be inconspicuous. No one would ever speak a lie, nor the truth, in front of a giant red-skinned horned monster. But a guinea pig? They hear everything.”

“And they are adorable.” There was more than a hint of righteous vanity coming from the small creature as it glared at them both. Its voice was still the powerful roar of a timeless demon, and that seemed to be enough to convince Forty-five not to argue with the little ball of fur and turn to Darwin instead.

“I’m just not sure the boss’ll be pleased with this. I mean, I thought it’d be bigge–” The rest of the sentence faded into a pained scream, and Forty-five grabbed his head and dropped to the floor rocking back and forth, his body shook by spasms. The various “Make it stop” were punctuated by the demon happily wheeking in the circle. The whole thing lasted just a few moments, but Darwin knew it must have felt like hours for the poor Forty-five.

“A bit of advice for the uninitiated… In demonology, as in love, size doesn’t matter. If that’ll be all, allow me to show you out. I have a comfortable cage for your new friend upstairs, but I’d get a bigger one if I were your boss. Oh, and… Here.” Darwin handed back the bloodied switchblade to the criminal after helping him up. “This is the token that binds It to our world. Like I said, never lose it, never wash it and bring it back once every moon for the renewal of the rite. All clear? Good. Now ta-ta, I’ve got a store to take care of.”

#wicsolo

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

Text

Pearly White Lincoln

She’s fierce.

Steven Hyde has always known that much about Jackie Burkhart, even before she began dating one of his best friends. Back when she was just a doe eyed, cheerleading, force of nature and glamor. Back when she was the first underclassmen to win the illustrious title of homecoming queen, and would sashay down the halls with an impenetrable air of arrogance mixed with a superiority complex a mile wide. Too pretty for her own good and too smart to give a damn. Acting like for all the world, this dingy ass, rundown town owed her. That if nothing else, Point Place needs to pay it’s dues for holding her back from which ever dream she has for that week, with all it’s trappings of mediocrity.

The worst part of it is that she might not be totally off base.

She’s the only Freshman that any of the senior guys look at with a twinkle in their eyes, the only one with a shrill enough voice to make’m cower in submission. She’s loud, and abrasive, and does this thing where she wrinkles her upturned nose right before ripping to shreds anyone who she deems worthy of her ninety pound, label whoring wrath of fury.

He hates her purely on the principle of the thing.

Teenage dirtbags and prom queens to be don’t mix, that’s just logic. Just like it’s logic that cars aren’t supposed to ride on water, or that anything Mrs. Forman bakes is bound to be fantastic. And it’s only logic that he starts to resent the pint-sized beauty queen for getting her perfectly manicured claws into his oldest friend right around the same time his other best friend is finally trying to make a move on the only girl Hyde has ever loved in any kind of way, and right when Edna makes her monthly topple off the wagon.

It’s only logic that he, Steven Hyde, hates everything Jackie Burkhart has ever had to offer.

Hyde’s defected.

He’s sure of it, there’s something wrong in his DNA or some shit. Something that prevents him from conjuring up the appropriate feelings corresponding towards the right people. That’s why he can’t find it in himself to hate Edna— the only one of his parents who actually bothered enough to stay, even when she’s smacking him upside the head after losing her lot in that night’s poker match, or however many times she loves to remind Hyde that he’s the sole purpose why her all too promising career as a performer at the Barnett Water Show met it’s bitter end. It’s almost like a pastime for her— telling Hyde that he’s a mistake, in every sense of the word. He’s the worst version of a kid that any parent would ever want. It’s why Bud left before Hyde hit puberty. Why she resents him for it. Why she’ll never forgive him for fettering her to the ugly underbelly of a small town existence. Forcing her to be a drunkard, single parent barely holding onto the vestiges of youth she still has left.

On those nights, when Edna would get so plastered that she couldn’t stand straight, that she’d start singing some sappy ballad about time lost and scorning all her ex lovers, were the nights Hyde hated the most. More than the hitting or teasing. It was those nights that solidified the fact in his mind that he’s really not worth a damn, and he should stop pretending as much. He’ll be blessed if he doesn’t end up in prison, or knocking up a chick before he’s graduated high school.

But whatever, Hyde’s a mistake. A dirtbag. An insignificant piece of shit on someone’s shoe. He knows that. He’s over giving a damn about his inevitable fate, he’s excepted as much after living the truth of it for going on seventeen years.

In fact, Hyde doesn’t care about anything.

not a damn thing.

Nothing.

Well excluding the hand full of pot heads he’s somehow grown an unwavering loyalty towards, and attachment with. A cluster of mismatched individuals who’s friendship was manufactured from a shared unconformity, and solidified by a decade of spending every god damn day in each other’s orbits.

Hyde thinks they’re the closest thing he’s ever known to a family, and he hates the idea of altering that dynamic.

So one night, early in their junior year, , when he knows that Forman’s gonna give big red his class ring, he tells Donna he cares for her, that he knows she cares for him too. Because Hyde knows it in his bones that the gang could deal with them being on again, off again. They’re a casual match, he and Donna. More alike than not, with a shared cynicism towards how the establishment’s keeping them down. Nothing particularly remarkable, or amazing in their union. They’d never be the sort to have their names written in the skies, or flourish into some sort of ridiculous caricature of the Little House On The Prairie . But Hyde thinks that they’d be decent to one another. That it’s all kinds of fun when he kisses Donna. He knows that he won’t ever blame her when she eventually move to Madison for college, and then to like Prague or some shit, following her dreams. Hyde and Donna wouldn’t be much of anything after all, so it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But her and Forman?

Eric and Donna are this generations Romeo and Juliette waiting to happen. Both way to lost on each other— trading heart eyes and dopey grins like it’s an olympic sport. THey’d never be able to keep their feelings safely tucked away behind tinted shades, and an aloof exterior. And when they inevitably have their heartbreaking breakup, it’d demolish everything that Hyde has built for himself with this crew of dumbasses. A relationship sealed by brimstone and sheer force of will. The only relationship he’s ever allowed himself to care for with any other person. One that’d probably hurt like hell losing.

So no, he can’t let Forman admit his precious little feelings to the busty, girl next door. And if he has to get in the way, so be it. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like Hyde doesn’t like Donna? That’d be insane! Even if she wasn’t totally smoking.

Hyde likes the way the light catches in her pretty, ginger hair. Likes that she’s not dandy when it comes to her opinion, or playing a round of ball. He likes just about everything that has to do with Donna. And fuck off if he doesn’t get it when Forman talks about feeling queasy in his stomach when around her, like some girlie ass butterflies were swarming down there. Or that his palms don’t get sweaty, like how Kelso’s do whenever he’s with Jackie. They probably only do that because she’s berating him about being an idiot for something or the other, or Kelso’s feeling guilty over something stupid like losing one of her pretty, pink unicorns.

That shit’s unnecessary. At least he likes her as a person, which is way more than any of Edna’s trashy fuck boys could ever say about whatever chick they’re nailing. They’ve told Hyde time and time again that the only important quality in a broad is whether or not she can give’m a stiffy.

Screw that, at least Hyde respects Donna as an actual person.

That respect is why once he finds out later that night that they’re finally together— subsequent to a sobered up Donna and Eric finally growing a pair to ask her to be his girl— Hyde’s happy for them. Even if it’s their own funeral they’re paving the path towards.

He tells Eric as much, with the only caveat that he’s not gonna let them fuck up the group. Warns him that he’s not taking any of their dumbass sides if they break up.

Eric just laughs, cause he’s never known what it’s like to have the ground slipped right from under you. And Hyde just smiles, because he’d never want Forman, his brother in all but blood, to experience that kind of hurt.

Hyde reckons he’s a hypocrite, or maybe just too dumb to heath his own warnings.

But here he is, on the night of prom, renting a suit because he’s begrudgingly agree to escort none other than the epitome of prep herself, Jackie freaking Burkhart, to his junior prom. And all because his dumbass of a best friend cheated on her by pawing at Pam Macy in public, and Jackie sobbed until Hyde lost his resolve.

Fucking hell, he’s going weak.

The doorbell rings, and Hyde ignores the cursed taunting by his ma to answer, swiftly picking up the corsage he’d bought her on his way.

What Hyde doesn’t expect is opening the door and promptly having the breath snatched right from his longs.

“Wow… You look beautiful.”

She beams up at him, light curls framing her pretty face, and sugarplum pink dress making the green in her chestnut eyes flare with an unbridled amount of mirth.

Hyde doesn’t know why his heart thuds at the sight, or why he suddenly has no words for this girl who he’s always figured was the living embodiment of everyone that’s ever told him he’s not worth a damn.

“So do you.”

Hyde barely registers himself handing her the corsage, or leading her away from Edna’s uncharitable ribbing.

Someone like her belongs in-between the leather bindings of a fairytale book, and definitely not somewhere like here, in the dark recesses of society. Not where Hyde has created his own little corner of the galaxy.

It’s no surprise when the pretty cheerleader ends the night in the arms of her moronic ex-boyfriend, and Hyde finishes off in between the legs of the girl who broke them up in the first place.

Nor is it really a surprise when Kelso’s incessant cheating catches up to him, finally blowing up in his face, and making him lose at least one of the girl’s he’s been juggling.

What is a surprise is that he gives up on Jackie so easily, opting to prance around with the she-devil herself. Especially after months of bitching about how much he loves Burkhart.

Another surprise is how much fun it is taking Jackie under his wing, teaching her the art of zen, and even getting to watch a totally sexy cat fight with her and Laurie. Which is never not a good sight— especially considering how Jackie totally beat her ass.

So that’s it. Hyde thinks of Jackie as just another— if not a occasionally vapid— friend. Prom night was just a fluke, and sure she’s hot. But hell, so is Donna, and even Laurie, you know, in her own special, hellish kind of way.

Jackie’s just that. A hot chick who he can chill with. Ya know, when she’s not running her trap.

Everything’s cool. Hyde’s just as aloof and untethered as always.

Jackie thinks she’s in love with him, and Hyde’s convinced she’s finally gone off her rocker.

But to be fair, Hyde reasons that so has he , considering the fact he’s taken her side in every Kelso induced argument, went to jail— leading him to get kicked out of the only home he’s ever felt welcomed in— over her bag of pot, and then punched some idiotic prick for actually calling her a bitch.

No, never mind. Hyde’s sure of it. He’s medically insane, and that’’s why he cuts out of the Forman’’s Veteran’s Day barbecue early, to take Jackie out on a stupid date.

The worst part of the whole ordeal is that it’s not the worst date he’s ever been on— by a long shot. He’d probably deny it till his dying day, but Jackie’s funny in her own quirky way. He likes hearing her talk passionately about crap that really has no importance outside of her shiny, Versace veneered bubble. He likes that she looks at him like he’s not some injured, little fuck up. Like she’s happy to be here, sitting besides him. She’s not slumming it, she genuinely wants to give them, give him, a fair shot. And that’s pretty cool… Really cool if he’s being honest.

By the end of the date, they actually share a smile, something warm, something like nothing’s Hyde’s ever felt with a chick before.

Their eyes are still boring into each other when he ducks down, and she inclines her head forwards.

Hyde kisses the homecoming queen atop her daddy’s pearly white Lincoln, and it doesn’t feel like the end of the world as he knows it.

She tastes like lilac skies, and the gumdrop cookies Edna use to make while singing Sinatra on her especially good days, and like something quintessentially Jackie. . It’s a kiss just on this edge of amazing, and Hyde hates that he might have to admit that she’s actually been right all along.

But then she pulls away. Tells’m that there’s no spark.

“Nothing?”

She shakes her head no, before he’s forced to agree. Because fuck, what’d he think? That this is some sort of chick-flick. That the pampered, pretty girl would ever really choose the lowly, orphan boy in real life?

What a fucking joke.

He hops off the lid, and opens the door for her.

They grab a couple burgers and fries and talk like his tongue wasn’t down her throat only half an hour prior, and it’s fine. It’s good.

He’s never let his feelings for anyone cloud his judgment before, he won’t start now.

Months later, after she puts the final nail in the ever tumultuous coffin that was her relationship with Michael Kelso, they kind of fall into one another.

They spend the summer leading to his senior year kissing behind every shadowed corner, and tucked away crevasse.

She tells him it means nothing, and Hyde tells her the same. Because it doesn’t. Because whatever he might’ve felt for Jackie was efficiently scuffed away by the heal of her red bottom shoes months prior, and what they’re doing now is just all heat, and lust, and mostly to do with the boredom of the summer getting to them.

That’s what Hyde tells himself at least.

“Oh my God! I win!” Jackie crows, leaping off her seat and shaking around in a risible excuse for dancing.

Hyde loses all interest in the chessboard, nodding approvingly at the way she moves in her tiny shorts and spaghetti top before she smacks him playfully.

“Hey man! I’m just appreciating the consolation prize!”

“Uncouth pig.” She rolls her eyes at him before flopping back in her powder pink duvet, long soft hair fanning around her like a dark halo.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Hyde thinks she’s trying to ask as casually as possible, but he can see the hope in the quirk of her brow.

“Naw, man Forman had to tell his parents that I wasn’t at breakfast this morning cause I was at the library. I didn’t even know this town had a library!” He kind of feels his heart constrict at her disappointment. “You know Red’d freak if he found out I was spending the nights here, probably assume shit.”

“Yeah, true.” She pouts, averting her gaze. “You better get going then before Red starts to flip.”

“Right… So your ma still isn’t back, huh?”

Hyde would like to pretend that he doesn’t shrink back at the sudden flash of rage in her eyes.

“No Steven! I told you! She’s still working on her tan in Mexico.” Jackie sits up, crossing her arms defensively. “We Burkhart women have a reputation to uphold! If we’re not the epitome of beauty, what’ll people like Donna have to live up to!” Hyde idly wonders how she’s become such a pro of diversion. “It’s really a hard job Steven, we constantly have to be on our A game, or else the whole pyramid of beauty standards crumbles!”

“Ah huh…?”

Her lips pinch, brows scrunched together with no small amount of frustration.

“Look just take your surly attitude and get going, will you? I have a Tiger Beat to read.”

“Jackie I’m not gonna leave you alone here. Now c’mon, tell me what the hell’s actually going on! Your mom’s been working on her tan for the last month!”

“Steven, it’s real hard to get the perfect golden brown—“

“Jackie!”

“What!”

“Is your mom even coming back home?”

The stutter in her answer right then is enough of a tell for Hyde to demand she packs an overnight bag. “You’re staying the night with me at the Forman’s.”

She doesn’t move, stance rigid, and set jaw.

“I don’t need to stay with you Steven. I’m fine. I have my house keeper coming tomorrow morning, I’ll be fine.”

Hyde wants to argue, wants to shout that like fuck he’s gonna leave his chick here in this enormous place all by herself overnight. That she shouldn’t have such a fucking hardhead when it comes to him. That he knows that they started this thing off with steamy makeouts, but she should know it’s moved way passed that. They— their relationship… it means the fucking world to him. This thing they have going for them is probably one of the most important things in his life. Hyde would’ve never risked his friendship with one of his oldest pals if it weren’t.

Honestly, Hyde wants to shout that she should’ve told him when she realized Pam wasn’t coming home. She should’ve trusted him, because yeah Hyde kind of sucks at the whole communicating with words thing. But he still would’ve tried, for her. Hell, he’s pretty terrified because he’s just about sure that there’s not a single thing he wouldn’t do for Jackie freaking Burkhart.

He does none of that. Partly because he has no idea where to even begin, and partly because he knows that even with all their differences, he and Jackie were cut from the same cloth. Both to stubborn for what’s good for them, and both to independent to admit they’d need anything at all from anyone.

So instead of all that, Hyde just putters up to her, rubs a hand up and down her arm with feeling.

“Look i’m kinda accustomed to having someone plastered all up on me while I sleep, and waking up cold cause she stole the blankets. If you don’t come with me I’ll probably never be comfortable in my cot alone.”

Her glower is securely set on her face, but Hyde feels a thaw in her exterior.

“I don’t steal the blankets, you throw them on me.”

“Whatever you say doll,” he kisses her temple, and when she squeezes him in an embrace, he pretends he doesn’t feel her tears seeping through the material of his t-shirt. Just holds her tighter than ever before.

She’s all bubblegum laughter, and butter scotch kisses. Hyde thinks he loves her, thinks he’s always loved her. Hates that it’s taken him so long to tell her as much.

Hates it even more that the first time he’s ever told her so is when the break between them is too raw— too jagged— to be able to mend with pretty platitudes like I love yous. When the thought of him and some random nurse is still seared in her mind, and tales the end of everything he manages to say to her.

Hyde isn’t surprised when she storms out, when she tells him she doesn’t feel the same way. Not anymore. And why should she?

Hyde hates that he let himself fall in love with her. Let himself feel the butterflies in his gut, and the sweat on his palms. Hates that he still thinks she’s the most beautiful, brilliant girl on the face of the planet. Hates that when Kelso tells him that he’s still going after her, all Hyde could think is that she deserves anyone but him, even a prick like Kelso.

Hyde hates that the only girl he’s ever loved is the only girl he’s ever hurt so irrecoverably.

He realizes that he still has a shot with the one girl that’s ever been worth a damn.

He fights for her. She leaves him for the summer, with the question of who she’ll choose still suspended in his every breath

He kisses three other girls that summer, and none of them make him feel like his insides were bursting with something greater than glee. He concludes that the only person who’ll ever make him feel like that is the one person he can never be with again.

Until she tells him she wants to be with him, and he kisses her like the fate of his world depended on it.

“I missed you puddin pop.”

Hyde smiles against Jackie’s lips, swears he’ll never let go of this feeling again.

“I need to know that there’s a future for us.”

It’s the one thing Jackie’s always wanted, and the one thing Hyde’s never been able to give.

Hyde’s seen what marriages do to people. Seen the utter contempt in Edna’s eyes whenever she even so much as looked at Bud. The absolute shit show circus that was the Pinciotti household. The way Pam left her only daughter so callously after finalizing the divorce from the man she married for his money. Hyde knows that the Forman’s are a one in a million kind of deal, and Hyde’s never been one in a million for anything.

Besides Hyde knows Jackie, knows all the intimate parts that string together her person. Knows that she’s a beautiful whirlwind of jutting cheekbones and cunning smirks. Knows that no matter how hard she’d always dreamed of the debonair lifestyle, that she would’ve never been content with him as a partner. A man child with a family history as complicated as Marx’s manifesto, and who’s never been enough for anyone a day in his life.

She goes to Chicago before hearing his answer, (because of course she does). She gets her own segment on the morning show after three and a half months of working there, (because of course she does.) She’s the perfect amalgam of beauty, and wit, all while keeping a finger on the pulse point of popular culture. The camera loves her, and the audience is completely smitten. (Because of course they are.)

Donna tells him all this, and Hyde can do nothing but nod. She’s only confirming what Hyde’s always known was Jackie’s fate. One that’s always been destined for greatness, and had no room for the dirtbag she kissed on her daddy’s pearly white Lincoln when she was sixteen because she was a dumb, starry eyed homecoming queen who thought that she could ever love someone like him.

It hurts like fucking hell, but Hyde knows she’s better off.

But if he keeps the little velvet box still tucked under his favorite Zeppelin shirt in the drawer she use to keep her spare toiletries and tops in for whenever she spent the night— the one that still has a couple of her things that Hyde’s studiously forgotten to remind her were here— well that’s only for him to know.

The Forman’s hold a huge get together for the turn of the decade, with all their family and friends.

Kelso’s playing an intense round of peekaboo with Betsy, while a endeared looking Brooke smiles at the pair of them. Laurie and Fez are off getting handsy upstairs, and Eric and Donna are practically plastered to one another’s sides after so many months apart. Hell even Red and Mrs. Forman are holding hands and sharing fond gazes.

Hyde knows that somewhere in the crowd there’s a pretty, strawberry blonde that Fez invited from work (“because you also need some lovin after Jackie shattered your heart”). He knows that she’s waiting for him to give her the time of day, but knows just as well that he never will.

Hyde opts to grab a beer from the pile, and get away from the lot of love whipped morons he’s surrounded himself with by getting a breath of fresh air in the driveway.

What he doesn’t expect is after ten minutes of contemplating where he’s exactly found himself at twenty years old, a pearly white Lincoln slides up on the curb.

Stunned and a little petrified, he watches as Jackie— still beautiful after almost six months apart, and still haughty looking as all get out with a Gucci bag slung across her shoulder— steps out.

Her pretty, mismatched eyes widen only a fraction once catching sight of him. But she doesn’t demure, walks up to him like it’s nothing. And he thinks that absolute abandon, the way she wore her heart on her sleeve without caring about the consequences, is what proved how much stronger she was over him. How she’s always been the strongest chick he’s ever known.

“Steven.” She speaks his name like a treasure.

“Jackie,” he says like a prayer.

“Thank you for the flowers— all of them, for every show.”

Hyde mentally staggers back, wondering just how she figured it was him that sent them.

“They were Calla Lilies,” she shrugs, seemingly reading his mind. “I always told you that they’d be the flowers for our wedding.”

Hyde takes off his sunglasses, wants to have an unobstructed view of her after so much time apart. Wants to drink her in for as long as possible for when she eventually leaves him again.

“You deserved them. You were always amazing on screen whenever I got to watch you while visiting WB in Chicago.”

She kinks up a brow in silent question.

“We’re thinking of opening a new headquarters there— he wants me to run it— ya know, cause I’m his son and all.”

“Is that so,” the corner’s of her mouth curve up into a small, enchanted smile. One that Hyde returns in earnest.

“Yeah, well that,” he clasps her mitten clad hand with his bare one. Gingerly, questioningly. .

“And I told him that the only person I want to be around happens to live their, and I’d deal with all of Angie’s craziness if it meant that I could be down there with that one person.”

Her smile stretches into a full blown grin, equal parts beautiful and breathtaking. Making Hyde’s insides feel like he’s just been bathed in sunlight.

He doesn’t feel it when the snow starts to trickle down on them, or hear the bell of the new year ring true. All Hyde can focus on is the way Jackie presses up on the tips of her toes, and how her lips still fit so perfectly against his own. How it still feels like his stomach is doing gymnastic routines.

All Hyde could think is that he’s kissing the girl of his dreams in front of her daddy’s pearly white Lincoln, and how it feels like the start of his world as he knows it.

They part only to catch their breath, pressing foreheads against one another, as if terrified to stay apart for long, less the other person will dissipate right before their eyes.

“Hey Jackie.”

“Hmm?”

“That person I was telling WB about… That was you, believe or not.”

“Shut up you pig,” she punches him in the arm and all he could do is smile, feeling something wonderful bloom somewhere deep in his chest.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Yeah, well you love me back!”

“Yeah… Yeah I do.”

#Zenmasters #Jackie Burkhart #STEVEN HYDE #JACKIE AND HYDE #Spilled Ink #That 70s Show #SPILT INK

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prplzorua · 6 years

Text

Sleep it Off

I've got a helluva head cold, so instead of y'know sleeping, I decided, why not write a sick fic with Remy? With the premise my fogged mind decided to give me. "Like what if he tries to hide it at first but then it gets worse and the entire mindscape starts to get slow and feel sluggish until the others find him?" Sooo ye, this the product if that lol. Sned halp I'm dying. ---------

It started off with a headache. A small thing that was easily ignored. It's not like it was the first time he had a headache, he could deal. Nothing was going to stop him from doing his job, no ma'am! Not today bitch.

Not tomorrow either.

...

Or the next day.

...

Or the next- look man, he had shit to do, places to see and people to be and all that...

Remy frowned, that phrase didn't sound right... places to see and people to be-wasn't it the other way around?

Remy raised a manicured hand and rubbed his tired eyes, but continued to stare forward into the Sand screens, sighing as he had to rewind them back for the few seconds that he had missed when is eyes were closed. He been at it for days, constantly searching. Searching for something, a disturbance, what that disturbance was he didn't know and that unnerved him.

He kept sensing it from beyond the gate, at best it could be a stray Nightmare at worst a particularly gruesome intrusive thought.

Turns out...

It was both.

-------

Fighting off the Nightmare was child's play compared to the fight the Intrusive thought was giving him, and that's wild to say, considering that the Nightmare had been the 12 foot version of Mothman and Godzilla's love baby.

Thankfully a perfectly timed Sand Spear to its heart downed the creature effectively, but that of course was after he got tossed around like a freaking ragdoll-

Hissing Remy dodged the shadowed claw aiming for his throat. That was the annoying this about Intrusive thoughts. Once they snuck their claws into you, once their shadowy bodies clinged and coiled around you, once they whispered in your ears...you were practically done for. Unless of course, you had strong will power, but that could only take you so far.

Crouching into a side roll, Sleep narrowly dodged again. The thing's shadowy form could stretch, allowing its claws to jab at him at any distance. It made things a little bit difficult- not that his job was ever easy.

Rolling once more Remy then pushed himself up, jumping to his feet and then bending back to avoid a swipe to his head-even though the movement was quick, the Guardian saw the swirling claw pass over the lenses of his sunglasses in slow motion- huffing he quickly threw his hands over his head, pushing on the grass below him to basically complete a backflip.

Once upright and now a slight distance away from the enemy, Remy smirked, lifted a finger and beckoned it closer.

The Intrusive thought, angered, rushed forward- only for Sleep to take a single step back- it ran into a wall of sand. Confused the Thought tried to go around in an attempt to rip the Guardian into pieces- except it ran into another wall...and then another...and another. And before it could even think to have climbed up, another wall was placed above it.

It was completely surrounded.

"What you thought I was rolling around for nothin'? Please, this jacket is too goddessdamn expensive for that. Everytime I rolled, I had my Sand spread out, enough to lift up into a cage. Nice trick don'tcha think?"

The Intrusive thought howled throwing itself against the walls of its Sandy prison.

"Thought so too", Smirked Remy, "alright then, lights out buddy!"

Sleep clapped his palms together- the Sand walls moved, closing shut and completely crushing the being it once held.

"Welp, that's all folks", mumbled the Guardian to himself. The annoying buzzing had finally stopped, but his head still ached something rude.

Wincing a bit, he headed back to the Dream Tower.

-----

Remy groaned.

He fixed the problem, so why does his head still feel like he got run over by the mob at Sb's when Pumpkin Spice first gets out?

Speaking of Starbucks, when was the last time he actually went there? Last week? Week before? Why can't he remember??

He'd been functioning on the castle's brew, which wasn't bad, just...not good.

Eh, fuck it.

Shower, coffee then a power nap, yeah- that's a good idea, it'll probably get rid of his stupid headache too.

One cold shower, a trip to Starbies and an iced coffee later...he was now on his bed with an even worse headache.

Grumbling to himself about 'stupid fuckin headaches', Remy downed the rest of his drink, tossed his cup in the bin by his door and proceeded to flop down face first into his pillow.

Maybe the nap would help?

------

It did not help.

He woke up, not even a half hour later, with his head pounding so hard he could feel his pulse though his eyes.

Placing a hand to his temple Remy winced and then groaned, "what-the-ever-loving-fuck?!"

To make matters worse, his phone began to ring.

The sound was so loud it made him jump and scramble to shut it up.

It was the ringtone he used for Thomas but he honestly couldn't bring himself to answer his Host. His body had near automatically curled up, hands pressed against his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. Remy honestly felt like his head was trying to explode, even the sound of his own breathing was too loud-

The phone rang again, Roman's ringtone this time. A louder, much more bass heavy song.

The sound echoed, the reverb practically shaking his brain into pained mush, tears pricked at his eyes and he could do nothing more than whimper-

Remy's sand then rose up immediately and just...ate?? the offending piece of technology.

Sleep found that oddly funny, the sand covered the phone...and then the phone was gone, like a magic trick...or like something getting swallowed up by waves off the beach. Funny, the sand was the wave this time. He wanted to laugh or cry or something! He didn't know, everything...everything just freakin hurt.

----

Roman frowned.

"He's not answering my calls either"

"Of course" mumbles Thomas, flopping down on his bed and throwing a pillow over his face. "Uggh! I'm so tirrreed!!

"Um, We could always go look for him for you sport?" Tried Patton, a sympathetic look on his face.

"You could do that?"

"Well, considering that we can't really summon him since he's an Aspect and not a Side, that would be the best possible way of bringing him here", piped Logan from the Host's door frame.

Virgil, who was on the floor, shrugged. "I mean, I guess, we probably should check the nearest SB's first though"

Thomas chuckles "true"

The Manifestor removes the pillow from his face just in time to watch his sides sink down, hopefully they can find Sleep so he could actually get some decent sleep for once.

-----

The Personalities pop up in the Commons before climbing up the stairs towards Roman's room.

"Soo", whistles Virgil, falling into step with the prince, "where exactly are we going to find him?"

"The gate, first"

"But its day? I thought he only guarded it at night?"

"No, he guards it at all times, he's the Guardian of the Subconscious not a freaking night guard!"

"Woah easy Princey, go off on him not me-"

"No, no sorry, I just- he never ignores my calls, if he misses it, he calls me back immediately, we made a deal about it in case of emergencies...I think- I think something's wrong"

The other three exchange a glance at each other.

Roman pushes open the door a bright light depicting the portal to his Kingdom, the Mindscape itself. With a bit of concentration the light disperses, showing the image of the Dream Tower's entrance.

-----

The moment they step in, Roman freezes.

Everything feels off.

The air feels slow and sluggish and no one is moving around. As a matter of fact, no one was there at all.

Frowning, he climbs up the stairs towards Remy's room. Something was definitely wrong, the Dream Tower was always bustling with, Aspects, Figments and Emotions.

The others follow behind Roman as he picks up the pace-he almost trips.

There's a tugging, he looks down...sand, Gold sand is wrapped around his ankle.

"Shit!"

-------

"The Sand's not gonna attack us right? I've never seen it like this before"

"That's because it's worried about him, aren't your shadows the same way?"

"Uh, sometimes? I think? There a hell of a lot less sentient than this sand is, that's for sure"

Remy's room...would make the Sahara Desert cry.

Everything, everything was covered in sand. Well it was more like wrapped in sand? The glittering, gold dust didn't drown anything under it, the individual shapes of everything were clearly visible but it was a lot of sand.

"Will you two stop ogling at it and help us get him out of it. The infernal thing doesn't seem to realize the more it covers him the less of him we can actually hold-" huffs Logan, as he keeps trying to brush the sand off of Remy. Every time he did so more sand would crawl over it master, hissing at the Teacher as it did so.

Patton places a hand on his shoulder.

"Logan wait- I think the Sand doesn't want us to touch him"

"But that would defeat the purpose of it asking us to help!?"

"No I think it's for a different reason. I have an idea-"

"Patton we-"

"Hear him out L, none of us know what's going on-"

"Thank you Virge, Roman can you conjure me a thermometer?"

"Um, ok?" The prince holds out his hand and after a brief second of concentration, a new prepackaged thermometer appears.

Patton wastes no time in grabbing it and tearing pack open. Gently he turns Sleep's head- the Sand hisses at him for this.

"Shh, I'm just trying to help ok"

If sand could look sceptical...though it quiets and let's the Prominent personality slip the thermometer between Remy's parted lips.

It's kept under his tongue until it beeped-

"104.6°F"

-------

Bonus:

"Sleep"

"Ngh, where-?"

"Hey Sleep!"

"Mnh?"

Remy blinked his eyes open. His vision was blurry and his head pounded. Honestly he was consider going right back to-

"Sleep!"

Remy sat up with a gasp. Wincing as a cold rag fell into his lap. He picked it up. "What?"

"You ok there pal?"

Remy tensed, only just realizing that someone was in front of him, that someone being a very worried-

"Thomas?"

"Yeah it's me-"

"Where-?"

"You're in my room, and you kinda brought the Sides here too"

Ever confused, Remy could only squint and mumble. "Wha?"

Thomas simply pointed down.

From the bed that they were on, Remy could indeed see Thomas' main sides in all degrees of sprawled asleep on the floor. They did look quite peaceful though.

"Um?"

"Yeah...that was my reaction too-"

"You said I brought them here?"

"Uh, ye, about that...what do you remember?"

Sleep placed a hand to his head, wincing... "Um, your- your phone call I think and ...Roman's? But other than that, I have no clue"

"I-uh, I guess I could tell you what they told me?"

"Better than nothing, go for it"

-------

"Pat said you had a high fever and according to him, the others were helping to lower it, but-"

"but?"

"But you...kinda woke up? Roman said you were out of it, mumbling something about protecting me and a fence-"

"Gate"

"What?"

"It's a Gate, huge ass Golden gate that separates the conciousness from the unconsciousness, the literal division and final protection of your subconscious"

"...ok wow, I didn't, um"

"I still can't believe that you've been inside the subconscious, the damn Dream Tower itself and still haven't seen the Gate"

"In my defense, I almost died"

"Fair. Now continue, what did my apparently fever drunk ass do next?"

"Um, well Virgil said you turned into a zombie, you like stood up and were trying to get outside, Roman had to hold you back but you kept shuffling forward-"

"Oof. Yeah...been there done that-"

"What? This happened before?"

"Ohh yeah. One time I was sick and my girls at the Tower had to legit lock me in my room so I wouldn't keep working"

"And here I thought you were lazy?"

"I'm far from lazy hun, I'm just always late. I don't like hard work, doesn't mean I won't do it, I just don't like it. Besides I'm cool do you think anyone this fine could look like this by being lazy? Please gurl, my work schedule could put Logan to shame"

"And yet-"

"And yet I'm always late, yeah- yeah. Look my sense of time and direction, are like, complete shit babes, but at the end of the day, I get my shit done and it gets done well. Quality over quantity and all that."

Both Aspect and Host paused and then instantly started laughing.

"Ok,ok, what happened next? How did we all end up in here?" Asked Remy as he gained his breath back.

"Uh, yeah, um apparently while you were struggling against Roman, Logan had asked Patton how he thought this would have affected me-"

"And let me guess, I heard him mention your name and just popped everyone here huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much, basically"

Remy shook his head at himself.

"Alright, why are they all sprawled out? I doubt that Roman of all people volunteered to sleep on the floor"

"Yeah...about that. When you brought everyone here, you kinda passed back out. The others were trying to explain something about the sand in your room, when this Gold sand just appeared from nowhere and Moana-Ocean-style came up to each of them in like the shape of a finger and just.. shushed them. Like literally went "Shhh"

"Oh, God-"

"And then before we could question it, it retracted, like it crawled back over you and turned into your bag- wait! Is that why you always have this bag with you?!"

"No duh? It's my sand, just easier to carry it around in bag form-"

"H-how, how does it change color like that?"

"It doesn't, that's just the color it takes when it's dormant and bright Gold when awake-"

"Cool, and what about your shades and Jacket?"

"That...is whole 'nother story, one I have absolutely no energy to tell tbh"

"Oh. Ok, well the guys kinda just drifted right off after your Sand became your bag, so yeah, that's the whole story I guess"

"A mess, but good to know-" Remy chuckled only to cut himself off with a wince. His head was still hurting like hell, even throughout Thomas' recounting- but now it just felt worse.

Watching Sleep in pain made the Host's stomach coil. He didn't like seeing anyone hurt, especially his Sides or Aspects in this case.

Gently he grabbed Sleep's shoulders and helped lower him back onto a pillow.

"Ok, why don't you lay back down-"

"Yeah, ok"

------

Remy lays back, settling himself on the bed...and then he pouts.

Thomas chuckles, already knowing the reason for that pout. He easily pulls Remy onto his chest, patting his back gently. The Aspect practically melts into it.

"And you call me clingy"

"Shhh!"

-----

Thomas is woken up early next morning, by the sounds of hissing and mumbled cursing.

Sitting up, he bites his tongue so as not to laugh at the sight before him.

A disheveled Roman was carrying a very much asleep...Sleep, bridal style. The Aspect had his face burrowed in the crook of the Prince's neck, seemingly relaxed, completely unperturbed by the events. Right next to Roman was Patton, who was holding Virgil quite similarly. Every second or so, the Emo's foot or arm would twitch before he resettled. Honestly between Virgil and Remy, Thomas couldn't tell who was snoring harder. The kicker though, was Logan, sleepily holding onto Patton's cat hoodie,slightly swaying as he rubbed his eyes. The Logical side was obviously not a morning person.

Patton waved at his Host, while Roman gave him a nod, Logan mumbled something, but Thomas could not decipher any of the other's sleepy jargon.

The Manifestor simply waved as they sunk down.

Once gone, Thomas flopped right back down curling up comfortably- what? He was sleepy.

------

AN:// Hi guys, I did a thing! I should probably take a nap tho XD. The Innerworks update is still coming, I've just been busy and tired, but it's coming, just hang in there. But you can consider this lil ficlet a part of the Innerworks universe, it just takes place after the events in Innerworks....so canon lol.

#sander sides #thomas sanders #sleep sanders #remy sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sick fic #my writting #innerworks #technically #have a sick Remy cause why not?

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my-miraculous-headcanons · 6 years

Text

The Sorceress AU

In which everything is almost exactly the same... except Marinette was born into a family of sorceresses, and knew about the magical world ever since her abilities bloomed when she was a child.

Background Stuff

• Tikki was honestly baffled by the Guardian’s decision, at first. A Guardian has never chosen someone already in possession of magical talent— it’s dangerous to even consider it. It’s too much power in the hands of someone who already has power to begin with.

• She quickly learns that she shouldn’t have been so wary of the Guardian’s choice. Marinette is an exceptional Ladybug, with a heart of gold, who, despite having such an abundance of power, never lets any of it go to her head.

• It’s not really so much as the Guardian’s choice that she’s so wary about now, so much as how the miraculous will... interact with Marinette’s already existing abilities.

• In the end, both Tikki and Marinette agree to not use any of her magic while in the Ladybug suit. They don’t really want to test anything out, since magic is... well. Dangerous. Experimentation with magic is especially dangerous.

• However, that doesn’t stop Marinette from experimenting outside the mask. In fact, her family is known for experimentation. The Cheng family in particular has a long history of discovering and creating new magic spells, whilst the Dupain family has a book filled with the different potions that had been created with each generation.

• Marinette made her first spell when she was four. She shows it to Tikki— the spell that plucks stars out of the sky and weaves them into your hair, turning it into the night itself. Nearly a decade later, and it’s still her favourite spell. She’s trying to figure out how to alter it so she can use it on a dress she’s making.

• Marinette made her first potion when she was seven. She lovingly calls it the “Muse Potion,” a potion that conjures the perfect image in a waft of smoke that inspires any person who sees it. It has certainly helped her through design slumps.

• Ladybug never tells Chat Noir or anyone that she’s a sorceress (in training). Chat Noir remains oblivious to her abilities, since she never uses it in battle. (Even when she’s really, really tempted to, sometimes.)

• Marinette never tells anyone as a civilian either, not even Alya. There’s strict rules on keeping the nonmagical out of the magical community. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t use magic often— in fact she uses it all the time, sometimes unconsciously. For example, she had accidentally infused the lucky charm she gave Adrien with a minor good luck spell.

• After becoming Ladybug, Marinette had discovered a purification spell completely by accident. She saw an akuma flying about the park, and as it passed her while she sat under a tree, she reached out and grabbed it by the wing. It turned white where the wing and her fingers touched, spread, and suddenly the evil color was just... gone.

• This gets Marinette wondering what other spells from her Ladybug life she can replicate. Tikki usually wouldn’t ever allow this, but as long as Marinette doesn’t record these particular spells, she will let it slide.

• Marinette created almost a perfect replica of the Ladybug Lucky Charm spell, except the items she gets are completely red, never spotted. She also created a Miraculous Cure spell, except it’s nowhere near as powerful as Ladybug’s, and it doesn’t specifically focus on damage caused by akuma. She used it on her room, and it fixed pretty much everything that was broken, soiled, etc.

Story time!

• Ladybug’s secret as a sorceress remains intact, but... it turns out as a civilian, she’s not as lucky.

• Marinette performs a purification spell on an Akuma she finds fluttering about in the school hallway, thinking that no one is around to see her. False. Adrien, who had just got back from a photoshoot, sees her, and nearly has an aneurysm.

• Adrien quickly hides under the stairs and watches as Marinette walks back into the classroom, and has a silent freak out. He asks Plagg if Ladybug can purify akumas outside of the suit, to which the kwami replies hell no, which just makes the whole thing a thousand times more confusing.

• He asks if Hawkmoth can purify his own akuma. Plagg says yeah, technically, and Adrien is even further dying because omg is Marinette Hawkmoth and if she is why the fuck did she just purify her own akuma??? WAS THAT OLD MAN’S FACE AND VOICE FROM THE BEGINNING JUST A COVERUP SO THAT NO ONE WOULD SUSPECT HER??? HOW COULD THE SWEETEST GIRL IN THE WORLD BE A TERRORIST WHAT IS GOING ON???

• Adrien has to walk into class, sit down, and go through the rest of the day pretending as if absolutely nothing is wrong. Plagg, for some reason, finds this entire thing hilarious, but Adrien is not fucking laughing.

• At the end of the day, he transforms into Chat Noir, runs to her place, sees her in front of the bakery, and pretty much kidnaps Marinette. Like, straight up snatches her off the street.

• She has quite a few Words for Chat Noir when he finally puts her down on some random rooftop a far distance away from her home, but he doesn’t really let her start, instead immediately interrogating her.

• “Are you Hawkmoth? What are your reasons for terrorizing Paris? How did you come into possession of the butterfly miraculous? Why on earth would someone as kind as you ever twist the negative emotions of the very people you care about? What—”

• “I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

• Marinette is furious. Furious enough that she just fucking decks the superhero in the face, and attempts to stomp away, because she refuses to deal with a fucking idiot. Unfortunate, the cat has other plans, so he grabs her wrist and keeps her in place.

• “Let me go!” “Answer my questions!” “I’M NOT ANSWERING THE QUESTIONS OF AN IDIOT WHO’S ACCUSING ME OF BEING SOMETHING I’M NOT WITHOUT ANY PROOF OR REASON!” “YOU ABSORBED THE ENERGY OF A FREAKING AKUMA IN YOUR SCHOOL HALLWAY!”

• Everything’s quiet for a moment while Marinette settles that information in her head. She lets out a quiet, but heartfelt ‘fuck’ from under her breath. Chat takes this as a sign of admission and demands that she hands over the butterfly miraculous.

• So... at this point, if she wants to clear her name, she really doesn’t have any other option than to... out herself. And technically, the rules apply to nonmagical people, and Chat Noir... has magic. So it’s not really breaking the rules, right?

• “Chat. It was a spell. I performed a spell. I don’t have the butterfly miraculous, I’m the fucking real-life version of Matilda here. I figured out a spell replicating Ladybug’s purification magic. I’m a sorceress, Chat.”

• Chat’s response is “You’re a what?” Quite frankly, this is beginning to sound eerily similar to Harry Potter, except the conversation is somehow inverted.

• “The Dupain and Cheng families are two extensive families with a knack for magic, and are both well-known in the magical community. I’m a sorceress in training.”

• Okay. So. He may have a magical ring, and he may run around Paris in a magical skintight leather catsuit, but this is a little too much. So, in response, he demands that Marinette proves it. On a random rooftop. In public. With people down below taking pictures of their local superhero. Yeah, great idea Chat, you fucking moron—

• She proves it by zipping his lips shut and refusing to undo it until he brings her back home. Not before loudly wondering if she would do Paris a favour by leaving him like that. (In her defense, he seriously pissed her off.)

• She undoes it the moment her feet meets the floorboards of her balcony.

• “I believe you now.”

• “I’d call you a fucking idiot if you didn’t believe me at this point.”

• Chat Noir goes home that day and proceeds to scream into his pillow.

Adrien Knows Now

• Turns out, hiding the fact that you know someone else’s secret is, like, a million times harder than keeping your own secret. He can’t help but focus on Marinette wherever she goes now, because, well... What other magic has she been doing without anyone noticing?

• He notices that she talks to her bag sometimes, which would be weird if he noticed that before he found out she’s basically a witch. (Sorceress, she said, but really? She’s a witch. It’s easier to call her a witch. Just... not to her face.) He wonders if she has some magical being in there, or a familiar, or maybe she even enchanted her bag so it has a soul or— or something.

• He catches her conjuring up a mock-up version of Lucky Charm and nearly has a heart attack. The item isn’t spotted, so he knows it’s not a real one, but that’s still... wow.

• He realises one day after leaving his Marinette Lucky Charm at home by accident that his luck all of a sudden got worse... And then he comes to the abrupt realisation that it may actually be fucking lucky. Marinette gave him an ACTUAL good luck charm.

• Does Alya know? He keeps trying to make sly conversation with Alya about what... other things Marinette can do, but he’s come to the conclusion that Alya definitely doesn’t know. In fact, he’s pretty sure he accidentally gave her the impression that he was asking if Marinette can do... stuff in the bedroom, which is why Alya’s been high-key hating him since that conversation. She doesn’t let him go anywhere near Marinette now. (Plagg finds this hilarious. Plagg can shut the fuck up.)

• He corrects the misunderstanding later by saying he was asking if Marinette can crochet, too, and that he forgot the word for it. Alya believes him, but he’s on thin fucking ice now. Watch yourself, Agreste.

• Now every time he tries to talk to Marinette, Alya’s glaring at him over her shoulder. Which makes things infinitely harder, because at this point, he doesn’t think he can keep the fact that he knows Marinette’s secret from her any longer. He needs to tell her but... How is he supposed to do that with Alya always there, silently threatening to skin him alive???

• He finds his answer shortly after. He knocks on the Dupain-Cheng’s front door, gets invited in, and— and apparently, they forgot that they had a floating flowerpot beside their window. He doesn’t need to confront Marinette at all. He just needed to catch her parents in the act.

• They’re freaking the hell out, and Adrien realises now that he doesn’t really need to make up an excuse as to how he figured out Marinette is a witch. (Sorceress. Whatever.) He’s pretty sure if he confronted her about cleansing the Akuma, she might suspect that he’s Chat Noir. Because she’s smart like that. (Lmao Adrien... you have no idea how oblivious this girl is.)

• M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng give him a lesson on their history and stress the importance of keeping this a secret. In fact, they go into detail about their family and it’s— it’s fascinating. Holy hell is it fascinating. Marinette is, like, magic royalty or something, not just “well known.” And a prodigy, at that. Each member of the Cheng family even have their own titles, all written down in some ancient book with an unlimited amount of pages, including the achievements of each member. Marinette doesn’t have a title yet, she will when she completes an important “test,” but she has... a whole page worth’s of achievements under her name. Apparently, she’s beaten the record for inventing the most spells. “She’s just so creative,” Sabine says. “She’s always coming up with ideas, and she doesn’t like to leave a single one unfinished. She’ll always keep trying until she brings her idea to life.”

• Marinette comes home to find Adrien flipping through her family’s super fucking secret ancestry book in front of her parents and nearly has a straight up heart attack. So. Her crush knows now. Along with the beloved Parisian cat superhero, but her parents don’t know that nor will they ever. She can,,, she can deal with this.

• She can’t deal with this. She has two different blond boys attacking her with questions at different times of day and, honestly, she never thought she could lose her patience with either one of them so quickly and horribly. Especially with Adrien. She’s three seconds away from snapping at him for asking her a question in public again. It’s a secret for a reason, you dumb sunshine child!!! You’re so lucky I love you!!!

• Alya is baffled as to why Marinette is trying so hard to avoid Adrien now. It’s a... very new development. Her suspicions with him grow, like, 100000% and she goes to ask him what the FUCK did he pull with her best friend, and he desperately tries to convince her that he didn’t do anything for fuck’s sake Alya stop scARING THE SHIT OUT OF ME I SWEAR I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING

• Chat Noir is trickier to avoid. In fact, she can’t avoid him. He comes to her and either kidnaps her off the streets or from school, or waits on her balcony and receptively knocks on her glass window until she gets so annoyed that she has no choice but to let him in, for the sake of her own sanity.

• She gets used to Chat Noir leaning his head on her shoulder while she makes potions for her training and tests. In fact, his purring is calming, although she’d never admit that to him. He only really knows for sure that Marinette actually enjoys his company when she invites him to her milestone ceremony, where she finally earns her permanent title through a test. It was an exciting night.

The Reveal

• The reveal happens when Ladybug decides to break her promise to Tikki and perform magic whilst in the mask. She didn’t want to, but it was an emergency situation— her miraculous almost got destroyed. Oh, and, uh, herself too. She almost died along with the miraculous. Obviously, she had to do something. Tikki will understand.

• She pulled the spell off without a hitch, but she does admit that it felt... very strange. She can’t put her finger on it. But whatever, she stopped the time surrounding a destructive beam, suspending it midair. She turns, ready to take on the akuma, and then she sees Chat’s face and— and there’s realisation there. He knows. He’s spent enough time with Marinette to know how a sorceress performs her spells.

• It doesn’t take long for him to piece together her identity. And it doesn’t take long for him to have an absolute freak out over it. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, remarkable sorceress, designer of a Jagged Stone album cover and glasses, winner of a Gabriel Agreste fashion contest, class president... and also, apparently, the fucking superhero of Paris. She is... so ridiculously far out of his league, it’s not even funny. He’s screwed. SCREWED. It’s over. He’s going to die alone, with, like, a million cats. (Hah.)

• Once Adrien gets over his complete meltdown, he and Marinette are able to talk to each other. She sits him down in her room, wraps him in a blanket, gives him a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies, and lets him meet Tikki. Everything is a lot less terrifying and awkward after that. They end up staying up late, Marinette now feeling as if she can share everything with Chat.

• "My lady... Don’t you want to know who I am, too?” “You don’t need to reveal anything right now, chaton. Tell me when you think it’s the perfect moment. I don’t wanna overwhelm you. Or me. Either of us.”

• He tells her after she finally gains her title, and asks her out on a date. Her answer is a resounding hell yes— except he shouldn’t be too excited, because apparently he’s been twice as annoying as she thought he was being, so he’s not allowed to see her at night for the next month. This is what he gets for badgering her as both Adrien and Chat Noir.

• Alya is very, very confused by how Marinette suddenly goes from one day completely avoiding Adrien’s very existence, to telling her she and him are dating. What the hell happened, here?

I hope you guys liked this AU for Spoopy Month. If you’re wondering about Sabine and Marinette’s titles, it’s Sabine the Decisive and Marinette the Creative.

I can see Adrien as being the type to create... huge misunderstandings bc he keeps saying things that accidentally sound offensive, suggestive, or passive aggressive without meaning to. It’s a personal hc of mine.

I had an entirely different draft for this exact AU with a different storyline, one that I may post in like... the far future. But for now, I like the way this one turned out. The other draft is significantly less organised. (Although, the other draft has sorceress reveals for ALL of Marinette’s friends, and it’s great. Uuuugh, I was so conflicted over which one to post. I might call the other one the Witch AU and keep this one the Sorceress AU.)

#Marichat #Ladynoir #Adrienette #Adrinette #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Marinette Cheng #Alya Cesaire #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Maximilian Speaks #Sorceress AU

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queensdivas · 5 years

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A Damned Soul Chapter 3 (A Gwil Vamp Fic)

I know these updates are coming in left and right. If it’s one thing I love doing is that postponing all my work because I wanna write. If you’re reading this for the first time I hope you all enjoy! If you would like to be added to the taglist let me know! Request are open if you guys wanna request something! Hope you all enjoy and hope to see you in the next chapter!

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Taglist: @mexifangorl @i-live-for-queen @leah-halliwell92 @its-funny-til-its-not @bonafiderocketqueen @b-i-g-i-r-l-b-i @teathymewithben @mayofbrian @brianmydear @sprite-jh

Flipping the sign then unlocking the front door to the shop to see a few teenage girls were waiting outside. Stepping away from the door to let them into the shop. Looking around, giggling a little then head over to the home made candles.

“Is there a specific candle you would like?” Asking them as they began sniffing through almost all of them. Breathing in the ones that cast out...and the ones that bring in bad spirits. Yes this is what happens when you don’t read the signs that clearly say don’t smell the candles…

“So which one will make my ex boyfriend suffer for cheating on me?” One of them asked as I pointed to the light pink one.

“Light about four of those, then if you happen to have some sort of clothing belonging to him. You will burn each piece of clothing with the candle. For the incantation. Tsk tsk..” Walking over to the middle shelf to climb up the ladder. F...F...F… Falkers! Sliding down as I walked them over to the table for them to crowd around me. Skimming through the chapters of the book trying to remember where exactly it was in the book. Bingo!!

Flipping through then seeing the spell written in Latin. The girls were upset for a moment till I started translating from Latin to English for them. Then the steps that go along with the entire spell.

“Now follow these steps in this exact order so it’ll work. When it comes to the incarnation you have to say it slowly and clearly. Also make sure that it’s only you in the room and possibly the entire house since this is a dark spell. When it comes to dark spells there’s a possibility for a negative feedback to you and in the house. Figured I’d let you know before we finalize this.”

“What sort of negative feedback? I’m still doing this no matter what.” Walking over to the tablet to see her digging into her purse for money.

“Possibly a bad spirit that you conjured to go after him could appear for a few minutes, a nasty headache, and even some sort of weird rash on your neck. Nothing too extreme.” She slapped her money on the table as the rest of the girls were in shock that she was going through it. Taking the candles and the incantation to leave the store.

If it’s one thing Madame Rouge taught us is that everyone has the right to try to wield magic and practice spells. If they want to then let them try. But guide them so they don’t screw up the spell to cause some kind of trouble. So if she accidentally summons a demon because she wanted to cause trouble on her ex. All on her.

The door opened again as our main delivery man Charlies came into the store with his metal clipboard in hand. Charlie has been our main delivery man for almost everything under the sun. And we got in our supplies of something new I’ve been wanting to try for a while!

“Morning Charlie!” He took off his baseball cap as I began signing all the paperwork he had for me. Our hands just barely grazing against each other as some sort of film real appeared in my vision.

The drums were roaring deep as a tigers growl as the dancers flew around the large bonfire. Their chants louder than the drums playing themselves. The shadows of the dancers were telling some sort of story that I must see..

“Morning Nieve! How’s the new store coming along?” Blinking a few times as Charlie was beginning to talk to Nieve who was bringing down some blueberry buns. I finished singing the paperwork then handing the clipboard to Nieve so she could sign as well. That was kind of strange.

Usually Nieve handles the inventory of the store except this time I...I wanted to try something new. I’ve been working on some remedies from ancient remedies used by the Aztecs. According to certain texts that I’ve acquired by some freak miracle..they would use cocoa beans and frangipani to create some sort of ecstasy smoke to bring out the romance. Not exactly what I would recommend but since these readings and evidence say it works..it’s supposed to work.

“How many cocoa beans did you buy Robin?” Four crates came rolling into the store as Nieve was reading through the list of what we all bought. My eyes following the box then beginning to count on my fingers.

“Just enough to see if this little trick will work.” I shouldn’t be proud but I am because it’s my money as well.

“Five wooden crates full of cocoa beans!? Not to mention four crates full of frangipani...two full of Cinchona pubescens, and three of them being dumb cane.” Might have gotten wine drunk a few weeks ago when we were planning to move up here.

“Robin! Did you get wine drunk again!?” Charlie put the crates down in front of the counter then went back out to his truck to grab the rest of the crates.

“We need this stuff anyhow Nieve..” Now it’s like I’m being scolded..

“Since when do we need three crates of dumb cane anyhow!? Shit this is why no wine in the house! Just like you don’t let me drink vodka and lemonade because I accidentally made the village priest in the previous..previous town do a line dance. Now let me sort this out while you go down to the pier to fetch us some dinner. I’m really craving some sort of fish dinner.” Reaching my hand out for my purse to come from behind the counter then my green army jacket flew from the coat rack onto my shoulders.

“Any particular side dish you want?” Asking her as I put my arms through the sleeves of the jacket as she opened the first crate full of cocoa beans.

“Potatoes?” Nodding as I walked out of the shop then down the street towards the docks if I remember correctly.

To think Nieve have come this far in our lives still blows my mind. Figured we’d eventually find a place to finally settle down like how I want to eventually. But knowing Nieve who takes Madame Rouges post living instructions to the last period. Not saying it’s wrong or anything..but I would kind of like to stay in one place for more than two or three years..heck staying in Highbridge was almost less than two years. It might just be me being absolutely selfish..but just..not sure at the moment. Should be focusing on literally everything else at the moment instead of how I feel about this.

Making it to the docks to see the vast amount of fisherman coming into the docks with their catches of the day. Looks good from a distance I think. Not much of a fish person and never understand how people say “it taste like chicken.” Since when does fish taste like ch THERE'S SOMETHING SNIFFING MY BUTT! Looking down to see a mop sniffing my butt? It’s a dog… kneeling down to see that she was covered head to toe with beautiful white dreads with mud all over herself. Looking around her neck for some sort of collar.

“Well hello..exactly what kind of dog are you?” She sat down as I began digging my fingers through her hair then beginning to scratch behind her ears. So far no one has come running after to fetch her.

“Do you have a name?” No response. Hmmmm. Gitta is a pretty name for her.

“I dub the Gitta. Just have to figure out what kind of dog you are. Come then Gitta.” Barking as I got back up for us to start walking towards the docks. She walked a little ahead of me as I began walking past some of the stalls.

A vast amount of different fish were all over and it took me a little by surprise. I had no idea the North Sea was just filled with these fish. Gitta stopped in front of the stall that had large Atlantic Cod’s hanging and sitting in ice. Cod should just do the trick for tonight!

“Are ya new to Balmedie?” The fisherman asked as I was beginning to dig through my purse for my money.

“Yes. Just moved here from Highbridge.” C’mon! Don’t tell me I left my money at home! Damn damn damn! Plopping my bag down to the table as I continued to dig through my bag.

“You own the new shop don’t ya? The one that used to be the old library?” Nodding as I found the pounds at the bottom of my purse. Quickly counting through how much I have. The exact amount hopefully!

“How much for those two?” Pointing at the large but not too large cods.

“Eight pounds each. But for a pretty lass that you are, I’ll charge ya only five per one.” Wow..weird..but nice I guess. Pulling out my pounds as I handed it to them with his eyes diverting down to Gitta. Smiling at her as she was beginning to wag her tail at him.

“She finally found herself an owner.” Chuckling as he grabbed the fish I picked out to put them in a box that had some ice in it to keep them cool. My nails began scratching the top of Gitta’s head. Her tail smacking against the ground as she entered complete ecstasy.

“So she doesn't belong to anyone? I was so worried that if I took her home with me today, some angry dog owner was going to come after me.” Handing me the box as I held out my hand for him to give me my change.

“Nope. Has been wandering here since she was a pup with her old owner. A good guy who decided to go fishing when a storm was about to abrupt. Never seen or returned here again. She comes around all the time during this hour of the day just waiting for him to role in. Many have tried to take her home but she wouldn’t walk away with anyone.” Aww..so sad. Poor baby! He handed her a piece of his jerky as she chomped it down quickly.

“Well..hopefully she’ll like my home. If not then she’ll be back here again. Thank you for the fish.”

“Will I be seeing you around more?” My throat went dry as he had a large smile on his face.

“I’ll be back for more fish definitely Mr…”

“Call me Lewis. I’m here every day other than Tuesdays.” Tuesdays? He’s kind of cute I guess. Not your typical fisherman since he didn’t appear all scruffy, angry, or even covered head to toe in blood. Or it was the fact he wanted to look decent when selling fish.

“Robin. I’ll definitely need to stop by then on Tuesdays.” Shaking his hand when in an instant a film reel rapidly played again like before with Charles..

Gowns flowing around the dance floor as two palms were lightly touching each other. Their gazes never meeting as her eyes began focusing on a man in the crowd..

“You alright there?” Stinging as the box slipped from my hands., black spots began appearing in my eyes as I nodded to his question. Yup. That was just..spooky. Picking up the box from the ground as Gitta and I began walking to the other stalls. We need potatoes, carrots, and maybe some sort of dessert? I don’t feel like cooking all that so fish, potatoes, and carrots it is!

Rounding the corner of the church to see the shop only two more blocks away. A priest came out of the church with a group of people walking down the steps. Gitta moved closer to me as the crowd created a pathway for me to walk through. A brush of someone’s skin hit my as the reel began playing again..

“Burn her! Burn her!” They screamed as the flames began to engulf my feet.

Black dots began appearing in my eyesight with my brain feeling like it was going to pop out of my noggin! Ow ow ow ow! Stopping in my tracks so I wouldn’t possibly pass out or drop dinner. It has to be just from not drinking enough water or something. Dehydration is never fun!

Making it back to the shop to see Nieve working on the window display. Waving to her as she got out of the display to then opened the front door for me. Letting me walk in as Gitta stayed outside in the doorway.

“A dog? Since when are you into dogs?” Snapping my fingers for her to not come in the shop.

“Since she came up to me. C’mon girl.” Snapping one last time but she wouldn’t budge one budge. Nieve then clapped her hands for her to then run in and crawl right next to the empty fireplace. God this day keeps getting more and more strange..

“Hey Nieve..mind if I touch you?” That sentence made me cringe so badly.

“Let me take a step. Okat so whenever I’ve come into contact with someone whether it be a brush of a hand or even giving someone a handshake. It’s like a quick snippet of either a past memory..recent activity..can’t make heads or tails of it.” She grabbed the box of fish and potatoes for her to stop dead in her tracks.

“Speaking of seeing things. There’s a customer in the room wanting some sort of reading and figured I’d make dinner if you’d do his reading. He said he heard of you when we were in Highbridge but didn’t get the chance to come and do a reading.” Highbridge? A stranger drove like ten hours away all the way up here for some reading?

Walking into the room where he sat in his chair...taken aback by this man who was graced with such handsomeness? Yes. Handsomeness. Just don’t blush or be stupid with his reading. Wait..wait what kind of reading did he want?

“Good evening sir..ummm. May I ask what kind of reading you were wanting today?” His eyes were blue and gray yet sparkling as if the sun was rising onto the North Sea.

“No real preference.” No real preference..how lovely..how so lovely.

“Figured I’d try to something a little different and do some Capnomancy ..sound okay?” He nodded with his thumbs moving in small circles.

“So I heard that you came all the way from Highbridge to see little old me?” I began wrapping the cedar twigs together.

“Umm yes.”

“You’re totally blowing it.” Someone spoke out then a slap came out of nowhere. But he was acting calm when I turned. What the bloody hell is going?

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

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Chapter 7: You’re My Best Friend

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 3.8K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: (18+) Male and female masturbation, swearing, slight smut Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: HERE WE GO KIDDOS! I promised the buildup to the DeakyxReader stuff would take a while, and while this is indirect, it’s coming to a head now! And it’s just the start! Also, I have never really written smut (closest is this story if you want to read it), so I hope it isn’t cringey!

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

[previously…]

“I love you, John.”

What the hell did she just say? Did she actually just say that to him? John felt like he could faint in that moment, wanting to hear those words over and over again. He manages to squeak out a response that neither party really expected.

“I love you, too.”

Neither party admitting to the other that it was the truest thing either one had ever said in their lives.

You both wanted more time to process your feelings for one another. John had already admitted to himself that he was in love with you, but needed to figure out how to handle it. He did not know how long you would be around. You, on the other hand, had not fully admitted that there were feelings in the first place. You just assumed you felt nice around him because he was always there for you, to do every single thing a gentleman would do for his lady. Everything was so complicated, and it was stressing the both of you out. Your drives home were silent, no radio playing in either car, with white-knuckle grips on steering wheels. Pulling into your respective homes, both of you walked in your homes, locked your doors, and proceeded to go up to your bedrooms to simply think. Think about everything in peace and quiet because come tomorrow, you two would be seeing each other again, and neither of you wanted awkwardness. Why could this not have happened on a Friday? At least you would have had the weekend to process everything. No, it was 10:30pm on a fucking Tuesday night. Everyone has methods for coping with stress, and you two were no exception. For John, there were two ways he commonly handled it – either tinkering with an electronic or playing his bass and writing some short songs down. He chose the latter, and on his way to his bedroom, he grabbed his bass and some scrap paper. There were some words he needed to get out of his system before he felt like he was going to explode. For you, your methods went back to when you were a kid, and your doctor informed you that if the OCD felt like it was kicking in, those methods would help. You would either clean and organize one room in your home, or you would paint, and like John, you chose the latter. You felt out of control at the moment, because you had not consciously decided to say those three words, but your body knew something you did not. You wanted to be in control of whatever it is you were doing. Painting was a way to be in complete control. You chose the colors, the brushes, what to paint, how to do it. It was perfect for you. While John knew exactly what he was going to write, you had no idea what you were going to paint. You put colors on a pallet and went from there. Your body and mind went to a place that you just allowed to happen. You came back to reality for a moment and realized that you were painting a room. A room you recognized. A room you were in not three hours ago. The freaking studio, you were painting the room where your stress began. You decided that maybe that was your body’s way of telling you that if you finished the painting, all the stress from that room would be locked away within the paint. It would go from your heart, through your arm, out of your fingertips into your paintbrush, and onto the easel. Yeah, that was what was happening. Meanwhile in the Deacon home, John was perched in the middle of his bed, bass across his lap, pencil and paper in front of him. The song that was swimming around in his head needed to be written down. It was completely about you. He knew that if he told you everything just in words, you would never believe him, but maybe if he took the time to get it down in song you would. Seeing that you believe he is an amazing songwriter, if the “Misfire” incident was anything to go by. He wanted to write a song that explained that it did not matter to him that you had what doctors called a disorder. It does not change who you are at your core, and he wants to you know that it does not bother him. In fact, you owning it makes him love you more. He also wanted to sing about the fact that he loved you. He really loves you.

Your painting was coming together quite nicely, very accurate to what was there on a day-to-day basis. But while that was going on, you could tell that your stress had not gone down. In fact, it felt like it was bubbling over. You really hoped that by the time the painting was finished, everything would just go back to normal. John had been strumming away at his bass, figuring out the proper tune for the song, and he already had about half of the words down. He had them scrawled out on the paper in front of him, and he continually and quietly sang to himself to get the tune down.

Ooh, you make me live Whatever this world can give to me It's you you're all I see Ooh, you make me live now honey Ooh, you make me live…

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had I've been with you such a long time You're my sunshine and I want you to know That my feelings are true I really love you Oh, you're my best friend…

Ooh, you make me live Ooh, I've been wandering 'round But I still come back to you In rain or shine You've stood by me girl I'm happy at home You're my best friend…

You had finished your painting, and your worst nightmare had come true – the tension building in your body continued to rise, and you felt like you were at your breaking point. You threw your brush down onto the newspaper covered floor in a panic, pacing back and forth in front of your painting a few times before flopping down onto your bed. You had to think of something you could do to relieve the tension, but nothing came to mind. Not at first. Meanwhile, John continued to pour out his heart onto the scrap paper in front of him, almost in tears because of the emotions flowing through him.

Ooh, you make me live Whenever this world is cruel to me I got you to help me forgive Ooh, you make me live now honey…

Ooh, you make me live You're the first one When things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do Oh, you're my best friend…

Ooh, you make me live…

It hit you like a ton of bricks. The one thing your doctor mentioned you could try to relieve stress that you had not done before. At first, you were disgusted that he even suggested doing that, that is not who you are. But you were willing to try anything at this point. You were feeling tension all over your body, ninety percent of it mainly right muscles and the common symptoms of stress. The other ten percent, you began to realize, was in an area that could only be solved one way, given your current situation. You needed to get over the fear. This would help you. Just make yourself believe it is John. That should help. John was now down to the last piece of the song, and at this point there was a new feeling surfacing and rising above all the emotions he was feeling. He knew what was happening because with every single strum and vibration from his bass it got worse. He continued to sing the song, but with every note his singing slowly evolved into voice cracks, whimpers, airy words, and even the occasional moan. By the time he was singing the last lines, he had completely fallen apart and was in a complete state of haziness. He wrote the words thinking about you, so he should have no trouble with this next part.

I'm happy at home You're my best friend Oh, you're my best friend Ooh, you make me live You're my best friend…

You had no idea what you were doing. You just knew what had to be done. You were laying on your bed, back against your headboard, mentally trying to conjure up both the confidence to do this, as well as an image that would help move the process along. You were not really keen on doing this, so the quicker, the better. The clothes you were wearing to paint were nothing fancy or new. You had on just an old worn out tee shirt and some loose-fitting sweatpants. Things that you knew you would not care if paint got on them, which had happened in the past. Despite it being exactly what your brain told you not to do, you let your body take control. You needed the release, and at this point you did not care how it happened. Your body took over and the next thing you knew, you had one hand on your chest, the other lightly gripping your bedsheets next to you. This was a good start, you could feel that in your core. Your hand was over your shirt, but you were not wearing a bra so you had some access to everything that was underneath. You felt better at home without a bra just because you did not feel restricted, but that is beside the point. Your eyes started to get a little bit hazy and you took that as your cue to take things one step further. Your hand that was gripping the sheet came up through the bottom of your shirt to play with the other half of your chest, and the hand that was over your shirt made its way to the top of your headboard. Not quite a white-knuckle grip yet, but close. By this point your eyes had fluttered shut and you were squeezing them tight to keep the image in your head going. You needed to make sure the image felt real or you would snap back to reality and you would never release any of the tension that was building. The image that had been working for you was a top-down image of you and John, in his bedroom, doing what you desperately wanted to do to him. You could see daydream you clawing down his back, his long hair thrown to one side of his head. Slowly working his way inside you, trying to find the spot that would bring you over the edge. You moaned. Loudly. Hated yourself for it. But Jesus, did it help the process. Your one hand was still groping your chest, but the hand that had made its way to your headboard was on a new mission. When you started this evening, you did not even pay attention to your legs. They were widespread, giving no attention to the place that your doctor claimed you would need it most. By the time your hand had made it down to that place, you realized that you unconsciously had pushed your legs together in an attempt to get some kind of attention there. Friction that you desperately needed. You were still nervous about what you needed to do, so you took a small first step and placed your hand on your inner thigh, over the sweatpants. That hand began to mimic the motions your other hand was making on your chest. Eventually, your body kicked in again and decided that it was time for that hand to make its first contact where it was needed most. Over your clothes, of course, you were still terrified about what you were going to do. As if instinctual, when your hand made contact with your heat over your sweatpants, the hand that was on your chest flew down onto your bed to have something to grip. Something other than the breasts it was currently attempting to bruise. Your hand that was on your womanhood stopped completely, just rested there with a decent amount of pressure. Your brain was kicking in. Did you want to do this? Is this the right way to go about this? Your question was answered by daydream John, who in that moment in your head had moaned the words “Oh God, fuck…” right into your ear. That was enough confirmation, considering you had not heard words in your daydream yet, only moans and skin hitting skin. Your hand proceeded to start rubbing light circles and up and down strips over your clothed heat, while the other hand gripped the sheets and you swore you heard a small rip. Jesus, you had not even touched yourself properly and you were already ruining your bed. The motions on your heat were slow and methodical, but you knew that would surely change once there was no more clothing involved. You continued to rub for another few minutes before noticing that the pressure that had built up in your lower stomach was starting to become unbearable. Not painful, it was just so much. Too much. You turned back to daydream John for the answer of whether or not to move forward. You were met with an image of him throwing your legs over his shoulders to get better access to you, and another loud moan left your lips, ending in almost a whine. Needy. You were needy. You needed to do this. Your hand made a quick move from outside your sweatpants to directly underneath both them and your underwear. You did not want to feel loss of contact longer than you had to. The second your hand made contact with your body again, your back flew off the headboard, your knees came slightly in towards your body, and you definitely heard a massive rip coming from your bedsheets. You had not even pushed a fingertip in and you became a writhing mess underneath your own hand. You were breathing loudly, some ending in a high-pitched whine. You began to make the same motions you made while your hand was over your clothes, and you could feel that things were coming to a close soon. You needed to take that last step, otherwise you would start crying from the build-up of pressure, which had slightly turned into pain because you waited so long. You slowly and carefully inserted your index finger, hissing out air through your teeth at the long-awaited contact. By the time your finger was as far in as you could go, your breathing became even louder and more erratic. You decided to throw another finger into the mix, and once that was in and you felt comfortable, you decided to send yourself over the edge. Your fingers curled, and apparently that was enough to have you scream. Like actually scream. You hated and loved the fact that it happened. Again. And again. You continued to lightly shift your hand around and curl your fingers inside yourself, and your other hand wanted to help. It came up from the freshly ripped bedsheets to try and speed the process along. While you were curling your fingers on one hand, the other came up to harshly rub circles onto your clit. Once that happened, again body taking control, you knew you were done for.

“John…”

Your hand was on your clit less than twenty seconds and you felt it. You felt the bubble burst. You saw white. Then stars. Your breathing was insanely uneven. You felt incredible.

John had been here before. The last time he was here was the night he went home after him and Roger had had the conversation about his feelings. He went home with hazy eyes and a hard-on that he was glad Roger did not notice. He had been around the block before, but now he had something to fuel his fire. That simple “I love you, John.” It fucked him up and got him going. He had finished croaking out the last words of his song, adding a few extra strums of his bass because it felt extremely good against his problem. Soon the bass was off his lap at the foot of the bed, discarded with the song lyrics sheets and pencil. He flopped directly onto his back, stared up at his ceiling, took a long, deep breath, and sat back up. His eyes were completely black. All he was thinking about now was you. He did not care whether or not you were on top or bottom, clothed or completely naked. He just needed to think of you. It was enough. He knew that he would be a sweaty mess by the end of this rendezvous, so he ripped his shirt off of his body and threw it somewhere in his room. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and parted them enough to imagine you were kneeling right in between them. Unlike you, John wasted no time when he was on his own. If he was ever with you, it would be the total opposite. But right now, his main concern was trying to rip his pants open, so taking his time was not in the cards. Leaning back onto one forearm, his other hand began to palm himself through his pants, eliciting a deep but somewhat quiet moan. He was already worked up, but he wanted to essentially edge himself before he got to the nitty-gritty so it would feel that much better. He could envision that being the way you could be sometimes, so he had zero problems with it. He continued palming himself until he was genuinely afraid that the zipper on his pants was going to break, so at that point he decided it was go time. He deliberately pulled down the zipper while pulling it against his body to make up for the loss of friction from his hand. It was at least something. When his zipper had made it to the bottom of the teeth, he felt slightly relieved that the tight pants were gone, and he was not as strained against his boxers. He shimmied his pants down to the floor and kicked them off, again somewhere in his room. All that was left between him and euphoria was his stupid boxers. Fucking things. Getting in his way. He palmed a little bit more to make sure that he was at almost his breaking point, and decided that he was ready to go. He slid off his boxers, adding them to the collection of clothes he would have to find and put away at some point, and before touching himself skin-on-skin, he reached into his drawer. He had no trouble doing this sort of thing himself, but he had a similar image to what was going on in your head playing out, and like you, he wanted to make this feel like you were doing it to him. He imagined you were wet. Soaking. He needed to recreate that, and his saliva was not going to cut it. In fact, his mouth had almost gone dry because he had been depriving himself for so long. He reached in and grabbed a specific lube. One he had actually bought because, in a weird way, it reminded him of you. He noticed that you always smelled a certain way. You always smelled sweet, like some kind of candy, but not overbearing. He managed to find a lube that smelled just like you, and he knew he needed it for times like these. He yanked that out and coated the hand that would be doing the deed. He tossed the bottle away somewhere, probably on the bed because he did not hear it hit the floor, and looked down at the situation in front of him. He was so hard that his dick had almost laid itself up against his stomach. His legs were still spread apart, and he was imagining that you were slowly kissing inside his thighs, something he would have loved to do to you as well, making your way to the part that needed him most. When daydream you made your way, he made sure to follow your motions to a tee so he knew exactly what it would feel like for you to be doing this to him. He started by lightly running his fingers from the base up to the tip, where a small nudge was included. He did this again and again, each time the touch becoming more intense and grip-like instead of grazing. After a few more upward motions, the next time daydream you was at the bottom, you gripped it. So, he gripped it. At this point the lube was all over, so he did not have to think about it anymore. The room smelled like you. You began to stroke the bottom half of his dick, so he mimicked you. He whined a little bit because he was going so slow, and only reaching the middle point before going back down. He was desperate for more contact, and as if daydream you answered his prayer, he fully understood why you were only doing half with your hand. The other half was reserved for your mouth. He obviously could not do that own his own, but he decided that that was his cue to start stroking his entire length. He started to go faster than you were, since he was reaching his breaking point. His breathing, like yours, started to become erratic and his smooth motion started to get a little bit jagged, gripping tighter than he should have at certain points. He was faltering again. But this time, he could not give two shits about it, it felt so damn good. His mouth was agape, slack jaw. The sounds that were leaving his mouth were unholy. Growls and groans, moans and whines. He was desperate and blissed out. He could feel it. It was becoming too much, and he had to let go. He began to buck his hips lightly along with his hand motions, and it was enough for him to fall over the edge.

“Y-Y/N, fuck…”

He laid there, blissed out, thinking about what you went home and did after your confession of sorts. His heart would have melted seeing what you were doing after your self-care session. You had brought the hand that did the deed up to your neck to fondle with the little, gold bass around it, smiling sweetly.

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moonlightreal · 5 years

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Winx Club season 8/1

In which the Winx are back and younger than ever.

Welcome to season 8! I love this show, I love everything about it... including the parts I don't like, because I can snark at them. So warning: there will be some snark when I see something dumb.

About the new art style:

Why I don't like it: The girls have gotten a little more samey-samey with the loss of their individually shaped features, and Tecna's eyes shifted from turquoise to blue. I know that's a tiny thing, a slight eye color change but it's one more step towards them all looking the same. It feels like by the time we get to season 20 they'll be six identical fairies! Also the girls now look twelve. There’s been no mention so far of them de-aging so it's just the art style change, but... ok most of y'all wouldn't care but I'm writing a fanfic that parallels the show and now I have to decide whether to de-age my characters or what!

Why I like it: They're sooooo cute! They look like Moondreamers or Lady Lovelylocks or some 80s dolls! I love it!

I have a theory about why the style change. This is only a guess since I don't know animation, but is it possible they're using a program with sort of mannequins, and they're now using the same bodies for both Regal Academy and Winx? To save money maybe, since now the animators will only need to learn one style? Is that even the way computer animation programs work? Animators, help me out here!

And yes, Musa and Flora are now basically Caucasian looking. This is not cool. I have acknowledged it and written to Rainbow about it but since there’s nothing else I can do I’m going to enjoy my show in spite of it. That’s my response to the color change; your response is something you’ll have to decide for yourself.

1 Night of Shooting Stars

We open at Alfea where some minor fairies are watching shooting stars. Familiar minor fairies! It's not just the Winx who have a new look; the whole class has been ported over. I'm really happy about this! I was sure they'd just do a whole new background cast and we'd lose more continuity, but here are Evie and Lori, those two dark skinned and indigo haired girls, and other familiar faces.

The Winx are up on a sort of bridge over the courtyard-- Alfea has had slight upgrades for the new season and it looks great. And so do the girls! They're so detailed, the layered outfits and all their accessories are so fun. Their necklaces sway when they move, even, props to the animators.

Bloom is delighted by the shooting stars but Musa’s not feellin’ it, she was hoping for musical inspiration but it isn’t coming. Flora, Tec and Aisha join them and it turns out Musa wants to write the new song for the concert tomorrow! Tecna conjures her “astroscope” so they can watch the stars, and starts to explain something but Aisha shuts her down. Kiko pops up on the other end of the astroscope and scares Musa when she looks through.

Out comes Stella, for a selfie!

In the Italian, Stella says “Selfie time!” in English. Heh.

But Musas’s glum face spoils the selfie. Stella says there should be no problem since, “You have ME to inspire you!”

Kind of not a great intro for the girls, but now we leave them and cut to Twinkle being chased by star-eaters. Which are cool, as villain minions go. They look like dark purple puffs or blobs, I’m getting a very Original My Little Pony vibe from them. A whole swarm of them are chasing tiny Twinkle through the rings surrounding planet Magix. They merge into a giant blob that roars as Twinkle flees towards the planet below.

Musa’s spidey sense tingles!

The star-eaters display their power of splitting into tadpoles and joining together again.

The Winx are concerned: this star is coming down awfully close! Twinkle zooms above their heads and crashes in the woods.

The girls arrive in the scene we saw in the trailer and are immediately charmed by the sleeping Twinkle. Stella identifies her as a Lumen, “a creature of pure light that lives inside stars.” They take their find back to Alfea to take care of her.

But evil is watching them! Or at least a turban-wearing lackey of evil with a bunch of star-eaters around him is. Obscura says, “Oh no! That Lumen managed to reach the Winx!” so he knows who the Winx are.

In the Winx common room Twinkle is still asleep and the girls and Faragonda admire her cuteness. I think she’s got some kind of charm ability! Stella gives us some more information, “She’s from Lumenia, the star that lights Solaria.” and Faragonda says Lumens never leave their stars except for serious reasons.

The next morning—daylight shots of Alfea, great cg—Twinkle wakes up, gets scared of Kiko, there’s some chaos and room destruction, Twinkle flies around screaming until she bangs into Stella. Stella introduces the Winx, “We’re fairies and this is our school.” and asks why Twinkle came. But Twinkle can’t remember.

Tecna scans Twinkle and detects “a memory lapse.” The Winx offer to help her remember but Aisha thinks scaring her is the way to go! So they try to scare Twinkle, who just laughs. Short slapstick scene.

Then Bloom gets a text: the boys are coming! Their ship lands in the courtyard to a rockin’ beat. The girls stand with little hearts around them, Stella twirling her hair.

The boys look so weird in this art style. I will try and probably fail at not mentioning this every time they appear.

And oh heavens, Brandon still has a deep post-puberty voice in his 12-year-old body. I think this may be the same voice actor from last season. Voice weirdness aside, he brought Stella a big pile of presents. These two are the best couple.

Helia is showing Flora a picture he did of “a rose from the planet Iris, but its beauty is nothing compared to yours.” Wasn’t Iris where Diaspro’s from? Flora blushes and it’s cute.

Sky and Bloom kind of twirl each other around and laugh, which is sweet.

Timmy and Tecna are already up in the dorm working on a Lumen amnesia curing device, which explodes. Twinkle bounces and chirps, “Again! Again again!” Ok she is a little bit adorable.

They get the memory viewer going and its screen shows Twinkle’s memories of being chased. She freaks out and flies into the air glowing brightly. Then the memory viewer overloads.

Cut to the courtyard, the girls ponder what they saw while Twinkle looks glum. Kiko tries to cheer her up. Stella says that Lumens are peaceful creatures with no enemies, so the girls don’t know what was chasing her. Poor Twinkle is very down, and Stella prescribes music to cheer her up.

Over at Red Fountain we’re in either the ship or a locker room. The boys are tired out, they’ve been on a mission to the Omega dimension before the Winx called! Points to the writers for remembering the names of places! Also points for how the boys are powering-down their suits, it’s a neat little detail that they do this.

The boys talk about how they wish they could’ve helped the Lumen, then do some reminiscing! They had a mission on the planet Hypsos where they beat a horde of space mutants and destroyed an opal dragon?? And apparently neither of these was as scary as the landing! Timmy, who was the pilot, droops. Then he blames Helia for not being able to read a star chart. It looks like they’re about to fight when…

A Mysterious Figure arrives! Wearing a kind of ship-captainish coat and purple neck scarf. Codatorta said he could come back. The boys are pleased, more pleased than most of the fandom is!

The mysterious figure is not Venomiya, so there should be no sabotage at the Winx Band concert we go to next. More great cg Alfea. Is there an official map anywhere, of what rooms are what? There are some weird outbuildings and stuff. I’m not even sure if the bridge is new or if it’s just that the girls didn’t hang out there in previous seasons. And did the wings attach differently before? I can’t tell if the school has changed shape or not! I think it has...

And there’s a blast from the past, it’s Knut the ogre, Alfea’s handyman! He’s back after many seasons, helping set up the lights for the concert with Kiko’s help.

And here’s Grizelda, and the new art style has not been kind to her! She looks younger and has a more WoW art style look, and I don’t like it! And whaaaaaat happened to her voice? She does the ‘I’m watching you’ thing at Knut. she’s not very nice. I mean, she’s not supposed to be nice, she’s supposed to be a scary lady so that’s good.

The concert is being held at the top of the steps in front of the main door to the school. All the minor fairies hang out on the steps or in the courtyard to watch. It is so nice to see the same minor fairies as before. They’re super excited to see the Winx in their—freaking adorable—concert outfits. The girls are all in brightly colored fake fur and music note themes, with streaks in their hair. Bloom dedicates their first song to ‘Our new friend from far away.’ and Twinkle giggles with delight.

And then… concert transformation! The girls’ PURSES do magical girl henshin routines and transform, Bloom’s into a microphone, Stella and Flora get guitars, Musa has a keytar and Tec gets a three-piece piano while Aisha’s got drums. Ok, I love this. I know, it’s gotta be a gimic to sell toys, but sparkly henshin instruments, it’s wonderful!

The song’s all right, it’s Winx pop just like every song in Winx and I don’t think the voice actresses are in any way professional singers, but it’s fun. Miss F, Grizelda and Palladium are in the audience. Twinkle loves the music. Knut seems to be trying to pick up on the minor fairies, but Grizelda shuts him down.

Then the concert is rudely interrupted by a portal opening and delivering a bunch of star-eaters! Twinkle sees them and remembers what happened to her and flies for help!

Stella observes the sun-eaters don’t look too scary, but then they all pile together into one big one. Oh no! The minor fairies, unable to fight since the artists haven’t designed transformations for them, back away in fear.

Faragonda and the teachers—Wizgiz appears too—direct the minor fairies to take cover inside. The Winx transform. Butterflix time!

Twinkle is impressed.

The girls fight but the giant eater can portal in and out and break apart whenever it wants. Only Stella’s sun power seems to have any effect! Then they get an idea: Twinkle lit up with the memory viewer, maybe she can help here! Stella gives her some power and little Twinkle is just so happy! She lights up like a sun and the big eater breaks apart into little eaters that all look despondent and flee back through their portal.

Since Twinkle has remembered everything, now she can tell her story! The girls and Grizelda for some reason meet with the headmistress in her office.

Twinkle is the messenger of Lumenia, on a mission from Queen Doranna(?) to the “most powerful fairies in the magic dimension.” The stars are in danger! The eaters are eating their light! I do like that there’s a reason the Winx are going to be called to save the world again, that Doranna specifically requested them.

Then there’s… Faragonda tells them this is a delicate mission and to be cautious. Stella breaks in with, “caution is our middle name! well, more of a nickname.” Heh.

Then Bloom has an anime moment, she goes to the window and puts her hand up to her reflection, with a serious expression. Not the kind of moment we usually get in Winx, and I really like it. “Tomorrow we leave for Lumenia, Queen Doranna can help us understand what’s going on. This is a mission for the Winx!”

#winx club season 8 #winx club

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wroammin · 6 years

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A Prince Has Got To Slay

Part 1 (Here) | Part 2 | Part 3?

Roman | Patton | Logan | Virgil

Word Count: 1076

Pairings: Logicality

Warnings: IMPORTANT!! lots of blood mentions!! there will be fighting!! manipulation!! DEATH IS A BIG PART!! this is not a happy story. do not read this for fluff. stay safe ❤️❤️

Summary: Roman is the embodiment of creativity. He has the most control over the imaginary mind space he is a part of, so he decides to create friends for himself using other aspects of his mind host’s personality. Things go terribly wrong, but Roman finds a way to fix things over and over. But then he gets bored, so what if he makes things go wrong on purpose?

A/N: yeah, so, this was an idea i had in my head where it was basically like, what if roman was the most powerful one?? what if he could keep creating and erasing all the sides whenever he wanted?? technically a halloween thing, so no group project for a while, sorry :/

There was no blood. Only shock, confusion, and eventually acceptance as he realized what Roman had just done. The blade sliced right through the other’s abdomen expertly, and Roman felt a rush of adrenaline as it did.

This was new, but Roman was so glad he tried it. He’d never killed the others before, always just befriended them. But eventually that got boring.

[]•[]•[]

Roman, being the embodiment of creativity, was alone before. He hadn’t always had a body, but then he planted the idea in his mind host’s brain. What if he gave a physical representation to his creativity? And so Roman was formed. Roman was the name of this figure, which he himself had chosen.

He’d played around, tested the limits of what his new form could do. Roman could join his mind host’s physical realm, but no one else could see him. He could conjure up things whenever he wanted, but they were always imaginary. He explored the vast land of the mindscape, which was his home. But all the while, he was alone.

That’s when he created the others. Logan and Patton were first. His mind host’s logic and morality respectively. Roman introduced them to the mindscape and all of its quirks. Of course, he made himself the most powerful one, and revealed that fact to them.

He called them sides. Sides of his mind host’s personality, and nothing more. Roman did not associate himself with the other sides. Creativity was more than just a side of a person. But he let his mind host group them all together.

At first it was all just fun. Roman created Logan and Patton to be his friends, and they were. But eventually, they became resentful. Logan knew Roman had created them, and he knew he was far too powerful for his own good. He was worried what Roman would do with that power. So Logan confronted Roman about it.

And Roman had to get rid of him. Not kill him, but just snap him out of existence. And then he did the same to Patton. That was the first try.

Soon after, Roman discovered that whenever he created a new body for them, they never remembered previously existing. Moreover, with a little searching, Roman found a way to erase his mind host’s memories of Logan and Patton altogether.

Trial number two went about the same. Logan confronted Roman and Roman had to get rid of him.

Roman had to admit, it hurt. The first time he had gotten rid of Logan, it had been, quite literally, a snap decision. An impulse, like a child instinctively lying to stay out of trouble. It took a while for Roman to recover from that trial. He had actually begun to become attached to them. So he kept trying to befriend them. Over, and over. And each time, Logan found out. Once, he tried it with only Patton, but even that little puffball discovered Roman’s abilities. Somewhere around this time, Roman started recording his trials in a journal, treating it like some kind of science experiment where he documented all the variables he changed in each trial.

Then, he created Virgil. Virgil was his mind host’s anxiety, and Roman’s new bad guy. The first trial with Virgil was the longest Roman went without being confronted. It lasted for a couple years. But then, Roman made a mistake. Roman got fond of Virgil, and he was no longer the bad guy. Then, almost immediately after, Virgil found out about Roman’s power. He confronted him about it, and Roman restarted.

It was always troublesome to restart. Not only because of the long, painstaking process and work it took to do so, but because of the emotional attachment. Roman knew it was torture for him, but he did it anyway. He’d befriended Logan and Patton so many different times and so many different ways and it was always fun. He’d laughed, and cried, and opened up to them, and loved them so much. And now with Virgil, it was the exact same thing.

Except, it wasn’t. Because when Roman restarted on the second trial with Virgil, Virgil remembered everything. He remembered all of the things that had happened in the first trial with Virgil.

And he panicked, at first. He considered confronting Roman again, but he knew that Roman would just restart again. Virgil played dumb. He pretended to hate Roman at the start, which was not hard, and then gradually opened up. Virgil wanted to talk to someone about it, but realized eventually that Logan and Patton did not have any recollection of the past restarts like he did. That freaked him out. How many restarts had Roman gone through? Why could Virgil remember them? Why was Roman doing it all? But, most importantly, what would he do when he became bored of befriending them?

Virgil shuddered at the thought. After the first Virgil trial, Virgil never confronted Roman again. It was always Logan, or sometimes Patton, who would find out. Roman didn’t know why, but he didn’t question it. He always made small tweaks on every restart, trying to stay in it for as long as possible.

Befriending them over and over, it was bound to get boring. And it did. One trial, Roman was in his room, a little corner of the mindscape that Roman designated for himself, when an idea creeped into his head. It was just an idea, at first. Then, Roman entertained it for a while. He didn’t immediately restart the trial, in fact, he went on for about three more trials before committing to the idea. Roman sketched out how it would work.

And so, Trial Red was born out of bloodlust, like furies born from the gods’ golden ichor.

It took a lot of time, preparation, and planning for Roman to be able to go through with Trial Red. There was the emotional aspect he had to get through first. Right before he had planned on initiating Trial Red, Roman initiated a trial that he had tried before and recorded in his journal. In this trial, Roman got off to a rocky start with Logan, Patton, and Virgil, and their relationship worsened from there. That specific trial didn’t restart because someone found out, it restarted because the chaos and infighting in his mind host’s head was unbearable.

But something went wrong before he initiated that trial again. Something went horribly, horribly wrong.

Roman | Patton | Logan | Virgil

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in-the-grip-of-depression · 6 years

Text

In the Grip of Depression Chapter 28: Deceiving Depression

Chapter 1|Previous Chapter|Next Chapter Trigger Warnings:Mentions of blood, torture, violence, abuse, manipulation,

Deceit could hear Preston coming so he turned his back so he was facing the wall he'd pulled up and made his shoulders shake like he was trying not to cry.

Preston smirked at the sight of Logan in front of the wall that he knew didn't belong there. "Back so soon Logan?" he asked in a taunting voice.

Deceit quickly replied in a voice full of fear "G... Go away."

Preston chuckled and stepped forward grabbing Logan by the shoulders and turning him round. "Looks like my slippery little friend has trapped you with me. I'll be sure to thank him later for giving me the opportunity to play with my favourite toy."

Deceit felt sick as he thought of what that might entail but made sure to react like Logan would, trying to flinch away and shaking his head.

"Aw what's wrong? Maybe a little bit of nicotine will help calm you down." Preston said and before Deceit could respond there was a white hot pain in his arm as Preston pressed the lit end of a cigarette into his skin.

Deceit let out a shriek of pain and struggled in Prestons hold, tiring out quicker than usual due to the effort he was expending to keep both the wall and the Logan disguise in place.

Preston laughed and pushed him against the wall, his hand reaching for the extraordinarily sharp hunting knife strapped to his hip.

Deceits eyes widened as a blade was pushed against his neck and Preston whispered "You're going to do exactly what I say or you'll be my first blood with this knife. It's incredibly sharp and I bet I could slice through your skin like a hot knife through butter."

Deceit closed his eyes and tried to ignore the knife as he mumbled "OK, just don't hurt me."

Preston grinned and said "Put your hands out in front of you."

Deceit reluctantly did as he was told and rope suddenly appeared around his wrists, binding them together tightly. He picked up on the way Preston had managed to conjure the ropes almost effortlessly but didn't have time to dwell on it as Preston began speaking again.

"Now, because you ran from me earlier I'm afraid I'm not going to be very lenient on you and this knife does need to be broken in."

Deceit eyed the knife which was being held hovering just away from his skin and braced himself, already knowing what was going to happen.

Preston touched the point of the blade against Logans arm and trailed it down, smiling as it caused a long thin scratch to appear and blood started trickling out immediately.

Deceit shook as he held back a noise of pain, trying not to give Preston any satisfaction and not wanting to blow his cover as Logan, who probably didn't react as much to what Preston was doing anymore due to being used to it.

Preston trailed the knife back up Logans arm, pushing on it harder and reveling in the blood that began to pour out and the cry of pain that left Logans lips.

"I've missed this while being trapped in that fucking bubble, but there are other things I've missed as well." Preston growled in Logans ear making him shudder.

Deceit was trying not to panic as he realised what exactly Preston meant. He had a few limited options and none of them were appealing. There hadn't nearly been enough time for the others to make sure Virgil was OK but Deceit wasn't sure if he could go through with this.

Prestons lips collided with his and he reeled backwards in disgust which caused Preston to hit him with the handle of the knife.

"Do as I say or pay the price!" Preston snarled and Deceit suddenly had an idea.

"W...wouldn't you rather do this somewhere more.... Comfortable?" he asked, stumbling over the words slightly.

Preston tilted his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

Deceit swallowed nervously as he said "I mean surely you'd like to do it in a bed rather than.... Here on the floor."

Preston stared at him for a minute which made Deceit freak out slightly wondering if he'd been too out of character.

"That's a good point, good to know that even in this sort of situation you're still able to be logical." Preston said with a laugh and started to drag Deceit back over to the imagination forest.

Deceit was glad his plan was working. The longer it took for Preston to actually do what he wanted, the more time the others had. He just crossed his fingers that he could stall long enough that he wouldn't need to actually do anything with Preston.

Preston suddenly stopped as they reached the outskirts of the imagination forest. "oh yeah, I could have just conjured a bed, I forgot I could do that for a few seconds there."

Preston glanced at Logan who looked to be frowning about what he'd just said and let out a crazed cackle "Oh just look at your mind go, trying to work out everything I say. I bet you're wondering how I can conjure stuff huh? Well let's make a little game of it. For every piece of information you want to know, you have to either remove an item of clothing or I get to punish you."

Deceit gulped but decided he'd rather play along and try and get some sort of information from Preston while also prolonging what Preston wanted to do.

Preston seemed to know he'd agreed because he smiled and said "First question."

Deceit stuttered out "H... How come y.... You can conjure s... Stuff?"

Preston grinned unpleasantly as he replied "That's one of my abilities. Now what's it gonna be an item of clothing or...."

Preston didn't even have to finish his sentence before Deceit pulled off a shoe, his plan being to remove all the items of clothing that didn't leave him exposed and then deal with the pain if he had any other questions.

Preston scowled at the shoe being the first item but didn't say anything except "Next question."

Deceits mouth went dry as he asked a question that had been bothering him for a while about Preston. "Where did you come from? You're not a part of Thomas so..."

Preston seemed to wince slightly and his face darkened as he forced a ton of memories away. "That question is a very expensive one and I'll only answer it if you remove your shirt and three other items of clothing."

Deceit was caught off guard by that and quickly thought of things he could take off without being too exposed.

He pulled off the other shoe, both socks and then slowly started unbuttoning the shirt, his hands shaking so it was more difficult, especially considering his hands were still bound.

Preston let out a small growl and pulled Logan closer by the tie still around his neck. "Oops, did I say three? I meant all of them."

Deceit froze at that and shuddered. There was no way he was taking anything else off, even if it meant hearing the answer to his question. He wasn't some idiot who'd do anything for a scrap of information that Preston would probably refuse to give or would completely bullshit.

"I.... I'm not taking anything else off." Deceit declared and Preston grinned.

"looks like you won't get to hear my oh so tragic back story then."

Deceit choked slightly as Preston pulled on the tie so it tightened to the point it was difficult to breathe and continued to talk in an almost hysterical voice. "You won't get to hear how I became Preston, the cruel yet hella attractive sadist. I mean fucking hell have you seen me? I'm hot stuff!"

Deceit raised his bound hands up to pull the tie loose but found himself being shoved backwards and as he tripped and fell his back landed on something soft and springy.

He screeched out a noise of panic as he recognised it as a bed and thrashed around, tugging on the rope round his wrists in an attempt at pull it off.

His concentration wavered slightly and his hold on the wall sealing off the main mindspace failed so the wall disappeared leaving it open once more.

He managed to keep up the Logan disguise though, which was slightly easier than bending the mindspace to do what he wanted.

Preston heard the rumble of the wall moving and looked over to where the entrance to the main mindspace was, wondering if Deceit or one of the others was going to walk out.

While Preston was distracted Deceit managed to free his hands and rolled off the bed, pulling the tie over his head so he could breathe properly again.

Preston looked back round at where Logan had been and had a crazed glint in his eyes as he said "I'm starting to feel like you're disobeying me, do I need to remind you why that's a bad idea?"

Deceit backed away, eyes wide as he watched Preston pull out the knife again. He knew he'd barely been through anything compared to all the others but he had no desire to be on the receiving end of that knife again so he turned and started to run.

Preston let out a string of curses and started to run after Logan, wincing and snarling as his leg throbbed and ached.

Deceit had run further into the imagination forest, hoping to lose Preston among the tree's but wherever he went he found himself unable to shake him.

He had no idea how long he'd been running for and as he burst into the same clearing for the third time he let out a small sob of despair.

"Logan! You can't escape me!" came the singsong taunt from Preston who was leaning against a tree, cleaning his nails with the knife.

Deceit backed up, panting from exhaustion but Preston suddenly appeared directly behind him. "Looks like I've recovered enough from those horrible meds that I can teleport again."

Deceit spun round in alarm and tripped over, crawling backwards rapidly to try and get away.

Preston reappeared right next to him again and Deceit couldn't help but shout in frustration "How can you do that?"

Preston grinned as he leant over Logan. "Are we back to playing our little game again?"

Deceit shook his head, not trusting his voice at this point and Preston pouted "Aw, I so wanted to watch you squirm as you took everything off but I suppose I'll just have to to settle for doing it myself."

Deceit took a few deep breaths as he tried to hold back the hysterical sobs that were shaking his body. "You're.... A fucking Psychopath!" he spat, batting away Preston hands as he tried to remove his trousers.

Preston let out a full blown roar of laughter "I prefer Creative. It definitely fits me better." he suddenly waved his hand and rope once again appeared round Deceits wrists.

Deceits eyes were locked onto Preston in horror as he suddenly realised something. "Y... You're....." he stuttered but cut himself off with his own scream as Preston lodged his knife into his shoulder.

"Oops, I didn't quite hear what you were going to say. It sounded like you were about to apologise for making me chase after you." Preston said in a casual voice.

Deceit had to focus everything he had into not dropping the Logan disguise as the pain in his shoulder radiated through him. When he managed to stop himself screaming he sent a glare up at Preston who didn't seem at all phased.

"I... Was going to say....." Deceit gasped out "That you're Tristans Creativity."

Preston let out a snarl of rage and pulled the blade out of his shoulder only to plunge it into Logans leg.

Deceits throat was red raw from screaming and his disguise as Logan flickered and fell, leaving him in his original form once more.

Prestons face went from shocked to a feral snarl as he growled "You! I thought you were on my side!"

Deceit managed to send Preston a grin through his pain as he rasped out "Hi nice to meet you I'm Deceit. It's kind of my thing, nothing personal."

Preston pulled his knife out of Deceits leg and started pacing, his mind running through all the things he wanted to do to him but not being able to decide which.

Deceit could feel himself getting weaker from blood loss and the exhaustion brought on by using his abilities for so long without a break but he refused to close his eyes, no matter how tempting it was.

Preston was at an impass. On one hand he wanted to just kill the lying snake right there and then but he also wanted to break the others by doing it in front of them. He took out a small portion of his anger by delivering a swift hard kick to the side of Deceits head, knocking him out cold.

Preston had some planning to do.

#In The Grip Of Depression #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #virgil angst #logan angst #roman angst #patton angst #thomas angst #deceit angst #sympathetic deceit #tw mentions of blood #tw torture #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw abuse

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djinmer4 · 6 years

Text

First Impressions (Evil Wizard AU)

“I don’t think there’s anything else to do,” reported Doug Ramsay. “We’ve exhausted all our leads.”

Logan shifted uncomfortably behind his desk. “I think I’ve got one more contact who might know something useful for you. Not sure if letting you talk to him is the best idea.”

“Wolverine,” Brian Braddock, leader of Excalibur, took up the thread of the argument. “We know the Hellfire Club is also after this artifact, and they’ve got a lot more resources than we do. This isn’t a case of we can hope someone else gets it first. If we don’t find and destroy it, they’ll get it and will use it. If you know anything, anything at all we’ll take it.”

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“First thing you should know, the guy’s a necromancer.”

“Like Jude?”

“No. Jude may be a necromancer, but he specializes in calming the restless dead, fulfilling last requests and generally protecting people from vengeful spirits. Jude’s a good guy. The guy I’m sending you to, this is the guy could give lessons to all the evil wizards and sorcerous overlords and dark archmages that you’ve ever heard of.”

The first clue that they were in the right place was that the circus they found was nearly dead silent. Most encampments of this size were a hive of activity. People would be shouting orders, animals would be sounding off in displeasure, things would topple over and crash. This place, none of that occurred. The animals made no noise and stood stock still to be handled. People didn’t speak to each other, and every move they made slid past each other as if choreographed. Nothing fell out of place or was put down too hard or off-balance. “Well this is creepy,” said Doug. “I thought Logan said this guy had a few living minions mixed with the corpses.”

“He sometimes has human minions,” corrected Brian. “But not always, and when he’s out in the woods like this, I guess he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.”

A voice called out from one of the dark wagons. “Are you the people Logan wanted me to talk to? Bitte komm rein.”

The rest of Excalibur looked to Doug. “Er, he said, come in.”

“Second, this guy looks like a demon. Think like Nocturne and Salamander, but much worse. Don’t freak out too much when you see him, or he’ll get offended.”

The man in the wagon certainly lived up to his reputation. He had blue skin, waist-length white hair, and beard, and was covered in scarification patterns. His eyes were completely gold, with no pupil or iris to be seen. His hands were malformed, with only two fingers and a thumb on each. He had pointed ears that peeked through his hair, pointed fangs that flashed when he smiled at each of them, and a pointed tail that he used to pour tea for all of them.

The sorcerer half disappeared in the gloom of the wagon. Behind him, gold eyes reflected the light and shifted about, indicating many somethings watching them in the dark. The low light made it difficult to see anything around them, and the members of Excalibur huddled together, afraid of bumping into anything.

“So Logan told me you’re searching for an artifact of doom of some sort?”

“That’s right,” Brian once again took the lead on the conversation. “Logan said you might be able to help us retrieve it or at least know it’s location.”

“That might be possible. Do you know what the name of the artifact is?”

“The name is another thing we’re missing. But we do have a description of what it is and what it does.” The blond gestured to Kitty, and she reached over to pass a copy of the description to the sorcerer.

“Third, this guy is very expensive. You might not be able to afford his help.”

“He seems pretty mercenary in that case. What happens if you can’t afford it, does he take your soul?”

“Nah, he’s upfront about it. No payment, no information, help or goods.”

“What does he do if people are asking for help with a plague or a war?”

“He’s not all bad. If someone asks for help because of a natural disaster or a plague, he’ll actually work for free. Everything else though, you pay through the nose.”

“Even a war against a tyrant or trying to find an artifact for safekeeping?”

“Yeah. He’s said he’s seen too many revolutions become worse than the old regimes when they win and too many well-intentioned heroes become monsters to have any faith in people.”

“Geez, how old is this guy to be that bitter?”

“Oh yes, I made this one. Xian ran off with it years ago, not that it did him any good.” The sorcerer turned the paper over and conjured a quill to write with. “Before we go any further, here’s how much it will cost you.” He wrote out a list on the back then handed the sheet over to Brian. The head of Excalibur checked it over and went dead white.

“The good news is, the guy’s a lech. Since you do have several pretty women as part of Excalibur-”

“I’m not whoring my people out just to get some information!”

“Hey bub, you’re the one who said he’s desperate. And it’s not like the guy will rape anyone, he just wants something pretty to look at. Tell him you’re not interested and he’ll back off. But he might be willing to reduce the price for a date.”

Brian swallowed then passed the price list to the rest of Excalibur. When Kitty received it she could see why the blond had panicked. They definitely could not afford this.

“I’m open for negotiation.”

“Well we don’t need the name, and we’re planning to get it ourselves so we don’t need your help either. As for the location . . . I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take a partial payment and receive the rest later?”

“I only accept credit if I know the party well or will be going with them on their mission. Otherwise, it’s too much work to chase them down.” The blue man turned towards the other members of Excalibur.

Rachel frowned at him. “Isn’t it a little rude to start hitting on people when you haven’t even given your name?”

One hand waved in a desultory fashion. “I’ve had so many names over the eons, it hardly matters to me what you use. Kemmler, Captain Bluetail, Darkholme, take your pick.”

“Who’s Kemmler?”

“Wasn’t Captain Bluetail a hero?”

“I’ve heard of Darkholme. He was a master assassin several decades ago.”

“You know what, you can just call me Kurt. No one’s used that name in a while.”

“Kurt,” Kitty tested it out. “You sure you don’t want something like Numair Salmalin? Or Elminster?”

The sorcerer smiled and leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands. “Kurt’s short and easy to remember And what are the names of the lovely ladies here?.”

Brian cleared his throat. “Fine, Kurt, if anyone’s actually interested . . . “

To the surprise of no one except Cerise, gold eyes turned to Meggan first. She bristled. “I’m Meggan and I’m engaged.”

“Whoever you’re engaged to is a lucky man, fraulein.”

“That would be me.” Brian quickly took Meggan’s hand and frowned at him. Kurt just smiled and turned to Rachel next. She looked him up and down, then sneered. “Rachel. And I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong parts to attract my interest.”

“But fraulein I have extra ones!” His tail waved to attract attention. He turned to the last member of their party. “And what’s your name, fraulein?”

“Cerise, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Brian reminded her.

The Shi’ar refugee just shrugged. “Why not? This sounds like the type of thing you humans do for fun. I might as well try it out once.”

“Wunderbar,” Kurt grabbed the paper and scribbled a new number beside the middle line. When Brian looked at it, he gave a sigh of relief. “Now, are you in a hurry or shall we take the evening off?”

“We’re in a hurry,” Brian insisted. While Kurt gave the details of where and how to gain the artifact, Doug leaned over to whisper in Kitty’s ear. “Jeez, so what are we, chopped liver? He didn’t even ask for our names!”

#evil wizard au #Excalibur #kurt you're a ho

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